by Holly Archer
‘Hey,’ he said, with a warm smile. ‘How’s it going?’
‘Yeah, fine,’ I replied, as casually as I could.
I soon discovered his name was Imran and he was a year older than me. Looking back, I guess it was the first time I’d ever felt attracted to a boy and it made my head spin a little, as I didn’t really know what to do or how to react. Imran had caught me off guard and I had to try my hardest not to stare at him even more than I already had done. He was really fit, much fitter than Ali or Ryan or any other boy my age.
Ali must have caught me looking at Imran, because he soon became a little snappy.
‘It’s shit round here,’ he said. ‘Let’s go for a walk.’
As he and Naseer started off along the street, Carly and I followed obediently. Imran was behind us and I had a sudden urge to turn round to look at him, almost to check if he was still there, but I didn’t dare in case he thought I was some sort of weirdo. We’d been walking for about half a second when Ali turned round sharply.
‘You two can’t walk with us,’ he said. ‘You have to walk behind us. And not too close.’
‘Eh?’ Carly said, confused. ‘What’s that all about?’
‘You just can’t,’ said Naseer. ‘We can’t be seen with you. OK?’
‘OK,’ we said, exchanging confused glances.
‘Meet us up by the other church,’ said Ali. ‘The big church in town. Wait a few minutes before you follow us.’
I could suddenly sense Imran behind me. His aftershave smelled nicer than Ali’s and I could feel the heat of his breath on my neck.
‘I can walk with you two,’ he said. ‘I don’t mind.’
Ali shrugged, and he and Naseer set off while the three of us hung back, keeping our distance a little.
‘Why can’t we walk with them?’ Carly asked, as they disappeared around the corner. For effect, she added: ‘Dickheads.’
Imran let out a little laugh. ‘Because if their dads or uncles see them walking about with girls like you they’ll know they’re up to no good, that’s why.’
‘Girls like us?’ Carly said. ‘What’s wrong with us?’
At that moment in time I wished Carly would shut up. I didn’t really care why Ali and Naseer couldn’t be seen with us – I was just happy Imran was walking with us instead of them, as he seemed so much nicer.
‘You’re not Muslim,’ Imran laughed. ‘And guys like Ali and Naseer are supposed to be good Muslim boys. They’re supposed to be respectable. And their families think girls like you are trouble.’
‘Oh,’ I said. ‘Right.’
Imran smiled at me, his dark eyes beaming as he fixed them on me. My stomach flipped again. ‘But don’t worry. My dad doesn’t give a shit what I do.’
The Methodist church was a bit more modern, a red-brick building with lots of trees and bushes around it. Ali and Naseer were leaning against the wall.
‘Hey, Holly!’ Ali said, as we approached. ‘Come with me. I want to speak to you.’ He gestured to the bushes behind the building. ‘Round there.’
I looked to Imran, naively hoping he might tell Ali to leave me alone, but he didn’t say anything, so I followed Ali a few paces behind until we were out of sight of the road. We stood looking at each other for a second, as Ali leaned against a tree. He was looking at me expectantly and suddenly everything fell into place. I felt two little beads of sweat prick the back of my neck as it dawned on me that he wanted me to do what Carly had done to Naseer earlier in the week.
‘Well?’ he said. ‘You going to give me a blow job or what?’
I shook my head. ‘No, Ali,’ I said. ‘I’m not doing it. I don’t want to.’
He folded his arms and lowered his dark eyebrows. Although he had the face and the build of a man, for the first time he looked a bit like a spoilt child, angry at not getting his own way. My heart was beating a little faster than usual but I was determined to keep calm. All I could think was, please don’t make me do it. Please don’t. I felt sick just thinking of it. I couldn’t help but think of Imran and how I’d rather be standing round the front of the church with him, not hidden away behind some trees with Ali.
‘Oh, why not?’ he said. He sounded whiny, which would have made me laugh had he been asking me to do something a bit less disgusting. ‘You know Carly did it for Naseer.’
‘Yeah,’ I replied, trying not to stumble over my words. ‘Well, I’m not Carly. I don’t want to do it.’
We looked at each other for a few seconds, stuck in a sort of deadlock.
‘I actually really like you, Holly,’ Ali said. ‘I think you’re really cool. And you’re pretty.’
