Guyliner

When Jessica and I first split up, I was slightly shell-shocked, even though I was the one who had done the ditching. After months of having her permantly by my side, phoning me up to say goodnight, linking my arm and laughing at my jokes, her absence was felt. I didn’t necessarily want her back-our relationship had reached an all time low when she abandoned me at a dealer’s house to go to some guy’s van. I was just suddenly jolted into a new world of strange loneliness and I was surprised at the difference. I didn’t have to ring her before I made plans and I didn’t have to wake up early to answer the door to her. I didn’t have to trail round after her at school but was free to hang round with whoever I wanted. I didn’t have to dash to her lesson to walk her to her next class. I didn’t have to email her every five minutes and spend my nights on the phone, talking about nothing. I didn’t have to endure her parents and I didn’t have to compliment everything she wore. I was free. It was pleasing after being stuck in a dead-end relationship I didn’t enjoy for months, but it took me a while to get back together. I found myself walking to her classes instead of mine sometimes, with her timetable stuck in my brain and some days, I just automatically picked up the phone at ten-o-clock to say goodnight. If I was bored around the house at weekends, I would grab my jacket and instinctively wander down to her house before realizing, often with a sad pang, she didn’t want to see me. It took me a while to adjust to life without Jessica.
She was my girlfriend. My whole world, my whole life had to revolve around her and once I was abruptly released, it dawned on me that I had countless hours to waste, to do whatever I wanted and know that none of it concerned her. It’ll take a while to get back into it, giving my time and life to someone else, but I start immediately, to my surprise. I didn’t realize I liked Abby that much and I only start to comprehend that when I’m stuck in the bathroom, tugging at my hair hopelessly and spraying myself liberally with some expensive aftershave Dad bought for me last Christmas that I swore never to use.
What should I do with my hair? I hate it-it’s so lank and lifeless. Maybe I should backcomb it again. Or maybe she’d prefer it if I left it. I could try blow-drying the ends so they flick out, but I don’t think I’ve got enough time. Maybe I should cut it? Or maybe she likes it long. I don’t know. I wish she’d told me. Maybe I should grow it really long and have a ponytail to match her’s? Or maybe I should cut it really short, into a crop familiar to Stuart’s, though I could never carry it off like he does…maybe I should shove a beenie on and leave it…maybe she’d like it if it looks like I haven’t made too much of an effort…
I wander downstairs with my hair back-combed. I’ve abandoned the make up today-maybe she thinks it’s creepy? Dad just about chokes when I come into the kitchen.
“Are you wearing aftershave?” he quizzes incredulously. I nod, trying to look casual.
“What’s going on?” he asks warily, looking at me suspiciously. I swallow, finding my voice.
“Nothing.”
“Liar,” Wil says promptly from the toaster. “It’s Abby, isn’t it?”
“Shut up!” I hiss but Dad’s eager now.
“Abby? Who’s Abby?”
“Nobody!”
“She’s Aaron’s girlfriend,” Wil corrects me. “She’s a blonde.”
I let my head fall on to the island with a thump so I can avoid Dad’s laser beam stare.
“Aaron’s got a girlfriend? A blonde girlfriend?”
“Uh huh, she asked him out yesterday. Her friend said that she really liked him.”
I keep my face pressed against the smooth granite worktop, breathing in deeply.
“Aaron? Is this true?”
I groan, which Dad interoperates for a yes.
“Well….” Dad struggles for a minute. “Never thought you had it in you! Well done, Aaron! You’re not a lost cause after all!”
“Thanks Dad,” I mutter bitterly but he’s in a good mood so I won’t push my luck. In a few days the letter about my make up will arrive and I’ll need all the luck I can get.
“Is she a pretty girl, Aaron?”
Wil answers for me. “Very pretty, Dad. She’s blonde you know. She has got glasses but nobody’s perfect.”
“There’s nothing wrong with her glasses!” I snap. Wil rolls his eyes.
“She’s got a retainer too, hasn’t she?”
“So what?” I demand angrily. “There’s nothing wrong with her!”
