“Look at his real ones.” Efia grinned, joining us. “You have great legs, Alex.”
“Thanks.”
“Message from Maggie,” Efia said. “Steer as much trade away from the pier as you can – tell people you heard someone got E. coli from one of their hot dogs.”
I nodded. “Do we hate the pier then?”
“Oh, Alex, yes,” Efia said. “Yes, we do! Rivals, mate!”
“And don’t mention to Maggie that you’ve even ever been there,” Ben added. “I came in with a bag of pier doughnuts the other week, and she went proper crazy at me. Made me put them out for the seagulls.”
“Noted,” I said. “I should go. The sooner I’ve got rid of the flyers, the sooner this’ll be over.”
“Hey, Alex?”
I looked straight into Ben’s eyes and a million butterflies fluttered in my stomach. He awkwardly gave me what felt like a slightly reluctant hug. “Thanks for volunteering,” he muttered.
“Huh.” I swallowed as he gave my shoulder a little squeeze. “It’s nothing.” And I flip-flopped quickly away before anything in my tights started to suggest it might indeed be something.
Once on the promenade, it was pretty much as I expected – completely hideous, and I’m not sure my pulse dropped below 120 bpm the entire time. I attracted quite a few wolf whistles from men and women alike (I just bowed my head and pretended I didn’t hear them), a few people took photos with me (including one man who stood behind me and posed like he was anally violating the flamingo – I just smiled inanely, like I didn’t know what was going on), and I made two toddlers cry, which was crazy because they were the ones pointing at me and saying, “Look, Mummy! A pink elephant!” and the mum said, “It’s not an elephant – it’s an ostrich,” and I only went over to kindly explain I was a flamingo, but the kids started screaming, and the mum got sniffy and said, “I’m not sure scaring children is in your remit,” like her stupid children’s hysterical reaction was my fault and like she knew what my “remit” was anyway.
However, I did manage to hand out a few flyers and after a while it wasn’t going as badly. Then the universe must have remembered that I hadn’t had any bad luck for half an hour, and I was well overdue. And so, right on cue, there’s this huge roar of fierce barking, and I turned to see approximately thirty kilograms of angry, savage muscle and teeth on four legs hurtling towards me with terminal velocity. An old-ish man with a kind face (presumably the dog’s owner) shouted from some distance away, “It’s OK, he hates flightless birds.”
Leaving aside the fact that a flamingo is not a flightless bird (unless he also mistook me for an ostrich, of course), there was no part of this situation that was remotely “OK”. In what world is a massive feral beast with dripping fangs, running towards a living creature that it openly “hates”, ever going to be “OK”?
“Mate, I would run,” a worried-looking bloke said to me.
“DON’T RUN!” the owner shouted, now puffing and tottering towards me as well, because of course this dog’s owner wouldn’t be fit enough to actually sprint up to his dog and call him off. “YOU’LL BE FINE IF YOU STAY STILL!”
The violent barking suggested otherwise, and I know it sounds unlikely when I say this dog had red eyes, but I think it seriously did have – and that is not normal.
“Mate – RUN!” another random passer-by implored me.
All I could see bolting towards me was TEETH.
“Dear Christ!” some woman said.
“That kid’s gonna get maimed!” (Another voice.)
“RUN!” a man screamed.
I ran.
Or, rather, I rapidly flip-flopped along the promenade. I didn’t dare look back, but the barking was getting louder, as was the rapid thud of heavy paws galloping on tarmac. I ran straight past the fibreglass lemon, hoping, maybe, that Lemon Boy wouldn’t recognize me, although that was the least of my worries right then, as I had visions of this thing taking a huge chunk out of one of the legs Efia had so recently admired.
It was then I had an idea – dogs can’t do stairs. So I struggled down the steps that led to the beach.
Except, of course, dogs can do stairs, and the brutish thug of a dog was hurtling down them right after me.
“SHIIIIIT!” I squealed, now left with no option but to head directly for the sea, because in my panicked brain, dogs can’t swim, although of course, they totally can.
