Boys Don't Knit

by T. S. Easton

  I’ve not got a thing to wear to the party tonight. I’m feeling nervous now it’s here. If it wasn’t for Megan, there’s no way I’d be going. I hope my friends don’t embarrass me.

  I hope I don’t embarrass myself.

  20th October

  So. The party.

  Could have gone better, could have gone worse …

  Gex and I met up with Joz, who was on his bike, and we walked to Freya’s house, which is a big posh place in a new housing development. On the way Gex opened his bag and gave us all a bottle. Mine was Martini Rosso.

  ‘Is this supposed to be a joke?’ I asked, staring at it.

  He looked surprised.

  ‘I thought that was your drink, innit.’

  ‘Really? You thought my drink was Martini Rosso?’

  ‘Well, what is it then?’ Freddie asked.

  ‘Yeah, what is it then?’ Gex repeated.

  ‘I, I don’t know,’ I said. ‘But it certainly isn’t this.’

  ‘Look, it’s just to get you into the party,’ Gex said. ‘You’re not going to drink anything anyway cos you is a pansy.’

  ‘I is not a pansy,’ I retorted. ‘I mean I am not a pansy. I just don’t see why it’s necessary to get bladdered and vomit on the carpet in order to have a good night.’

  ‘Whatever, Bellend,’ Gex sighed.

  So the first sign of foreboding was when Brianna Moore answered the door and claimed she didn’t recognise us.

  ‘ID please,’ she said suspiciously.

  ‘Brianna … it’s us,’ I said. ‘You know … from college?’

  She peered at the three of us, frowning.

  ‘Oh right. Maybe.’

  ‘So, gonna let us in then?’ asked Joz.

  ‘How did you even find out about this party anyway?’ she said, ignoring the question. ‘It’s not on Facebook.’

  ‘Freya invited us,’ Gex piped up. ‘She invited everyone, totes.’

  ‘Only sixth form,’ Brianna said.

  ‘We are sixth form,’ I said. ‘You and I were in the same Geography class last term, remember?’

  ‘You and me?’ she said, peering at me.

  ‘You and I,’ I corrected. ‘You sat right behind me.’ I was astonished at her poor memory.

  ‘No way, there was some little dark-haired loser in front of me,’ she said.

  ‘That was me!’ I said. I turned around to show her the back of my head.

  Thankfully at this point, Freya and her friend Jasmine came to the door and let us in. Freya warned us that her father was upstairs with a headache and a 5-iron and that no one was to go up there on pain of death.

  Once we got inside, the party was the usual sort of thing. Everyone just talking to their mates, getting drunk on mixed spirits and fighting over the music. This must have been going on for some time as Freddie had nearly slipped over in a pool of sick as we’d walked up the drive earlier.

  ‘We should of brought mixers,’ Freddie said.

  We poured ourselves glasses of our various drinks (no one wanted my Martini Rosso, including me) and stood awkwardly in the kitchen. I kept looking out for Megan, who was the only reason I’d agreed to come, but she didn’t seem to be there.

  ‘Imagine if you were always drunk,’ Freddie said.

  ‘Like Mr Carter?’ Joz said.

  ‘No, I mean, what if everyone was always drunk. Like it was your normal way to be. And when you drank alcohol it made everything seem normal, not like really fuzzy.’

  There was a pause while we all thought this over.

  ‘Yeah,’ Gex said. ‘People would, like, get up in the morning and go, ‘I simply can’t start the day without a double vodka and muesli.’ You know, instead of a cup of tea or whatever?’

  ‘Footballers would have to start drinking forty-eight hours before an important game,’ said Freddie. ‘Just to, like, function properly during the match.’

  ‘School would be a bit more fun,’ Freddie pointed out.

  ‘Makes you think,’ Joz said.

  ‘Deffo,’ Gex said, sipping his whisky and ginger ale.

  ‘I think there’s already a term for what you’re describing,’ I said.

  ‘Really?’ Joz asked.

  ‘Yes, it’s called alcoholism.’

