by Holly Archer
‘No!’ I’d gasp. ‘She’s my sister. I don’t have a baby. I’m only thirteen!’
I’d giggle as the relief spread over their faces. The idea of being a teenage mum horrified me, as of course to get pregnant you’d have to have sex. I knew the facts of life but I had very little interest in boys, and sex just seemed, well, a bit minging. There was plenty of time for all that, in my opinion. Even the idea of kissing a boy filled me with horror.
Most of my friends thought differently, though. None of them were having sex – far from it – but they’d sit and gossip in class about which boys they thought were fit and who they wanted to snog at the underage discos we went to in the dingy snooker hall in Telford. It was all really awkward. We’d stand at opposite ends of the room until one of the boys was brave enough to shuffle over and ask one of the girls to dance to some awful chart song that was all the rage back then. The one that really sticks in my mind when I think of those times is ‘Blue’ by Eiffel 65 because it sounds like it’s being sung by a squeaky, strangled robot. How we ever thought such music was cool I’ll never know.
It was there I had my first kiss, although I was kind of peer-pressured into it.
‘That lad, Ryan, fancies you,’ my friend Jayne said. ‘You should snog him.’
She pointed to a weedy-looking guy our age with mousy brown hair, standing awkwardly at the other side of the room. As soon as I met his eye, he looked away and stared at his shoes.
I could feel my face blushing scarlet. ‘I don’t know . . .’
‘Come on, Holly,’ she said. ‘You’ve never snogged anyone before. Everyone is doing it. Just get it over with.’
I sighed and shrugged my shoulders. I didn’t particularly want to snog Ryan, but neither did I want to be left behind and be a laughing stock because I’d never kissed anyone and all of my mates had. Every teenager knows the feeling, I’m sure.
We awkwardly edged towards each other through the room of sweaty, spotty teenagers, and Ryan murmured something that sounded like hello – not that I could hear him over the music. He put his arms around my waist and, before I knew it, he’d stuck his tongue down my throat. I don’t think he’d ever kissed anyone before either, because it was really sloppy. We pulled apart after about ten seconds and went back to our separate groups of friends. All I can remember thinking is, thank God that’s over. I was in no hurry to kiss anyone else.
2
Ali
In the autumn of that year, just after I’d snogged Ryan, things started to change. By now Liam was almost sixteen and we’d gradually started to drift apart. While he and his mates had once loved playing football in the street, they’d all grown up a bit, and kicking a ball around a cul-de-sac with Carly and me seemed a bit uncool. They were much more interested in girls in their own year at school, the kind who dressed up and wore make-up and did their hair. Plus, they all had their GCSEs coming up and some of their parents insisted they stay in at night and revise.
Our neighbourhood football matches became few and far between and they’d soon stop completely, leaving Carly and me at a bit of a loose end.
‘Is Liam coming out?’ Carly asked one evening when she called for me after school.
‘He’s got tons of homework,’ I replied. ‘I don’t think he wants to play football with us anymore.’
Carly looked crestfallen. She pushed one of her plaits behind her ear, as she kicked the ground beneath her feet. ‘What are we going to do, then?’ she asked.
I shrugged. Suddenly, my street seemed much more boring than it had before. There were still kids out playing in gardens and on the pavement, but they were much younger than us and came across as a bit babyish. Carly was still really young for her age and I think she’d have joined them if she could, but I felt a little self-conscious. I knew my friends from high school would laugh if they saw me hanging around with people who still went to primary school.
‘I dunno,’ I said. ‘What do you want to do?’
Carly’s face lit up. ‘Let’s walk into town,’ she suggested. ‘There are some fit lads from my school who are always hanging around there.’
Hearing Carly talk about ‘fit lads’ stopped me in my tracks. It was the first time I’d ever heard her say anything like that and it sounded funny. Carly still looked like she was ten or eleven, with the plaits that fell to her waist and the rolls of puppy fat that spilled over her tracksuit bottoms. I’d become a little more image-conscious since starting high school. If truth be told, I was still happiest kicking a ball around in a tracksuit, but quite a few girls in my class had started to bleach their hair and I’d decided to follow suit, but I’d only done it because it was the fashion, not because I particularly wanted any of the boys at school to notice.