I ploughed through a huge sandcastle town that some father and daughter were building, looking over my shoulder seconds later, to see the dog also charge through, leaving a plume of sand and debris in its wake, like Godzilla tearing through New York.
I ran forward, splashing through the waves, hoping to hell the owner would arrive any second to call his stupid animal off and then—
Then there’s nothing underneath my feet but water.
And I’m plunging down.
I forgot the water gets deep quickly on this beach – one minute it’s fine, and the next there’s this ledge you basically fall off.
And I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me, like, twenty seconds ago, but I can’t swim.
So now I’m—
A very different panic floods my body as I flail my arms about
And there’s water in my mouth and I’m swallowing it and
“HELP!” I gasped.
And it’s stinging my eyes and there’s thick mucus dripping out of my nose and down the back of my throat and I can’t actually see, and I can’t breathe, and I’m just gulping in salt water and I bob up with the swell of the current, and then this huge wave, towering over me, crashes down on my head and
CHAPTER TEN
Arms.
I was vaguely aware of strong arms around my waist.
“You’re OK, mate, I got you.”
And being pulled back to shore.
No barking now.
It was pretty hazy, but the next thing I knew, I was lying on the beach, between two legs, black muscular legs, sort of propped up against some very hard abs, head lolling against a chest, and I didn’t know if this was maybe heaven, but I felt very safe and very calm.
And then I spewed up what felt like ten litres of seawater and all of my lunch, and it took every ounce of willpower not to curl up into the foetal position and bawl my stinging eyes out.
“All right, mate, you’re all right,” the boy said, soothingly rubbing my back.
I recognized the voice. The slight London twang. A quick glance over my shoulder, and seeing that cheeky face and those sparkling eyes confirmed it. It was Lemon Boy. But I suddenly felt so bad I didn’t even want to think about that right now.
I heard feet pounding down the beach behind me. “Alex?! Alex?!”
“I think your friends are coming,” Lemon Boy said.
Efia arrived first and took in the scene. “Wow,” she said. “Are you alive?”
I nodded.
Ben arrived, breathless. “Alex?”
“Yeah, I’m OK,” I croaked. “You can call off the ambulance.”
Efia looked sheepish. “Um, we didn’t—We heard the commotion and just saw you darting down to the beach and then…” Efia looked at Lemon Boy and I saw the little smile play on her lips. It was then I realized that Lemon Boy was nearly naked, if not for his boxers. “Are you a lifeguard?” Efia asked him.
“Nah. I work in the lemon,” Lemon Boy said. “I saw he was in trouble and just ran in after him.”
“You work in the lemon,” Efia repeated. I didn’t even need to be looking to know she and Ben were locking eyes at that exact moment, making all the connections. “A boy who works in the lemon.”
“Yeah,” Lemon Boy said. “Don’t know why Carl had that dog off its leash – he knows what it’s like!”
“Wh … who’s … Carl?” I muttered.
“Carl Hudson – bloke who owns the pier,” Lemon Boy said.
Efia shook her head. “This is war.”
“Probably best to leave it, Efia,” Ben said.
>
“But he’s hurt one of our own!”
I started shivering and Lemon Boy wrapped his arms around me tighter, hugging me to his chest. “We need to get him somewhere warm,” he said.
“I’m fine,” I said, because honestly, apart from dripping in mucus, the stinging eyes, the nausea and exhaustion, this was actually starting to feel pretty nice. I would warm up soon enough right here.
“C’mon, let’s get you back to the staffroom and sort you out,” Ben said.
I glanced down at my sorrowful, wet body. Some seaweed was tangled around my foot, and my sodden hair was stuck down to my forehead. Pink tights … but where was the rest of the flamingo outfit? “But … the flamingo…” I muttered.
“Think that’s long gone, mate,” Lemon Boy said, nodding towards the vast ocean in front of us.
“Gone…” I repeated. I was surely going to get fired now. This was strike two, no doubt about it.
“It doesn’t matter,” Ben said. “We’ll just explain to Maggie that it wasn’t your fault and that Carl Hudson basically set his dog on you – she’ll understand.”