I could feel the blood rushing to my cheeks. No one had ever told me I was pretty before and, I have to admit, I was kind of flattered, as I’d always been self-conscious about my looks, but I still didn’t fancy Ali. Not one bit.
‘Oh, please, Holly,’ he went on. ‘I don’t just want a blow job. I want you to be my girlfriend.’
‘But I don’t want to be your girlfriend,’ I protested.
Ali looked confused. I could tell that wasn’t what he was expecting me to say. I wondered if he’d asked any other girls to be his girlfriend, and if they’d done this to him first.
‘But it’s not fair,’ he said. ‘I’ve come round here with you and we’ve been away for about five minutes now. I’ll be a total joke if Naseer can get a blow job and I can’t.’
‘What do you mean?’ I asked.
‘Well, I can’t come round here and spend all this time with you and not get a blow job,’ he said. ‘They’ll totally take the piss out of me. Naseer will love it, because he got one from Carly and I couldn’t get one from you.’
Suddenly Ali didn’t seem as cool and hard as he had before but was now a bit pathetic. Maybe he was just as worried about fitting in as Carly and I were. But I still didn’t want to give him a blow job, so I said nothing.
‘You’re still not going to?’ he said, after a few seconds.
I shook my head. ‘Nope. Sorry.’
He sighed. ‘Well, can you at least pretend you did it?’ he said. ‘So they don’t take the piss? Please?’
I felt myself wavering a bit. I didn’t really want Ali to tell his mates I’d given him a blow job, but pretending I’d done it was a whole lot better than actually doing it and, if I played along, he might stop pestering me. What was the worst that could happen? He didn’t know any of my mates, apart from Carly, so no one I knew would really find out. He wasn’t exactly going to start telling people I’d never met that I was a slag. Was he?
‘Oh, OK then,’ I said. ‘Just this once. Can we go back round now?’
Ali grabbed hold of my arm. ‘No, not yet. Wait a few minutes at least. I want them to think it lasted a bit longer than this.’
I didn’t really understand what he meant, but I leaned against a tree and resigned myself to waiting a few more minutes.
After a brief silence, Ali said: ‘You really don’t want to be my girlfriend?’
I shook my head. ‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘I don’t.’
‘Hmm,’ he said. ‘OK, fine. Can we be friends?’
‘Friends?’ I echoed. ‘Well, if you want, I suppose so.’
Ali raised an eyebrow and he broke into a little half-smile. ‘Yeah, why don’t we be friends?’
‘Fine,’ I said. ‘Let’s be friends.’
‘Well, if we’re going to be friends you might as well give me your phone number,’ Ali replied. ‘You know, so we can text and maybe meet up if we’re both around town. Just as friends. Nothing more. Friends.’
He kept saying the word ‘friends’ and I was beginning to feel confused about what this so-called friendship would involve, but he already had his mobile phone in his hand, ready to type my number in. Hesitantly, I recited it.
Ali’s phone made a little beeping noise as he punched in the digits. ‘Thanks. I suppose we can go back now. It’s been over ten minutes.’
I pushed my way back through the
overgrown grass to the car park where Carly was still standing with Naseer and Imran.
‘Sorted?’ Naseer said, with a smirk. His podgy face had gone red in the cold evening air.
Ali nodded. He was still clutching his phone and wearing a self-satisfied grin. Almost in a whisper, he said, ‘Sorted.’
3
How Do They Know Who I Am?
Carly couldn’t wait until we were out of earshot of the boys to quiz me about Ali. She grabbed my arm as we walked down the road back towards the first church, and practically squealed in my ear.
‘Did you give him a blow job?’ she asked, her voice all high-pitched and squeaky, the way it went when she was excited. She sounded so childish – more like a little girl asking me what doll I’d got for my birthday than whether or not I’d performed a sordid sex act I should have been too young to understand.
I thought about keeping up the pretence, about lying to Carly, too. She’d been really annoying ever since the first incident with Naseer, thinking she was really grown-up because she’d done something I hadn’t, even though, deep down, we both knew she hadn’t enjoyed it that much. But now that we were out of the boys’ gaze, I couldn’t be bothered fibbing anymore.
