Guyliner
Miss Illusion
Over the next few weeks, Stuart comes out of his shell more and more. He lets girly comments slip out; he acts even more feminine in front of me, with ease. It’s oddly endearing. I watch him with secret adoration, loving every inch of his camp ness. I try not to think about my own orientation but concentrate fully on Stuart’s, it seems so less complicated than my own. I watch as he skips and prances and pouts; I notice his brand new Hello Kitty Converse or Bambi notebook or fluffy pink princess pen. I even listen to his tales of past boyfriends-he’d had seven, all of them ST Alexander’s seniors with piercings and girls jeans. I find his confidence extraordinary-he hangs outside ST Alexander’s at night with seventeen-year-old boys, most of them dressed as girls, and he actually enjoys it.
Maybe I’d enjoy it too, if I opened up more.
For the first time since my odd thoughts began, I feel comfortable. Of course, after a lifetime of being taught that homosexuality is wrong, I probably should be anxious, but I’m not. I have accepted myself, and it makes me feel so much better about myself, I forget to be scared. All this time, I’ve been balancing along the edge of a very high precipice, tottering my way along its rocky verge. I have always been wobbling; occasionally dangling my foot over the side, daring myself to feel the distinction on the other side. I have seen the black rolling waves beneath me, and I have feared them. I have grown to learn that this side of the precipice is right and the other side is wrong. Finally, after months, years, a whole lifetime of sulking along a line that doesn’t suit me, I have stepped over to the other side.
But I haven’t stepped at all. I have flung myself over the edge willingly, and spiralled to the bottom of the ocean, and I love it.
All these years, I have been constantly conducting a conspiracy in my head; I have telling myself that I am the same as everybody else, that I find girls attractive. That illusion only grew stronger with the fear, when I realized it was wrong. Now, I have finally cut off all my strings and accepted myself.
With my new-found happiness comes forgiveness. Slowly, I allow myself to excuse Jessica of all the bad things she has ever done to me, and I start to talk to her again. She and Stuart are great friends, though they’re nothing alike. They sit together in the canteen now, along with Jessica’s Goth Gang. I enter the canteen one day to find all of them-Jessica, Ivy, Tabby, Violet, Adele, Tammy and Faline-crowded around a table with Stuart. He looks up and beams when I come over, and pats the seat next to him. I sit down and look at him coyly. He’s growing his hair and now it stands out about his head in a white halo, with a thick fringe combed over his face. I like his new hair style but I don’t like the way it covers his face, hiding his beautiful hazel eyes from view.
“Hey Aaron.” Faline leans across the table, blinking her big blue eyes. She’s Jessica’s best friend and it shows-she comes complete with swishing black bunches; purple sparkly lipstick and a purple-and-black patched mini skirt. I’ve always liked Faline. She has a soprano, girly voice that reminds me of bubblegum and peppermint and swan boats and childhood.
“Hi, Faline. What’s new?”
“Nothing much,” she shrugs. She has flashes of purple in her bunches and they catch in the light as she moves her head. “How about you?”
I shrug too. “Nothing really.”
Faline smiles at me widely, flaunting the silver ring hooked through her bottom lip. “You should get out more, y’know.”
Stuart leans over to join in. “Faline’s right, you should totally come out with us one night.”
“I have to stay home and revise.”
“Revise for what?” Stuart protests. I snigger quietly to myself-he looks so adorable when he can’t get his own way, his cheeks turn all pink and round and lovely…”You’re such a brain box, you don’t need to revise. Just come out with us! It’s fun!”
“Sounds like lots of fun, hanging round a dingy school all night,” I sniff. Really, I just don’t want to see Stuart cuddled up with some dense boy with piercings and belly shirts and stiff Mohican spikes.
“It’s loads of fun! Seriously, Aaron, you would totally love Jaden and Mikey and Lindsey and Jonas and Billie and Felix,” Stuart tells me. I wrinkle up my face.
“Aren’t they all slightly wild? I mean, that’s why Jessica hangs out there,” I try, grinning. Jessica glares at me from under a heavy curtain of hair, and then suddenly smiles back.
“I’ll have you know, Aaron Vermeer, that not all of the ST Alex’s boys are wild. Some are pretty nice.”
“Jessica’s got the hots for someone,” I crow and she giggles, swatting at me. “Is he tall, dark and irresistible?”
“They’re the reasons why she fell in love with you, right?” Stuart quips and I blush slightly at the small compliment. He returns my flush with a dazzling smile and I duck my head, trying to be discrete.
“He is rather gorgeous,” Faline assures me, propping her face up on her fists and gazing across the room with moony, love-sick eyes. “His name is Hunter Fawcett. He’s seventeen.”
“He’s a ST Alex’s hottie,” Ivy tells me. She too looks infatuated whenever she mentions him. “Shame he’s only got eyes for Jessie.”
Jessica giggles again, pink in the face. I remember, with a slight pang, the way she used to giggle whenever I’d steal a kiss from her in the middle of class.
“We met at a Marilyn Manson concert. It’s no big deal.”
“I don’t like him,” Stuart sniffs, adjusting his face into a hurt expression. Very deliberately, he sticks out his pearly-pink bottom lip into a sulky pout. “He called me Fluffy.”
I laugh. “Poor Bambi. Did this big bad Goth Boy pick on you?”
Stuart flutters his eyelashes prettily and I fall for him, all over again. “You’ll stand up to him next time, won’t you Aaron? For me?”
“Sure I will.”
Stuart beams, and then dives into his school bag. He tugs out a bright flyer, and pushes it across the table to me. I pick it up and scan over it. It’s advertising ‘Ditch Your Uniform Day’ this Friday. I scrunch up my face. I can just about blend in when I wear my uniform but when I’m in my own clothes, I stand out even more.
“No way. In my own clothes, I look like a freak.”
“Flower, sweetie, you’re not a freak,” Stuart says and I sigh happily at the cute smitten pet names.
“C’mon Aaron, it’ll be fun,” Jessica wields. She widens her big brown eyes pleadingly. “Don’t be a spoil sport.”
“No deal, Jessie.”
“Fine then. You just come in wearing your uniform then,” Jessica sniffs, looking away pointedly. Stuart tries instead.
“Please, Aaron. It’ll be real fun!”
“No thanks.” I push the flyer across the table to him; he takes it sadly and returns it to his backpack.
Stuart tries his best to persuade me on the way to English that afternoon. He catches up with me after Maths, clutching his blazer in both hands, chin thrust forward eagerly.
“Have you thought about what you’re gonna wear yet?” he asks and then sniggers as I groan.
“Look Stuart, it’s not gonna happen.” I shoot him a secret look from behind my fringe. “Anyway, what are you gonna wear?”
Stuart giggles blissfully. “It’s a surprise. You’ll have to wait and see.”
We walk along in silence for a few minutes while I conjure up endless imaginary outfits for him to wear. I even start to plan my own outfit in my head.
The Ditch Your Uniform Day is all anybody can talk about in English. Chantelle Winters is perched on a desk, swinging her goose-pimpled orange legs, avidly boasting about her brand new gold hoops to a gang of equally-carroty admirers. Jackson Walker, Alex Laws and Aled Jones are all arguing about each other’s tracksuits and Shona Roberts is flicking through a glossy fashion magazine, circling her desired outfits with a red biro.
“Come on, Year 10!” Ms Rowl calls out across the class, clapping her hands together. She is possibly the most defeated woman I have ever seen, her blonde hair hanging in two limp curtains either side of her face. Her glasses flash irritably under the fluorescent lighting as she turns to face Stuart and I. “Mr Vermeer, Mr Swann, it’s nice for you to join us.”
Stuart pulls his lips into a pout as he swaggers over to his seat. I join him. With a theatrical, adorable sigh, he tugs a magazine from his bag and flicks through it, dawdling at the fashion pages. He looks longingly at the pictures of pointed boots, tiny T-shirts and small shorts.
“Look!” he suddenly squeals, waving the magazine in front of my face. He’s pointing at a photograph of a black velvet bomber jacket, covered in multicoloured foil hearts. The price tag reads £90. “D’you reckon my dad would buy it for me before Friday?”
“No chance.” I imagine Stuart, in the jacket and a tiny pair of denim shorts he was eyeing earlier, and I prickle into a blush.
“Hmm.” He chews on his bottom lip, and I watch him intently, studying him like he’s my favourite Barbie doll or something. “I suppose I’ll have to wear something old then.”
I go to ask him about his clothes-I imagine they’re all bright and sparkly and impossibly small and tight-but the door bangs open and two pupils come in, wheeling a TV on a large stand. The buzz of talking increases dramatically. Ms Rowl sighs, and slots a DVD into the player. I don’t take any notice but continue to watch Stuart out of the corner of my eye. He props up his face in one curled fist, licking his lips slightly as he examines the fashion columns. He suddenly looks up at the flickering TV, and his eyes light up.
“It’s Romeo and Juliet!” he squeaks, practically clapping his hands. I frown.
“I never knew you liked Shakespeare.”
“It’s the film, Flower.”
“You like the film?”
“Duh! Leonardo DiCaprio was my first teenage crush.” Stuart leans forward on his elbows as the title sequence starts. He whispers the opening soliloquy under his breath and I wonder why he’s so perfect for me.
When I arrive home, Sarah is there again, and for once she’s not wearing her scrubs. Her dark hair is tumbling about her shoulders in childish waves so she looks younger than me.
“Hello Aaron,” she greets me in her breathy accent and I try to muster up hate towards her, but I can’t. “How are you?”
I make some small, unrecognizable noise and escape to the basement. I dump my school bag and strip off my uniform in favour for my favourite jeans and a Smashing Pumpkins shirt. Then I flop down on my bed, lean over and snatch up my Hello Batty phone, hitting the speed dial.
Mrs Arrowsmith, Jessica’s callous mother, answers. “Hello?”
“Hello Mrs Arrowsmith.” My voice is thick with fabricated brightness. “It’s Aaron here, Aaron Vermeer.”
“What do you want?”
I cringe at the disgust laden in her tone. “Is Jessica home?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“I just need to speak to her about our History thesis,” I lie and Mrs Arrowsmith sniffs disapprovingly.
“Five minutes,” she says and then screeches, “JESSICA! That Vermeer boy is on the phone for you!”
A few seconds later, Jessica comes to the phone. “Aaron?”
“Hi Jessica.” I twiddle the twisted cord round my fingers nervously.
“What’s up?”
“I just wanted to speak to you.” I lie down on my bed and stare up at my Billy Corgan poster, remembering the days when Jessica would wander around my room in her hotpants and my hoodie, humming ‘Bullet With Butterfly Wings’ under her breath.
“Have you still got me on speed dial?” she asks suspiciously. I swallow before I answer.
“Yes.”
Her answering laugh is tinged with delight. “I’m touched.”
“You’re the only person I call.”
“You never call me.” She suddenly sounds very hurt. I blush with guilt.
“Yeah well….we weren’t exactly on speaking terms, were we?”
“You’re hardly speaking to anybody,” Jessica sighs, like an anxious mother. I smile a little. “In fact, the only person you regard is Stuart.”
