It's About Love

by Steven Camden

  “Remember, yeah?” I hold my hand up like a platoon commander. “Together.”

  I feel the two of them sigh behind me.

  “OK, Captain Bane,” says Tommy. “We get it.”

  “What did I say, Tom?”

  Zia speaks for him. “We know, Lukey. Kitchen is the base. We go off, do what we want, and if anything happens, we find each other first. Relax, yeah? Nothing’s gonna happen.”

  “Not nothing,” smirks Tommy, and I know he’s grinding the air behind me.

  “Can we ring the bell now?”

  A furry hand reaches past me for the door. I block it off.

  “Just remember, yeah, some of them talk different. Mouthy. Doesn’t mean they’re startin’.” I picture Simeon. “Just stay cool.”

  “OK, Lukey.” Zia pats my back. “You don’t have to be so dramatic.”

  “Yeah,” adds Tommy. “Stop being such a drama king, Baaaaaaaaaaannnnneee.”

  And then the front door opens and it’s Stewie from Family Guy.

  INT. PARTY – NIGHT

  Muffled music. The glint of a metal cannister. The hiss of gas. A balloon inflates.

  The layout of the house is the same as Leia’s.

  I can see Tommy taking it in like it’s MTV Cribs as Michelle leads us back past the two rooms to the kitchen. Her Stewie costume looks expensive and has a full head mask like Zia’s. I don’t recognise the music in the back room. It’s some glitchy obscure electronica and there’s already a bunch of people dancing.

  The kitchen is massive. The fridge is one of those big curved American ones and has the ice cube dispenser thing built into the door.

  There’s maybe fifteen people standing around and more outside on the patio, through the French doors. I see Frankenstein, a couple of glittery vampires, Iron Man and the Joker. Down one sideboard there’s a buffet that looks like it’s straight out of a Marks & Spencer advert. This isn’t just any fancy dress party, this is—

  “What do you want to drink?” Stewie Griffin points to a crowd of spirit and beer bottles next to the sink. “Help yourselves.”

  “Is that punch?” says Tommy, pointing to a big glass bowl of red liquid.

  “We’re driving, Tom,” I say.

  “Yeah,” says Michelle. “My sister made it.”

  Tommy’s already spooning himself a plastic cupful of the punch. He feels me staring. “What? Just one. Then I’ll drink pop, I promise.”

  “I love your costume,” Zia says to Michelle. “I love Family Guy.”

  “Me too!” she says a bit too excitedly. “Yours is great! Chewbacca on his wedding day, right?”

  Chewbacca glances at me and Tommy. “Yeah.”

  Stewie nods. “I got a bit nervous about mine; thought somebody else might choose it. There’s a Brian and a Meg here somewhere too.”

  “Megan?” says Tommy, scanning the characters.

  Stewie points up. “I think she’s upstairs. She’s Hit-Girl.”

  “Who?” Tommy looks at me.

  “Purple hair and a Zorro mask,” I say. Tommy just stares blankly. “Just look for the girl who looks like she could kick your arse.”

  He shrugs and smiles. “In a bit, boys.” He walks back into the hall.

  “Leia’s not here yet, Luke,” Michelle says, taking Zia’s hand. “I have to show you to Clare, she loves Wookies.” She gestures to the French doors and the two of them walk off without looking back, leaving me, standing in the big kitchen, on my own, dressed as Bane.

  The best ducks can swim in any pond.

  The back room’s all standing. People in costumes are shuffling more than dancing, like it’s a packed train carriage full of imaginary friends.

  I’m separate, leaning against the wall behind the door to seem smaller.

  The punch is strong. I can’t tell with what, but whatever it is, I can smell it inside my mask every time I put it back down after a swig. I need something to do with my hands. It’s only been an hour, but I’m proper conscious that I’m an outsider.

  There’s one of those disco ball lamps, projecting dots of colour all over everyone and the book-filled shelves, making the scene dreamlike. I watch the bunny from Donnie Darko trade moves with Willy Wonka, the Johnny Depp version. I don’t recognise anyone and I’m glad that the mask is covering half of my face. There’s no sign of Leia or Simeon or the others and there’s something in the air that I can’t put my finger on. It’s a kind of familiarity, like they do this a lot. Like this is completely normal for everyone here but me.

