Love Bomb

by Jenny McLachlan

  ‘Mint, Betty?’ With one hand on the wheel, Toby’s mum turns round and waves a packet of Polos in my direction.

  ‘I’m fine, thanks,’ I say. Really, I’d like her to concentrate on the road. Toby and I were supposed to get the bus to Brighton, but as I was waiting outside Aldi, a blue sports car roared up and Toby stuck his head out of the window and told me to jump in. Now I’m sunk down low in a black leather seat listening to R. Kelly.

  Every now and then, Toby’s mum’s eyes flick up to the rear-view mirror, checking me out, and I smile and try to look nice and friendly. I don’t think she’s that impressed. From studying her eyes, I can see they are perfectly made-up and each of her lashes is curved and defined. I rummage in my bag to find a way of improving myself and pull out a tin of cocoa butter Vaseline. I take off my black-rimmed specs – I don’t need them, but I think they make me look clever – put them in my bag and then run my fingers through my hair.

  ‘Are you two OK to make your own way home?’ she shouts over the music. I nod and smile a glossy smile. ‘It’s just I’m staying over in Brighton tonight.’ I smile again. Suddenly, Toby turns up the music and, in perfect synchrony, they both start singing, ‘Sex Me’.

  ‘Mum’s a big R. Kelly fan,’ says Toby as the track ends and I see her eyes flick up to the mirror.

  I smile enthusiastically and desperately try to remember the name of an R. Kelly track. ‘I love “Black Panties”!’ I yell, very pleased with myself. Her eyes widen and then flick back to the road as I’m drowned out by the next track.

  I decide to shut up and look out of the window. I’m feeling a bit guilty sitting here zooming along the fast lane towards Brighton. When Dad asked what I was doing today, I said we were going to go to Brighton, knowing he’d assume that ‘we’ was some combination of Bea, Kat and Bill.

  It’s only since I’ve been in Year Ten that Dad’s let me go to Brighton with my friends and there’s no way he’d let me go with Toby because he doesn’t even know he exists. He knows I’m performing in the Autumn Celebration, but that’s it. Luckily he’s too distracted by his love affair with Poo to notice my world’s been turned upside down.

  I’ve kept a record of this week’s Toby-love in Dennis:

  1. Monday, he gave me the bigger half of his Snickers.

  2. Wednesday – rehearsal – he looked at me while I was singing then looked away quite quickly.

  3. Thursday, he called me ‘The T-Dog’s one and only B-Cakes’ in front of Kat, and after rehearsal held my finger (OK, he kind of grabbed it to stop me touching his new guitar, but he didn’t have to keep hold of it for as long as he did).

  4. Friday, he said Saturday would be ‘wicked hanging with my mates and the B-Cake’.

  ‘Mates’ turns out to be ‘mate’ and his name is Nat. We meet him in the Lanes and Toby does a complicated handshake-punching thing with him, before saying, ‘This is Betty,’ and nodding in my direction.

  ‘Hi,’ I say, giving a wave. Nat is like a blond version of Toby. They’re both wearing low-slung skinny jeans, shirts and Diesel jackets. And they’re both tall. Standing next to them, in my panda hat, cut-offs and DMs, I feel like their scruffy little sister.

  ‘Alright,’ says Nat, then he grabs Toby round the neck and rubs his knuckles into his scalp. ‘I missed you, T-Dog!’

  ‘C’mon,’ says Toby, shaking him off, ‘I need some trainers.’

  We spend the next hour wandering around looking for the perfect pair of trainers for Toby. I love shopping in Brighton, and Bill and I come whenever he’s not windsurfing and one of us has some money. We always do the same thing: go to Dave’s Comics (best comic shop in the world), drift around the second-hand shops and find funny objects, go and play with Lego in the Lego shop, then buy a doughnut from The Mock Turtle. They’re massive – the size of a baby’s face.

  Today, we walk straight past Dave’s Comics, but I don’t mind. I’m just happy being seen next to Toby. At one point, as we cross the road, I catch our reflection in a shop window. In slow-mo, I see him drop his arm across my shoulders and leave it there for a couple of seconds. I get double electric shocks because I see it happen before I feel it. My reflection grins and I look like one happy panda.

  Toby drags us round a series of shoe shops, and it’s only when I glance at my phone and realise it’s twelve that I start to worry about missing Bollie’s dance. It was supposed to start at midday. I find Toby by the hi-tops. ‘Can we go to Churchill Square now?’ I ask.

