Tape

by Camden,Steven

Ryan looked at him.

  — Of course saying stuff. What do you think, that I’m just gonna record myself breathing?

  — All right, I was just asking. That’ll take ages to make, man.

  Liam looked out of the window. Ryan turned his body, checking out his outfit from the side.

  — Not really. All I have to do is choose the best songs and write myself a little script so I know what I want to say. It’ll be the perfect mixtape and I’ve got till the end of the holidays till she leaves, right?

  He puffed up his chest in the mirror, making no difference to his shape.

  — And what will you say?

  Liam stared out of the window at the backs of the houses opposite. Ryan moved to the window sill and gazed across at the white back door.

  — It’s that one, with the white door. It’s her nan’s house.

  Liam strained his eyes.

  — Have you got binoculars?

  Ryan looked at him.

  — You’re such a perv.

  Liam looked up at Ryan guiltily. Ryan wrinkled his nose then smiled.

  — They’re not powerful enough, they’re stupid Fisher Price kids’ ones.

  Liam smiled.

  — I knew it. You know she was at ours again last night?

  Ryan looked at him.

  — Did you see her?

  Liam shook his head, still looking out of the window.

  — Nah, I just heard them, through the wall. They were up proper late.

  They both stared at the back of Eve’s nan’s house.

  — I can’t believe she saw your pants.

  — Yeah, she could’ve seen a lot more too. I was sitting there all dizzy and stuff, in a towel, man, in the living room, with my Nesquik.

  Ryan felt Liam’s eyes on him.

  — What did you just say?

  Liam was sitting up straight in the chair like he’d heard a sudden noise.

  — Did you just say Nesquik?

  Ryan shrugged.

  — Yeah, she made us Nesquik, strawberry, with a spoon.

  — Holy crap!

  Liam jabbed the air with his finger.

  — You did it!

  Ryan stared at him, puzzled.

  — I did what? What are you talking about?

  Liam stood up and laid his big hands on Ryan’s shoulders, staring right into his eyes.

  — She saw your pants?

  Ryan nodded.

  — She brought you into her nan’s house?

  Ryan nodded again, feeling his body shake as Liam pushed him back and forth like a doll.

  — And she made you strawberry Nesquik, with a spoon?

  Ryan screwed up his face.

  — What’s your point?

  Liam stood up straight and started nodding with his eyes closed.

  — Fair play, you did it, man.

  Ryan slapped Liam’s shoulder. Liam opened his eyes.

  — I did what?

  — You laid it down.

  Liam stuck out his bottom lip as he nodded. Ryan rolled his eyes.

  — You’re an idiot.

  Liam prodded his finger into Ryan’s chest and sat back down.

  — You’re such a dark horse, man. Nearly kill yourself, get your pants out AND get the Nesquik? That’s some Zorro-type skills.

  Ryan shook his head as he stared out of the window, the fingers of his right hand feeling the smooth shell in his jeans pocket.

  There was an unfamiliar knock from the landing. Ryan looked at Liam then they both looked at the door.

  Nathan stood awkwardly in the doorway. He saw Liam over Ryan’s shoulder and nodded. Liam glanced at Ryan then nodded back. Nathan looked at Ryan.

  — What you two doing?

  Ryan’s eyes narrowed.

  — Nothing much.

  Nathan smiled with pursed lips.

  — Cool.

  Ryan just stood there. Liam crunched more crisps. Nathan didn’t move.

  — You OK, Nath?

  Nathan nodded.

  — This was on the mat downstairs.

  He held out a small piece of lined paper. Ryan could see that it had been folded into itself, making its own little envelope. He read his name. He looked at Nathan. Nathan puffed out his cheeks and raised his eyebrows.

  Ryan took the note. Nathan looked over at Liam. Liam stared back.

  — So. I’ll see you later then.

  He knocked both his fists together gently. Ryan nodded. Nathan turned and started down the stairs. Ryan pushed his bedroom door closed and turned to Liam. Liam pulled his most exaggerated confused face. Ryan shrugged.

  — I dunno.

  He opened out the note to A4 size. Liam sat forward.