  It’s safety.

  That’s it.

  That’s what it is. You can feel it, on the walls, in the way people move. Everyone here feels safe. Nobody’s waiting for things to go wrong. Their muscles aren’t coiled ready for some attack. There’s no need. All’s good. Weird.

  I like it.

  I picture Marc and Dad in The Goose. Marc’s at the bar, trying to play it cool as Donna serves some old boy. I see him leaning forward to get her attention, Dad in the background sipping a Guinness.

  Then she’s there.

  Stepping into the room, like somebody just called ‘action’, and it’s perfect. She’s Natalie Portman as Mathilda from Leon. Light-green bomber jacket, black vest, striped cut-off shorts, Doc Martins. She’s even got the little black velvet choker with the pendant round her neck and the red beanie she wears when he takes her for target practice on the roof. Amazing.

  “Who you hiding from?” she says, like she’s been looking for me. I stand up straight and instantly feel bigger than everyone in the room.

  “Bane,” I say, and dramatically crush my plastic cup in my fist.

  Are you drunk?

  Leia leads me out into the hall.

  “You look great,” I tell her, feeling the blood in my legs.

  You’re drunk off one punch?

  “It’s strong,” I say. Leia looks confused.

  “The punch. The punch is strong.”

  She’s just looking at me. Something’s wrong.

  “You OK?” I ask.

  She nods. I lift up my mask and smile. “It’s my first fancy dress.”

  I follow her through the kitchen. Zia’s in front of a horseshoe of laughing superheroes and villains. His mask is off and he’s doing an impression of his dad. Michelle is watching him, eating from a paper plate. He sees me and gives me the ‘this is amazing’ smile. I picture a spotlight on him, in his little corner by the sink, a microphone clutched in a furry Chewbacca hand.

  Leia’s leading me into the garden where the cold air hits me and I feel the blood in my face. We cut through an argument between The Little Mermaid and Hell Boy.

  “Your mates don’t mess about with the fancy dress, do they?” I say as we step on to the dark grass.

  Leia sits down on a bench halfway up the garden and it takes me a second to realise that the smooth black ground to the side of it is actually a pond. Light from the kitchen stretches out along the thin lawn, past us towards a greenhouse.

  “You might need to rescue Megan from a crap zombie.” I smile as I sit down. “Tommy can be pretty persistent.”

  “Megan’s fine. She can handle herself.”

  She’s playing with her amber ring. What did I do? What did I forget?

  “I read your scene,” she says.

  The cold snakes its way up my sleeve under the jacket on to the bare skin of my arms. My head is warm.

  “Yeah? Yours is great, I had this idea about combining them, you know? Like a flashback type thing?”

  “Is that what happened, Luke?”

  She seems almost worried.

  “What do you mean?”

  “What you wrote. Is that what happened, to you?”

  I reach for her knee. She flinches. My heart cracks.

  “No.”

  “But it seems … so real.”

  And underneath my fear and confusion, my brain acknowledges that as a compliment.

  “Thanks,” I say. “Is that why you’re being funny?”


  She stares into her lap. I don’t understand.

  “I don’t understand. Did you not like it?”

  And her silence is her answer. Gutted.

  But she said it felt real. Surely that’s the point?

  “Leia.” I risk going for her hand and she lets me take it. “Are you OK?”

  I realise the mask is still on my head and take it off, watching her wrestling with something.

  “I just …” She looks at me, unsure. Like she can’t remember her lines.

  “Yo. It’s cool,” I say. “It’s all right. Should I leave?”

  She shakes her head, popping my question and I breathe out with relief.

  “Whatever the problem is, we can sort it, yeah? Maybe it’s not the right scene for the beginning, you know? Maybe it’s too much.”

  Why you being soft? You wrote it how you wanted it. If she can’t handle it, that’s her problem. Shut up.

  “Marc,” I say.

  She waits.

  “It was Marc.” And his name coming out of my mouth feels different. I’m not talking about a character now. I’m talking about my brother.