Dad watches Wil and I fight, amused.
“Come on now, boys, time for school. I expect you’ll want to get there early, to meet up with Abby,” he says. “Behave.”
The walk to school with Wil is silent but for once I don’t care. I get to school in record time and leave Wil in the Science block, making my way towards form. At the top of the stairs is Abby. She, clearly, has made an effort too. Her long blonde hair has been straightened, puffing out behind her like a cloud, with a large pink flower stuck to the side. She’s wearing lashings of glittery lipgloss and mascara and has abandoned her glasses. Suddenly, I feel as though I haven’t made much of an effort at all.
“Hey,” she grins bashfully, clearly embarrassed. Her cheeks flame when I greet her.
“Um…do you want me to walk you to form?” I ask her, blushing and she nods. We set off in silence. I watch her as we walk. She’s stumbling, clearly blind without her glasses but to make up for it, her hair is drifting out behind her like an angel’s halo. Her skirt swishes down the corridor-the last time she wore a skirt was the summer of Year Seven. She looks amazingly pretty today, and it confuses me why I’ve never seen it before.
“You do know that when people date, they tend to talk to each other,” I say and she blushes madly.
“I’m sorry it’s just…I can’t think what to say to you without sounding….stupid.” She blushes again. “I’m sorry about Ceris yesterday…she’s very forceful, I know.”
“It’s Okay. She’s your friend, she’s doing her job.”
We arrive at Abby’s form in the Art block sooner than I expected. We hover outside the door, blushing and grinning awkwardly.
“Well…bye then,” I say and she gives me a brief hug. Her hair settles around us and I breathe in the scent slowly.
“Oi, Abby, stopping snogging your boyfriend and get in here!”
A chorus of jeers come from the door and I look up to see a huddle of her friends waiting there, laughing.
“Oh…um, I’ll see you later, Aaron,” she blushes, pulling away. She waves before going over to her friends, quietening them. She waves again and disappears into her form room. I watch after her and see Jessica inside the art room. She’s sitting on a high black worktop in a black PVC mini skirt, swinging her legs. Today she’s got purple leopard print tights on to match her wedges, her tiny shirt tied at her navel. She glances up and stares at me, a hard cold glare that makes me shift about uncomfortably before going off to form.
My first lesson is Physics with Mr Jenkins and I set off to his lab on my own-Stuart is only in Set Two for Science, along with Jessica. He’s been giving me dirty looks too. Why does everyone have a problem with me today?
Physics passes quickly and with no real interest. Abby twists round in her seat every so often to flash me timid smiles. There are several wolf whistles from the back which makes me blush unwillingly. When the bell rings, Stuart’s not waiting for me outside but Abby hangs back, waving goodbye to her friends. We walk down to the canteen together in a shy silence. It seems we’ve ran out of things to say to each other before we even started talking to each other.
In the canteen, Abby buys her lunch and doesn’t notice that I’m not eating anything. We trail round, searching for a table.
“Oh look, there are Ceris and Niki and Sophia,” Abby says, pointing to a table in the corner where a group of Year Ten girls are sitting. There are two spare seats. “Let’s go and sit by them.”
As I watch, the girls lean forward and start whispering. They break into fits of giggles, looking at me.
“Ummm….” I scan the canteen quickly and find a table against the window. Jessica’s sitting there with Stuart. They’re leaning forward, talking in whisper, laughing. I frown, curious.
“Let’s sit here,” I say, gesturing towards the table. Abby sighs.
“Oh no, let’s sit by them…”
But I’m already at Jessica and Stuart’s table; hand on the back of a chair. Jessica and Stuart stop talking and look up.
“Yeah?” Stuart says, almost defensively. “What do you want? Got bored of your girlfriend?”
“Is it Okay if we sit with you?” I ask, ignoring his last comment.
“We?” He raises his eyebrows.
“Yeah, me and Abby. C’mon Stuart, what’s up with you?”