  — Who’s it from?

  Ryan read the messy writing.

  — Yo! What does it say, man?

  — It says meet me at the fence tonight at nine. Important.

  He read the words again. Liam rocked back in the desk chair, nodding his head.

  — It’s from her, isn’t it? Check you out, Zorro. Laying it down.

  Ryan looked at him as he folded the paper back up and felt his shoulders start to rise.

  Ameliah looks out at the green of the park stretching away from her and Heather as they sit on the wooden park bench. In the distance a white dog runs ahead of a lone figure.

  — You wanna stop at mine tonight?

  Heather looks at her phone as she speaks. Ameliah watches the white dog bound back towards its owner. Heather holds up her phone.

  — Look, Simone says they’re going ice skating tonight. What d’ya reckon, skating then back to mine for a sleepover?

  Ameliah watches the white dog circle behind its owner and set off again. Heather nudges her.

  — Come on, Am, you can hold my hand. I’m pretty good.

  Ameliah sighs. Heather nudges her again.

  — There’ll be boys.

  Ameliah looks at her.

  — Seriously, cute ones, from the college. They hang around there.

  Ameliah pictures the boy from the supermarket. She looks at Heather.

  — I met a boy.

  Heather’s eyes widen.

  — What!?

  Ameliah shuffles in her seat.

  — Well, not really met, I mean—

  — Woah woah woah woah, back up a second! You met a boy? Where?

  Ameliah shrugs.

  — In the supermarket. It happened really quickly, we didn’t even speak properly.

  — What did he look like?

  Ameliah pictures his face, smiling at her next to the packets of crisps.

  — It doesn’t matter.

  — You’re going red, Am.

  Heather grins.

  — I can’t believe you. How could you not tell me about this? Wait, supermarket? Not the one from the park? The one Simone’s after?

  Ameliah shrugs.

  — I dunno.

  Heather’s mouth drops open.

  — It is! Ha ha, check you out! What did you say to him?

  Ameliah looks down.

  — I kind of ran off. I mean, yeah. I ran off. I was following Joe, it just happened.

  Heather shakes her head.

  — Oh, Am, you need some help. Not to worry, if he works at the supermarket, we know something, right? What was his name?

  Ameliah looks at her.

  — I don’t know.

  Heather blows air out of her mouth.

  — Man, we really do need to start at the beginning. Come tonight, it’ll be like practice.

  Ameliah looks at her. Heather nods a smile.

  — Yeah?

  — Yeah. OK, but if Simone starts, I’m leaving.

  As she speaks, she feels her phone vibrating next to her stomach. Heather smiles at her as Ameliah pulls it out.

  — She’s just jealous, you know.

  Ameliah reads the word Nan on the small phone screen.

  — Yeah? Jealous of what?

  Heather lays her hand on Ameliah’s shoulde
r.

  — Of your natural beauty.

  Heather smiles a cheesy smile. Ameliah shakes her head.

  — Shut up, will you? Hi, Nan.

  She turns her head away from Heather as she talks into the phone.

  — Yeah. I’m in the park, with Heather. We’re thinking of going skating later, ice skating and, what? When? Tonight? But I was going to stop at Heather’s and, no, yeah, what did he say? Are you OK? I dunno, you sound funny. What does that mean, important? Well, did he say anything else? No, all right. What time? OK, OK, yep. I’ll be there. Yes, I promise. See you—

  She looks at the phone.

  — Well, that was weird.

  — What was?

  — I can’t come tonight. We’re going to Joe’s.

  — Joe’s?

  — Yeah, for dinner. Apparently he has something important he wants to tell me.

  Heather wrinkles her nose.

  — Shame, I was looking forward to seeing you trying to skate.

  She smiles and pushes Ameliah in the side.

  — I wonder what he wants to tell you.

  Ameliah stares out at the park. The lone figure and the white dog step out of sight into the tall trees.

  The sun cast long chimney-shaped shadows across the pavement into the road. Liam cupped his hands to his mouth, making a basic kick and snare drumbeat as he walked along. Ryan walked beside him, his head nodding as he rhymed.

