Posh and Prejudice

by Grace Dent

  Thing is, I’ve not really properly thought EVER about what I’m gonna do with my life. I only got as far as signing up for Sixth Form. I haven’t figured out any other stuff about the next seventy years!!!

  “You want us to live together in a condo in Goodmayes? Forever?” I said.

  “Well, not right now,” he said, “But someday soon. I love you, Shiraz.”

  I looked at him for a bit and he got hold of my hand and held it tight.

  “I love you too, Wesley.” I said, and I properly meant it.

  But at the same time I sort of didn’t.

  NOVEMBER

  TUESDAY 4TH NOVEMBER

  It’s weird ’cos Wesley’s never mentioned that condo behind Bishop Fledding Industrial Estate since that night last month. Neither have I.

  It’s a bit like Wesley reckons me and him have made some sort of secret pact to move in together which we totally haven’t ’cos I totally didn’t say yes at all. All I said was, “Mmmm, dunno, Wes. That’s a lot to think about.” Then I made him drive me home quick ’cos my mother wanted to borrow his superplunger to unblock hair from the upstairs sink.

  I wasn’t lying. It IS a lot to think about. And believe me, the last thing Shiraz Bailey Wood needs right now is something else that makes her have to think ’cos her brain is bloody FULL up with other stuff like flipping AS-Level Critical Thinking.

  OH MY GOSH that whole course is one ginormous headbend. Basically you get a question that is totally easy like, “Should pedophiles go to jail?” which is a proper no brainer ’cos the answer is “YES, RIGHT AWAY” but then you have a “debate about morals and ethics” then suddenly it’s not so straightforward no more and before you know it you’re sounding like you’re the one bloody sticking up for pedophiles and everyone in the class has fallen out and the bell goes and you’ve got a sore throat from shouting and a pain behind one eye and some homework to do for 9AM tomorrow. BRILLIANT.

  Today we talked about cars and pollution. Joshua Fallow started arguing that all cars should cost double the price to stop road congestion. Saf and Manpreet told him to shut up and stop being a tree-hugger. Then Joshua went a bit further and said he would ban all modded cars with rims and stupid extra-loud chavvy stereos to stop chavsters from making fools of themselves. Everyone started laughing well loud then and I could feel my cheeks go hot ’cos my Wesley has got glowing wheel arches and they do look a bit silly though I’d never tell him.

  Then Joshua said when he is Prime Minister he’s bringing in long jail sentences for anyone caught attending Dagenham car meets in a souped-up Golf with munter girlfriends who keep flashing their norks to get in Super Street car magazine. And by this point everyone in the class was proper howling INCLUDING me ’cos Wesley’s ex-bird Dee Dee used to go up to Dagenham looking like a right old hoochie with her schnockers out like cow’s udders.

  Joshua Fallow is bare jokes sometimes. If Joshua said come and live in a condo behind an industrial estate with me forever I’d probably say OK, ’cos he’s not just well choong to look at, the conversation would be exciting too.

  10PM—Oh God. I can’t believe I just wrote that. See that’s what Critical Thinking does to your head. IT MAKES YOUR BRAIN PLAY TRICKS ON YOU.

  WEDNESDAY 5TH NOVEMBER

  CRAP CRAP CRAP. I think me and Wesley might have had our first proper serious argument like what you hear relationship experts talk about on morning shows. We don’t normally ever get into arguments ’cos we’re like best friends but tonight was different.

  So, OK, this is my fault probably ’cos I am proper stressed out with studying but tonight I’m in my room trying to write an essay about this fat alco bloke called Falstaff in the Shakespeare play Henry IV Part One when I hear our Staffy barking its head off downstairs and Murphy shouting, “All right, Wes, wanna play Killerquest?” and my mother trying to force-feed Wes a boiled tongue sandwich that I know she got on quick sale down at ShopRite and Cava-Sue sticking her beak in about factory farming. Basically, there’s a lot of noise AS BLOODY USUAL.

  So I go downstairs and say, “Wesley, what you doing here? I’m studying tonight!”

  And he says, “Yeah, you said you’d study for a bit!”