Something told me that was somewhat optimistic. I took a deep breath, which set me off hacking and heaving my guts up again, before spluttering out another lungful of seawater and mucus. “I’m sorry this is so unattractive,” I gasped.
“No one cares about that, mate,” Lemon Boy said.
I couldn’t work out if that was a good or bad thing.
“Let’s look at the evidence,” Efia said, handing me a mug of sweet tea as I sat huddled under a blanket on one of the plastic staffroom chairs. “A really hot boy who works in the lemon stand saw you were in mortal danger, so didn’t just call for help, he full-on stripped off his clothes and ran into the water like this whole thing was Baywatch or something. He ran into the water, Alex – in just his boxers – to save your life.”
I shrugged.
“That boy, that handsome boy, who by the way has great abs and seems really sweet and genuine, is the Lemon Boy you often speak of.”
“I don’t often speak of him,” I said.
“You do,” Efia told me. She held up her hand to prevent my further protests. “And I do not blame you. He is a fine, fine boy. He is deeply fine. He is Lemon Boy, right?”
I looked at Ben, who was all ears, then at Efia, who was grinning at me. “Yeah, I guess.”
“Bingo!” Efia high-fived Ben.
I sighed. It barely mattered now anyway – even if Lemon Boy turned out to be into boys, I’d blown my chances, for sure. Puking your guts up in front of someone is hardly appealing, and nor was the needy “oh help me please I’m drowning” situation I’d found myself in. I was like an actual child, and whilst I was, admittedly, an actual child, it didn’t mean I had to act like one all the time.
“You look cold,” Ben said, throwing me his hoodie. “Put this on.”
“I’m fine with just my T-shirt.”
Ben gave me oh really now? eyes. “Put. It. On.” He crossed his arms. “Seriously, you’ll get pneumonia or something.”
I pulled it over my head. It was soft and smelled of him.
Maggie walked in, and I immediately stood up. “I’m so sorry, I’ll pay you back for the flamingo – take it out of my wages.”
“Sit down,” she said. Then she looked at Efia and Ben. “I need a minute with him.”
Efia and Ben both gave each other a look, distinctly along the lines of oh man you are so screwed, and backed out of the door, closing it behind them.
“It was a really big dog,” I told Maggie, hoping this fact would count as a mitigating circumstance.
“Sit down, Alex.”
I shuffled back into my seat and she pulled a chair up opposite me. “You’re not cut out for this, are you?”
My eyes widened in panic. “No, I … am! I’m sorry, I promise, I’ll do better tomorrow, I’ll—”
“I’m not talking about the job,” she said. “I’m talking about life.”
I stared at her and I think my mouth fell open a bit.
“You knock yourself unconscious yesterday, today you nearly drown… If I believed in witchcraft, I’d say you were cursed.”
I nodded. The idea had crossed my mind.
Maggie gave me this terrible, sad smile, then opened her mouth to say the words I’d been dreading. “You’re—”
“I understand!” I said, immediately standing up again. “It’s OK, you’re right, I’m sorry, I’ll go.”
“…a full-on, balls-out muppet,” Maggie continued. “But I’m not going to fire you.”
“Oh. Right.” I sat back down. “Really?” Because, in all honesty, I would fire me.
Maggie gave me a smile. An actual smile. Not a sarcastic one, not a grimace, but, I don’t know, almost approaching affectionate, I think. “Stop beating yourself up. Shit happens, get over it.” She leaned towards me. “If you fight against something, it tends to just fight you back. So don’t fight. Let it be. Own the awkward, Alex.”
“But won’t my life just be complete shi—Excuse me, completely terrible then?”
“No,” she sniffed. “It’ll be better because you’ll stop worrying about things that don’t matter. Everyone makes mistakes. Everyone gets themselves in a pickle sometimes. Everyone makes a fool of themselves in front of a boy they like.”
I puffed my cheeks out. “Wha—Well, I wouldn’t know about that, no boys being liked over here right now, I can tell you, and that is the truth.” I was pretty sure that didn’t sound convincing, so I added, “No, siree!” making it even less so.
She looked at me with unimpressed eyes. “That was just a hypothetical.”
“Oh.” I nodded. “Yes.”