  — I’ll put spaghetti in your pocket and call you Mr Pasta. My pocket’s full of dough cos it’s the bread that I’m after. Laughter, you are just the student, me the master. I cut you to the bone, leave you moaning for a plaster. I’m faster—

  He stopped mid-sentence as they turned on to the high street. Liam lowered his hands.

  — Don’t stop, that was really good.

  He looked at Ryan. Ryan stared into space.

  — You definitely think that’s what she means?

  His eyes narrowed. Liam looked at him and smiled.

  — Don’t be stupid, man. I M P ortant. It’s pretty obvious.

  Ryan looked up at him. Liam wrapped his arms round his own body and kissed the air in front of him, making sloppy noises with his mouth.

  — Stop it.

  Liam stopped.

  — Of course that’s what she means, Ryan. What’s wrong with you?

  He lifted his hands up and started to slow dance with no one, singing the word.

  — I M Portant.

  He bumped Ryan’s shoulder with his own. Ryan pictured himself standing in Eve’s nan’s kitchen, wrapped in a towel, her standing in front of him, her hair blowing behind her, her eyes staring into his. He felt his stomach turn.

  — Ryan! You OK? Liam was holding him by the top of his arms.

  — You OK, man? You look funny.

  Ryan felt his stomach with his hand and thought about digestive acids, the soup of bacteria that live inside everyone. He looked at Liam.

  — I need to go home.

  Ameliah stares at the old stereo. She pictures Dad, sitting on his bed, her age, recording his voice, his fingertips rubbing his dark hair as he speaks.

  She runs her fingers over the front, feeling the cool plastic and metal, the smooth panels and bumpy mesh of the speaker, down to the bedside table and the shell. She picks it up and tries to look through the tiny hole, perfectly drilled. Her eyes focus on the floor beyond the shell, where the shoeboxes full of tapes all sit waiting.

  — I’ll hear you all. I promise.

  — Am! We’re going!

  Ameliah stands up and slides the shell into her hip pocket.

  In the hall, Nan is rummaging around the telephone table, muttering under her breath.

  — You OK, Nan?

  Nan doesn’t look at her.

  — I’m fine. Just can’t find my bloody keys.

  Her voice is harsh and Ameliah knows not to push it.

  — Got them. Right, let’s go.

  Nan strides towards the door. Ameliah follows her. Nan clicks on the hall light and opens the front door.

  The short man has his right fist raised like he’s giving a ‘fight the power’ gesture. His brown suede jacket is dated; the white shirt underneath it clings to his barrel body. He looks like a history teacher.

  Ameliah sees a small bunch of violet flowers drooping in his left hand.

  He looks at Nan.

  — Patricia, amazing timing as ever.

  Nan raises her hand to her mouth.

  — Richard, oh balls.

  Richard looks confused. He glances at Ameliah. She smiles politely.

  — Am I too early?

  His smile is wide. Nan breathes in through her teeth.

  — No, no, no, you’re right on time, Richard. I’m afraid something’s come up. I’m so sorry.

  Richard’s smile vanishes. He holds up the flowers. Nan looks at them.

  — For me? Oh, Richard, you shouldn’t have, really. Come on, Ameliah.

  She starts past Richard. He steps to the side as Ameliah pulls the front door to. Nan looks back at him.

  — I’m sorry, Richard, this is Ameliah, my granddaughter. Am, say hello to my friend Richard. Look, can we move it to next week, please? I’ll cook. I’ll cook you a meal you’ll never forget, I promise. Come on, Am.

  Ameliah waves awkwardly at Richard even though they’re close enough to touch. He looks at the flowers in his hand. Ameliah looks at them then at him.

  — Am! Let’s go!

  Nan calls from the other side of the front hedge.

  — I’ll ring you this weekend, Richard, OK? Honestly, I’m so sorry.

  Ameliah watches Nan as they get into the car; her face looks like she’s trying to do long division in her head.

  — Seat belt on, please.

  Nan starts the engine. Ameliah looks out of the window.

  — Are we just gonna leave him there?

  She stares back at the house. Richard stands frozen on the front step as they drive away.