He smirks and Jessica gives a loud laugh. She’s leaning back in her chair, painting her finger nails black. Today, she’s wearing a bright red skull patterned Alice band and stripy red arm socks to go with her mini skirt and wedges.
“We don’t like Abby in case you haven’t noticed,” she reminds me. “Oh look, she’s off to sit with her friends….looks like she’s got bored of you.”
I twist round to see Abby sitting down next to one of her friends. She smiles apologetically and I shrug and smile back.
“Pl-ease,” Jessica drawls, rolling her eyes. I give her a sharp glare, drawing the chair back and sitting down.
“Not eating?” Stuart says but there’s an edge to his voice I don’t like. He has his usual slice of pizza in front of him and a strawberry milkshake. He fiddles with his straw in a bored fashion, an action I find suddenly irritating.
“Good Physics lesson?” Jessica grins and I can’t put my finger on why it sounds so sly. Maybe I just don’t trust her when she’s acting interested in my life.
“It was alright,” I shrug, taken aback by her happy tone. Stuart sighs and gets to the point.
“Did you sit by Abby?”
“No, I sat on my own, same as usual. Why?”
“Ah, bless. Bet she was lonely,” Stuart smirks and Jessica starts giggling insanely. I frown, trying to hide my annoyance.
“What’s with you two? I mean, I didn’t even know you two were friends.”
“Oh, we have a lot in common,” Jessica laughs and Stuart joins in. “More than we thought, actually.”
I pause, thinking. If they have a lot in common, why isn’t Jessica smiling all the time and why isn’t Stuart listening constantly to Marilyn Manson?
“Whatever. You two are acting really strange, you know.”
“It’s all part of our mystique,” Jessica giggles and I inwardly groan in irritation at the sound of her high-pitched bleating laugh.
“Okay, whatever. You’re scaring me now.”
“Bless,” Stuart mutters, folding his arms and leaning back in his chair. Suddenly, I feel an urge to hit him, to wipe that stupid smirk from his face.
“So anyway,” Jessica says and she and Stuart start discussing some concert she’s going to, evading me. I sit back in my chair and try to look busy, with no obvious effect. I would have been better off sitting with Abby and her friends. At least they would have remembered I was there, instead of casting me off for the vital subject of Mindless Self Indulgence gigs.
“Do you want me to phone you, Aaron?” Jessica suddenly says, snapping me back into the real world. I look up.
“Huh? What for?”
“When I go to this MSI gig-do you want me to phone you when they play?”
“Nah, I don’t like them, remember?”
It really doesn’t help that Jessica dresses like the bass player either.
“Is Abby getting to you? Cause seriously Aaron, if you start listening to her music, I’ll never speak to you again…”
Hmm, that sounds tempting.
“Let’s just shut up about Abby for a while,” I suggest and Stuart snorts. “What now?”
“I thought you were supposed to be talking about her for ages-I mean, she is your girlfriend. She and her little schoolgirl chums are discussing you in avid detail right now.”
I turn round to see Abby leaning across the table, talking to her friends. They erupt into a fit of giggling and I turn quickly away.
“Looks like she really fancies you,” Stuart concludes with a grin that makes me ball my fists under the table.
“She was talking about you non-stop in form,” Jessica yawns. “Very sentimental stuff too, like how sweet and kind and thoughtful and selfless you are. She was practically comparing you to a bubblegum bunny.”
I gape at her, outraged. ‘Bubblegum Bunny’ is the worst insult in the world, coming from Jessica. If she calls you a bubblegum bunny, she’s comparing you to a sweet, forever happy person who’s sickly sentimental, normal and falsely joyous. She’s never called me a bubblegum bunny before. I’m shocked.
“Don’t call me a bubblegum bunny!”
“I was not! She thinks you are! I know you’re far from a bubblegum bunny-you’re a jerk!”
Stuart watches, amused.
“Bubblegum bunny?” he echoes, glancing between us. “Well, that doesn’t sound so bad.”
“Shut up, Stuart,” I snap and he frowns, annoyed.
“Don’t you tell me to shut up!”
