by Mary Hooper
And why was it that when we’d met in the chat room he’d been against everyone blabbing on about sex all the time, but he’d picked her up – Sexylegs – who didn’t exactly sound like a nun, going on about the blokes she got and what she wore behind the bar: two bloody tassels and a thong.
But at least I was going down to meet him before she got a look in.
‘So, what are you going to do with yourself in the holidays?’ Dad said over dinner that night.
‘You’re going to help me in the shop, aren’t you?’ Mum said immediately, and as I groaned, added, ‘I’ll pay you, of course.’
‘Not going away with your friends, then?’ Dad said. ‘Didn’t we have ructions at Easter because you wanted to go down to stay in a caravan this summer?’
I stared down at my spag bol, remembering the massive family row there had been after Lou had announced that the three of us girls were allowed to go down to her mum’s caravan on our own in the summer holidays. This was before the Big Row, of course, and, desperate not to be left out, I’d told Mum and Dad point blank that I was going to go with them. They’d said point blank that I wasn’t, that they would be ‘failing in their duty as parents’ to let us go somewhere like a camp site on our own at our age.
It had all blown up into a row which ended with me screaming at them and going out, slamming the back door with such force that a precious jug had fallen off the shelf and smashed. Of course, all this had been for nothing because a bit after that had come the big falling out and it became obvious that I wasn’t going anywhere with either Bethany or Lou for a very long time.
Now, from Mum’s look at Dad, and his puzzled ‘What did I say?’ face, I knew that she’d just kicked him under the table.
‘Never mind, Amy-Bee. Perhaps we’ll be able to have a week away ourselves – just you and me,’ Mum said. ‘Maybe we can get Dad to mind the shop. We’re never that busy in August.’
‘Yeah. Right,’ I said. Me and Mum, going round her favourite stately homes together. Oh, brilliant.
‘I could look up some bed and breakfast places,’ she went on.
I gave a shrug which didn’t commit me to anything.
‘Devon might be nice,’ Mum said thoughtfully. ‘Somewhere by the sea.’
I decided that it was as good a time as any to tell them that I was going out for the day. ‘I’m going to the seaside next weekend,’ I blurted out.
They both looked at me. ‘On your own? Where are you going?’ Mum asked.
‘No, not really on my own,’ I began.
‘You’re not going to meet that boy – the one off the Internet,’ Mum said instantly. It wasn’t a question; she was telling me I wasn’t.
I didn’t say anything.
‘Because there is no way I’d let you go off to meet someone you don’t know. So don’t even think about it.’
‘Certainly not,’ Dad said.
I took a deep breath, all set to do battle – and then suddenly I just couldn’t be bothered. It would only end up with me screaming and shouting and everyone getting upset, and then I’d have to tell Zed I couldn’t see him and Sexylegs would get him and that would be the end of it.
So I decided to lie.
‘Who said I was meeting him?’ I said. ‘I’m going with Beaky.’
‘Oh, that’s nice,’ Mum said, relaxing. ‘But I hope you don’t call her that to her face.’
‘’Course not.’ I bent over my pudding, feeling hot and prickly with fright at what I was doing. Not just meeting Zed, but deceiving them as well.
‘Well, anyway, I’m glad you’ve made a new friend and got someone to go round with. If you like, we might be able to take her with us when we go for our week away,’ Mum said.
I didn’t say anything, just cringed. Give Mum an inch and she’d take a mile. She’d already got me and Beaky to the best-friends-going-on-holiday-together stage.
Mum gave her head a little shake. ‘Because I just don’t think it’s healthy, you phoning these people on the Internet all the time. You don’t know who they are.’
‘Virtual friends,’ Dad said suddenly.
‘There was something on the news last night about a girl who met a man on the Internet and he turned out to belong to a paedophile ring. His job was to go along, prime young girls and try to persuade them to meet him and his friends.’