‘Nah,’ I replied. ‘I don’t fancy him.’
Carly giggled. ‘I did it again,’ she said. ‘With Naseer. It’s not that bad second time round. You kind of get to know what to do.’
Darkness was beginning to fall and it was getting cold. I pulled my jacket around me and looked at Carly in bemusement, but she didn’t seem to notice. Just a few days ago, she’d been an innocent little girl with her hair in plaits, barely knowing the first thing about sex. Now she was boasting about giving out blow jobs. It was too much to take in.
The next night, as I called for Carly at her gran’s, there was another surprise awaiting me. Gone was her trademark hairstyle; instead, her blonde hair was pushed into a high ponytail at the top of her head. I could tell she had done it herself, as the ponytail wasn’t quite right – there were strands of hair escaping from the hair tie, and it was slightly off-centre – but I had to admit it was a big improvement on her childish plaits.
‘Your hair . . .’ I began.
‘Oh yeah,’ she said, dismissively. ‘I was getting sick of the way my mum did it. I decided to do it myself. What do you think?’
‘It’s a bit messy at that side,’ I answered, honestly. ‘But it looks OK.’
She grinned. ‘Thanks. Do you think I look older?’
‘Yeah, a bit,’ I said. ‘It’s better than the way it was.’
We walked our usual road towards the church but, as we ambled along the street, I suddenly heard shouting. The noise was coming from a group of Asian boys, standing across the street. I put my head down, as I assumed they weren’t speaking to us, but suddenly I heard my name.
‘Hey, Holly!’ one boy said. ‘Holly!’
I stopped so I could get a good look at him. He looked around my age, maybe a year older. He was wearing an expensive jacket which looked a bit like Ali’s. Before I could reply, he started making some kind of gesture I didn’t really understand at first but I could feel my stomach twisting as I slowly figured out he was simulating a blow job.
‘You gonna sort it for me, Holly? Eh? Gonna sort it?’ his voice cracked a bit, like it was still breaking, but he didn’t seem embarrassed.
His mates erupted into fits of laughter and my cheeks burned like never before. I wanted the ground to swallow me up.
‘Fuck off,’ I replied, with as much courage as I could muster. ‘Don’t be a dick.’
Mum would never have let me swear at home, and the words still felt funny as they rolled off my tongue.
‘Come on, Holly,’ another of the boys hollered. ‘I heard you sorted it for Ali. Why can’t you sort it for us?’
There was more laughter, and Carly started tugging on my sleeve.
‘Why don’t we just go over?’ she said. ‘It could be a laugh.’
‘No, Carly,’ I said, through gritted teeth. ‘Leave it.’
‘Hey, Holly,’ the first boy shouted again. ‘Who’s your fat mate? Will she sort it for me instead?’
Carly looked at the ground, biting her lip. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for her, especially as she’d tried so hard to make an effort by changing her hair. She was always being bullied for being fat and it must have been horrible.
‘Just keep walking,’ I told her. ‘Ignore them. Don’t say anything.’
We got to our bench and sat down as normal. Within seconds, my phone began buzzing in my pocket. I took it out but, seeing it was a withheld number, I pressed cancel and put it away again.
‘Who was that?’ Carly asked.
‘I dunno,’ I said. ‘I keep getting these weird prank calls but I don’t answer.’
Before she could ask anything else, another group of lads was coming towards us. They looked Asian, too, but I assumed it was just a coincidence. I put my head down and waited for them to walk past us, but they broke into a chorus of wolf whistles and horrible sexual comments I couldn’t make out over the noise. There were five of them. Again, they weren’t much older than us, if at all, but I still felt really uncomfortable.
‘Look!’ one bellowed. ‘It’s her! The one who gave Ali a blow job. And her mate. She sucked off Naseer!’
Carly stood up and folded her arms. I had to admit that her behaviour since the first night with Naseer had been really odd. One minute she’d be her normal, babyish, slightly timid self, while the next she’d start acting really cocky and using swear words I’d never heard her say before.
‘So what if I did?’ she asked. ‘Got a problem?’
‘Carly!’ I hissed, under my breath, not loud enough for the boys to hear. She ignored me. They were all hooting with laughter again.
‘What you doing tonight then?’ one of them asked. ‘Fancy sorting me out, too?’