”Well stop acting so weird then! I don’t know what’s got into you both but it’s incredibly aggravating. What’s your problem?”
“If you don’t know, I’m not going to tell you!” he shoots back, pouting.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Forget it,” he groans. “Just go off with your little girlfriend.”
“Fine then, maybe I will.”
I push my chair back from the table and get to my feet angrily. Stuart and Jessica just sit there, Jessica grinning smugly and Stuart sulking resentfully. I give them a withering glare and walk over to Abby’s table. She’s leaning forward in her chair, chattering animatedly to her friends. On spotting me, one of her friends-Sophia Barnes stops talking abruptly and looks up, giggling.
“Um, Abby? Here’s your boyfriend!”
Abby looks up at me, eyes glazed slightly, and starts blushing. Her friends giggle.
“Oh! Hi, Aaron! Are you finished?”
“Hmm,” I nod, although she knows I didn’t get anything to eat. “Are you ready?”
“Not really,” she blushes and indicates a chair across the table. “Why don’t you sit with us?”
Cue more giggling. They sound like a flock of demented doves.
I end up wedged between Ceris Charles and Niki Islington. Ceris insists on tossing her wild red curls in my face and shooting me slightly disgusted grey-eyed glares. Niki is the complete opposite. She doesn’t flick her long sheet of liquorice-black hair at me but she does stare at me with her big brown eyes. She won’t stop looking at me and I try to avert my eyes away.
“How come you’re not sitting with Jessica and Stuart?” Sophia asks, leaning forward to talk to me. “I thought they were your friends.”
“Jessica’s not my friend!” I correct her, shocked and outraged.
“Are you sure? I have Textiles with her once a week and she’s always talking about you. She got in trouble for inking your name on her arm last month.”
“Yeah, well, she is a bit weird,” Niki starts and Ceris snorts.
“A bit? She’s a freak! She comes into school wearing those stupid tiny skirts and big shoes and all those piercings. I saw her the other week backcombing her hair at Break. She puts on all that makeup in the middle of assembly. She always says weird stuff about these dreary emo bands she’s into and all these Gothic clothes and she never shuts up about Cradle of Filth! She’s always moaning about how boring her life is and always comes in stoned! She’s insane! They should lock her up!”
“She’s not insane!”
Why am I defending Jessica? I can say all this about her-but nobody else can. It’s just rude.
“Jessica’s just a bit different,” Abby says quickly. “She’s not a freak, Ceris.”
Ceris snorts and folds her arms over her chest, a gesture I suddenly find childish and immature.
“They’re all freaks in our form, her and her little friends. I saw Ivy swopping a Slayer CD for drugs one Break with Adele! Tammy and Tabby didn’t come in for about a month, waiting for their purple dye to fade! They’re so odd!”
“They are not odd!” I protest angrily and Ceris glares at me.
“Yeah, whatever Aaron. If you’re defending them, surely that says something about you.”
“Ceris!” This is Abby now. She has two pink spots on her cheeks. “Stop being such a pain! Jessica and her friends are a little different-so what? Aaron has a right to defend them; they’re his friends, after all.”
“Oh yes, let all the freaks stick together!” Ceris snorts, getting to her feet. “I’m going back to form.”
Niki and Sophia look at her blankly and then follow.
“Bye, Abby, Aaron,” they both say, waving awkwardly before running after Ceris. Abby stares after them and then looks down at the table, letting her hair swing forward in a golden curtain.
“Sorry Aaron,” she whispers, mortified. “I don’t know what’s got into her…she’s usually so fun-“
“Abby, it’s Okay,” I say. “Ceris has never liked me, I know that. I know all your friends hate me.”
”They don’t hate you! Why should they?”
I pull a face and Abby giggles.
“Well, I don’t hate you, not at all. I don’t think you’re a freak. I think you’re….”
She trails off and looks away, blushing.
“What? What were you gonna say?” I ask but she shakes her head, leaning forward so her hair hides her face.
“No, come on, that’s no fair. Tell me what you were gonna say!”
“Nah, it’s really crash.”