‘If you want,’ I answered, with a shrug. I wasn’t really bothered about meeting any lads. I wasn’t in any rush to have another sloppy kiss with an awkward boy who could barely look me in the eye. But I was a bit bored, and it was something to do.
It didn’t take us long to walk into the centre, as it’s such a small place. We walked as far as the local church, an old grey building with a big graveyard next to it. My family wasn’t religious, so I’d never been inside, but there was a little bench just a few yards away.
‘Will we sit here for a bit?’ Carly asked.
I agreed, but we ended up sitting there for about an hour and a half, chatting about silly teenage things, like who had fallen out with whom, until it was time to go home. This became a bit of a nightly routine after that. Carly would call for me after we’d had dinner and done our homework and we’d walk to the bench outside the church. It was all very innocent.
I never saw any of the lads from Carly’s school, though, and I began to wonder if they really hung around the church, or if they were just having her on. Carly was gullible like that. As much as I liked her, I was glad she didn’t go to my school because I was pretty sure she’d get picked on and I knew I’d be a target too, if I was her mate.
So, in the end, I suppose it all kind of happened by accident.
We were walking through the town as normal when we caught sight of two distant figures, sitting at our usual spot on the bench.
‘Carly!’ one of them shouted, before we could get a good look at them. ‘Carly! Oi!’
Carly pretended not to hear him and I could see her cheeks starting to burn.
‘Do you know them?’ I asked.
‘Just keep walking,’ she said.
But as we got closer to the bench, two faces came into view. The first boy looked way older than us. He was really tall, I’d guess around six feet, and had a smattering of stubble – more a five o’clock shadow than a real beard. His hair was gelled to perfection, with a little flick at the front, as was the fashion back then. I could tell his clothes were really expensive: cream jeans and a cream corduroy jacket, with sheepskin round the edges. I suppose he was an all right-looking lad, but I definitely didn’t fancy him, although he made me feel suddenly self-conscious in my loose-fitting jeans and top. The second boy looked closer to our age but was really short and fat, with a round, podgy face and tiny black eyes. It didn’t really register with me on a conscious level that they both looked Asian, probably of Pakistani origin.
We shuffled past the two boys uneasily, unsure which direction to head in, as they were sitting on our bench. I could feel both pairs of eyes scanning my body, smirking as they looked us up and down. It made me feel really weird, but I wasn’t sure why. I just didn’t like it.
‘Hey, Carly!’ the taller boy shouted again. ‘Who’s your friend? Aren’t you gonna stop and talk to me?’
I turned to Carly, expecting her to say nothing and walk on, but she’d stopped. I shot her a confused look, but she pretended not to notice.
‘Oh, hey, Ali,’ she said, casually.
The taller boy smirked and folded his arms. ‘Who’s your friend?’ he asked again.
‘This is Holly,’ Carly said. ‘She doesn’t go to our school.’
‘What school do you go to?’ Ali asked. It sounded more like a threat than a question.
I told him, and his lip curled into a sneer.
Ali nodded. ‘Shithole is it, yeah?’
I shrugged, unsure of the right answer. ‘Suppose so,’ I ventured.
‘How old do you think I am?’ he demanded. ‘I bet you can’t guess.’
His brown eyes bored into me and I felt uneasy under his gaze. There was something really intimidating about him, but I couldn’t put my finger on what it was. Of course, like most teenage girls, I was desperate not to appear uncool, and I didn’t want Ali and his friend to laugh at me. His friend was also looking at me now, and I looked to Carly pleadingly.
‘How old is he, Carly?’ I asked.
She giggled. ‘Guess. Bet you can’t.’
‘Guess,’ Ali echoed. ‘Go on.’
‘Seventeen?’ I said. ‘Eighteen?’