‘Fuck off,’ Carly said, as I stared at the ground. The boys carried on shouting things at us for a few minutes before they got bored and moved back along the street.
‘Have Ali and Naseer been telling everyone we gave them blow jobs?’ I asked Carly.
She shrugged. ‘Well, someone must be spreading it around. At least I’ve actually done it. You didn’t even suck his dick.’
The words, especially coming from Carly, still made me cringe.
‘What’s got into you, Carls?’ I said. I deliberately used the nickname I’d made up for her when we were about nine, still playing football in the street and going home to our parents with skinned knees and mud-streaked tracksuits. ‘Why are you suddenly swearing all the time and telling everyone you’ve given some guy a blow job? It’s weird. You sound like an idiot.’
Anger flashed across her chubby face. ‘Ha!’ she retorted. ‘You’re just annoyed because I’ve done something you haven’t. Are you annoyed because some lads are talking to me and not you?’
‘No,’ I answered, honestly. ‘I just don’t get why you’re showing off so much. It’s just a bit sad, really.’
Carly frowned. ‘And you think you’re cool, then? Just because your mum let you bleach your hair? Well, it looks shit. Your roots are coming through.’
We sat in stony silence for a few seconds, neither of us daring to speak. Eventually, Carly tugged at my arm.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. Her voice was meek and babyish again. ‘I like your hair. Your roots aren’t coming through.’
‘OK,’ I said, still in a bit of a mood.
‘Do you think I should bleach mine?’
Before I could answer, my phone started buzzing in my pocket again.
‘Answer it,’ Carly coaxed me. ‘Don’t you want to know who it is? I would.’
‘I don’t know . . .’ I began, but curiosity had started to get the better of me and I did wonder who could possibly want to ring me so much. Hesitantly I pressed the answer button and held the phone to my ear.
‘Holly!’ the voice at the other end said. ‘Hol
ly!’
The caller had such a thick Pakistani accent that at first I thought he was calling me Kelly. He sounded old – much older than Ali, Naseer, Imran, or any of the other boys who’d shouted at Carly and me in the street. He also sounded really angry, like he was telling me off for something.
‘Kelly?’ I said, raising my eyebrows to Carly. ‘I’m not Kelly.’
‘Holly!’ he repeated, in exasperation. ‘Holly.’
I hung up. ‘Just some old weirdo who thinks he’s talking to someone called Kelly,’ I said. ‘Must be a mistake.’
But from then on, this mystery man started to call me morning, noon and night. It creeped me out so much that I started keeping my phone on silent all the time. I didn’t want it going off constantly while I was in class, and I didn’t want Mum to ask questions about why my phone was ringing all the time while I did my homework or ate my dinner.
My carefree nights walking through town with Carly were a thing of the past, too. Every night we’d get harassed by boys who’d heard the rumours, no doubt started by Ali and Naseer. Back then I thought it was nothing more than teenage bravado. I had no sense that these boys – boys the same age as us, who should have been at home doing their homework – were motivated by something far more sinister than a little bit of street cred.
‘Sort it!’ they’d always cry, as we shuffled past. ‘Come on, Holly, sort it!’
‘Sort it’, I very quickly realised, was code for ‘give us a blow job’. I tried to ignore them, but it was really hard as Carly seemed to get bolder by the day. She always shouted back at them, and I didn’t understand why, because that meant we had to stand and talk to them for much longer than if we’d just ignored them. I guess she just liked the attention. I knew it pissed her off that they all made more sexual comments to me than they did to her. I suppose she just wanted to fit in and to feel like some lads found her attractive, which was a shame, really.
We still saw Ali and his mates some nights. Ali didn’t ask me for a blow job again but all of the other boys did. It was like they were all gradually trying to grind me down, thinking that if enough of them asked me I’d eventually give in to one of them. Some people might wonder why I still went out at night, why I didn’t make up some excuse to Carly, like telling her my mum had grounded me or something. It sounds a little sad, but one of the main reasons I kept going out was because I hoped I’d catch a glimpse of Imran. He was the only one of the boys who didn’t hound me – in fact, he was really nice to me. Plus, there wasn’t much else to do in Telford in the evenings apart from wander the streets, so at least it saved me from getting bored.