“So what?” I protest. I look round fleetingly and spot Jessica and Stuart staring at me. I lean forward across the table and brush Abby’s hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “Tell me, please?”
Abby turns positively peony and sucks in her breath.
“Well, I think you’re pretty cute and funny and…stuff…and, well, pretty gorgeous…”
“Um…thanks.” I blush, glancing over my shoulder. Both Jessica and Stuart look furious. Abby’s eyes flicker in their direction and she blushes, looking at the table.
“Maybe we should go,” she suggests. “Stuart and Jessica don’t look too happy.”
“So? Who cares about them?”
The first bell rips through the air like an angry intruder and Abby jumps up, startled.
“I’ve got to go! I’ve got my violin exam, I can’t be late, I’ll get in so much trouble!”
“Okay. I guess I won’t walk you to form then,” I say and I’m surprised at the depressed pang in my voice. Abby sighs, twisting her fingers through her hair.
“Look, I’ve got French last lesson. You’ve got Spanish, right? I’ll meet you outside your classroom. You…you can walk me home if you like.” She blushes madly.
“Um…okay,” I promise and she grins and rushes from the canteen in the direction of the Music block, blonde hair flying out behind her. Violin? I didn’t even know she plays.
Jamie and his gang are scandalized when I get to form.
“You’ve got a girlfriend, Vermeer? You have got a girlfriend? I honestly don’t believe it! You scored….with a girl!!”
“Shut up,” I mutter heartlessly, sloping to the back of the classroom and flopping down in my seat. They just follow me.
“This is insane!” Aled grins gleefully. “There’s hope for anybody if you’ve got with a girl! Who is it?”
“It’s Abby Henner, in 10L,” someone says and Chantelle snorts, waltzing over in her grey mini skirt and clumpy black heels.
“Well, that’s no surprise. She’s so desperate, she’d get with Angel. She’s all for ‘accepting others’ and ‘hugging trees’ and all this respect rubbish. No wonder she’s dating Vermeer. It’s probably National Pansy Day!”
She and her friends shriek with laughter, almost as if she’s proclaimed something funny.
“Yeah, she doesn’t mind gay boys now, does she?” Robbie sneers. He’s another worshipper in Jamie’s cult and he comes complete with football boots and a gold chain. “First Angel, now you! Watch out Snowy, she’ll be after you next!”
Stuart gestures in the air from the other side of the classroom and goes back to his sketchpad.
“You should have seen them in Science, all cuddled up together,” Heidi Lazzara says and I stare at her, confused. Abby was sitting in front of me, in between Jake Astley and Victoria Byrne and I was sitting at the back, on my own. Heidi reads my expression. “Well, at least they would have been, if they sat together. You should ask Old Jenkins if she can sit by you, Vermeer.”
“No way-he’d think she was food!” someone says and they all burst into laughter. They all bare their teeth and hiss and flap their arms, mocking flight.
“Is it a bird? Is a plane? No….it’s Vermeer, the stupid vampire pansy,” Aled laughs. “Jeez, get a life.”
My double Study period drags by slowly. I stare down at my Chemistry Revision Guide, doodling up and down the pages. Mrs Kavannagah drifts round the classroom and whenever she comes near; I pull my Music book from my essay folder and hastily scribble down time signatures and treble clefs. Spanish passes by even more slowly. We’re revising in time for our exams and so we’re going over everything we’ve ever learnt since Year Seven. Mr Specter stands at the front of the classroom with a Year Eight text book poised in his hands, muttering on about clothes, telling us to take notes. He asks me to come to the front of the class and answer some questions. He asks me what type of clothes I wear and I sigh.
“How do you say Goth in Spanish, Sir?” Aled jeers from the back and the whole classroom erupts into laughter.
“No guys, that’s mean,” Lydia Kane interrupts. “That’s offensive to Goths. We all know Vermeer’s emo!”