  ‘Betty’s friends are dancing there,’ Toby tells Nat. ‘They do, like, ballroom.’ He starts walking up and down the shop in a pair of grey Nikes. They’re really expensive, but his mum gave him a little wad of notes as we got out of the car so I guess he can afford them. ‘Nat, do I look like a chav?’

  ‘Nah, mate,’ says Nat.

  ‘It’s jive,’ I tell Nat. ‘And some of my friends are going to watch. I said I’d meet them there.’

  ‘Sure,’ says Nat, ‘Burger King’s that way.’

  ‘I’m just gonna try these in blue,’ says Toby. I glance at my phone. I’ve got a message from Bill: They’re on … where are you?

  ‘Can I meet you there?’ Suddenly I really want to see my friends, especially as I know they’re only a few minutes away.

  ‘Chillax, B-Cakes. We’ll see you there in five.’

  ‘Don’t miss it,’ I say as I head for the door. ‘They’re really good.’

  ‘Five minutes,’ he says, taking a pair of Vans off the shelf.

  I leg it up the hill and hear the music before I see the crowd. There are so many people I can’t see any dancers, so I squeeze my way to the front and just manage to catch the last minute of Bea and Ollie’s dance. Bea is wearing a red spotty dress. I can’t take my eyes off her as she bounces, spins and twirls. Neither can the audience. Ollie’s clearly the perfect partner because everything he does just shows off Bea’s amazing dancing. They finish with Bea rolling over Ollie’s back and popping back up through his legs. Then the applause starts, and Bea’s in Ollie’s arms, eyes shining.

  The music starts again and they join the other dancers, going round the audience and encouraging everyone to join in.

  That’s when I spot Bill and Kat. They’re sitting on a low wall, the sun shining on their blond heads. Kat’s saying something to Bill and I see his serious face break into a smile. Then she gets up and heads into the middle of the crowd, doing a little dance all on her own. Kat doesn’t usually like to stand out, and I can tell from her face that she’s desperately hoping Bill will join her. And Bill is so nice that he does. Shaking his head, he goes to her and they hold hands and they do the most hopeless jive I’ve ever seen. Their feet are all over the place and they keep missing each other’s hands and bumping into the people around them. They can’t stop laughing.

  Slowly, I back away. I can’t push my way through all the dancers, tap Bill and Kat on the shoulder and say, ‘Stop having fun – I’m here!’ Especially as Kat probably still hates me. Where is Toby? I glance around the crowd then check my phone. He’s sent me a message: Find us in b-king b-cakes i got you a whopper xx t

  He isn’t coming. Amazingly, the two kisses quickly dissolve my disappointment. I wanted my friends to properly meet Toby, but it looks like they’re getting along fine without me.

  I take one last look at Bill and Kat. In a matter of minutes they’ve got the hang of the dance and now they don’t look so ridiculous. In fact, they look quite good. I thought Kat was playing around when she said Bill was cutesome, but, watching them together, I’m not so sure. Kat’s perfect hair is getting tangled as she turns round and her cheeks are bright red, and Bill … He looks different, somehow.

  I turn away and walk towards Burger King. I text Bill: Couldn’t see you guys in crowd x Betty

  Toby and Nat are sitting at a corner table. When I see that Toby has drawn a ketchup heart on the top of my Whopper, my heart lifts. I look at him and he winks as I slip in next to him on the bench.

  ‘Y
ou owe Nat five quid,’ says Toby.

  ‘Right.’ I tear my eyes away from him and get out my purse. I pass Nat five pounds and he shoves it in his pocket. Suddenly, I feel Toby’s leg rest, ever so slightly, against mine. Even though I’m surrounded by screaming children and the air is thick with the smell of fries, I feel the yummy glow creep over me. Who would have thought Burger King could feel so explosive?

  ‘Do you like the picture I did?’ Toby asks. I nod and nibble a French fry. ‘It’s Nat’s arse!’ he says, grinning.

  ‘Oh.’ I turn my burger round. ‘I see it now,’ I say. Toby winks at me and takes a huge bite out of his Double Whopper.

  After mooching around the shops for a bit longer, we head down to the seafront and walk towards the marina. The blue sky has been hidden by clouds and it’s turning wild. We pull our hoods up and battle against the wind, yelling when spray from the sea hits our faces. I don’t realise we’re heading anywhere in particular until Nat says to Toby, ‘In there?’ and nods towards a peeling Victorian shelter.