  Leia squeezes my hand. “He did that?”

  I nod.

  “That’s why he went to prison?”

  I nod again and it feels like a part of me falls out and it’s just there, on the dark grass in front of us.

  Then she kisses me.

  I don’t get it. She hates that kind of thing, but she’s kissing me. And she means it. Her lips pressing into mine, like she’s explaining something, and the punch buzz and the fresh air and the background music and my body’s growling.

  Then two figures stumble out of the greenhouse, cackling like hyenas.

  Leia pulls away. I pull away. The air between us charged with confusion.

  “Yes, Waterboy!”

  Simeon’s standing arm in arm with Max in front of us, still giggling. They’re both wearing blue convict overalls and Simeon’s right ankle is chained to Max’s left with oversized shackles that look plastic. Even in the dark garden I can see their pupils are wider than they should be. Jono walks out of the greenhouse holding what looks like a silver whipped cream can. He’s dressed like a chunky Captain America.

  “Look at them,” Simeon says, swaying. “Beauty and the Beast.” What?

  He smiles and points at Leia. “Course, if anyone else calls you Beast, I’ll rip their lungs out.”

  It’s a Joker quote from Tim Burton’s Batman. I don’t care where it’s from. Knock this prick out right now.

  Jono stands behind them, straight-faced.

  “I thought you promised Megan, Sim,” Leia says.

  Simeon over-emphasises a shrug. “Whoops. Don’t tell on me, Leia, pleeeaaase?” More laughing.

  My hands make fists. That’s it. Tell him.

  Max sticks up his thumb to me. “You want a balloon, Lukey?”

  I don’t reply.

  “What about you, Leia? For old times?”

  The pair of them laugh. I stare at Jono. He should’ve dressed as a sidekick.

  “You look good together,” says Simeon, pretending to take a photograph with his hands. “Same cloth.” What did he just say?

  I lean forward. Jono puts a hand on Simeon’s shoulder, looking at me as he does.

  “We’re just talking here, actually, if you don’t mind,” I say.

  Simeon’s face drops. I feel Leia’s eyes on me. The boys stare. My eyes tell them I’m not playing.

  “Course!” Simeon shrugs off Jono’s hand and throws an arm round Max’s neck. “Let’s leave the lovebirds to it. There’s punch! Take it easy, Waterboy, and make sure you’ve got room for the family baggage.”

  Then him and Max three-legged walk to the house, Jono following silently behind. Family baggage? I wait until they disappear behind bodies into the kitchen, then turn to Leia.

  “And you went out with him?”

  Leia shrugs. I don’t move.

  “What?” she says. “You never made a mistake?”

  I pretend like I’m trying to sneak away.

  Leia whacks my arm. “Shut up! I bet there’s a couple of rude girls in your back catalogue.”

  What’s that mean?

  “What’s that mean?”

  “It means, everybody’s done stuff, Skywalker. Simeon’s an idiot, but he’s not a threat.”

  “Damn right he’s not. I could break him with one arm.” Better.

  But even as the words leave my mouth I can taste my mistake.

  Leia’s face says it all.

  “Is that how you think?” She’s serious. I’ve messed up. Need to save it. Come on. Come on. Light bulb. I pull the mask back on.

  “It is how I think,” shit Bane voice, “I would break him like a twig,” stand up for effect, “For I. AM. BAAAAAAAAAANE!”

  Hold maniacal pose for effect. Pray she bought it. It was all a joke. I was in character. Look at her. She’s smiling. It worked. Thank you.

  Sit down. Mask off. Ride the wave. “You ever kissed a supervillain?”

  INT. CAR – NIGHT

  The sounds of kissing. Close-up: dark edges of fabric against skin. The squeak of a trainer against dashboard. A masked girl. A fly unzipping.

  We’re in the attic.

  Not sure how long we’ve been up here, lost track of time. We had to use some of those fold-down steps. Leia’s insider knowledge. Our only light is through the skylight, which is about four times bigger than the one at Dad’s place. I can smell new carpet.

  There’s not enough room to stand up, which is fine, because we’re lying down and we can’t fully make out facial features, which is fine, because we’re using our hands. Side by side, my left arm under her body, her left leg over my hips. Dad’s jacket behind me, her bomber jacket and beanie behind her. This is happening.