That’s right, Mum, I thought. Always look on the cheerful side. ‘Not everyone’s a paedophile,’ I said. ‘And you hear about some brilliant things happening on the web – people being put back in touch with relatives they fell out with years and years ago, and people finding friends they went to school with – stuff like that.’
‘Mmm,’ she said, clearly not believing any good could come of something so out of her experience. ‘Anyway, who are you going with – Serena, isn’t it?’
I nodded. ‘Just to the coast somewhere. We haven’t decided yet. We’ll go into London and get the train from Victoria or wherever.’
‘That’ll be nice,’ Mum said again, beaming at me, and I felt horrible and guilty. At the same time, I was glad I hadn’t told her where Zed lived, or she’d definitely have realised what I was doing.
I went to bed, ready to dream about Zed all night. It was going to be brilliant, I knew it was. Zed and I would really get on well and I’d fall in love with him at first sight and be madly in love by the time I got home. We’d carry on writing to each other in the week, and see each other at weekends, and after a while I’d tell Mum and Dad about him and he’d come and meet them and then they’d be OK about him.
I wouldn’t need Bethany or Lou or any of the pathetic boys round our way. I’d have a best friend and a boyfriend rolled into one.
Section 6
Recording resumed at 1.45pm after a short break. Includes printout of text conversations (iv) & (v)
I dreamt about Zed that night; dreamt he’d come to meet me from school. He was in a sports car (naturally) which was parked just by the gates. The car radio was playing, the soft top was down and he was looking out for me, scanning everyone’s faces. In the dream I walked out of the school gates just behind Bethany and Lou, who did a double-take on seeing the car and driver. I pushed past them, jumped in beside Zed, and we zoomed away in a cloud of exhaust, just like in a movie.
Only just over a week to go! It was dead exciting – like a blind date, I thought. I’d never had one of those before.
When I left home on Monday morning, I was amazed to see that Beaky was waiting outside for me, standing by the front of the shop. When I started along the road she came up and fell into step beside me.
I really didn’t know what to do. I mean, how could I tell her outright that I just didn’t want her as a friend? She wasn’t a bit like Bethany or Lou, or anything like me, either. On the other hand, I needed her to cover up for me when I went to see Zed. If we were supposed to be out together, I didn’t want her to wander into the shop for a bag of potatoes.
We didn’t talk much as we walked, just about homework stuff, but as the school came into view I said to her quickly, ‘Actually, could you do something for me, Serena? I need you to cover for me.’
‘What d’you mean?’
‘You haven’t got to do anything,’ I said. ‘Just don’t appear in the shop on Saturday. I’ve told my mum I’m going out with you for the day.’
‘Where’re you going, then?’
‘To see my boyfriend. To see Zed.’
She raised her eyebrows. ‘Are you? Is he all right?’
‘’Course he’s all right!’ I said. ‘You’ve seen the photo.’
‘Yes, but … ’ she began, and then she shrugged. ‘OK. If you want.’
We went in the school gates and up to the building and I quickly dived in the loo to escape her. I didn’t want to walk into our tutor group with her stuck to me like a leech because I knew that the others would say something. Beaky ’n’ Amy – it sounded like a comedy turn. I could almost hear the boys saying our names in budgerigar voices.
In class, Bethany and Lou were giving out invitations to their party and making a right fuss about it. I longed for them to give me one, just so I could say sorry, I was going to the coast with my boyfriend that day, but of course they didn’t. I was going to make sure they found out I was going, though. Oh, I’d definitely make sure of that.
In the library after school I sorted out the route to Hurley-on-Sea, phoned train enquiries and worked out which trains I was catching. I had to go into London and out again, of course, and altogether it was going to take two and a half hours. I didn’t mind, though – all the more time to dream about the day ahead. Would he be as nice as he seemed? As good looking? Would he fancy me as much as I fancied him? My photo – well, it had been quite flattering – it had just caught me at the right angle. Maybe he wouldn’t think I was so good in real life. Say he did, and it all worked out, would I spend every weekend from now on going backwards and forwards to meet him?