“Hmmm….” I fiddle with the plastic bat figure on my phone stand. “Jessie, I’m gay.”
Jessica is very quiet at the other end of the phone. “I wondered when you were going to come out.”
“Jessica-“
“It’s obvious you’re smitten with Stuart.”
“What?” I moan, agonized. “I thought I was being subtle.”
“Anything but,” she tells me with relish, and then sighs. “Oh Aaron. You love him, don’t you?”
I make an odd noise. “Don’t tell him!”
“I’m not going too.” Jessica snickers. “He always talks about you.”
A sudden flair of hope rises in me like a flame. I grip the slippery black plastic of the phone eagerly. “Really? What does he say?”
“I can’t tell you. I promised I’d keep that a secret, too.”
“Jessie!”
She giggles insanely. “What else were you going to ask me?”
“I was wondering if you could help me with my outfit for Friday.”
“Sure, I will.”
“You can come over on Friday morning to help me get ready?”
She pauses and then suddenly giggles. “Gah Aaron, I always wondered when you’d do this.”
“It’s only an experiment,” I explain hurriedly but she just laughs.
“Sure, sure. Don’t worry-I’ll make you look beautiful!”
I spend almost an hour talking to Jessica before there comes a sharp rap on the basement door.
“Aaron! Get the Hell off the phone! I need to use it for business!” Dad yells through the door. I roll my eyes.
At the other end of the line, Jessica giggles. “So you’re in the Doghouse with your parents too, huh.”
“I’m permantly in the doghouse. What did you do this time?”
“I kinda didn’t tell my mum I was going to that Marilyn concert, and I didn’t tell her I was borrowing money for it. I didn’t tell her I was gonna crash at Faline’s place either.” Jessica pauses. “Some of the guys crashed at her place too, and my dad saw us walking home together.”
“Jessica!” I hiss, astounded and a little outraged. She only laughs. “I can’t believe you! I’d never-“
“AARON! GET OFF THAT PHONE RIGHT NOW!”
“Sheesh! I’d better go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Jessica laughs girlishly and then says, “Aaron…thanks for calling. It means a lot that we can still be friends.”
I’m momentarily touched by her honesty. “Yeah, me too. See ya.”
I hang up quickly, before Dad breaks the door down. He bursts in, scowling terribly.
“You’re on that phone for far too long, you know! I need to make some important business calls!”
“So did I,” I argue but Dad only snorts.
“Please Aaron; it’s only Jessica Arrowsmith. Even you’re worth more than her.”
“Don’t talk about her like that!”
“I can talk about her however I damn well please! You were bad enough but she led you into a total shutdown with all that makeup and insolence and staying at her house overnight.” Dad shudders; I blush.
“You wouldn’t say anything if Wil did it,” I mutter, picking at the red stitching on my duvet.
“Yes, well, that’s William. He’s far more cooperative. I’m taking him into work with me on Friday, so he can get a head for the business.” Dad draws himself up proudly. I remember when I was nine and Wil was eight, Dad informed us all that Wil was going to inherit his business. This comment roused Mum out of her depression-induced numbness and she suddenly demanded what I was going to do. Dad curled his lip and stared at me-I was hunched in the corner, carefully painting a portrait of Robert Smith. He never gave my mother an answer.
“You’re taking Wil out of school for a whole day just so he can mooch around your office?” I sniff. “Really Dad, that’s not very educational, is it?”
“You’ll have to wake yourself up and get yourself ready for school,” he continues, ignoring me as usual. “Get yourself to school, otherwise they’ll be trouble. I don’t want to hear of you skyrocketing around with Jessica Arrowsmith and this Stuart boy.”
He pulls a face and, with an exasperated sigh, glares around the basement before leaving.
Dad breaks the news to Wil later on, while we’re all having dinner. Wil just grunts and shovels even more food into his gaping mouth. I watch him carefully, examining his features. My face is rounded and his is pointed. We’re both pale but he tans in the summer and turns an almost Italian tone. My features are small and rounded; his are pointed and long. My eyes are a very vivid green; his are murky brown. His hair is brown also, a dirty blonde when it catches in the light. He is tall, taller than me, impossibly slim and scrawny. We’re not alike at all. Wil doesn’t even look like Mum; only Dad. I wonder why I don’t look a little like him, either.
My alarm clock screeches into life at seven on Friday. I roll over and wake up almost immediately, watching as the room slowly blues into view. I listen out for the normal morning noises-the radio buzzing into life, the sound of water running and the fridge door slamming shut-but then I remember that I’m alone this morning. A grin slowly spreads across my face. I’m free. Slowly, I swing my legs out of bed, feeling the cold wooden floor beneath my bare feet, and then stretch. I take my time, drifting from the bathroom to the kitchen, where I nibble on a corner of toast, waiting for Jessica. She finally shows up, knocking on the door four times, the way she used to do when we were dating. I gasp a little at her outfit. She is wearing the smallest skirt I have ever seen, constructed from fiery red silk and black lace, with a matching corset in crushed velvet. Army boots hug her thighs, and her hair has been backcombed into a vicious black whirlwind of chaos, with added streaks of red.
“Hey Aaron,” she greets me cheerfully, stubbing out her cigarette on our mail box. Mr Corder, our local Priest and next-door-neighbour, frowns at her.
“It’s a terrible habit,” he calls over the hedge. Jessica looks up, slightly wounded, her bottom lip wobbling. Mr Corder clears his throat and continues to hack away at the hedges, and I take Jessica by the wrist and tug her inside.
“Have you got it all?” I ask her the minute the door is closed. She looks up, rolling her eyes expressively.
“Chillax, Aaron. It’s all here.” She holds up a large black case she’s been lugging along. It’s been decorated with faded, fraying Marilyn Manson patches and Cradle of Filth stickers.
“Are you sure-“I start anxiously but Jessica just laughs away my worries.
“I’m a pro at this kinda thing, Aaron. Trust me.”
She wraps her slim, cold fingers around my wrist and leads me down to the basement, kicking open the door and flicking on the lights as she does so. She stands for a minute, looking around the place, smiling.
“It hasn’t changed one bit,” Jessica remarks happily. She wanders over to my desk and fingers the empty photo frames with a sigh. Each one used to bear pictures of the two of us. “You ripped them up?”
“No,” I admit. I pull open the bottom drawer of my desk and poke around, eventually retrieving the photos. Jessica takes them between her forefinger and thumb.
“I’m really happy for you, y’know,” she tells me. “I’m glad you’ve come out. You and Stuart are perfect for each other.”
“Yeah,” I admit, my face bursting into a blush. It feels very strange, opening up to Jessica like this. Sure, I’d tell Jessica everything when we were dating but there was a long, hard, cold, blank period where we loathed each other. Well-I disliked Jessica lot, for abandoning me, for trying to push drugs on me, trying to force me to do things I didn’t want too, but I think she only forged hatred for me to make it easier for herself. “Jessie,” I say suddenly. “Thanks….y’know.”
Her face softens under the striking red and black makeup and she suddenly looks a lot, lot younger. “It’s Okay, Aaron. Now c’mon, let’s get you all fixed up.”
*******
Of course, Jessica and I don’t get to school on time. As we’re strolling along the grey, empty Mountsborough streets, we collide with Faline and Adele. I feel my eyes widen slightly in awe. Faline has pulled her hair into a huge, spidery beehive that sticks up scarily, streaked with a deep purple. She is wearing a figure-hugging purple leopard print vest top and a skirt made from the same material. Her feet stick out in Jessica’s purple velvet wedges. Adele is dressed from head-to-toe in Hello Kitty attire, with a giant Hello Kitty pendant positioned in her straggly blonde fringe carefully. I wish I had their confidence.
Faline’s staring at me too, a little suspiciously, gazing past the heavy makeup and the ig hair. “Hey. Are you new?”
Jessica giggles. “Faline, it’s Aaron.”
Faline’s starry blue eyes widen comically; her pierced eyebrows disappear under her fringe. “Aaron? Is that really you?”
I shift about a little, embarrassed. I asked Jessica to dress me up as a girl, and she did just that. My face is stiff with makeup-white face powder, black eyeliner and bruise-coloured eye shadow. She brought along a Halloween wig so now black curls fall about my face. She let me borrow some of her clothes so now I’m sporting black jeans covered in Marilyn Manson and Mindless Self Indulgence patches, and a purple Smashing Pumpkins shirt that is so tight, I’m struggling to breathe. Jessica even took the time to paint my nails, and slot purple dog collar bracelets on to my wrists.
Adele laughs. “That’s insane. Is that really you, Aaron?”
I nod quickly and she laughs again in amazement. “Whoa. You fooled me, that’s for sure. What gives?”
“It’s just an experiment,” I shrug desperately. Beside me, Jessica grins smugly.
“Aren’t I good?” she croons, fluttering her eyelashes and posing shamelessly. “He looks so realistic!”
“I just hope everyone else thinks that,” I worry, biting down hard on my lip. Jessica frowns slightly-I must have smudged my lipstick. “Oh Hell. What am I doing?”
“You’ll be fine,” she says firmly, linking her arm through mine and steering me towards the school gates. My feet immediately start to drag. What the Hell am I doing, dressing up as a girl for all of my ridiculing classmates to behold? They’ll know it’s me, of course they will. One of them will notice and I will be faced with an onslaught of spit balls, paper planes; shoves and punches and trips and name-calling.
“Jessica,” I hedge. I can feel myself beginning to blush with panic, though I doubt a hint of pink rises to my cheeks-they’re unmoveable with makeup.
“Aaron, trust me. You’ll be Okay.” Jessica squeezes my fingers and I’m so worried, I don’t react. “As if you care what those deadbeats think anyway!”
“Of course I care! They’ll slaughter me if they ever find out.”
Jessica rolls her eyes-they’re both sporting impressive, Cleopatra-style wings of kohl. “You just need to act confident. Act like a girl. Walk and talk like a girl. Actually, maybe don’t talk. Your voice is pretty deep.”
I groan slightly. “I want to go home.”
“Tough. We’re staying in school and we’re gonna do this, Okay?” She widens her eyes until I shift about guiltily. “You’ll be fine, I promise.”
Jessica’s right-I manage to survive. I slip in at the back of the class and everyone thinks I’m a new girl, or don’t notice me at all. My peers are even more distracted than usual, so Mr Jenkins, my Physics teacher, decides to ditch the usual curriculum and sets up the TV. I perch on a lab stool at the back, unnoticed and hardly daring to breathe. Eventually, I begin to relax and find my sketch pad, doodling all over the front cover, drawing tiny animals with bulbous eyes and cute whiskers. I feel a heat on my face, and look up, my guts churning. Jamie Perryman is sitting in front of me, dressed up in his pressed jeans and grey sneakers and cashmere sweater. He casually looks over his shoulder, notices me staring and drops a wink before turning back to Aled. I sit there, stunned, when he turns round again and slides a note across the bench. I stare at it for a minute, and then, between forefinger and thumb, I open it up.
Hey. I’m Jamie. Have you got a boyfriend?