  And I say “Nah… I said I was studying all night, I’m doing homework! Homework is IMPORTANT!” And Wesley sort of rolled his eyes and everyone sighed like I was being proper tight, so I storm into the kitchen and Wesley follows and tries to give me a cuddle and I shook him off and said, “You want me to fail my A-Levels, don’t you!” which WAS proper tight, I admit.

  So Wesley says, “Course I don’t! I was just passing so I popped in!”

  So I says, “Well, DON’T JUST POP IN when I got work to do!” And Wesley looked proper hurt then and he picks up his car keys and storms out of the door and drives off well fast.

  “Oh, well done, Shiraz!” my mother shouted, “Go on! Scare him off! You’ll not get another one like him! You’ll end up like your Auntie Annie, you will! She was always scaring men off! Wanting her own way! Where’s she now? Living on her own in Hastings with three cats and a grumbling ovary!”

  I stormed through the living room and up the stairs then got under the cover and pulled it over my head and fumed.

  I ain’t apologizing. Us Wood women NEVER do.

  SATURDAY 8TH NOVEMBER

  Me and my Wesley are still not speaking. I know we will soon ’cos it don’t feel like we’ve split up or nothing. We’re just having a break on account of him doing my head right in big time.

  I was just reading Cava-Sue’s Marie Claire magazine on the loo and it said, “All relationships need space to breathe sometimes” which I reckon is totally right. I need space all right, lots of it, this house is doing my nut in.

  So I come home from Mr. Yolk tonight and I’m just halfway up the path when the front door swings open and my Aunty Glo trots out going, “Ooh, Shiraz, you’re in for a treat tonight! I brought round my karaoke machine and my new Singalonga-Motown Classics CD! Do you want stuff from the liquor store? Breezer or nothing?”

  “No, you’re all right,” I said, gritting my teeth and walking into the living room where my mother was tuning up her vocal chords to “Love Really Hurts Without You” and my dad was in his chair eating chicken curry and fries out of the carton ’cos he often gets himself a takeaway on the way home from Goodmayes Social on Saturday afternoon and he’d dribbled curry sauce down his T-shirt and he looked like a bloody homeless. “Ooh all right lovey!” shouted my mother into the microphone, “Look what your Aunty Glo has brought us round!”

  “Brilliant,” I said.

  Aunty Glo ain’t my real aunty by the way. She’s just my mum’s mate who used to work with her when Mum was a cleaner years ago. I was describing Glo to Joshua Fallow the other day and he said he’s got randoms like that in his family too. Like this one bloke he calls Uncle Zac who works at the Guardian newspaper who ain’t his uncle at all, he’s just someone his dad was on crew with at the university.

  I shut up after that. I didn’t want Josh to ask how my mum met Aunty Glo.

  So anyway, I’m standing there watching my mother murdering “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough” and thinking, “SO MUCH FOR BLOODY STUDYING TONIGHT,” when suddenly my phone vibrates in my pocket.

  It was a text. A text from Uma Brunton-Fletcher.

  U dn the Shkspr essay yet? Uma said.

  I looked at it for a bit. Then typed back.

  Not yt. 2nite. May B.

  My phone bleeped again.

  Wn 2 come and study at mine? it said.

  Do I want to study with Uma Brunton-Fletcher?

  I looked at my mother’s big mouth flapping open and shut.

  OK—B rnd in 30 minuts. I typed.

  Walking down to Uma’s carrying the Complete Works of Shakespeare under my arm felt proper weird. I felt embarrassed to be honest ’cos I’ve hardly spoke to Uma or nothing much in Sixth Form. I’ve been treating her a bit like everyone else does. Like I don’t really know why she’
s there. I feel tight about that now. I didn’t even ask her to be in the “Increase the Peace” campaign, which was well shady, ’cos if anyone knows anything about rudes and violence and getting dragged into stuff it’s Uma.

  I knocked on Uma’s door and stood for a while by the abandoned fridge and overturned shopping cart while Uma opened the six separate locks on her front door, and I’m thinking, “Great, this is all I need, I’m already bloody confused about Shakespeare, now I’m going to have to waste my Saturday night explaining it all to one of the biggest superchavs in Goodmayes.” Which is tight I know but I was in a bad mood.

  “Y’all right,” said Uma.

  “Y’all right,” I said, then I went inside.