Once I was home and it was six o’clock, I logged on to our messenger service. His name didn’t come up as being online. But Sexylegs did.
Text conversation (iv)
B: RU there, Zed?
S: No, he’s just gone. I’m here, though!
B: Oh.
S: The 2 of us have been chatting away for ages!
B: OK.
S: He’s 1 of the few blokes I’ve met online who has something 2 say for himself.
B: Yeah. Is he coming back online do you know?
S: Dunno. He had 2 go and meet someone. Important business.
B: I just want 2 let him know what time I’ll be arriving on Saturday.
S: Whoo! If I’d found him first U wouldn’t have had a look in!
B: Do U reckon?
S: Put it this way – I’ve got plenty 2 offer. I don’t get any complaints from the blokes I go out with.
B: So if you’ve got plenty of guys in your life, you’ve no need 2 go after Zed, have you?
S: You can’t have too many guys! I like giving it out. Makes blokes feel good.
B: Really?
S: So if U and Zed don’t get it together, just let me know.
B: !
S: You sound a bit of a virgin to me.
B: How d’you work that one out?
S: Just from the things U said.
B: I’ve had my moments.
S: Me 2! It’s the job, see. I just have 2 put on a low top and a short skirt and they’re buzzing around me like flies.
B: Aren’t U the lucky 1.
S: I know Zed’s real name.
B: Do U?
S: Don’t U, then?
B: No. I don’t know his and he doesn’t know mine.
S: Not a great basis for a relationship.
B: We haven’t got a relationship yet.
S: RU staying the nite with him on Saturday?
B: No.
S: Looks like you’re not going 2 have 1, then, Cinderella, RU? Going home at midnight? Want me 2 come down and take over?
B: I’m going offline now.
S: Want to know his real name?
B: What is it?
S: It’s Matthew.
B: Bye!
I was fuming by the time I logged off. She was nothing but a tart! A tart who really fancied herself, too – boasting about how many blokes she had after her, trying to make me feel stupid. And how come he’d told her his real name? He wouldn’t tell me when I’d asked.
Matthew. It didn’t sound nearly as cool as Zed. But why hadn’t he told me what his name was? Was he playing the two of us along? And if us two, why not more? For all I knew, he could have got twenty girls from twenty different chat rooms on the go.
But no, how could he possibly? How would he ever remember who was where and what their names were, let alone anything else about them? And he couldn’t meet us all, could he? I was actually going down there, to meet him. I wasn’t just someone in a chat room. I was going to be his proper girlfriend. He’d said to me that it was all going to be beautiful.
I logged on later, when Sexylegs would have been on her way to work, but Zed still wasn’t there. He’d gone home early, I supposed – or maybe to his hospital DJ stint. I knew I couldn’t reach him anywhere else. He’d told me that because he didn’t have a fast enough computer at his flat he always went online from the office.
Because I couldn’t find him to talk to it took me ages to get to sleep, worrying about what would happen when I got down there. He’d told her his name and not me. So was he an OK sort of person? Could I trust him? Was he really the guy he said he was? Suppose she – Sexylegs – turned up, too? It might be like me and Bethany and Lou all over again. A threesome – with me being left out again, of course. How could I possibly compete with someone who called herself Sexylegs and sounded as if she had men falling over themselves to get to her?
I didn’t think I was going to have Beaky as a sort of tell-all best friend. I was just going to use her, really, but when she turned out to be waiting for me outside the door the following morning as well, I just started chatting as if we were proper friends. I found myself telling her all about Sexylegs and my worries that she might try and push me out before I’d even got it together with Zed.
Beaky was easy to talk to, actually. She asked the right questions and didn’t just want to turn the conversation round to herself all the time. She was quite good on the tech stuff, too.