All three of them, Carly included, burst out laughing. I felt a little panicky, as if there was some big joke I wasn’t in on. I felt instantly annoyed at Carly – she was supposed to be my friend. Wasn’t she on my side? Why was she laughing at me with these weird boys? But then it struck me: Carly had never been popular with boys. It wasn’t a very nice thing to say, but she hadn’t. She was overweight, not exactly streetwise, and her mum still did her hair. She was a perfect target, really. She’d boasted about fit lads from her school, yet she’d almost walked past them when they shouted her name because she was scared they’d tease her. Now here she was, getting to share in their joke, to laugh along with them. It was just a shame the butt of the joke was me.
‘Eighteen?’ Ali snorted. ‘No, guess again.’
‘Sixteen?’ I said. ‘How am I supposed to know how old you are?’
Carly was still smirking but, when I caught her eye, she looked away again, fixing her gaze on the ground.
‘He’s thirteen,’ said the fat boy.
‘Shut it, Naseer,’ Ali hissed.
‘No way,’ I replied, feeling bolder than before. ‘You’re not thirteen.’
‘He is,’ said Naseer. ‘We’re in Year Eight.’
‘Year Eight!’ I repeated, my voice more high-pitched than I’d intended it to be. By this point, Carly and I were in Year Nine. Ali looked like a fully grown man – it just didn’t seem possible that he could be telling the truth. I was convinced he was winding me up. ‘You can’t be in Year Eight. We’re in Year Nine.’
‘I know,’ he said. ‘Carly is the year above me. Honestly, I’m thirteen.’
‘He is,’ Carly piped up. ‘Honestly, he is.’
I wasn’t sure if I should believe her or not, so I said nothing. For the next few minutes we made small talk. Naseer went to school with Carly and Ali, so they all quizzed me on who I was and where I lived and what lads I’d been with. I didn’t give much away; I just tried to laugh their questions off because I hadn’t really been with any lads apart from Ryan, and that hardly counted. I quickly realised that Ali was really loud and liked to show off, while Naseer was just obnoxious and liked to insult everyone. I guess he was probably just insecure about his size and bringing others down made him feel good. Still, it didn’t make it seem OK.
After about ten minutes, Naseer turned to Carly.
‘Want to go for a walk?’ he barked. I could tell it wasn’t really a question, more of an order.
Carly’s mouth fell open, as if she didn’t know what to say, but she soon clamped it shut again.
‘Go on, Carly,’ Ali coaxed. ‘What are you scared of?’
Ali and Naseer started to laugh at her and I looked at the ground. Now the tables had turned and they were focusing on Carly, I could understand why she’d joined in when they laughed at me. It was just a relief not to be the butt of their joke.
‘OK,’ Carly said, after a few seconds. ‘Fine. Let’s go for a walk.’
She didn’t look back at me as they disappeared behind the church together. I was now alone with Ali, but all I could think was, thank God Naseer didn’t ask me to go with him. I was so naive, I didn’t have a clue what he’d want Carly to do, but I was selfishly glad she’d be left to find out and not me.
As soon as they were out of earshot, Ali turned to me and started to laugh.
‘I bet Carly doesn’t even know what a blow job is,’ he snorted. ‘Not that I’d want a fucking blow job from her.’
I stayed silent as my mind raced at a hundred miles an hour. I didn’t know what a blow job was either, but there was no way I was about to admit that, as Ali would tear me to shreds and tell Naseer and they’d think it was a hoot. I guessed it might be something to do with sex and that made my stomach turn. I felt really bad, but I was still relieved Naseer had asked Carly to go with him and not me. Whatever a blow job was, I felt sure I didn’t want to give him one.
‘What do you think?’ he asked. ‘Do you think she’ll have a clue?’ He started to laugh again.
‘I dunno,’ I said. ‘Maybe she’ll know. I don’t know.’
Ali shook his head. ‘No chance. I bet she actually blows his dick instead of sucking it.’