  Uma’s house was proper silent. No music or no family, no nothing. No one lives there any more except for Uma and Zeus. The whole place was proper clean and tidy. The kitchen was as neat as anything. Nothing like when her stepdad used to sell skunk. I sat on the sofa and enjoyed the total silence for a bit. Uma sat on the big chair, picked up a laptop, and plonked it on her knee.

  “Hang on a sec, Shiz, I’m just playing poker. I’m up three hundred quid today so far,” she said, peering at the screen.

  “You got WiFi broadband?!” I said, trying not to sound shocked.

  “Next-door neighbors have,” said Uma. “They don’t put no password on it though.”

  I laughed. Some things never change.

  “Hang on,” I said. “Ain’t that one of the school’s laptops that got nicked last year?!”

  Uma cringed a bit.

  “Oh don’t bloody ask,” she groaned. “It was my Christmas present from Clinton.”

  I took my trainers off and curled up on the sofa with Zeus cuddled into my legs and started reading my book. Uma finished her poker game and got us both a drink and then started surfing the Net looking for sites with AS-Level answers on “just to help us out a bit.”

  “Where’s Carrie tonight?” said Uma, fiddling with her clown pendant and lighting up an Marlboro Red.

  “With Saf, I reckon. She’s well loved up,” I said.

  “Dat Saf is well choong though, innit,” said Uma, sighing a bit.

  “Yep,” I said, “She’s well lucky.”

  Uma thought for a bit.

  “Dat Joshua is buff though too, ain’t he?” she said.

  “Erm… I ain’t ever noticed really,” I said. Fibbing like anything.

  Uma smiled to herself, then she goes, “I reckon Joshua Fallow is well into you, man.”

  “Nah. No way,” I said, and my stomach felt all squelchy.

  Uma stared at the screen for a while. Then she said, “Carrie Draper is proper blessed tho, ain’t she? She’s well lucky having that minted rich dad and that, ain’t she? She could have all his business one day if she wanted.”

  I laughed a bit. Uma was bang on the money there.

  “I dunno if she does want it though,” I said.

  “Yeah,” said Uma, tapping her ciggie ashes in her cup, and blowing smoke down her nostrils, “She’s just like that Prince Hal in Henry IV Part One ain’t she? Y’know when Hal’s dad the King is jarring his head for him to buck his ideas up? That’s what this whole play’s about ain’t it? It’s about everything being there on a plate for you, but you can’t be bloody arsed.”

  I looked at Uma for a bit then I started to laugh again.

  “Yeah, it is a bit isn’t it?” I said.

  We’re studying together later this week.

  WEDNESDAY 12TH NOVEMBER

  If you were to say, “Shiz, have you missed Wesley Barrington Bains II during your week-long break?” Well I’d be proper confused as to how to answer.

  ’Cos on one hand I ain’t missed having Wesley turning up distracting me and trying to get me to go to his house for some “private time” when his mum’s out. Or not understanding when I talk about school. But at the same time, I’ve missed him a lot too. I know Wesley inside out and he knows me too. It’s like one of the family has gone missing when he don’t come round. That’s why we’ve been texting a bit. Just silly jokes and stuff.

  I got home from school tonight and my mother looked proper happy and paused Emmerdale and she said, “There’s someone waiting for you upstairs!!!!” So I said, “Is it Wesley Barrington Bains II?”

  And Mum went, “Go and have a look.” So I went up to my room and I COULDN’T believe my eyes.

  On the bed in my tiny bedroom was an absolutely ginormous teddy bear. Massive. EXTRA EXTRA HUGE!! The sort of bear so big they have to put a sign beside it in Clinton’s Card Shop in Romford telling folks to stop their kiddies climbing on it.

  It’s brown and fluffy with a red T-shirt on that says I LOVE YOU BABY in big white letters. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I tried moving it on the floor but it was too heavy and there was no bloody space to anyway.

  So I call up Wesley and I go, “Wesley, are you some sort of mental or something?”

  And he laughs and says, “Well, yeah, maybe I am, you drive me proper mental.”

  And I go, “What have you put this bear in my room for?”

  And he says, “’Cos I want us to stop having the hump with each other, eh? I love you, Shiraz Bailey Wood.” My lip wobbled a bit when he said that.

  “I love you too,” I said.

  So we decided to stop having the hump. And we decided that maybe one of our problems is that Wesley feels a bit left out now that I’m doing Mayflower Sixth Form and have got all new friends.