They all laugh and mime slitting their wrists. When I sit down, Conner Murray even attempts to hoist up my shirt sleeves and check for himself, until I say he’s the gay one, touching me and he leaves me alone, apart from spitting on my work book. I escape when the first bell rings and wait outside Abby’s French class. Her whole class file out, staring at me, nudging each other and making crash remarks. She’s out last, clutching her violin case, her glasses perched on the end of her nose. She hastily removes them when she sees me.
“No, it’s Okay,” I say hurriedly. “I’d rather you wear them and not fall down the stairs.”
“Um…thanks?” she says but she puts them back on again. She’s starting to look weary of her new pressed image. Her hair, which was beautifully straight this morning, has crimped, suddenly exploding into wild, teased blonde waves. Her eyeliner is smudged, giving her the impression of panda eyes and she’s got scrapes on her knees from where she’s fallen over due to blindness.
We set off out of the main school building in silence. I wonder how long Wil will be hanging round my locker, sighing and chewing his nail varnish and thinking of ways to punish me when I return home. Maybe Jessica or Stuart will walk past and tell him that I’ve gone off with Abby and I won’t be home till much later. This thought suddenly preys on my mind. Dad muttered vaguely about a meeting today at work so he won’t be home but what if Wil goes and tells him? I know Dad’s rejoicing that at last I seem to have found a girlfriend, a decent one, but if I fail to make sure Wil returns home safely I will be in for it. Wil’s safety has always come before mine. Dad treats him as though he’s an accident-prone child who needs an extreme amount of care and attention and expects me to act like an au pair, ferrying him to and from school and making sure he doesn’t get into trouble. I’ll be the one in trouble if it somehow gets out that I walked Abby home instead.
Abby’s home is only ten minutes walk away from school and we arrive there quicker than I expected. We pass our town’s other comprehensive as we near her street.
“It’s actually closer and would be easier for me to get to,” she tells me as we walk past, escaping crowds of intimidating Swan’sPark High students who sneer at the badges on our blazers. “Mum and Dad wanted me to go to ST Dorothy’s anyway but I didn’t pass the exams you need to get in.”
ST Dorothy’s is a private Catholic grammar school for girls. Apparently Jessica passed the exams to get in (although she uses a lot of drugs now, she used to be very clever) but the Head teacher wouldn’t let her in because of her piercings, hair, make up and uniform. If only Jessica’s mother had tried harder to make her into the blonde cheerleader ST Dorothy’s wanted….maybe then I would never have met her.
“My dad wanted me to go to ST Alexander’s,” I shrug. It’s the same as ST Dorothy’s, but for boys instead.
“Why didn’t you?”
“My mum said that it would only pressure me and put me under a lot of strain. I’m a perfectionist already, I don’t need more stress. I’m an awful worrier too and they really go on about exams and you need the best scores to get into their college. She also said that she didn’t want the religious side forced down my throat. I have my own beliefs.”
Of course, I don’t tell Abby about the countless arguments between my parents that followed, the constant screaming and smashing of glass. I huddled under my bed, listening to them. My mother stuck up for me and my father loathed it. He didn’t want me to be happy-he wanted me to be smart and successful. He went to ST Alexander’s and apparently ‘has always had visions’ of his sons going there too. In the end, my mother filled out my application form for which high schools I wanted to be accepted for. She put Mountsborough Comp first, Swan’sPark High second and ST Alexander’s last, simply because it was the only high school in this area left. My father was furious when he found out but by then it was too late. I had already been accepted into Mountsborough Comp. My mother never actually got to see me start there as she killed herself in the July but my father couldn’t send me anywhere else. ST Alexander’s wouldn’t accept me anyway. In the October of my first year at Mountsborough Comp, he took me to see the Head Master of ST Alexander’s, asking for a transfer. I had to have an interview. It was obvious what the Head Master thought of me the minute I walked into his office. He glanced over my school report and then looked at me and said although I seemed very creative, it was obvious that my strengths were going to be wasted at such an academically striving school. Dad was mortified.