I stifle a laugh, biting the back of my lip. I can’t believe this is happening. Jamie Perryman has beaten me up since the first day of Yr 7; I come in dressed as a girl and he starts hitting on me. It’s absolutely ridiculous. I take my pen, flip the note over and write, Yes. Then I slide the note back across the bench. Jamie picks it up, tears it open, and then sniggers.
”Tease,” he mouths, winks again and hunches over the desk.
When the bell rings, I hurry out of the Science block with my head down, trying to avoid Jamie. I’m relieved that, so far, my disguise has fooled them all but I don’t want him trying to score with me. I think I like him better when he’s calling me a pansy.
I wonder where Stuart is. I know I missed Reg this morning, and he isn’t in my Science class, but I can’t see him wandering across the courtyard. I try to look out for a silver halo; a flash of Barbie-pink or sequins but I can’t find him anywhere. I see Abby walking along with Niki and Ceris, dressed in stinging yellow jeans and a Jonas Brothers shirt, and my face wrinkles up slightly. She notices, and stares back at me accusingly, though her face doesn’t drop with recognition. I don’t want to take any chances though-I rush around the corner of the Art block and collide with Jessica, Faline and Tabby.
“Whoa. What’s up?” Jessica laughs as I compose myself.
“I am freaking out. Jamie Perryman is hitting on me!” I hiss, but they all only laugh.
“It looks like your costume’s working.”
“It does look very convincing,” Tabby agrees. She has dressed up almost outrageously as her friends, in a little black lacey slip of nothing and black PVC wedges. “Jessie did a good job.”
”I did, didn’t I?” Jessica crows, drawing herself up to her full height and sticking out her chest proudly. She opens up her tiny red heart-shaped purse and draws out her Slipknot lighter and packet of cigarettes. “I’m guessing you’re not going to Gym, Aaron.”
I shake my head defiantly, and Faline grins at me from behind a gray cloud of smoke drifting from the end of her cigarette.
“Awesome. You’re gonna hang out with us?”
“Why aren’t you going to Gym?” I scold, looking at her disapprovingly. She only flutters her eyelashes sweetly and draws her cigarette away from her mouth, exhaling a smoke ring.
“Please, like I’m gonna throw myself around a hockey pitch in these shoes! Anyway, I’ve forgotten my kit and I don’t want to wear the school’s cast-offs.”
Jessica holds out her hand. “Come hang out with us. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”
“We could talk about Stuart,” Tabby suggests lightly and I have to bite the inside of my cheeks to stop myself from smiling. A quick grin comes to my lips. “Awwh. You love him, don’t you?”
“Love’s a very strong word,” I say, as I follow Jessica, Faline and Tabby round the back of the Art block and across the football pitch, heading towards the back of the Sport’s hall.
“We said it all the time,” Jessica criticises. She flicks her lighter, and a flame jumps to the end of the cigarette.
“Yeah, but we dated for ages. Stuart and I are just friends.”
“Ha! Just friends!” Jessica inhales deeply, and then exhales the smoke. “You two are smitten with each other. I can see it in your eyes-and his.”
I get excited then. “What’s he said about me?”
“I’m not gonna tell you!”
“Jessie,” I whine, rushing forward to her side. I link my arm through hers and snuggle up to her affectionately, and she swats at me playfully. If Jessica and I ever had an argument in the past, I’d always go back to her. I don’t think I ever apologised-I’d just kiss her and hug her and stroke her hair and she’d soon forgive me. The quickest way to Jessica’s good side is through physical affection.
“Aaron, I promised Stuart I wouldn’t tell you what he’s said.”
“Why? Is it bad?”
“No.” Jessica flicks her cigarette into the gutter. “You know he thinks the world of you.”
I duck my head, hiding behind my wig. A hot blush prickles across my face. “Really?”
“Aaron! Yes!” Jessica leans against the wall and lights up another cigarette. I recoil slightly-I have the feeling it’s something stronger than nicotine. “Stuart absolutely adores you. You absolutely adore him. You’re both gay. Just date.”
“I don’t think I’m ready.”
“Ready for what? Aaron, you’ve dated before. It’s no big deal.”
“It is! It’ll…it will be my first gay relationship,” I manage, saying it as delicately as I can, though my heart is thumping and my cheeks are flaming at the thought of being in a relationship with Stuart….touching him and kissing him the same way Jaden Lars did outside ST Alexander’s…
I hang out with Jessica, Faline and Tabby for the entire double period. They lounge against the wall of the Sport’s hall, smoking and exchanging sweatbands and CD’s and lighters. My Gym class jog past in their shorts and trainers; Coach Oslen looks our way, frowning slightly. Jessica, Tabby and Faline quickly hide their cigarettes behind their backs and wave at the boys. Jamie looks over and then waves cheerfully at me. I’m too dazed to do anything; Tabby and Faline and Jessica all laugh with surprise. When the Lunch bell rings, they meet up with Ivy, Violet, Adele and Tammy and tell me they’re going to hang out with some Senior’s from ST Alexander’s. I mooch off towards the canteen, where I sit with my Madonna biography opened in front of me.
“Hello Aaron,” comes a bright, sweet voice above me, a voice I instantly recognize. I look up from my book, and frown a little. A small, slim girl is standing in front of me with her lunch. She is wearing a black sequinned Hello Kitty all-in-one that clings to every pore, cut into little shorts with one shoulder strap, flaunting her long, shapely legs. She has a little pink bomber jacket slung over one shoulder-it is patterned with cherries, cat faces, small plastic jewels and Rubix cubes, and has a blue satin lining. Her hair is white-blonde and sticking to her by some kind of electric, with a pair of big black avatar sunglasses decorated with silver dice holding back her floppy fringe. I peer closer. She’s insanely beautiful, with her snub nose and staring hazel eyes and gap between her front teeth…..
“Stuart!” I gasp, astounded. He smiles angelically, and sits down opposite me.
“Yeah, it’s really me. I thought you’d be surprised.”
“But….what….how do you know it’s me?” I hiss, leaning across the table. I can’t take my eyes off him. He has streaked his face with pale pink and silver eye shadow, and even smudged on some cherry lipgloss. Stuart looks incredibly like a girl, it’s almost unreal.
“Oh Aaron,” he giggles and my heart does a double take. “Jessica told me.”
“Jessica!”
“Don’t worry, you look very pretty as a girl.”
I stare on, confused. Stuart stares back, fiddling with his nails. He has painted them black, with tiny pink cat nail tattoos printed on them.
“But…..what….why?”
“I wanted to make an impression.” Stuart smoothes down his sequinned suit, fingering the Hello Kitty motif. “This one time, Jaden had a party where we all had to dress up as girls, and I made this-“
“You made that?”
Stuart blushes under the makeup. “Yeah, I did. It’s no big deal. So I put together this costume and decided to dig it out. My dad didn’t buy me that jacket after all.” He widens his eyes and flutters his lashes girlishly.
“What about that jacket?” I gesture towards the garment he’s clutching in his lap.
“This is mine. Isn’t it cute? I bought it from Camden Market.” Stuart looks up and puts his head to one side, grinning. “I like your outfit too, Aaron. The jeans are especially nice.” He winks.
“Stuart!” I exclaim, though my heart is thumping and I’m secretly enjoying his flirting.
“I’m not Stuart. I’m Sasha.”
“Sasha?”
“You need a girl name, silly.” He leans across the table and tugs gently at my wig. “Annabelle.”
“Annabelle.” I try it out, and like it. “That’s cool.” I bite the back of my lip. “This is weird.”
Stuart giggles sweetly, wrinkling up his nose. “I know, my dad nearly fainted but Rosalie and Saskia helped me with my makeup.” He suddenly twists his mouth into a worried little pout. “What did your dad say?”
“My dad doesn’t know. He took Wil to his firm this morning so he can get a head for a business.” I sigh with anxiety. I’m going to have to run home to beat them. Dad will beat me if he ever finds out. When I was much, much younger I used to dress up in my mother’s evening dresses that trailed the floor, and shuffle around in her high heels. She used to adore it, but Dad was never too appreciative. He would watch, with a pale, disgusted face; he’d pull the clothes over my head and thrust shorts and trainers at me and then he’d go and scream at Mum for hours, reprimanding her for encouraging my ghastly behaviour.
“I guess he’s not going to be a happy bunny if he ever finds out,” Stuart worries, biting down hard on his bottom lip. The fear in his expression contrasts with his light-hearted words; I bend my head, snorting with laughter. Stuart giggles too.
“We have free Periods all afternoon-all of the Spanish teachers are in Barcelona on exchange,” he tells me between giggles. “We’re supposed to be studying but we could always cut class…”
His purr makes me practically drool. I remind myself stubbornly to stare over his shoulder instead of looking right into his eyes as I reply.
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea. Do you remember what happened the last time we skipped class?”
Stuart chews down hard on his bottom lip. He has smeared it with cherry lipgloss, and I find my own mouth watering. “Good point.” With a loud sigh, he leans across the table and rests his head on his arms. “I suppose we could go to class then.”
I laugh at the disappointment in his voice and then lean forward. “We can walk home together today.”
”Really?” Stuart breathes and I blush at his joy. “That’s great! I was wondering when you were going to ask me-I was gonna chase you down if it wasn’t soon…”
Our form tutor is on the exchange trip in Barcelona so Stuart and I don’t go to Registration, but wander around aimlessly until the buzzer sounds for afternoon lessons. Even then we are unsure where to go-our absence at Reg means we don’t know where our Study lessons are taking place. In the end, we walk down to the library, which is empty apart from some Year 7’s completing their History project on the computers. I sit down at the back, hidden behind a large magazine wrack while Stuart skips to the front desk, smiles sweetly and asks, in very girly tones, for some books to help him with his Textiles project. When he staggers over to the table, he is carrying a dozen thick fashion volumes, which he piles on to the wooden surface.
“You haven’t got Textiles homework,” I say accusingly but he presses a finger to his lips.
“Shush, we’re in a library. Anyway, I wanted to do some research.”
“Research for what?”
He rolls his eyes. “I want to be a designer, remember.”
“I thought you wanted to be a hairdresser.” I scrunch up my face, trying to remember our conversation. Stuart simply beams.
“That was last week. I read a biography about Coco Chanel and I’m completely sold.”
“So what will be next week, huh? Backing dancer?” I quip and he elbows me playfully, flipping open a large bright book.
“At least I have an idea, Mr Vermeer.” He drops his voice so the nosy First Years can’t hear. “What are you planning to do?”
“Move to New York and never come back,” I say promptly. Stuart’s face falls.
“You can’t do that!”
“I can. I have no reason to stay here. I’m going to leave as soon as I can, and fly solo.”
Stuart bites the inside of his cheek and puts his head very close to mine. When he talks, his breath tickles my face. “Let me fly with you.”
Stuart and I spend two hours at the back of the library before we are dismissed. Stuart pours over bright, laminated fashion volumes, stroking the pictures of the outrageous dresses. Every so often he gasps happily, or flicks back through the pages; he even squeals when he comes across a photograph of a model wearing a dress constructed entirely from what look like plastic bubbles.