  It’s good to be out of the cold, but it’s dark and dirty in the shelter. Fliers and take-away cartons blow around the floor. Also, it smells of wee. Nat and Toby go to the back, but I stay where I am. I’d rather be near fresh air. Suddenly, my phone beeps. It’s a message from Bea: Hey sorry we missed you we’re going on the crazy mouse wahoooo!!!! Wanna come??? Xx

  Bea loves the Crazy Mouse. It’s this roller coaster right at the end of the pier. I look across the sea. The pier’s covered in twinkling lights that are reflecting in the churning waves. Right at the end, I can just see the twisting track of the Crazy Mouse. I glance back into the shadows of the shelter where Toby and Nat are sitting on a rusting bench. Drink cartons and tissues are stuffed down its slats. Have fun … I can almost see you xx I text back.

  Nat opens his rucksack and pulls out different cans, carefully lining them up.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I ask.

  ‘This, Betty,’ Toby says, opening a can and giving it a shake, ‘is a bit more of my bad stuff.’ Then he jumps up on the bench and, with a swoop of his arm and a hiss from the can, starts to spray an enormous ‘T’ on the wooden wall of the shelter. I glance over my shoulder, but the prom is deserted. Nat stands next to Toby and starts on his own graffiti. From what I can make out, he’s spraying the outline of a green furry fish. A gust of wind slips into the shelter and I pull my hood tight round my face.

  ‘I tagged our school’s chapel and they freaked out,’ says Toby. ‘Apparently I ruined a nineteenth-century panel.’

  ‘Isn’t what you’re doing illegal?’ I ask.

  ‘Alright, Mum,’ says Nat, laughing.

  ‘Graffiti is illegal,’ says Toby, turning the ‘o’ in ‘T-Dog’ into a snarling bulldog. ‘But what we’re doing is art. Like Banksy.’

  I’m not so sure. What they’re doing looks pretty much exactly like graffiti. I turn back towards the prom. Someone’s got to be their lookout, and if I don’t watch I can pretend they’re not doing it. The rainclouds make it seem later than it is and the pier glitters in the darkness. If I stare hard enough, I can just about see a carriage slowly climbing the track of the Crazy Mouse. Are they all on there right now? It hovers for a second at the top before zooming down. I imagine their screams. I guess Kat is sitting with Bill. He loves fast rides and roars all the way through the scary bits.

  ‘Hey, B-Cakes, what d’you think?’ Toby is standing next to his graffiti. Honestly? It’s a bit messy and drippy and the shading’s gone wrong. Still, his is definitely better than Nat’s.

  ‘It’s good,’ I say. Then, because Toby’s waiting for more, I add, ‘It’s massive.’ I mean it’s big – it stretches across the whole of the back wall of the shelter – but Toby thinks I mean massively awesome. He grins as he jumps off the bench.

  After he’s put the finishing touches to his furry fish (which is actually a wolf), Nat heads home. Before Toby and I leave, he gets out his phone and takes a photo of his art. Suddenly, it feels extra quiet in the shelter and even the crash of the sea dies away. We’re standing so close together our shoulders are touching. This feeling creeps through me that Toby might do or say something.

  But the shelter still smells of wee and the pier looks so pretty that I don’t want to be in here a minute longer.

  ‘C’mon,’ I say, stepping out on to the prom. ‘Let’s go.’ Immediately, sea spray mists my face and a gust of wind tugs me forward. Toby joins me and we run laughing towards town, being knocked on all sides by the wind.

  *

  As the bus sways back across the Downs, Toby drops a crumpled Burger King bag on my lap.

  ‘What’s that?’ I ask.

  ‘A present,’ he says. ‘You said you liked it.’

  I open the bag and pull out a necklace. It’s a curled-up fox made out of a thin disc of wood hanging on a chain. Foxes are my favourite animal. Earlier we walked past a stall where a man was making them and I pointed the necklace out to Toby.

  After putting it on, I study the tiny carved lines of its nose and ears. Buying me a necklace … this tells me Toby likes me, doesn’t it? There’s just one problem. I didn’t actually see Toby buy it. Did he run back and get it when I went up to watch Bea dance? There definitely would have been time. Also, why would you steal something if you had a pocketful of money? I tuck the necklace inside my coat.

  ‘I love it,’ I say.