“My oldest son…too soft for ST Alexander’s! Do you realize how embarrassingly awful that is for me? I went to ST Alexander’s and I always thought that my sons would go there one day. I was so sure that you’d love it there, that you’d excel in sports and become successful and now you’ve been turned away because you write poetry and you paint and act and sing and play piano! You’d be better off in stage school!”
“Well, why don’t you send me to stage school?” I asked him and he only snorted.
“Oh please. They won’t let you in there either! You’re so stupidly shy and weak and timid and stubborn and challenging. They will never let you into stage school. You haven’t got charm and you haven’t got charisma. You’re not going to be famous, Aaron.”
That was the most crushing comment he’d ever sneered at me. He knew how I longed to be famous and he was mocking my whole life dream. Even though I am shy, I’m an awful show-off sometimes. I’d love to be famous one day.
“I thought you’d like to go to ST Alexander’s,” Abby says. By this time, we’re hovering by the lamppost outside her house. The wind blows chip papers and crisp packets round our ankles. “Isn’t it supposed to be really academic? You are really clever, after all.”
“I prefer creative stuff more,” I shrug again. “Apparently they don’t believe in music or art or drama or poetry.”
“Poetry?” Abby says, blinking a lot. “You write poetry?”
Oh God. She’s going to sneer at me, exactly like my father does, mocking me, and saying that it’s stupid for a boy to write poetry. I can’t stand it when Dad ridicules my hobbies but it would be even worse if Abby did, too. She’s not exactly awesome and popular herself-it’d be so embarrassing if the likes of her thought I was wet.
“Sometimes,” I mutter, looking at my Converse. “Why, d’you think it’s stupid for boys to write poetry?” The last part comes out more brutally than I intended it too.
“No, I just…well, not many boys do write poetry, do they?” she blushes violently. “I like it. It’s romantic.”
Oh please. She thinks I write poetry for the romance side of it?
“Well anyway…” I struggle awkwardly, thinking of something to say after my outburst. “I guess I’ll see you on Monday.”
“Oh no, stay,” Abby suddenly begs. She reaches out and wraps her fingers round my wrist. “Please. It’s Friday-you don’t have to get home early for homework and stuff.”
Oh, how wrong she is. I look down at her fingers still clasped around my wrist. Slowly, she reaches out and takes my hand.
“Please, Aaron. My parents are at work until late and my little brother does Judo and keyboard on Fridays. You wouldn’t get in the way or anything. Please.”
The skin of my palm is prickling uncomfortably under her fingers. I used to hold hands with Jessica all the time and it never bothered me so why do I feel as though I’m having an allergic reaction to Abby?
“Alright then.” I give in, just so she’ll let go of my hand. She doesn’t. “I can’t stay for long though. I’ve got to get home soon.”
Abby leads me up the path and into her house. Once inside she doesn’t hesitate and leads me up the stairs and into her bedroom. I instantly wince at the brightness. The high walls and sloping ceiling are painted turquoise, with red carpet and curtains and yellow furniture. These colours are too primary for such a secondary person. Abby doesn’t even have any books in her room either, just heaps of glossy girly magazines. Make-up spills across her dressing table and, when she spots me glaring, she quickly hides her pop princess CD. She sits on the edge of her bed, careful not to crease the yellow flowery duvet and I join her.
“So…,” she starts and I swallow, trying to think of something to say. This is worse than I thought. It is now confirmed that we have nothing in common. Maybe I rushed into this.
“How was the exam?” I ask her. Music, a neutral topic, something we both enjoy. She instantly relaxes.
“Oh, it went Okay. I think I passed, though probably not with Merit or Distinction. I’ve been practising for weeks but it’s really hard. I only took up violin two months ago.”
“Cool,” I say and we sit in silence for a little while.
“You play piano right?” Abby says. “I saw you in the Music room once. How long have you been playing?”
“Since I was five.”
“Really? Wow, you’re so talented,” Abby purrs, trying to sound mysterious. It only makes me laugh silently. She edges closer to me. “You’re so smart, Aaron.”
She’s very close to me now. Her blonde hair settles on my blazer and I swallow, unsure of what’s going to happen next.