“Don’t over do it, Sasha,” I smirk and he swats at me, grinning coyly from underneath his sweeping fringe.
“Hey, shut up. At least I had a name, Annabelle.”
“Hilarious.”
“Annie.”
I nudge him in the ribs. “Shush, you.”
“Annie, Annie, Annie,” Stuart chants, scrunching up his face and beaming.
“Do you want me to walk home with you or not?” I protest and he falls silent, closing the book with a low thud.
“Get a move on then-the bell’s about to ring.” Stuart slings his sequinned Hello Kitty purse over his shoulder, scoops up the books and takes them over to the front desk. He smiles widely at the Yr 11 behind the desk; he gapes helplessly as Stuart waggles his fingers, beckons me and then leaves. I follow him out into the corridor. It looks very strange, the mixture of colours instead of the usual solid mass of black. It seems even louder than usual too, and busier, but it’s not hard to spot Stuart-he seems to glitter as he pirouettes. His wig sparkles silver under the fluorescent lighting and everyone seems to move out of his way.
“Sheesh.” Stuart blows his fringe out of his eyes. I’ve finally caught up with him and we’re lingering outside in the rowdy courtyard. He catches me staring. “What?”
“You know what! You’re steering this place like your own private car.”
He preens at me from under his eyelashes-they are coated with some silver makeup and seem longer than usual, if that’s possible. “Yeah well, I’m used to it.”
My tone sours slightly. “Those ST Alexander’s boys pamper you, don’t they?”
Stuart doesn’t seem to notice my dismay. He dives in his purse, draws out a cherry chapstick and slavers it all over his lips. “Of course they do. I’m the baby. They all think I’m adorable.” He pouts, slips his chapstick back into his purse and blinks up at me smugly. “Jaden likes me the most and he’s the leader, so they all like me.”
“Lucky you.” My voice pangs at the end. Stuart finally notices and sighs a little, twisting his mouth up.
“But I met them when I was thirteen-I didn’t have any friends before that.”
I try to remember Stuart when he was a First Year at the age of eleven. I didn’t talk to him I spent so much time ducking out of the way of Perryman and his henchmen, I barely noticed anybody else. I remember his hair used to be very blonde, almost golden, and all spiky at the back, with a fringe that hung over one eye. He used to be even smaller too, barely reaching my shoulder and never seemed to speak. Last year, when we entered Year 9, I noticed he was a lot more confident-he cut his hair into his crop and dyed it silver; he turned up wearing skinny jeans and eyeliner and made a silver sequinned blazer in Textiles. He also looked at me a lot, out of the corner of his eye.
“And now you’re Mr Popular,” I say loudly; a gaggle of Yr 8 girls glance over with widen eye, look Stuart up and down and giggle.
“I wouldn’t say that.” Stuart is frowning up at me for foiling his disguise. I try not to laugh at his expression.
“Oh no?” I cock one eyebrow sarcastically. He giggles at my cynicism. “So Jessica’s Gothic Girly Gang and the troop of gay ST Alexander’s boys….they’re nothing, are they?”
“Oh, you know what I mean. I don’t want loads of friends-I’m happy with the ones I’ve got.” Stuart peeks up at me shyly. “You’re happy being a loner?”
“Yes,” I say swiftly and shoot him a grin. “I was until you showed up.”
Stuart smiles in a slightly apologetic way. “Don’t complain, I know you love me very much.”
“I suppose so,” I agree and laugh as Stuart’s face shines with delight. “No need to look so happy about it, Bambi.”
Stuart wraps his arms around my waist with enchantment and I hug him back, with no awkwardness. I spot Perryman coming towards us over Stuart’s shoulder and pull away quickly.
“Oh no!”
Stuart glances behind him and erupts into a fit of giggles.
“This isn’t funny!” I hiss but Stuart continues to giggle away, very much like the Year 8 girls we passed earlier. Jamie casts him a bemused look as he comes over, but Aled raises his eyebrows in a satisfied manner.
“Hey Aled.” Stuart adopts a sugary purr, similar to Faline’s voice. I blink at him; astounded-it’s like witnessing one of his sisters on the pull or something.
“Hey,” Jamie says and I turn to him instead. He has his hands behind his back, rolling forward on to the balls of his feet confidently. He runs a hand through his hair, letting it flop back into place, and smiles at me. I simply stare back, struck dumb.
“We were just going,” Stuart continues in his Sasha voice.
“Not so soon?” Jamie says, still looking at me. I try hard not blink. “I like your t-shirt.”
Stuart snorts, and applies more lipgloss. Jamie may show disdain towards Stuart and I because of our fashion sense and taste in music, but he is a little less biased when it comes to Goth girls. He often hangs back after Gym to wolf-whistle at Jessica and Faline and Tabby as they jog past, swinging their hockey sticks and flaunting their skull-patterned legwarmers and matching sweatbands.
“Annabelle,” Stuart stresses, still using his Sasha voice. “We’ve really got to go now.”
He grasps my hand tightly and tugs me along a little. I try not to let a dreamy smile rise to my face at the sensation of his fingers curled over mine.
“Well, can we walk you home?” Jamie offers, almost jogging to keep up. I have to run to keep up, too. Stuart is striding along in a pair of towering black-and-pink leather wedges without trepidation, like he strolls along in high heels everyday.
“Sorry, but we kinda live further out,” Stuart calls over his shoulder. He flicks his wig dramatically and gazes at Jamie and Aled from behind his silver, glitter-encrusted eyelashes. He looks like he belongs in some modelling show or a music video. Aled stops dead.
“Where do you live then?” he yells out. Stuart pauses for a minute before replying.
“Central Avenue.”
Aled’s and Jamie’s faces drop. Central Avenue is way out of the catchment area; it is past ST Alexander’s and ST Dorothy’s. It is also renowned to be one of the busiest roads in Mountsborough, lined with the most expensive restaurants, exclusive clubs and genteel hotels. It’s my father’s favourite place in Mountsborough, apart from our estate. He thinks the rest of Mountsborough is far too common, gritty and brimming with filth. Whenever he drives through the streets, my father always rolls up his window, just in case some ‘scruffy, dirty ruffian’ comes up and steals his Rolex.
Stuart drags me out of the now-deserted courtyard and past the gates. All of the school buses have left now, and only a few of our classmates remain, lingering on the streets. Instead of turning left, like I usually do, I follow Stuart to the right and into the inter-twining streets of the crumbling estate.
“I usually walk home with Jessica and Faline and the rest,” Stuart starts. He seems undaunted about walking through the other Mountsborough Estate, but I am more wary. Li lives up here and, whenever I’ve come to visit him, I make sure I don’t hesitate on the streets.
“Oh yeah?” My voice is uncharacteristically high and trembles slightly. Stuart looks up at me and laughs at my expression.
“Don’t look so scared. You’ll be fine. I’m native to this estate.”
When I don’t answer, he squeezes my hand. I don’t jump away but I feel my face flush with pleasure, and the skin of my hand burn under his touch.
“So you walk home with Jessie and Faline?” I say, trying to fight my nerves. There’s a group of raucous boys from my Science class huddled together a little way up the road, glancing over. I try out a cautious, girly voice and surprise myself-I’m quite good. “They don’t live near you do they?”
“I live quite far out, closer to ST Alexander’s than Mountsborough Comp. Their houses are closest to mine.”
I shoot him a timid look, trying to be discrete. “Where do you live?”
Stuart lets out a feminine giggle. “You sound very interested!”
I blush.
“You know Snowdrop Avenue?”
I wrinkle up my face, trying to remember. I’m not very familiar with Mountsborough geography.
“You’ll see,” Stuart says and then smoothes down his hair and fixes a glossy smile. The boys from my Science classes caw and whistle after him.
“Hey girlies,” says Matt Cortez huskily. He’s an ex of Jessica’s-he is tall, dark-haired and dressed in black, with a smoker’s cough and bottles of vodka stashed in his school bag. “You wanna hang out for a while?”
“Gotta get home,” Stuart grins. “Maybe another time?”
“Tease,” Cortez calls after us as we continually to walk. I shudder.
“I’d hate to be a girl, if this is what happens all the time!”
”I don’t know…I quite like it.” Stuart glances at me accusingly. “Don’t tell me that you have never cat-called after Jessica or called her a tease before.”
I shrug, humiliated. “It was a long time ago. I was only thirteen.”
Very casually, Stuart links my arm. I stiffen up slightly but he only laughs and says, “Oh, do lighten up Flower, I don’t bite much.”
“So tell me,” he says then in motherly tones, similar to an agony aunt’s. “What was your relationship with Jessie like?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Just curious.” His cheeks are burning. “C’mon, I’ve only heard her side of the story…”
“Oh yeah?” My tone is a little sharp. “What did she say?”
“Oh, the usual….you were the love of her life…still doesn’t know why you ditched her…wanted you have her kids…”
I choke on some air. “What?” I splutter. “What did you say?”
Stuart gazes away, past the spiked aerials and chimneys of the bleak houses. “Okay, maybe I made that last part up…”
“You pig!” I exclaim and push him away but I’m laughing as I do so, and I’m very gentle with him. He barely totters in his wedges. “Never scare me like that again!”
“That was the main gist of her little speech.”
“You and her talk about me a lot, don’t you?” I shoot him a shrewd glance. Stuart has turned pink, and is twiddling a strand of his wig through his fingers.
“You are the main topic discussed, yes.” He fiddles with his nail varnish, trying to be blasé. “The main thing we have in common is you.”
“Me?” I say blankly, blinking. Stuart is looking away, but his cheeks are still very pink. He hurries to change the subject, but his comment leaves me confused. I didn’t know what he and Jessica had in common….but me?
Stuart leads me all the way through the estate and then we come to the cemetery. It looks very still and almost scary-a thin layer of frost is clinging to the stubby grass and leaves on the ground. Already, a low mist is settling over the place and coating the graves in silver. My tree looks slightly grey and smoky. We pace down the slippery cobbles of the cemetery path and arrive out of the gates. ST Alexander’s stands in front of us. It looks like a haunted castle in the settling mist, with the windows burning out. A few students are loitering on the pavement outside and I brace myself.
“Jaden and Billie and Mikey and Lindsey and the rest are all at Dance,” Stuart says, tottering along in his cute little wedges. “Or they’ll be hanging out somewhere. They escape as soon as they can.”
I glance up at the towering school. It used to be a cathedral back in the Victorian Ages and then, after a fire, it was restored as the school. The uniform is worse than ours-black blazers with the gold, red and black badge; black waistcoats with the school crest, grey shirts; red, black and golden ties with the school crest; black suit trousers and black court shoes. They’re only allowed to bring briefcase-like bags with the school crest to school too, and you’re not allowed to have long hair or any piercings.
“Are you still going there?” Stuart’s voice cracks the silence in two. I stare at the place. The old chapel has been turned into a gym and I can see a group of Stuart’s friends in there, dancing. Jaden Lars is leading them, dressed in tiny pink shorts and a Robots In Disguise shirt.