  — You sure you don’t want me to stay over? For morale? I could whisper lines to you like in that film.

  — What film?

  — You know, the one with the guy with the big nose and he wants the girl, but she thinks he’s the handsome one, remember?

  Ryan looked at Liam, standing in the street, his right fist stuck on his nose, his left hand fanning the air behind him like he was mid fencing match.

  — No thanks, I think this one’s a solo mission, you know?

  Liam lowered his arms and nodded.

  — Yeah, course. Call me in the morning though, yeah? Good luck!

  Ryan raised his thumb to Liam as they parted ways outside the newsagent. As he walked along the terraced road, he thought about Eve. Her walking up to their front door, looking at the note in her hands before she slid it through the letter box.

  He pictured Nathan standing in his bedroom doorway, holding it out. Why didn’t Nathan just throw it away? Or leave it? Did he read it?

  He remembered the look on Nathan’s face as they stood on the beach in front of Deano and his gang. The spark in his eyes as he stood up to a kid nearly twice his size.

  As he stepped through the front door, Ryan looked at the round clock on the wall above the bookcase. Seven o’clock. Two hours before he was due to meet Eve. Two hours before something important happened. He smelled dinner as he shut the front door. He told himself he was just hungry as he felt his stomach churn.

  — You look pale.

  Nathan’s voice made him jump. He was sitting in the shadows on the stairs, holding the phone in his lap.

  — Don’t do that, man.

  Ryan breathed out heavily.

  — What are you doing?

  Nathan looked down at the phone.

  — My dad’s supposed to call.

  Ryan looked back up at the clock.

  — How many hours behind is he?

  Nathan glanced at the clock as well.

  — Eight.

  — So it’s ele
ven there then.

  Nathan smiled sarcastically.

  — Yes, genius.

  He shook his head.

  — Do you mind?

  He nodded towards the living-room door. Ryan looked at the door then back at Nathan.

  — You know, he did it for me once, my dad I mean. It was at sports day when I was about nine.

  Nathan stared at him. Ryan carried on.

  — There was this teacher, Mr Towey, he hated me. Anyway, we’re all lined up for the hundred metres right, you know, leaning forward, waiting for the whistle, and he’s looking at me, and someone falls forward. It wasn’t me, but it’s a false start and he comes straight over and pulls me by the collar and says I’m disqualified. Just like that.

  I’m crying my eyes out and Dad comes over from the side of the track and says it doesn’t matter and we should just start again, but Mr Towey is all no, no, he false started, he has to learn the rules. I’m proper blubbing, cos I’ve been running round the block for weeks, training, timing myself and stuff, and Dad just looks at Mr Towey and says you let my son back in this race or me and you are gonna have a problem.

  Nathan’s head tilted as he listened. Ryan puffed up his chest, enacting the story.

  — Right in his face, in front of all these other parents. My mom was watching too. I look at her in the crowd and she just shrugs, so I turn back and look up at them both and I can see Dad’s face and I really believe he’s gonna knock this guy out and I can’t lie, it felt brilliant.

  Nathan stared at him, transfixed.

  — And then what?

  — What?

  — Then what happened?

  Ryan sighed.

  — That’s it really. He let me back in the race, but I was so nervous about false starting I didn’t start running till everyone else had gone. I think I was fifth or something. It didn’t matter though – seeing that was worth it. You know what I mean?

  He felt the warmth of the memory as he looked at Nathan on the stairs. Nathan looked at the phone in his lap.

  — Yeah. I do.

  Joe’s shirt looks like a page from a maths exercise book. He has clearly made an effort with his hair, the edges of the bird’s nest tamed with some kind of hair product.

  He hovers in the doorway, smiling awkwardly. Ameliah and Nan stand on the step in front of him.

  — Come in, sorry, thanks for coming.

  Ameliah sees him glance at Nan and nod. The air feels thick as he follows them up the dark stairs.

  The flat has been tidied, kind of. The boxes and bags pushed against the far wall, the tapes and CDs stacked neatly and the old table has been pulled out and is covered with what looks like an old curtain. A plastic bottle of table salt sits alone in the middle.