‘She sounds a right tart,’ I said. ‘Talk about putting herself about. And anyone who calls themselves Sexylegs … ’
‘And he wasn’t there online, this friend of yours?’ Beaky asked.
I shook my head. ‘Zed didn’t log on at all.’
She looked at me, interested. ‘When you logged into the messenger service and this Sexylegs person said he’d been there chatting to her earlier, did you think to scroll their conversation back?’
‘What d’you mean?’
‘Well, I’ve done that instant messaging, and if you join the conversation late, you can look back – use the mouse – to see what they’ve been talking about.’
‘Really?’ I could have kicked myself. ‘Wish I’d known that. When did you find that out?’
‘I’ve got four friends I talk to on a messenger service,’ Beaky said.
‘Oh?’ I thought to myself that I didn’t know she had any friends, but didn’t say it. ‘What? People from round here?’
She shook her head. Her hair, I noticed, didn’t look so greasy, and actually she wasn’t too bad at all really. It was just that everyone had always said she was weird and I’d never stopped to think about whether she really was or not. She gave a funny half-smile. ‘You’ll think … I expect you’ll laugh when I tell you.’
‘What?’
‘These friends are – well, they’re twitchers.’
‘What’s that mean?’
‘They’re people who’re interested in birds. Bird-watchers.’
‘Birds!’ I burst out, and then I stopped, feeling embarrassed. ‘Birds, though,’ I said awkwardly.
‘I know,’ she said. ‘Birds. But … I mean, you know when everyone named me Beaky and started calling after me – well, I thought, if I’m a bird it might be interesting to find out about them. Sort of try and make something good out of the horribleness, d’you know what I mean?’
I nodded. ‘I think so.’
‘So I started to look into it and found that there are loads of web sites and chat rooms about bird-spotting, so I started messaging with a few other people. It’s all right, actually. We just talk about different birds and where they are through the year, and if you spot anything rare or unusual around your way you’re supposed to let people know so that they can come and see them if they want.’ She shot a look at me. ‘It probably sounds geeky, but it’s not. It’s OK.’
I shrugged. ‘I suppose going out looking for birds isn’t any more geeky than sitting indoors looking at a screen every night.’
‘You won’t say anything to anyone, will you? Only everyone’s more or less for
gotten about calling me bird names and stuff now, and I don’t want to remind them.’
I shook my head. ‘’Course not,’ I said. Anyway, there was no one to tell.
Text conversation (v)
B: Hi, Zed. U there?
Z: Hi, Babes!
B: R we all alone?
Z: Completely.
B: No Sexylegs?
Z: Not just now.
B: When I logged on last night I had a long chat 2 her.
Z: Yeah?
B: She knows your real name, doesn’t she?
Z: Who says?
B: She told me it was Matthew.
Z: She’s a liar. I wouldn’t tell her my name.
B: Really?
Z: And truly. She’s just trying to make you jealous. I don’t think she likes it because we’re meeting up.
B: You could B right. So, what’s your name then?
Z: We said we weren’t going 2 tell.
B: You said that! I thought that as we’re going 2C each other …
Z: OK. Mine really begins with a Z.
B: Honest? Is it Zak?
Z: No.
B: Zane.
Z: No such name!
B: Well, I can’t think of another name beginning with Z.
Z: It doesn’t really begin with it!
B: ;-(
Z: It begins with A. From the last 2 the first.
B: What’s that mean?
Z: Whatever U want it 2, Babes.
B: OK, then – is it Alan?
Z: Horrible thought.
B: Alistair? Anthony? Aidan?
Z: I’ll tell U. It’s Adam. The first man. Your number one man.
B: That’s a good name. I won’t make you guess mine. It’s Amy. Hey – both our names begin with the same letter.
Z: Cool.
B: My second name’s Bee so that’s how I got to Buzybee. But I can’t think of U as anything but Zed now.
Z: So let’s stick with Zed and Buzybee. Did U get your train times sorted?