“I don’t think so. Dad hasn’t said anything, anyway. Sarah keeps telling me that I’m not, but I think she’s only saying that to prove she’s the good guy.” I sigh, and look at the school again. Black storm clouds are gathering behind it, almost to prove it’s an evil place that will undoubtedly bring me doom.
Stuart’s fingers curl around mine, and I forget all about it.
Maybe I’d enjoy it too, if I opened up more.
For the first time since my odd thoughts began, I feel comfortable. Of course, after a lifetime of being taught that homosexuality is wrong, I probably should be anxious, but I’m not. I have accepted myself, and it makes me feel so much better about myself, I forget to be scared. All this time, I’ve been balancing along the edge of a very high precipice, tottering my way along its rocky verge. I have always been wobbling; occasionally dangling my foot over the side, daring myself to feel the distinction on the other side. I have seen the black rolling waves beneath me, and I have feared them. I have grown to learn that this side of the precipice is right and the other side is wrong. Finally, after months, years, a whole lifetime of sulking along a line that doesn’t suit me, I have stepped over to the other side.
But I haven’t stepped at all. I have flung myself over the edge willingly, and spiralled to the bottom of the ocean, and I love it.
All these years, I have been constantly conducting a conspiracy in my head; I have telling myself that I am the same as everybody else, that I find girls attractive. That illusion only grew stronger with the fear, when I realized it was wrong. Now, I have finally cut off all my strings and accepted myself.
With my new-found happiness comes forgiveness. Slowly, I allow myself to excuse Jessica of all the bad things she has ever done to me, and I start to talk to her again. She and Stuart are great friends, though they’re nothing alike. They sit together in the canteen now, along with Jessica’s Goth Gang. I enter the canteen one day to find all of them-Jessica, Ivy, Tabby, Violet, Adele, Tammy and Faline-crowded around a table with Stuart. He looks up and beams when I come over, and pats the seat next to him. I sit down and look at him coyly. He’s growing his hair and now it stands out about his head in a white halo, with a thick fringe combed over his face. I like his new hair style but I don’t like the way it covers his face, hiding his beautiful hazel eyes from view.
“Hey Aaron.” Faline leans across the table, blinking her big blue eyes. She’s Jessica’s best friend and it shows-she comes complete with swishing black bunches; purple sparkly lipstick and a purple-and-black patched mini skirt. I’ve always liked Faline. She has a soprano, girly voice that reminds me of bubblegum and peppermint and swan boats and childhood.
“Hi, Faline. What’s new?”
“Nothing much,” she shrugs. She has flashes of purple in her bunches and they catch in the light as she moves her head. “How about you?”
I shrug too. “Nothing really.”
Faline smiles at me widely, flaunting the silver ring hooked through her bottom lip. “You should get out more, y’know.”
Stuart leans over to join in. “Faline’s right, you should totally come out with us one night.”
“I have to stay home and revise.”
“Revise for what?” Stuart protests. I snigger quietly to myself-he looks so adorable when he can’t get his own way, his cheeks turn all pink and round and lovely…”You’re such a brain box, you don’t need to revise. Just come out with us! It’s fun!”
“Sounds like lots of fun, hanging round a dingy school all night,” I sniff. Really, I just don’t want to see Stuart cuddled up with some dense boy with piercings and belly shirts and stiff Mohican spikes.
“It’s loads of fun! Seriously, Aaron, you would totally love Jaden and Mikey and Lindsey and Jonas and Billie and Felix,” Stuart tells me. I wrinkle up my face.
“Aren’t they all slightly wild? I mean, that’s why Jessica hangs out there,” I try, grinning. Jessica glares at me from under a heavy curtain of hair, and then suddenly smiles back.
“I’ll have you know, Aaron Vermeer, that not all of the ST Alex’s boys are wild. Some are pretty nice.”
“Jessica’s got the hots for someone,” I crow and she giggles, swatting at me. “Is he tall, dark and irresistible?”
“They’re the reasons why she fell in love with you, right?” Stuart quips and I blush slightly at the small compliment. He returns my flush with a dazzling smile and I duck my head, trying to be discrete.
“He is rather gorgeous,” Faline assures me, propping her face up on her fists and gazing across the room with moony, love-sick eyes. “His name is Hunter Fawcett. He’s seventeen.”
“He’s a ST Alex’s hottie,” Ivy tells me. She too looks infatuated whenever she mentions him. “Shame he’s only got eyes for Jessie.”
Jessica giggles again, pink in the face. I remember, with a slight pang, the way she used to giggle whenever I’d steal a kiss from her in the middle of class.
“We met at a Marilyn Manson concert. It’s no big deal.”
“I don’t like him,” Stuart sniffs, adjusting his face into a hurt expression. Very deliberately, he sticks out his pearly-pink bottom lip into a sulky pout. “He called me Fluffy.”
I laugh. “Poor Bambi. Did this big bad Goth Boy pick on you?”
Stuart flutters his eyelashes prettily and I fall for him, all over again. “You’ll stand up to him next time, won’t you Aaron? For me?”
“Sure I will.”
Stuart beams, and then dives into his school bag. He tugs out a bright flyer, and pushes it across the table to me. I pick it up and scan over it. It’s advertising ‘Ditch Your Uniform Day’ this Friday. I scrunch up my face. I can just about blend in when I wear my uniform but when I’m in my own clothes, I stand out even more.
“No way. In my own clothes, I look like a freak.”
“Flower, sweetie, you’re not a freak,” Stuart says and I sigh happily at the cute smitten pet names.
“C’mon Aaron, it’ll be fun,” Jessica wields. She widens her big brown eyes pleadingly. “Don’t be a spoil sport.”
“No deal, Jessie.”
“Fine then. You just come in wearing your uniform then,” Jessica sniffs, looking away pointedly. Stuart tries instead.
“Please, Aaron. It’ll be real fun!”
“No thanks.” I push the flyer across the table to him; he takes it sadly and returns it to his backpack.
Stuart tries his best to persuade me on the way to English that afternoon. He catches up with me after Maths, clutching his blazer in both hands, chin thrust forward eagerly.
“Have you thought about what you’re gonna wear yet?” he asks and then sniggers as I groan.
“Look Stuart, it’s not gonna happen.” I shoot him a secret look from behind my fringe. “Anyway, what are you gonna wear?”
Stuart giggles blissfully. “It’s a surprise. You’ll have to wait and see.”
We walk along in silence for a few minutes while I conjure up endless imaginary outfits for him to wear. I even start to plan my own outfit in my head.
The Ditch Your Uniform Day is all anybody can talk about in English. Chantelle Winters is perched on a desk, swinging her goose-pimpled orange legs, avidly boasting about her brand new gold hoops to a gang of equally-carroty admirers. Jackson Walker, Alex Laws and Aled Jones are all arguing about each other’s tracksuits and Shona Roberts is flicking through a glossy fashion magazine, circling her desired outfits with a red biro.
“Come on, Year 10!” Ms Rowl calls out across the class, clapping her hands together. She is possibly the most defeated woman I have ever seen, her blonde hair hanging in two limp curtains either side of her face. Her glasses flash irritably under the fluorescent lighting as she turns to face Stuart and I. “Mr Vermeer, Mr Swann, it’s nice for you to join us.”
Stuart pulls his lips into a pout as he swaggers over to his seat. I join him. With a theatrical, adorable sigh, he tugs a magazine from his bag and flicks through it, dawdling at the fashion pages. He looks longingly at the pictures of pointed boots, tiny T-shirts and small shorts.
“Look!” he suddenly squeals, waving the magazine in front of my face. He’s pointing at a photograph of a black velvet bomber jacket, covered in multicoloured foil hearts. The price tag reads £90. “D’you reckon my dad would buy it for me before Friday?”
“No chance.” I imagine Stuart, in the jacket and a tiny pair of denim shorts he was eyeing earlier, and I prickle into a blush.
“Hmm.” He chews on his bottom lip, and I watch him intently, studying him like he’s my favourite Barbie doll or something. “I suppose I’ll have to wear something old then.”
I go to ask him about his clothes-I imagine they’re all bright and sparkly and impossibly small and tight-but the door bangs open and two pupils come in, wheeling a TV on a large stand. The buzz of talking increases dramatically. Ms Rowl sighs, and slots a DVD into the player. I don’t take any notice but continue to watch Stuart out of the corner of my eye. He props up his face in one curled fist, licking his lips slightly as he examines the fashion columns. He suddenly looks up at the flickering TV, and his eyes light up.
“It’s Romeo and Juliet!” he squeaks, practically clapping his hands. I frown.
“I never knew you liked Shakespeare.”
“It’s the film, Flower.”
“You like the film?”
“Duh! Leonardo DiCaprio was my first teenage crush.” Stuart leans forward on his elbows as the title sequence starts. He whispers the opening soliloquy under his breath and I wonder why he’s so perfect for me.
When I arrive home, Sarah is there again, and for once she’s not wearing her scrubs. Her dark hair is tumbling about her shoulders in childish waves so she looks younger than me.
“Hello Aaron,” she greets me in her breathy accent and I try to muster up hate towards her, but I can’t. “How are you?”
I make some small, unrecognizable noise and escape to the basement. I dump my school bag and strip off my uniform in favour for my favourite jeans and a Smashing Pumpkins shirt. Then I flop down on my bed, lean over and snatch up my Hello Batty phone, hitting the speed dial.
Mrs Arrowsmith, Jessica’s callous mother, answers. “Hello?”
“Hello Mrs Arrowsmith.” My voice is thick with fabricated brightness. “It’s Aaron here, Aaron Vermeer.”
“What do you want?”
I cringe at the disgust laden in her tone. “Is Jessica home?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“I just need to speak to her about our History thesis,” I lie and Mrs Arrowsmith sniffs disapprovingly.
“Five minutes,” she says and then screeches, “JESSICA! That Vermeer boy is on the phone for you!”
A few seconds later, Jessica comes to the phone. “Aaron?”
“Hi Jessica.” I twiddle the twisted cord round my fingers nervously.
“What’s up?”
“I just wanted to speak to you.” I lie down on my bed and stare up at my Billy Corgan poster, remembering the days when Jessica would wander around my room in her hotpants and my hoodie, humming ‘Bullet With Butterfly Wings’ under her breath.
“Have you still got me on speed dial?” she asks suspiciously. I swallow before I answer.
“Yes.”
Her answering laugh is tinged with delight. “I’m touched.”
“You’re the only person I call.”
“You never call me.” She suddenly sounds very hurt. I blush with guilt.
“Yeah well….we weren’t exactly on speaking terms, were we?”
“You’re hardly speaking to anybody,” Jessica sighs, like an anxious mother. I smile a little. “In fact, the only person you regard is Stuart.”
“Hmmm….” I fiddle with the plastic bat figure on my phone stand. “Jessie, I’m gay.”
Jessica is very quiet at the other end of the phone. “I wondered when you were going to come out.”
“Jessica-“
“It’s obvious you’re smitten with Stuart.”
“What?” I moan, agonized. “I thought I was being subtle.”