  Thankfully Freya and Jasmine came over to talk after a while. They’re actually quite nice as it happens. Freya’s kind of plain and ordinary looking, but Jasmine is well pretty, with big dark eyes and she’s always smiling and even Joz stopped being vile about the female species for a bit. Gex didn’t say a word to Freya, which I know is his way of showing a girl he likes her. Freddie tried his own pulling technique on Jasmine – he offered her drugs that he doesn’t have and has no way of getting. After a while the girls went off but Jasmine came back later and handed Gex a note.

  Gex looked at it and then gave it to Freddie to read. Gex struggles a bit with handwriting.

  ‘Freya wants to meet you in her room at eleven,’ he said. ‘Top of the stairs, second door on the left. But be careful of her dad. Try to distract him so he goes downstairs, then you can sneak up.’

  ‘Right, we need a distraction,’ Gex said, and started telling us his plan. Now, before I go any further, I’d just like to say that I, for one, voted against the plan. I thought it was dangerous and wouldn’t work. But I was outvoted, as usual. So, just before 11pm Joz and Freddie went outside and after a couple of minutes Joz rang the doorbell, I opened it and Freddie shot in on his BMX, sweeping through the house and out through the conservatory doors at the back, leaving chaos in his wake.

  Girls were screaming, boys were shouting and throwing stuff at him, lawyers were called, someone set up a helpline for anyone affected by the issues raised and I think the government briefly called a state of emergency. Of course, Freya’s father heard the racket and came charging downstairs, waving a golf club. He ran into the garden, after Freddie. This left the coast clear for Gex to nip up the stairs. Joz had disappeared, as usual. I went back into the kitchen, which was now empty as everyone had run out the back to watch Freya’s dad beat the intruder around the head with his club. I later found out he’d chased poor old Freddie all the way to the canal, which Freddie tried to jump on his BMX, like at the end of The Great Escape. He had to go back this morning and fish his bike out.

  In the kitchen I found my still-untouched bottle of Martini Rosso.

  ‘You going to open that?’ said a soft voice behind me. It was Megan. She looked quite nice, though she had so much make-up on it made her look like a cartoon version of herself, as though she’d been replaced by her own avatar.

  ‘Sure,’ I said, suddenly feeling nervous. I opened the bottle and grabbed a couple of plastic cups.

  ‘You know what goes well with that?’ she asked. I shook my head.

  ‘Apple juice,’ she said and raised an eyebrow as she went to the fridge to get some.

  She was right; Martini Rosso and apple juice does work, and doesn’t taste alcoholic at all. Megan drained her cup quickly and held it out for another one.

  ‘What’s this drink called?’ I asked. ‘Applosso?’

  ‘Rossopple?’ she suggested.

  What do you talk to girls about? They don’t watch The Shield, or Dave. I wondered if I should talk to her about knitting? No, don’t be a fool, Ben, I told myself. You’ve come so far. You might as well just go ahead and tell her you fancy her mum.

  But I was saved from not knowing what to say by a scream from upstairs. We rushed back into the hall to see Gex leaping down the stairs three at a time, a look of blind panic on his face. He was followed by a dishevelled woman in a nightie I was guessing was Freya’s mother.

  ‘Wrong room,’ he shouted as he passed me in the hall. ‘Wrong freakin’ room!’ Then he was out the front door and away into the suburban night.

  People had started to come back in to watch the latest entertainment. To get away from the crowd Megan suggested we go to the sitting room.

  ‘I don’t think we’re allowed
in there,’ I said. ‘I think the door’s locked. Freya said they’ve got a new white carpet.’

  ‘I know another way,’ she said. ‘I’ve been here loads of times.’

  So she led me through the utility room and into the empty, dark sitting room.

  ‘Are you sure about this?’ I asked, meaning was she sure we should be in this room but she said, ‘Yes, I’m sure,’ and she kissed me.

  I was a bit gobsmacked, to be honest. I’ve never really had a proper kiss before. I’m not sure how to describe it really. It was sort of … meaty. She was almost chewing my lips. Without breaking off, I put the bottle down on the table behind me and started chewing right back.

  Then light entered the room as the door opened and Freya’s mother was there. ‘What the hell … ?’ she said and turned on the light. Megan turned to face her, leaving me standing facing the door.

  ‘What’s that?’ Freya’s mum screamed, pointing in the general direction of my crotch.