My insides lurched violently as everything fell into place and I realised what Ali was suggesting. I could actually feel bile rising in my throat at the thought and it was all I could do not to gag. Kissing Ryan had been disgusting enough – the thought of doing that to a boy was so minging I could barely get my head around it. I was so innocent I didn’t even know that boys were supposed to enjoy that kind of thing, but I didn’t say anything because I was scared my response would be the wrong one.
‘You’re quiet,’ Ali said. ‘Not got much to say for yourself?’
I giggled nervously. ‘Don’t be a dick,’ I said, as bravely as I could. We made idle chitchat for about five or ten minutes. I didn’t say much. I just agreed with everything he said, as he leaned against the park bench in his expensive jacket and boasted about all the things he and Naseer and their mates got up to.
After what seemed like an eternity, I caught sight of Carly and Naseer walking back round to the front of the church. They weren’t side by side, like they had been when they walked off. Carly was walking a little in front of him, her round face whiter than usual. Naseer was smirking behind her back.
‘Sorted?’ Ali said, as they reached the bench.
‘Sorted,’ Naseer grinned.
Carly wasn’t smiling. ‘Holly, let’s go to the shop,’ she said. ‘I really need a drink.’
I was relieved to have an excuse to go, and we walked off without another word. Carly was unusually quiet. I had an idea of what had happened because of what Ali had said, but deep down I didn’t think Carly would have the guts to do it. I doubt she’d even kissed a boy at that stage, and if I didn’t know what a blow job was, there was no way she did.
‘What’s up with you?’ I asked, as breezily as I could.
‘Nothing,’ she said. She paused for a second, as if she was deep in thought. Then she turned to me and said: ‘But guess what I just did?’
I felt my stomach twist a little. ‘I dunno, what?’
‘I bet you’ve never done this before,’ she said.
The colour had started to return to her cheeks and I realised what was happening. It had just dawned on her she had one up on me, something to boast about, something to make her think she was cooler and more grown-up than I was.
‘I sucked his dick.’
Hearing Carly say the words out loud made me feel a bit sick and I couldn’t help but grimace.
&nb
sp; ‘Ew,’ I said. ‘Why? Did he make you? What a dickhead.’
‘No,’ Carly said. ‘I thought it would be a laugh.’
‘A laugh?’ I blurted out, incredulous. Carly was smiling now, a little smugly. She was starting to enjoy this.
‘Yeah,’ she said, as we arrived at a shop on the corner of the road home. ‘It was really small, though. Tiny actually.’ She started to giggle. ‘But I really need a drink. I can still taste it a bit in my mouth. It’s making me feel a bit sick.’
‘God, Carly, too much information,’ I said. ‘Get me a bottle of Coke while you’re in there.’
‘Have you ever done it?’ Carly said. ‘I bet you haven’t.’
‘Carly,’ I said, counting out some ten pence pieces, my voice wavering a little. ‘Just get me a Coke.’
If I thought we’d seen the last of Ali and Naseer, I was wrong. A few evenings later, as we walked towards the church on our nightly route, Carly’s phone began to ring. She answered it before I could see whose name had flashed up on the screen.
‘Oh, OK,’ she said. ‘We’re just walking up now. See you in two minutes.’
‘Who was that?’ I asked, as she hung up.
‘Naseer,’ she replied. ‘Let’s go and meet them. They’re at the church now.’
I felt my heart sink. ‘Naseer? How did he get your number?’
‘Well, I gave it to him, didn’t I?’ she said. ‘The other night. It’ll be a laugh, come on.’
I sighed as we walked around the corner to see a group of boys huddled by the bench – our bench, or at least it used to be. There were three of them this time. Ali, Naseer and another boy who made me stop in my tracks. He had soft olive skin, a little lighter than the other two, and piercing dark eyes. He looked a bit daft – he was wearing a cap, which barely concealed his dodgy haircut. Curtains, we called it back then. But when I saw him, I felt my stomach flip over. Not in a bad way, the way it had when Ali and Naseer had taken the piss out of me a few nights before. It felt like butterflies, a kind of nervous excitement. He was looking at me too, and my heart started beating a little faster as we stared at each other for a few seconds.