“Anything but,” she tells me with relish, and then sighs. “Oh Aaron. You love him, don’t you?”
I make an odd noise. “Don’t tell him!”
“I’m not going too.” Jessica snickers. “He always talks about you.”
A sudden flair of hope rises in me like a flame. I grip the slippery black plastic of the phone eagerly. “Really? What does he say?”
“I can’t tell you. I promised I’d keep that a secret, too.”
“Jessie!”
She giggles insanely. “What else were you going to ask me?”
“I was wondering if you could help me with my outfit for Friday.”
“Sure, I will.”
“You can come over on Friday morning to help me get ready?”
She pauses and then suddenly giggles. “Gah Aaron, I always wondered when you’d do this.”
“It’s only an experiment,” I explain hurriedly but she just laughs.
“Sure, sure. Don’t worry-I’ll make you look beautiful!”
I spend almost an hour talking to Jessica before there comes a sharp rap on the basement door.
“Aaron! Get the Hell off the phone! I need to use it for business!” Dad yells through the door. I roll my eyes.
At the other end of the line, Jessica giggles. “So you’re in the Doghouse with your parents too, huh.”
“I’m permantly in the doghouse. What did you do this time?”
“I kinda didn’t tell my mum I was going to that Marilyn concert, and I didn’t tell her I was borrowing money for it. I didn’t tell her I was gonna crash at Faline’s place either.” Jessica pauses. “Some of the guys crashed at her place too, and my dad saw us walking home together.”
“Jessica!” I hiss, astounded and a little outraged. She only laughs. “I can’t believe you! I’d never-“
“AARON! GET OFF THAT PHONE RIGHT NOW!”
“Sheesh! I’d better go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Jessica laughs girlishly and then says, “Aaron…thanks for calling. It means a lot that we can still be friends.”
I’m momentarily touched by her honesty. “Yeah, me too. See ya.”
I hang up quickly, before Dad breaks the door down. He bursts in, scowling terribly.
“You’re on that phone for far too long, you know! I need to make some important business calls!”
“So did I,” I argue but Dad only snorts.
“Please Aaron; it’s only Jessica Arrowsmith. Even you’re worth more than her.”
“Don’t talk about her like that!”
“I can talk about her however I damn well please! You were bad enough but she led you into a total shutdown with all that makeup and insolence and staying at her house overnight.” Dad shudders; I blush.
“You wouldn’t say anything if Wil did it,” I mutter, picking at the red stitching on my duvet.
“Yes, well, that’s William. He’s far more cooperative. I’m taking him into work with me on Friday, so he can get a head for the business.” Dad draws himself up proudly. I remember when I was nine and Wil was eight, Dad informed us all that Wil was going to inherit his business. This comment roused Mum out of her depression-induced numbness and she suddenly demanded what I was going to do. Dad curled his lip and stared at me-I was hunched in the corner, carefully painting a portrait of Robert Smith. He never gave my mother an answer.
“You’re taking Wil out of school for a whole day just so he can mooch around your office?” I sniff. “Really Dad, that’s not very educational, is it?”
“You’ll have to wake yourself up and get yourself ready for school,” he continues, ignoring me as usual. “Get yourself to school, otherwise they’ll be trouble. I don’t want to hear of you skyrocketing around with Jessica Arrowsmith and this Stuart boy.”
He pulls a face and, with an exasperated sigh, glares around the basement before leaving.
Dad breaks the news to Wil later on, while we’re all having dinner. Wil just grunts and shovels even more food into his gaping mouth. I watch him carefully, examining his features. My face is rounded and his is pointed. We’re both pale but he tans in the summer and turns an almost Italian tone. My features are small and rounded; his are pointed and long. My eyes are a very vivid green; his are murky brown. His hair is brown also, a dirty blonde when it catches in the light. He is tall, taller than me, impossibly slim and scrawny. We’re not alike at all. Wil doesn’t even look like Mum; only Dad. I wonder why I don’t look a little like him, either.
My alarm clock screeches into life at seven on Friday. I roll over and wake up almost immediately, watching as the room slowly blues into view. I listen out for the normal morning noises-the radio buzzing into life, the sound of water running and the fridge door slamming shut-but then I remember that I’m alone this morning. A grin slowly spreads across my face. I’m free. Slowly, I swing my legs out of bed, feeling the cold wooden floor beneath my bare feet, and then stretch. I take my time, drifting from the bathroom to the kitchen, where I nibble on a corner of toast, waiting for Jessica. She finally shows up, knocking on the door four times, the way she used to do when we were dating. I gasp a little at her outfit. She is wearing the smallest skirt I have ever seen, constructed from fiery red silk and black lace, with a matching corset in crushed velvet. Army boots hug her thighs, and her hair has been backcombed into a vicious black whirlwind of chaos, with added streaks of red.
“Hey Aaron,” she greets me cheerfully, stubbing out her cigarette on our mail box. Mr Corder, our local Priest and next-door-neighbour, frowns at her.
“It’s a terrible habit,” he calls over the hedge. Jessica looks up, slightly wounded, her bottom lip wobbling. Mr Corder clears his throat and continues to hack away at the hedges, and I take Jessica by the wrist and tug her inside.
“Have you got it all?” I ask her the minute the door is closed. She looks up, rolling her eyes expressively.
“Chillax, Aaron. It’s all here.” She holds up a large black case she’s been lugging along. It’s been decorated with faded, fraying Marilyn Manson patches and Cradle of Filth stickers.
“Are you sure-“I start anxiously but Jessica just laughs away my worries.
“I’m a pro at this kinda thing, Aaron. Trust me.”
She wraps her slim, cold fingers around my wrist and leads me down to the basement, kicking open the door and flicking on the lights as she does so. She stands for a minute, looking around the place, smiling.
“It hasn’t changed one bit,” Jessica remarks happily. She wanders over to my desk and fingers the empty photo frames with a sigh. Each one used to bear pictures of the two of us. “You ripped them up?”
“No,” I admit. I pull open the bottom drawer of my desk and poke around, eventually retrieving the photos. Jessica takes them between her forefinger and thumb.
“I’m really happy for you, y’know,” she tells me. “I’m glad you’ve come out. You and Stuart are perfect for each other.”
“Yeah,” I admit, my face bursting into a blush. It feels very strange, opening up to Jessica like this. Sure, I’d tell Jessica everything when we were dating but there was a long, hard, cold, blank period where we loathed each other. Well-I disliked Jessica lot, for abandoning me, for trying to push drugs on me, trying to force me to do things I didn’t want too, but I think she only forged hatred for me to make it easier for herself. “Jessie,” I say suddenly. “Thanks….y’know.”
Her face softens under the striking red and black makeup and she suddenly looks a lot, lot younger. “It’s Okay, Aaron. Now c’mon, let’s get you all fixed up.”
*******
Of course, Jessica and I don’t get to school on time. As we’re strolling along the grey, empty Mountsborough streets, we collide with Faline and Adele. I feel my eyes widen slightly in awe. Faline has pulled her hair into a huge, spidery beehive that sticks up scarily, streaked with a deep purple. She is wearing a figure-hugging purple leopard print vest top and a skirt made from the same material. Her feet stick out in Jessica’s purple velvet wedges. Adele is dressed from head-to-toe in Hello Kitty attire, with a giant Hello Kitty pendant positioned in her straggly blonde fringe carefully. I wish I had their confidence.
Faline’s staring at me too, a little suspiciously, gazing past the heavy makeup and the ig hair. “Hey. Are you new?”
Jessica giggles. “Faline, it’s Aaron.”
Faline’s starry blue eyes widen comically; her pierced eyebrows disappear under her fringe. “Aaron? Is that really you?”
I shift about a little, embarrassed. I asked Jessica to dress me up as a girl, and she did just that. My face is stiff with makeup-white face powder, black eyeliner and bruise-coloured eye shadow. She brought along a Halloween wig so now black curls fall about my face. She let me borrow some of her clothes so now I’m sporting black jeans covered in Marilyn Manson and Mindless Self Indulgence patches, and a purple Smashing Pumpkins shirt that is so tight, I’m struggling to breathe. Jessica even took the time to paint my nails, and slot purple dog collar bracelets on to my wrists.
Adele laughs. “That’s insane. Is that really you, Aaron?”
I nod quickly and she laughs again in amazement. “Whoa. You fooled me, that’s for sure. What gives?”
“It’s just an experiment,” I shrug desperately. Beside me, Jessica grins smugly.
“Aren’t I good?” she croons, fluttering her eyelashes and posing shamelessly. “He looks so realistic!”
“I just hope everyone else thinks that,” I worry, biting down hard on my lip. Jessica frowns slightly-I must have smudged my lipstick. “Oh Hell. What am I doing?”
“You’ll be fine,” she says firmly, linking her arm through mine and steering me towards the school gates. My feet immediately start to drag. What the Hell am I doing, dressing up as a girl for all of my ridiculing classmates to behold? They’ll know it’s me, of course they will. One of them will notice and I will be faced with an onslaught of spit balls, paper planes; shoves and punches and trips and name-calling.
“Jessica,” I hedge. I can feel myself beginning to blush with panic, though I doubt a hint of pink rises to my cheeks-they’re unmoveable with makeup.
“Aaron, trust me. You’ll be Okay.” Jessica squeezes my fingers and I’m so worried, I don’t react. “As if you care what those deadbeats think anyway!”
“Of course I care! They’ll slaughter me if they ever find out.”
Jessica rolls her eyes-they’re both sporting impressive, Cleopatra-style wings of kohl. “You just need to act confident. Act like a girl. Walk and talk like a girl. Actually, maybe don’t talk. Your voice is pretty deep.”
I groan slightly. “I want to go home.”
“Tough. We’re staying in school and we’re gonna do this, Okay?” She widens her eyes until I shift about guiltily. “You’ll be fine, I promise.”
Jessica’s right-I manage to survive. I slip in at the back of the class and everyone thinks I’m a new girl, or don’t notice me at all. My peers are even more distracted than usual, so Mr Jenkins, my Physics teacher, decides to ditch the usual curriculum and sets up the TV. I perch on a lab stool at the back, unnoticed and hardly daring to breathe. Eventually, I begin to relax and find my sketch pad, doodling all over the front cover, drawing tiny animals with bulbous eyes and cute whiskers. I feel a heat on my face, and look up, my guts churning. Jamie Perryman is sitting in front of me, dressed up in his pressed jeans and grey sneakers and cashmere sweater. He casually looks over his shoulder, notices me staring and drops a wink before turning back to Aled. I sit there, stunned, when he turns round again and slides a note across the bench. I stare at it for a minute, and then, between forefinger and thumb, I open it up.
Hey. I’m Jamie. Have you got a boyfriend?
I stifle a laugh, biting the back of my lip. I can’t believe this is happening. Jamie Perryman has beaten me up since the first day of Yr 7; I come in dressed as a girl and he starts hitting on me. It’s absolutely ridiculous. I take my pen, flip the note over and write, Yes. Then I slide the note back across the bench. Jamie picks it up, tears it open, and then sniggers.
”Tease,” he mouths, winks again and hunches over the desk.