  “Maybe if you let me join in more, things would be better,” Wesley said.

  “Maybe,” I said.

  I invited Wesley to come along to this quiz we’re having at school on Friday night to raise cash for the “Increase the Peace” campaign. We’re trying to raise cash to buy the school music room a sampler and mini-mixing desk.

  Joshua Fallow reckons that’ll give the rudes something to distract them from jacking each other’s phones and trainers for a bit. It’s a good idea we all think.

  I mean worst-case scenario: even if Meatman does get round to stabbing someone, at least now he can record a proper slamming track about it afterward.

  FRIDAY 14TH NOVEMBER

  Our quiz was a proper success! We raised three hundred quid! Uma Brunton-Fletcher offered to turn it into two grand overnight playing online poker, but we all reckoned it would be a better idea if we gave it to Joshua and he put it into the special Mayflower “Increase the Peace” bank account he set up last week.

  Tonight was well funny ’cos loads of us Sixth Formers showed up and some people brought their mums or dads or grans and some people brought their girlfriends or boyfriends we’d never met before and some people brought their friends from other schools and it was a right old mix-up and everyone had a good laugh. Well, I think everyone did, I’m not too sure about Wesley. He didn’t laugh much.

  We put Manpreet in charge of questions ’cos he’s a right old Asperger’s case so at least we knew it would get done properly. Then we all got into teams. Me, Carrie, Saf, Wesley, and Joshua were on one team called “The Merklemen.” Nabila Chaalan, Sonia Cathcart, and Danny Braffman who is an Orthodox Jew were on a team called “The Holy Trinity.” Sean and his clubbing mates Gaz and Jean-Paul were called “The Screaming Marys.” I don’t think my Wesley could believe Sean called his team that ’cos he looked a bit shocked but you just have to get used to stuff like that in Sixth Form. We’re all individuals and you gotta live and let live.

  “So you’re the famous Wesley Barrington Bains II?” Joshua said to Wesley the second we all sat down.

  “Er, yeah, that’s me, innit,” said Wesley.

  “I’m Joshua Fallow,” said Josh. “I’ve heard stacks about you.”

  Wesley looked at Joshua a bit funny. Wesley probably wasn’t sure whether Josh was taking the piss or not.

  To be honest, I’m never proper sure either. And the fact is I don’t talk about Wesley that much at all at school, certainly not around Joshua, so he might’ve been being snarky.


  “So, what’s your specialist subject tonight, Wesley?” said Joshua.

  “What?” said Wesley.

  “What you into?” said Joshua.

  “Erm, well, I’m into cars. Pimped cars. Modded cars. Car meets. That sort of thing, innit,” said Wesley.

  “Car meets?” said Joshua, sounding like he didn’t know who was taking the mick out of who now.

  I looked at them both; Joshua with his cheekbones in his baggy Box Fresh sweatshirt and floppy hair and low-rider cord combat trousers. Wesley in his Nike sweatshirt and Reebok classics and Von Dutch baseball cap. They looked like they were from different flaming planets.

  “Yeah, Josh,” said Carrie joining in. “Car meets! You should see Wesley’s car! It’s proper modded out. Glowing wheel arches and everything, hasn’t it? We used to all go down Dagenham cruising in it, didn’t we Wes, when I went out with Bezzie?”

  Joshua’s face didn’t change. He didn’t even smirk. But my face was burning up. For a few weird seconds I felt proper silly sitting there wearing my ginormous gold locket and gold bracelet with my boyfriend who goes to car meets. But then I caught hold of my head and thought, “No, that’s who I am! I’m only keeping it real.”

  Wesley drove me home afterward. I asked him if he had a good time and he said it was OK, but he felt a bit thick ’cos even though The Merklemen won he didn’t answer no questions. Wes said everyone was nice enough though, even though a few of them were a bit up themselves. I asked him who and he said “that Joshua.” He says Joshua was OK and all that but he’s just one of them rich kids who think they’re it. Wesley says he can’t stand folk like that.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Me neither.”

  WEDNESDAY 19TH NOVEMBER

  Seventeen is turning out to be a right old headbend of an age. Here was me thinking it might be the year when I get closer to working out what I’m doing with my life. Instead, every day just makes me more confused.