“I wish I was as smart as you.”
“Oh,” is all I can manage. She calls this flirting?
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” I say anxiously. She’s too close now, closer than I’d like but I can’t exactly push her away.
“Well, you’ve been at our school for four years now and you’ve only dated Jessica. How come? Why just her?”
I shrug. “I’ve never found anybody else I liked. Now, Jessica and I, we don’t really get on but we used to be really close. It’s not like she’s special or anything, I’ve just never found anybody else I liked enough to date, or who liked me back.”
“I like you Aaron,” she breaths into my ear. “Ever so much.”
She raises a hand and twists her fingers through my hair which only pulls us even closer together. I turn my head, ready to tell her that I really have to go when she leans in and closes the gap by attaching herself to my lips.
I don’t want this. I know, the minute she starts kissing me that this is not what I want. It doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t supply a thrill or any emotion except embarrassment. When I try to pull away she hangs on, fingers in my hair so I can’t break free. Eventually I pull away hard enough and tell her that I really have to go home. She just blinks as I get up off her bed and practically run out of the house. As I’m leaving I collide with her mother, her father and her little brother. They take one look at my ruffled hair, swollen lips and scarlet cheeks and presume the worst. I don’t stand around and wait for a lecture but escape and run home.
Wil’s sitting in the kitchen when I get in, writing out some essay. He has his iPod speakers set up and they’re blaring Saving Aimee as he writes. He looks up when I come in and his eyes widen comically.
“What did you do?” he says, blinking. “You look….what happened?”
“I’ve no idea,” I gasp, flopping down on to a stool. Wil’s still staring at me.
“Your lip’s bleeding,” he informs me and I realize, with a sickening churn in my stomach, that he is right. A warm wetness seeps across my lip and fills my mouth with an ugly metallic taste.
“Your hair’s all messy and your lip is bleeding,” Wil stretches out. “What happened?”
“She…she kissed me.”
Maybe ‘attacked’ would be a more appropriate word. I was defenceless and she pounced.
“It looks like she tried to slaughter you,” Wil laughs. “Weren’t you expecting it?”
“Not really,” I mutter, embarrassed. “I don’t even like her, Wil. I have no idea why I’m going out with her.”
“Is she a good kisser?”
I pull a face. “No way. I know I haven’t had much experience but it was more like a vampire massacre.”
“She must like the taste of blood. Sure you didn’t bite her first?” Wil jokes but I only glare. “Aaron, if she’s not a good kisser just ditch her.”
Wil stares at me for a bit before going back to his essay, shaking his head in pity. I sit there and let the blood trickle down my chin. I wipe it away quickly when I hear Dad’s car on the drive but obviously not efficiently enough.
“Hello boys,” Dad practically sings when he comes in, dumping his briefcase on the island. “I hope you’ve done your homework…what’s happened to your face?”
I blush. “What do you mean?”
“There’s blood on your mouth,” Dad frowns. “What happened? Did you get into a fight?”
“No, I did not!”
“Abby turned all vampire on him,” Wil sniggers. “Aaron wasn’t ready for her.”
I glare at him while he laughs.
“Abby did that?” Dad asks, clearly surprised. I nod, humiliated.
“Yeah…I guess I just didn’t realize how much she liked me….”
Dad starts to laugh more than Wil. It’s so antagonizing.
“It’s not funny,” I snap, peeved. Dad and Wil continue to laugh.
“Oh Aaron, of course it’s funny! You’re obviously out of your depth with this feisty one!”
I snort and fold my arms.
“Don’t sulk. This Abby obviously thinks a lot of you…in a way.”
“Oh shut up,” I sneer. “I’m really not in the mood.”
“Aaron’s decided he doesn’t like his vampire girlfriend anymore,” Wil tells Dad and I groan.
“Please, don’t let her hear you say vampire-she’ll move on to love bites next.”
I leave Dad and Wil in the kitchen and go up to the bathroom and look in my mirror. My face is flushed, my hair all tangled. There’s still blood lingering on my lip.
That’s’ it. She has to go.