When the bell rings, I hurry out of the Science block with my head down, trying to avoid Jamie. I’m relieved that, so far, my disguise has fooled them all but I don’t want him trying to score with me. I think I like him better when he’s calling me a pansy.
I wonder where Stuart is. I know I missed Reg this morning, and he isn’t in my Science class, but I can’t see him wandering across the courtyard. I try to look out for a silver halo; a flash of Barbie-pink or sequins but I can’t find him anywhere. I see Abby walking along with Niki and Ceris, dressed in stinging yellow jeans and a Jonas Brothers shirt, and my face wrinkles up slightly. She notices, and stares back at me accusingly, though her face doesn’t drop with recognition. I don’t want to take any chances though-I rush around the corner of the Art block and collide with Jessica, Faline and Tabby.
“Whoa. What’s up?” Jessica laughs as I compose myself.
“I am freaking out. Jamie Perryman is hitting on me!” I hiss, but they all only laugh.
“It looks like your costume’s working.”
“It does look very convincing,” Tabby agrees. She has dressed up almost outrageously as her friends, in a little black lacey slip of nothing and black PVC wedges. “Jessie did a good job.”
”I did, didn’t I?” Jessica crows, drawing herself up to her full height and sticking out her chest proudly. She opens up her tiny red heart-shaped purse and draws out her Slipknot lighter and packet of cigarettes. “I’m guessing you’re not going to Gym, Aaron.”
I shake my head defiantly, and Faline grins at me from behind a gray cloud of smoke drifting from the end of her cigarette.
“Awesome. You’re gonna hang out with us?”
“Why aren’t you going to Gym?” I scold, looking at her disapprovingly. She only flutters her eyelashes sweetly and draws her cigarette away from her mouth, exhaling a smoke ring.
“Please, like I’m gonna throw myself around a hockey pitch in these shoes! Anyway, I’ve forgotten my kit and I don’t want to wear the school’s cast-offs.”
Jessica holds out her hand. “Come hang out with us. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”
“We could talk about Stuart,” Tabby suggests lightly and I have to bite the inside of my cheeks to stop myself from smiling. A quick grin comes to my lips. “Awwh. You love him, don’t you?”
“Love’s a very strong word,” I say, as I follow Jessica, Faline and Tabby round the back of the Art block and across the football pitch, heading towards the back of the Sport’s hall.
“We said it all the time,” Jessica criticises. She flicks her lighter, and a flame jumps to the end of the cigarette.
“Yeah, but we dated for ages. Stuart and I are just friends.”
“Ha! Just friends!” Jessica inhales deeply, and then exhales the smoke. “You two are smitten with each other. I can see it in your eyes-and his.”
I get excited then. “What’s he said about me?”
“I’m not gonna tell you!”
“Jessie,” I whine, rushing forward to her side. I link my arm through hers and snuggle up to her affectionately, and she swats at me playfully. If Jessica and I ever had an argument in the past, I’d always go back to her. I don’t think I ever apologised-I’d just kiss her and hug her and stroke her hair and she’d soon forgive me. The quickest way to Jessica’s good side is through physical affection.
“Aaron, I promised Stuart I wouldn’t tell you what he’s said.”
“Why? Is it bad?”
“No.” Jessica flicks her cigarette into the gutter. “You know he thinks the world of you.”
I duck my head, hiding behind my wig. A hot blush prickles across my face. “Really?”
“Aaron! Yes!” Jessica leans against the wall and lights up another cigarette. I recoil slightly-I have the feeling it’s something stronger than nicotine. “Stuart absolutely adores you. You absolutely adore him. You’re both gay. Just date.”
“I don’t think I’m ready.”
“Ready for what? Aaron, you’ve dated before. It’s no big deal.”
“It is! It’ll…it will be my first gay relationship,” I manage, saying it as delicately as I can, though my heart is thumping and my cheeks are flaming at the thought of being in a relationship with Stuart….touching him and kissing him the same way Jaden Lars did outside ST Alexander’s…
I hang out with Jessica, Faline and Tabby for the entire double period. They lounge against the wall of the Sport’s hall, smoking and exchanging sweatbands and CD’s and lighters. My Gym class jog past in their shorts and trainers; Coach Oslen looks our way, frowning slightly. Jessica, Tabby and Faline quickly hide their cigarettes behind their backs and wave at the boys. Jamie looks over and then waves cheerfully at me. I’m too dazed to do anything; Tabby and Faline and Jessica all laugh with surprise. When the Lunch bell rings, they meet up with Ivy, Violet, Adele and Tammy and tell me they’re going to hang out with some Senior’s from ST Alexander’s. I mooch off towards the canteen, where I sit with my Madonna biography opened in front of me.
“Hello Aaron,” comes a bright, sweet voice above me, a voice I instantly recognize. I look up from my book, and frown a little. A small, slim girl is standing in front of me with her lunch. She is wearing a black sequinned Hello Kitty all-in-one that clings to every pore, cut into little shorts with one shoulder strap, flaunting her long, shapely legs. She has a little pink bomber jacket slung over one shoulder-it is patterned with cherries, cat faces, small plastic jewels and Rubix cubes, and has a blue satin lining. Her hair is white-blonde and sticking to her by some kind of electric, with a pair of big black avatar sunglasses decorated with silver dice holding back her floppy fringe. I peer closer. She’s insanely beautiful, with her snub nose and staring hazel eyes and gap between her front teeth…..
“Stuart!” I gasp, astounded. He smiles angelically, and sits down opposite me.
“Yeah, it’s really me. I thought you’d be surprised.”
“But….what….how do you know it’s me?” I hiss, leaning across the table. I can’t take my eyes off him. He has streaked his face with pale pink and silver eye shadow, and even smudged on some cherry lipgloss. Stuart looks incredibly like a girl, it’s almost unreal.
“Oh Aaron,” he giggles and my heart does a double take. “Jessica told me.”
“Jessica!”
“Don’t worry, you look very pretty as a girl.”
I stare on, confused. Stuart stares back, fiddling with his nails. He has painted them black, with tiny pink cat nail tattoos printed on them.
“But…..what….why?”
“I wanted to make an impression.” Stuart smoothes down his sequinned suit, fingering the Hello Kitty motif. “This one time, Jaden had a party where we all had to dress up as girls, and I made this-“
“You made that?”
Stuart blushes under the makeup. “Yeah, I did. It’s no big deal. So I put together this costume and decided to dig it out. My dad didn’t buy me that jacket after all.” He widens his eyes and flutters his lashes girlishly.
“What about that jacket?” I gesture towards the garment he’s clutching in his lap.
“This is mine. Isn’t it cute? I bought it from Camden Market.” Stuart looks up and puts his head to one side, grinning. “I like your outfit too, Aaron. The jeans are especially nice.” He winks.
“Stuart!” I exclaim, though my heart is thumping and I’m secretly enjoying his flirting.
“I’m not Stuart. I’m Sasha.”
“Sasha?”
“You need a girl name, silly.” He leans across the table and tugs gently at my wig. “Annabelle.”
“Annabelle.” I try it out, and like it. “That’s cool.” I bite the back of my lip. “This is weird.”
Stuart giggles sweetly, wrinkling up his nose. “I know, my dad nearly fainted but Rosalie and Saskia helped me with my makeup.” He suddenly twists his mouth into a worried little pout. “What did your dad say?”
“My dad doesn’t know. He took Wil to his firm this morning so he can get a head for a business.” I sigh with anxiety. I’m going to have to run home to beat them. Dad will beat me if he ever finds out. When I was much, much younger I used to dress up in my mother’s evening dresses that trailed the floor, and shuffle around in her high heels. She used to adore it, but Dad was never too appreciative. He would watch, with a pale, disgusted face; he’d pull the clothes over my head and thrust shorts and trainers at me and then he’d go and scream at Mum for hours, reprimanding her for encouraging my ghastly behaviour.
“I guess he’s not going to be a happy bunny if he ever finds out,” Stuart worries, biting down hard on his bottom lip. The fear in his expression contrasts with his light-hearted words; I bend my head, snorting with laughter. Stuart giggles too.
“We have free Periods all afternoon-all of the Spanish teachers are in Barcelona on exchange,” he tells me between giggles. “We’re supposed to be studying but we could always cut class…”
His purr makes me practically drool. I remind myself stubbornly to stare over his shoulder instead of looking right into his eyes as I reply.
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea. Do you remember what happened the last time we skipped class?”
Stuart chews down hard on his bottom lip. He has smeared it with cherry lipgloss, and I find my own mouth watering. “Good point.” With a loud sigh, he leans across the table and rests his head on his arms. “I suppose we could go to class then.”
I laugh at the disappointment in his voice and then lean forward. “We can walk home together today.”
”Really?” Stuart breathes and I blush at his joy. “That’s great! I was wondering when you were going to ask me-I was gonna chase you down if it wasn’t soon…”
Our form tutor is on the exchange trip in Barcelona so Stuart and I don’t go to Registration, but wander around aimlessly until the buzzer sounds for afternoon lessons. Even then we are unsure where to go-our absence at Reg means we don’t know where our Study lessons are taking place. In the end, we walk down to the library, which is empty apart from some Year 7’s completing their History project on the computers. I sit down at the back, hidden behind a large magazine wrack while Stuart skips to the front desk, smiles sweetly and asks, in very girly tones, for some books to help him with his Textiles project. When he staggers over to the table, he is carrying a dozen thick fashion volumes, which he piles on to the wooden surface.
“You haven’t got Textiles homework,” I say accusingly but he presses a finger to his lips.
“Shush, we’re in a library. Anyway, I wanted to do some research.”
“Research for what?”
He rolls his eyes. “I want to be a designer, remember.”
“I thought you wanted to be a hairdresser.” I scrunch up my face, trying to remember our conversation. Stuart simply beams.
“That was last week. I read a biography about Coco Chanel and I’m completely sold.”
“So what will be next week, huh? Backing dancer?” I quip and he elbows me playfully, flipping open a large bright book.
“At least I have an idea, Mr Vermeer.” He drops his voice so the nosy First Years can’t hear. “What are you planning to do?”
“Move to New York and never come back,” I say promptly. Stuart’s face falls.
“You can’t do that!”
“I can. I have no reason to stay here. I’m going to leave as soon as I can, and fly solo.”
Stuart bites the inside of his cheek and puts his head very close to mine. When he talks, his breath tickles my face. “Let me fly with you.”
Stuart and I spend two hours at the back of the library before we are dismissed. Stuart pours over bright, laminated fashion volumes, stroking the pictures of the outrageous dresses. Every so often he gasps happily, or flicks back through the pages; he even squeals when he comes across a photograph of a model wearing a dress constructed entirely from what look like plastic bubbles.
“Don’t over do it, Sasha,” I smirk and he swats at me, grinning coyly from underneath his sweeping fringe.
“Hey, shut up. At least I had a name, Annabelle.”
“Hilarious.”
“Annie.”
I nudge him in the ribs. “Shush, you.”
“Annie, Annie, Annie,” Stuart chants, scrunching up his face and beaming.
