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And although I’d be invited back—I’d been an impeccable house guest, I’d lose Alex Valentine one day, as sure as my dad would remain a waste of space piss-artist and smack us about.
“Turn right here.”
About halfway home, I directed Alex up a quiet side street of respectable enough houses—1930s semis, with tidy front gardens and mid-range saloon cars parked in the driveways. We cruised until I identified one with a transit van parked outside, the panels of the van painted with a random electrician’s logo.
“Pull in just here.”
“Which is yours?”
“None of them,” I replied carelessly. “I thought I’d save you the bother of a longer journey. That’s my brother’s van. This is his girlfriend’s parents place—he said he’d give me a lift back. They don’t let him stay the night.”
“It’s no bother, honestly. I don’t mind driving a bit farther.”
“Trust me, here’s fine. Simon is expecting me, he’ll worry if I don’t pitch up.”
Alex accepted my bullshit without question. And why wouldn’t he? The best lies always held a grain of truth. Tara’s parents didn’t let Simon stay the night, hence they often stayed at our place, as our folks didn’t give a shit. Simon would kick me out of our shared bedroom, and I’d camp on the sofa. But Simon worked as a decorator, not an electrician. That van didn’t belong to him, my brother couldn’t care where I was. Tara didn’t live in this neat, redbrick semi, and I had deceived my new friend.
“Sorry if it was a bit boring tonight.” Alex threw me an apologetic look. God, how cute was this boy? Did he imagine my Saturday nights were filled with wild partying and hula girls? Fine, if it added to my street cred. The reality of me, Brenner, cheap lager andGladiators,I’d keep to myself.
“You’re all right mate. I’ve had a few heavy nights recently. I’m knackered, I needed a quiet night off, to be honest.”
The yellow glow of a streetlight above our heads split the night sky, casting long shadows across Alex’s even features. Fleetingly, I wondered what his reaction would be if I bridged the gap between the car seats and kissed him. A hefty right hook, probably. I swallowed down my urge to find out, and after flashing my cheekiest grin, pursed my lips and blew him a kiss instead.
“See ya, wouldn’t wanna be ya.” The biggest lie of all.
STEP ON
(HAPPY MONDAYS)
“Who’s your new boyfriend then?”
The football sailed over my head into the makeshift goalmouth, settling in the flowerbed behind. I tripped and stumbled as a bolt of anxiety shot through me, narrowly avoiding a humiliating faceplant into unforgiving tarmac.
Alex’s fabulousness drew me in. We were becoming closer. I hadn’t been able to help myself, driven half wild by his radiant presence in my maths class. We spent more and more time together. Conversations spilled over after the lesson ended, as we meandered through town at break; we sat talking for longer and longer in his car when he dropped me off near the hospital, oblivious to the kids around us. Yesterday, at lunch time, instead of playing footie with the crew, I had hung out with Alex in a quiet corner of the library, under the pretext of testing each other for a mock exam. Huddled over the same textbook, our faces had been as close as lovers. As he frowned over a question, my pulse rate had soared.
And Brenner and Phil had noted my absence.
A vile liquid burn spilled into my mouth. I swallowed it down and retrieved the football to buy myself some thinking time. “Some of us actually do our schoolwork, you know. And I’m allowed to have other mates, aren’t I?”
Best form of defence is attack; any professional liar, weedy younger brother, or scumbag knew that. I had the dubious honour of being all three. “How do you know I’m not just deliberately giving you two bumboys a bit more privacy?”
I was confident they hadn’t spotted us in the library—Brenner couldn’t even locate it. And he skived most days anyhow, he only came into school in time to play footie at lunchtime. Either the teachers hadn’t noticed or didn’t care. Smirking at my retort, Phil feinted to the left before dribbling the ball past me down my right. As if I didn’t know he’d do that—it had been his signature move since he was five, and I still fell for it. Brenner stopped him in his tracks though; he dived in front of the piled-up sweater goalposts and rolled into the flowerbed, not giving a shit that his trousers were now covered in dirt. Triumphantly, he held up the ball, then failed for the millionth time to twizzle it on the tip of his finger.
“That kid who gives you a lift home, is he in your maths group?” Phil asked me. He signalled to Brenner to pass the ball.
Oh God, they knew about the lifts too. Last night, we’d parked up outside the hospital for close on half an hour. Alex had wanted to drive me all the way home, maybe hang around my place for a bit. He was curious to see where I lived. I’d fobbed him off with some bullshit about my mum having the flu and not wanting visitors, then distracted him by giving him a mix-tape.No big deal, Alex, I do them all the time for people. Gold, frankincense, and myrrh couldn’t have made me any happier than the delight on his handsome face when Liam Gallagher’s nasal sneer filled the car.
I scratched my head, pretending to be confused. “Oh, you mean Alex Valentine? Yeah, he’s all right. Posh wanker, but all right.”
Brenner bounced the ball on the ground a couple of times before stretching a leg out and tapping it to Phil, who kept it in play and tapped it to me. “Oooh, Alex Valentine,” he mocked in a la-di-da voice. “What other names do they have in the top maths set? Philippa? Cassandra? Candida?”
“Ophelia?” Phil joined in, with a cackle. “O-feel-ya round the back of the bike sheds?”
“How about Lana?” snorted Brenner. “It’s anal backwards!”
Off the hook, I let out a long breath as I strived to control my heart rate, listening to their increasingly hysterical sniggering. Immature schoolboy humour was safe territory. My territory. I was exactly where I should be. Playing soccer with my mates and ripping the piss out of each other. Which was why the sight of Alex wandering across the school rec at that precise moment, a pile of books tucked under his arm, made my blood run cold. If Brenner clocked him, God knows what might—
“Oi! Alex, mate! Your boyfriend Matt here wants to say hello!”