  Megan turned to look. ‘Oh my God!’ she said.

  What? I thought, suddenly panicking. What’s going on down there? But it wasn’t my crotch they were looking at. I whipped around to see that damned bottle of Martini Rosso had fallen off the table and was on its side busily glugging bright red liquid all over the Porters’ new white carpet. I was relieved to discover they weren’t horrified by a problem in my trouser department, but this was nearly as bad.

  I’m ashamed to say we ran for it. I lost Megan in the scrum in the hallway and that was the end of the fun for the night. I thought it better to quit while I was, if not ahead, then at least even on points. Bad times regarding Martini Rosso on the carpet, and I’m worried there’s going to be a call from Freya’s mum on that one. But this all pales into significance on account of the fact that Megan snogged me.

  Surely now she’ll accept my friend request? I don’t think Megan’s big on fb but she must check it sometime, surely? And she wouldn’t reject my request now, would she? I’m a bit worried though that the experience might have put her off.

  Anyway, when the lads and I compared notes this morning, sitting in the sunshine on the wall outside Freddie’s house, Gex had to be coaxed into telling his story. It turned out he’d crept into the darkened bedroom as instructed, saw someone lying in the bed and, deciding Freya must be ‘well up for it’, threw all caution to the wind and leapt onto the bed with a cry of ‘yahoo!’ Only then did he discover the bed was occupied by Freya’s mum.

  ‘What were you thinking, you muppet?’ Freddie gasped through his laughter.

  ‘You said third door on the left, innit?’ a furious Gex told him.

  ‘No, I said SECOND door on the left,’ Freddie replied. ‘Why would I say third?’

  ‘You said third, you moron. Didn’t he say third?’ Gex asked me.

  ‘Can’t honestly remember,’ I said, and shrugged. My mind already on other things. I still couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss. And whether my parents were going to get a call from Freya’s mum. I hadn’t told my friends about my kiss with Megan. They would only have said something revolting.

  ‘It was a disaster,’ Freddie said. ‘The whole night was a sodding disaster.’

  ‘Not disastrous for all of us,’ Joz said, showing us a fresh hickey on his neck.

  We stared at him in amazement.

  ‘Jasmine,’ he said. ‘Under the stairs.’

  Well, this was an unexpected curveball.

  Maybe it’s time to take Fifty Shades of Graham more seriously …

  22nd October

  I think I might be making some progress with Mrs Frensham. We actually had a conversation today. She brought me out my tea and stood around for a while, watching me sip it intently, as though she’d put cyanide in it and wanted to make sure I drank it all down like a good boy. She didn’t say anything, just stood there, holding her own cup but not drinking from it.

  ‘Were you born in Hampton?’ I asked, feeling I needed to break the ice.

  ‘Portsmouth,’ she said.

  ‘Do you have family here?’ I asked, after a pause while I sipped from the chipped Eeyore mug she’d brought me.

  ‘Family,’ she spat, in a tone that suggested her family had already been given their mugs of cyanide tea.

  ‘Do you not get on?’ I asked, trying to look sympathetic.

  ‘Who wants to know?’ she said.

  I shrugged. ‘Sometimes it helps to talk.’

  ‘People do too much talking,’ she said. ‘Why do people always dig up things best left buried?’

  ‘Dunno,’ I said. ‘Ask Tony Robinson.’

  She didn’t make any move to go back inside though, and after a while, she said, ‘I don’t like them. My family.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ I said, wishing she’d put my mind at rest by drinking her own tea.

  ‘My niece is OK,’ she went on. ‘She keeps me up-to-date with what’s going on.’

  ‘But you don’t talk to anyone else?’

  ‘No,’ she said, then finally she sipped her tea. I breathed a sigh of relief. ‘There was a to-do over my mum’s wedding ring when she died.’

  ‘When was that?’

  ‘1969.’

  I spat tea.

  ‘1969? How old were you?’

  ‘Old enough to know my sister was trying to steal from me,’ she said. ‘It all went downhill from there.’

  ‘Good that you have your niece, though,’ I said.

  ‘She’s an odd one,’ Mrs Frensham said after a pause. ‘She’s called her baby Spector.’