  It’s almost dark when I get to my road and I see my house lit up and looking all cosy. Toby and I said goodbye at the bus stop because he had to go round to Dexter’s and watch Bad Asses. Apparently it’s the sequel to Bad Ass. I’ve remembered word for word our goodbye so I can write it in Dennis the minute I get in:

  Toby: See you.

  Me: Thanks for my fox.

  Toby: Now you’ll never forget our first trip to Brighton. (Little wave from me, gorgeous eyebrow wriggle from him.)

  First trip to Brighton!

  I’m actually smiling when I let myself in, but that vanishes when I hear two voices coming from the kitchen. One of them is definitely female and has a Poo-ish quality. I’m just about to sneak upstairs when Dad sticks his head out.

  ‘There you are!’ he says, holding the door wide open. I’m still considering running to my room, but then I notice he’s made caramel slices and, honestly, I would put up with anyone’s company for one bite of Dad’s famous caramel slices.

  They’re piled up high on a plate in front of Poo. The shortbread is golden brown, the caramel is oozy and they’re smothered in thick cracked chocolate. It’s as though Dad has set a Betty-trap to lure me into the kitchen.

  I sit down on the edge of a chair and pick up a caramel slice. ‘Hi,’ I say, trying my absolute hardest to be nice … or at least not to be nasty.

  ‘Did you get anything in Brighton?’ Poo asks. She’s sitting cross-legged on one of our kitchen chairs and sipping herbal tea. Either she brought her own teabag or Dad’s got them in for her.

  ‘This,’ I say, holding out my fox necklace.

  ‘Beautiful,’ she says, leaning forward and picking up the necklace. She runs her fingers over the lines of the fox’s face. Today her nails are painted various shades of orange, although everything else about her is totally boring. She’s wearing a blue top, jeans and, just like last time, her hair is short and shiny.

  I look over at my dad in his almost skinny jeans and faded green T-shirt that says ‘I Beards’. He looks cool. I like having a cool-looking dad. Poo just doesn’t suit him.

  ‘Foxes are my favourite animal,’ she says, letting go of my necklace.

  ‘Really?’ I say. As if! Rue would say anything to make me like her. I narrow my eyes as Dad puts a cup of tea in front of me.

  ‘Absolutely,’ she says. ‘In fact, I’ve a tattoo of a fox on my arm.’ And just as I’m thinking she’s probably got some lame cartoon fox on her wrist, she rolls up her sleeve and shows me her tattoo. That’s definitely a fox. It’s all done in black ink, its pointy nose touching her h
and and its tail curving into her elbow. Poo’s got a whopping big fox running up her arm.

  ‘Wow,’ I say, before I can stop myself, which is so annoying because immediately I sense how pleased Dad is. Quickly, I add, ‘I prefer owls.’

  ‘I’ve got an owl on my shoulder,’ she says.

  What? I bet if I said I liked zeedonks she’d show me one on her bum. We’ve definitely done enough bonding. Balancing one more caramel slice on the top of my mug, I stand up. On the way out of the kitchen, Dad gives me the most grateful smile I’ve ever seen, and all for saying, this, really, wow and I prefer owls.

  Upstairs, I write in Dennis and check my phone. I’ve got a message from Bill: Crazy Mouse + doughnut = good.

  They all got a Mock Turtle doughnut! How can I be jealous of a doughnut? It’s like they had my best day out ever and didn’t invite me … although they did invite me of course. I force myself to think of Toby and me on the bus, knocking into each other when we went round corners and how he smelt of this yummy mix of fabric conditioner, spray paint and Toby. The bus journey took half an hour. The Crazy Mouse probably only lasted a couple of minutes. But I do love doughnuts …

  Just as I’m feeling all my good Toby-vibes slipping away from me, the doorbell rings. I hear Dad open the door and then a muffled voice. It’s Bill! I launch myself off the bed and into the hallway.

  ‘Hi,’ I yell, jumping down the stairs two at a time. Bill can’t let Dad know that I wasn’t in Brighton with him!

  ‘Haven’t you had enough of her?’ Dad says as Bill steps into the house.

  ‘Clearly he hasn’t,’ I say, landing in front of them with a bang. ‘Bill, you loser, stop stalking me.’ Bill looks confused for a second, then picks up on my wide, pleading eyes. ‘We’ve only just said goodbye,’ I add, pointedly.

  ‘Yeah, I know,’ says Bill, ‘but you forgot your doughnut so we thought we’d bring it round.’ He holds out a paper bag. We? And then I see Kat hovering behind him.