  I’m not sure whether I’m hearing or feeling the music through the floor, but either way we’re moving in time to it. She’s holding my head as we kiss. My fingertips are skating round the top of her thigh at the edge of her shorts.

  This is really happening. This is what I want. Is it what she wants? Course it is, why would you think that? But what if it isn’t?

  “What’s wrong?” Leia says, sensing it.

  “Nothing, sorry, I just … This is really happening. I’m not dreaming it.”

  Leia touches my face and I flinch.

  “Sorry,” she says. “Does it hurt?”

  “No. It’s static.”

  She smiles and we kiss and I want her. All of her. I’m not dreaming this. I pull my head back to look at her face and be sure. I can make out the darkness of her curved lips, her tongue. I want to say something perfect.

  “What did he mean, baggage?” And the second I hear my own words I want to take them back.

  Leia’s smile disappears and her hand slips away from my face. Why did I say that?

  “Sorry. It’s none of my business.”

  The song downstairs changes.

  “It’s OK. It’s the past. Doesn’t have to determine now, does it?”

  Phew. Her hand comes back and she runs her finger along my cheek, crossing the river of my scar down to my chin. “Stupid boys,” she says. Kiss. “Doing stupid boy stuff.” Kiss. “Like your brother.”

  And the film skips.

  All of me freezes. “What d’you say?”

  Leia’s confused. “What he did. How stupid it was.”

  What?

  I sit up. “What you talking about?”

  Is that why she kissed you outside? Because she felt sorry for you?

  “What’s wrong, Luke?”

  “Don’t call my brother stupid.”

  She sits up too. “Luke, I didn’t … I wasn’t calling your brother stupid. I meant the violence, what he did.”

  “What do you know about what he did, or why he did it?”

  It’s like my body is leading my mouth while my mind watches. “You don’t know anything.”

  She reaches her hand o
ut. I shrug it off.

  “Luke, I didn’t mean to upset you.” She’s shaking her head.

  “Upset me? You didn’t upset me. How you gonna upset me?” Tell her. “You haven’t got a clue.”

  She leans forward. “Maybe I have got a clue, maybe I know, maybe—”

  “Maybe you should shut your mouth.”

  Killer. She wasn’t expecting that. I wasn’t either. I’m sorry. No you’re not. I’m reaching for Dad’s jacket. I don’t want to. Yes you do. But I am.

  “Luke, please, let’s not fight.” Her eyes are pleading, trying to understand.

  I stare at her. “This isn’t fighting. This is leaving.”

  And I’m opening the trap door thing, folding down the steps. The crack of metal as they snap open too quickly.

  “Luke, please.”

  Don’t look at her. Princess.

  I don’t look at her.

  I pull on Dad’s jacket as I move along the hall. My heavy armour. I can feel my blood.

  “Yo!” Zia’s running up the stairs. “There you are!”

  Michelle’s with him. Scared. His face says trouble. “Come. Now!”

  EXT. – NIGHT

  Out of focus streetlight. Girl shouting. A jar of honey hitting the floor.

  We’re outside the house. Jono’s holding Simeon back near the front step. Max is on the floor, leaning against the bottom of the bay window, hand over the front of his face, blood running between his fingers, the shackles between them broken.

  Tommy’s standing next to the gate, his T-shirt almost completely ripped off, his fists up. Megan is behind him wearing a tartan mini-skirt over purple leggings and just a black bra. Her hair’s a mess.

  “Get off me!” Simeon’s voice is slurred. “I’ll kill him!”

  Jono doesn’t let him go. I get in between them.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Ask this prick,” says Tommy, pointing at Simeon. “We were just having a bit of fun and then he’s kicking my car, giving it the big un.”

  “Get away from my sister! Get off me, Jono!”

  Jono holds firm, nodding at me.

  “You OK, Max?” I say. “Why’d you hit him, Tom?”

  “He asked for it,” says Tommy, staring at Simeon. “That one went to hit her, Lukey. Like, actually hit her. Then this one got involved.” He points down at Max.