  ‘For real?’

  ‘For real. Stupid name.’

  ‘I suppose we’ll all have stupid names in the future,’ I said.

  That was about it. A bizarre sort of conversation. I think she’d be more suited to Freddie’s brand of chat really. Maybe I should introduce them.

  I’ll phone Ms Gunter about it tomorrow and let her know how I’m getting on. Speaking of phones, I looked for Megan at school today but she’s off sick. She still hasn’t accepted my friend request. I did see Jasmine though, and I know she’s friends with Megan. Jasmine was wearing a scarf, which suggested to me Joz wasn’t the only one with a hickey.

  ‘Hi, Jasmine,’ I said casually.

  ‘Hi, Ben,’ she replied warily.

  ‘Do you have Megan’s number?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Could I have it?’

  ‘Why do you want Megan’s number?’

  ‘I was going to send her a text, to say thanks for Saturday night … ’

  ‘Why, what happened on Saturday night?’

  I paused, surprised. ‘She didn’t … say anything?’

  ‘About what?’

  Why are girls so protective of each other in these situations? It’s like they think us men are sharks, circling a huddled group of shipwrecked sailors. Jasmine should be facilitating. She should be bringing me and Megan together. She shouldn’t be putting up barriers, or firing spear-guns into my eyes.

  ‘About me,’ I said.

  ‘No,’ Jasmine said. ‘She definitely didn’t say anything about you. She was totally drunk and doesn’t remember anything about that party.’

  Jasmine stood up and walked off, giving me a contemptuous look, as though I’d just made her an indecent proposal.

  ‘Nice hickey,’ I said as she stropped off.

  Could Jasmine be believed? Megan had already looked a bit bleary when she’d found me, and then she had another couple of drinks. A bladdered Megan would certainly explain why she’d been so willing to get off with me. But what did that mean? That she didn’t actually like me? Was it just the alcohol speaking? Or had the Rossopple merely stripped away the inhibitions, revealing her true, yearning desires?

  Cripes, I think I’ve been reading too much Fifty Shades of Graham. Speaking of which, Joz gave me six or seven more pages I must get on and edit. It’s getting marginally better. Things have moved on and Graham and Daisy have plunged into the world of big business, with all its attending temptations
and moral dilemmas. The pages are in the Box of Shame under my bed, along with the clay, three back copies of Knit!, my actual knitting and some racy mags down the bottom that quite frankly don’t get much of a look-in these days.

  23rd October

  Finally caught up with Megan at school today; she was walking around with Freya Porter. I stalked her for a bit, waiting for my opportunity, keeping well out of sight. I thought it had come when Freya went into the loos and it looked like Megan was going to wait outside. But then Freya said something to Megan, apparently convincing her she needed to go as well and they popped in together. Girls do like company when they’re on the loo. What do they do in there together? Is it like midwives? Do they offer each other encouragement, hold hands? Coax it out?

  I had to wait until the bell was about to ring before the girls could finally bear to be parted from one another and I sprinted around the science block to get ahead of Megan.

  ‘Oh, hi,’ I said, affecting surprise and puffing slightly.

  ‘Were you just following us?’ she asked.

  ‘What? Following you?’

  Megan carried on walking; we had to be in class in a couple of minutes.

  ‘Me and Freya,’ she said. ‘Wherever we looked, you were there. Like Clare Balding.’

  ‘Just coincidence, I suppose,’ I said breezily. ‘It was a good party last Saturday.’

  She rolled her eyes. ‘I don’t remember. I think I had too much to drink. Are you going this way?’

  ‘Yes,’ I lied. We were, in fact, heading in the opposite direction to where I needed to be. ‘You don’t remember anything?’

  ‘Not really,’ she said. ‘I heard about Freddie steaming through the house on his BMX.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I laughed a little too hard, accidentally snorting like a pig. ‘Do you remember anything else?’

  ‘Freya’s dad chasing after Gex with a golf club?’

  ‘That was hilarious, yes,’ I said, impatient now. We were nearly at her classroom. ‘But anything else? Something that happened a bit later?’

  She turned to look at me, smiling. Aha. I thought, she’s been playing with me. She remembers.