“Although the lady doth protest too much, methinks,” she added. “Do you think I didn’t notice how you were with Ben in my office earlier?”
My eyes nearly popped out. “Ben? I was normal!”
“Your cheeks were pink,” she told me, very matter-of-factly.
“I have pink cheeks! I can’t help it, they’re just my cheeks!” I mean, how can I help what my cheeks are doing? I mean, I am sorry for having blood going round my body, seriously?
“And you were doing an excellent job of not looking at him.”
“Proving I don’t fancy him!”
“Proving, without a doubt, that you do.”
I sighed. This was no good at all. Everyone was on to me. Was Ben on to me too? Was I making him feel awkward and uncomfortable with my apparently obvious lust for him? The way Maggie was talking, I was about as subtle as a panting and drooling dog whenever Ben walked into the room.
“Just try and enjoy it, Alex,” Maggie said.
I looked at her, blankly.
“Life,” she clarified. Her face was stone, devoid of emotion. I wondered if she took her own advice.
“OK, well, thank you, and I am truly sorry,” I said.
“Stop apologizing.”
“OK. But I’m an idiot.”
She raised her eyebrows at me.
I shook my head. “Not an idiot?”
Maggie nodded.
“But it won’t happen again, I’ll be better, I’ll improve, I—” Maggie was glaring at me. “…I am OK as I am?”
Maggie sighed and stood up. “I knew a lad like you once.”
She stared at me for a moment, a fond smile on her lips. It was disarming, so I just stared back. And just as I was about to ask who, she turned and left, pausing at the door. “Also,” she said, “I’m going to whip Carl Hudson’s sorry arse.” She gave me a quick smile, then walked out.
Ben and Efia were standing immediately outside the door and came straight in.
“Are you sacked?” Efia asked. “Maybe you can claim for unlawful dismissal. I’m pretty sure she can’t fire you just because you’re unlucky.”
“No, I’m still here,” I said. “But I’ve got to enjoy being unlucky. Got to enjoy being me.” I smiled at them both. “If you’re awkward and you know it, clap your
hands!” I sang, clapping my hands.
Ben joined in on the claps – bless.
“Who’s the lad she knew like me?” I asked.
Efia looked blank. “What?”
“Apparently she knew a lad like me once?”
“Ohhh,” Efia said, after a pause. “Maybe she means … she had a son. I mean, that’s what I heard.”
Ben nodded. “I heard that too. Wonderland was created in his memory, ’cause Maggie and her ex took him to Coney Island as a kid, and he got obsessed with the fun fair there.”
“What happened to him?” I asked.
Ben shrugged. “Went missing, I heard. I’m not sure. Kinda awkward to ask her. Guess it’s none of our business.” He checked the time on his phone. “I’ve gotta go. I’m FaceTiming Bella and I need to be near some good Wi-Fi.”
“Oh!” Efia smiled. “And where is Bella calling from today? Atlantis? Camelot? Wakanda?”
“Lithuania.” Ben rolled his eyes and nodded at me. “I’m glad you didn’t drown.”
“Me too.”
Efia smiled at us both.
“I’m just saying I’m glad he didn’t drown,” Ben said.
Efia blew out a breath and held up her hands.
“Lunch on me tomorrow,” I told him. “I’ll do the sandwiches – although I’m not sure they’ll be as nice as yours, or your mum’s, or whatever.”
Ben shook his head. “I told you, I made them.” He smiled at me. “Later, then.”
When he’d gone, Efia turned to me. “Why you mentioning his mum for?”
I shrugged. “They just seemed like very accomplished sandwiches for a teenage boy to make. I know our limitations.”
She nodded. “She died though, Alex.”
I suddenly felt cold again. “When?” I managed to say.
“Last year, like practically this time last year.” She looked down at the floor, then back up at me. “I mean, you weren’t to know that.”
“But he … he seems…”
“Fine? Yeah, I know he does. He has to. He’s holding it together for his little brother, and his dad’s a total mess.”
I stared at her, the fingers of my right hand gently squeezing hold of the left sleeve of the hoodie he’d lent me. “Poor Ben.”
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