“Do you want me to walk home with you or not?” I protest and he falls silent, closing the book with a low thud.
“Get a move on then-the bell’s about to ring.” Stuart slings his sequinned Hello Kitty purse over his shoulder, scoops up the books and takes them over to the front desk. He smiles widely at the Yr 11 behind the desk; he gapes helplessly as Stuart waggles his fingers, beckons me and then leaves. I follow him out into the corridor. It looks very strange, the mixture of colours instead of the usual solid mass of black. It seems even louder than usual too, and busier, but it’s not hard to spot Stuart-he seems to glitter as he pirouettes. His wig sparkles silver under the fluorescent lighting and everyone seems to move out of his way.
“Sheesh.” Stuart blows his fringe out of his eyes. I’ve finally caught up with him and we’re lingering outside in the rowdy courtyard. He catches me staring. “What?”
“You know what! You’re steering this place like your own private car.”
He preens at me from under his eyelashes-they are coated with some silver makeup and seem longer than usual, if that’s possible. “Yeah well, I’m used to it.”
My tone sours slightly. “Those ST Alexander’s boys pamper you, don’t they?”
Stuart doesn’t seem to notice my dismay. He dives in his purse, draws out a cherry chapstick and slavers it all over his lips. “Of course they do. I’m the baby. They all think I’m adorable.” He pouts, slips his chapstick back into his purse and blinks up at me smugly. “Jaden likes me the most and he’s the leader, so they all like me.”
“Lucky you.” My voice pangs at the end. Stuart finally notices and sighs a little, twisting his mouth up.
“But I met them when I was thirteen-I didn’t have any friends before that.”
I try to remember Stuart when he was a First Year at the age of eleven. I didn’t talk to him I spent so much time ducking out of the way of Perryman and his henchmen, I barely noticed anybody else. I remember his hair used to be very blonde, almost golden, and all spiky at the back, with a fringe that hung over one eye. He used to be even smaller too, barely reaching my shoulder and never seemed to speak. Last year, when we entered Year 9, I noticed he was a lot more confident-he cut his hair into his crop and dyed it silver; he turned up wearing skinny jeans and eyeliner and made a silver sequinned blazer in Textiles. He also looked at me a lot, out of the corner of his eye.
“And now you’re Mr Popular,” I say loudly; a gaggle of Yr 8 girls glance over with widen eye, look Stuart up and down and giggle.
“I wouldn’t say that.” Stuart is frowning up at me for foiling his disguise. I try not to laugh at his expression.
“Oh no?” I cock one eyebrow sarcastically. He giggles at my cynicism. “So Jessica’s Gothic Girly Gang and the troop of gay ST Alexander’s boys….they’re nothing, are they?”
“Oh, you know what I mean. I don’t want loads of friends-I’m happy with the ones I’ve got.” Stuart peeks up at me shyly. “You’re happy being a loner?”
“Yes,” I say swiftly and shoot him a grin. “I was until you showed up.”
Stuart smiles in a slightly apologetic way. “Don’t complain, I know you love me very much.”
“I suppose so,” I agree and laugh as Stuart’s face shines with delight. “No need to look so happy about it, Bambi.”
Stuart wraps his arms around my waist with enchantment and I hug him back, with no awkwardness. I spot Perryman coming towards us over Stuart’s shoulder and pull away quickly.
“Oh no!”
Stuart glances behind him and erupts into a fit of giggles.
“This isn’t funny!” I hiss but Stuart continues to giggle away, very much like the Year 8 girls we passed earlier. Jamie casts him a bemused look as he comes over, but Aled raises his eyebrows in a satisfied manner.
“Hey Aled.” Stuart adopts a sugary purr, similar to Faline’s voice. I blink at him; astounded-it’s like witnessing one of his sisters on the pull or something.
“Hey,” Jamie says and I turn to him instead. He has his hands behind his back, rolling forward on to the balls of his feet confidently. He runs a hand through his hair, letting it flop back into place, and smiles at me. I simply stare back, struck dumb.
“We were just going,” Stuart continues in his Sasha voice.
“Not so soon?” Jamie says, still looking at me. I try hard not blink. “I like your t-shirt.”
Stuart snorts, and applies more lipgloss. Jamie may show disdain towards Stuart and I because of our fashion sense and taste in music, but he is a little less biased when it comes to Goth girls. He often hangs back after Gym to wolf-whistle at Jessica and Faline and Tabby as they jog past, swinging their hockey sticks and flaunting their skull-patterned legwarmers and matching sweatbands.
“Annabelle,” Stuart stresses, still using his Sasha voice. “We’ve really got to go now.”
He grasps my hand tightly and tugs me along a little. I try not to let a dreamy smile rise to my face at the sensation of his fingers curled over mine.
“Well, can we walk you home?” Jamie offers, almost jogging to keep up. I have to run to keep up, too. Stuart is striding along in a pair of towering black-and-pink leather wedges without trepidation, like he strolls along in high heels everyday.
“Sorry, but we kinda live further out,” Stuart calls over his shoulder. He flicks his wig dramatically and gazes at Jamie and Aled from behind his silver, glitter-encrusted eyelashes. He looks like he belongs in some modelling show or a music video. Aled stops dead.
“Where do you live then?” he yells out. Stuart pauses for a minute before replying.
“Central Avenue.”
Aled’s and Jamie’s faces drop. Central Avenue is way out of the catchment area; it is past ST Alexander’s and ST Dorothy’s. It is also renowned to be one of the busiest roads in Mountsborough, lined with the most expensive restaurants, exclusive clubs and genteel hotels. It’s my father’s favourite place in Mountsborough, apart from our estate. He thinks the rest of Mountsborough is far too common, gritty and brimming with filth. Whenever he drives through the streets, my father always rolls up his window, just in case some ‘scruffy, dirty ruffian’ comes up and steals his Rolex.
Stuart drags me out of the now-deserted courtyard and past the gates. All of the school buses have left now, and only a few of our classmates remain, lingering on the streets. Instead of turning left, like I usually do, I follow Stuart to the right and into the inter-twining streets of the crumbling estate.
“I usually walk home with Jessica and Faline and the rest,” Stuart starts. He seems undaunted about walking through the other Mountsborough Estate, but I am more wary. Li lives up here and, whenever I’ve come to visit him, I make sure I don’t hesitate on the streets.
“Oh yeah?” My voice is uncharacteristically high and trembles slightly. Stuart looks up at me and laughs at my expression.
“Don’t look so scared. You’ll be fine. I’m native to this estate.”
When I don’t answer, he squeezes my hand. I don’t jump away but I feel my face flush with pleasure, and the skin of my hand burn under his touch.
“So you walk home with Jessie and Faline?” I say, trying to fight my nerves. There’s a group of raucous boys from my Science class huddled together a little way up the road, glancing over. I try out a cautious, girly voice and surprise myself-I’m quite good. “They don’t live near you do they?”
“I live quite far out, closer to ST Alexander’s than Mountsborough Comp. Their houses are closest to mine.”
I shoot him a timid look, trying to be discrete. “Where do you live?”
Stuart lets out a feminine giggle. “You sound very interested!”
I blush.
“You know Snowdrop Avenue?”
I wrinkle up my face, trying to remember. I’m not very familiar with Mountsborough geography.
“You’ll see,” Stuart says and then smoothes down his hair and fixes a glossy smile. The boys from my Science classes caw and whistle after him.
“Hey girlies,” says Matt Cortez huskily. He’s an ex of Jessica’s-he is tall, dark-haired and dressed in black, with a smoker’s cough and bottles of vodka stashed in his school bag. “You wanna hang out for a while?”
“Gotta get home,” Stuart grins. “Maybe another time?”
“Tease,” Cortez calls after us as we continually to walk. I shudder.
“I’d hate to be a girl, if this is what happens all the time!”
”I don’t know…I quite like it.” Stuart glances at me accusingly. “Don’t tell me that you have never cat-called after Jessica or called her a tease before.”
I shrug, humiliated. “It was a long time ago. I was only thirteen.”
Very casually, Stuart links my arm. I stiffen up slightly but he only laughs and says, “Oh, do lighten up Flower, I don’t bite much.”
“So tell me,” he says then in motherly tones, similar to an agony aunt’s. “What was your relationship with Jessie like?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Just curious.” His cheeks are burning. “C’mon, I’ve only heard her side of the story…”
“Oh yeah?” My tone is a little sharp. “What did she say?”
“Oh, the usual….you were the love of her life…still doesn’t know why you ditched her…wanted you have her kids…”
I choke on some air. “What?” I splutter. “What did you say?”
Stuart gazes away, past the spiked aerials and chimneys of the bleak houses. “Okay, maybe I made that last part up…”
“You pig!” I exclaim and push him away but I’m laughing as I do so, and I’m very gentle with him. He barely totters in his wedges. “Never scare me like that again!”
“That was the main gist of her little speech.”
“You and her talk about me a lot, don’t you?” I shoot him a shrewd glance. Stuart has turned pink, and is twiddling a strand of his wig through his fingers.
“You are the main topic discussed, yes.” He fiddles with his nail varnish, trying to be blasé. “The main thing we have in common is you.”
“Me?” I say blankly, blinking. Stuart is looking away, but his cheeks are still very pink. He hurries to change the subject, but his comment leaves me confused. I didn’t know what he and Jessica had in common….but me?
Stuart leads me all the way through the estate and then we come to the cemetery. It looks very still and almost scary-a thin layer of frost is clinging to the stubby grass and leaves on the ground. Already, a low mist is settling over the place and coating the graves in silver. My tree looks slightly grey and smoky. We pace down the slippery cobbles of the cemetery path and arrive out of the gates. ST Alexander’s stands in front of us. It looks like a haunted castle in the settling mist, with the windows burning out. A few students are loitering on the pavement outside and I brace myself.
“Jaden and Billie and Mikey and Lindsey and the rest are all at Dance,” Stuart says, tottering along in his cute little wedges. “Or they’ll be hanging out somewhere. They escape as soon as they can.”
I glance up at the towering school. It used to be a cathedral back in the Victorian Ages and then, after a fire, it was restored as the school. The uniform is worse than ours-black blazers with the gold, red and black badge; black waistcoats with the school crest, grey shirts; red, black and golden ties with the school crest; black suit trousers and black court shoes. They’re only allowed to bring briefcase-like bags with the school crest to school too, and you’re not allowed to have long hair or any piercings.
“Are you still going there?” Stuart’s voice cracks the silence in two. I stare at the place. The old chapel has been turned into a gym and I can see a group of Stuart’s friends in there, dancing. Jaden Lars is leading them, dressed in tiny pink shorts and a Robots In Disguise shirt.
“I don’t think so. Dad hasn’t said anything, anyway. Sarah keeps telling me that I’m not, but I think she’s only saying that to prove she’s the good guy.” I sigh, and look at the school again. Black storm clouds are gathering behind it, almost to prove it’s an evil place that will undoubtedly bring me doom.
Stuart’s fingers curl around mine, and I forget all about it.
♠ ♠ ♠
For Luke and Leisha x