He p u t his arm round Carl's shoulders and looked him straight in the face. 'You've got guts, Carl. I'm proud of you,' he said, and t h e n he hurried out of the door.
'Oh God, spare me t h a t macho nonsense,' said Jules. 'You're not going into school today, Carl, not in t h a t state. They'll make mincemeat of you.'
' S h u t up, Mum,' said Carl as J a k e ambled into 278
the room, his shirt flapping, tie hanging off, shoelaces trailing.
'Now what?' said Jake. 'Hi, Sylvie.'
'We're both telling Carl he can't go to school with his h a n d s so bad,' said Jules, shoving cornflakes a n d milk in front of Jake.
'Yeah, you're mad, Carl,' said J a k e . He paused. 'But if you are going, do you w a n t me to come with you? In case these guys are waiting in the playground or whatever? I'd love an excuse to duff up a few of those snotty grammar-school twats.'
Carl blinked. 'Thanks, Jake. But no thanks,'
he said. He poured his own cornflakes and milk.
His bandaged h a n d slipped and the j u g tipped.
'There!' said Jules, dabbing with a J-cloth.
'You're proving my point, Carl. Look, let me do it for you, love.'
'For heaven's sake, Mum, I j u s t spilled a drop of milk. It's no big deal. I've only got cut hands.
You're acting like they've both been amputated.
Stop flapping so,' said Carl. 'Look, I'm not hungry. I'm going now. See you tonight. And don't worry!
He stood up and gave Jules a quick kiss on t h e cheek. She patted him helplessly. He went to the kitchen door. I got up too.
'Bye, Sylvie,' said Jake. 'Bye, Carl. Hey. Keep cool, little guy.'
'Cheers, Jake,' said Carl.
I walked with him to t h e gate. 'Can I come with you, Carl?'
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'What? Are you offering to duff them all up, Sylvie?' said Carl. 'Hey, do you think J a k e knows why the boys at school are picking on me? Do you think Mum told him? Or did he hear us?'
Whatever. I expect he j u s t put two and two together. He's not that dim.'
'He seems to be acting OK about it.'
'What, did you think he'd s t a r t beating you up?'
'Oh, he's done that all my life. What about Dad? He seems to know too. Oh God, I feel like all t h e neighbours are suddenly going to pop out of their front doors and s t a r t waving rainbow flags at me.'
'I'm waving mine,' I said.
'Sylvie – I'm sorry.'
'Don't start,' I said, p a t t i n g his bandages very lightly.
'I'm not sure how much I smashed. Was it absolutely everything?'
'Pretty nearly.'
'I'm such an idiot.'
'You're being an idiot now, going to school.'
'I'm scared stiff, Sylvie. But if I don't go now they'll all know I'm too scared to face them.'
'You don't have to go at all. I'm sure Jules w a n t s you to come back to Milstead. Oh, Carl, please, t h a t would be so wonderful. And no one would make a big deal of stuff there. They all know you and t h i n k you're really special.'
'Look, I'd give a n y t h i n g to be back at 280
Milstead. I've hated it at the grammar. It's j u s t such a weird atmosphere, all boys together. You breathe the testosterone, along with t h a t awful smell of s t a l e beds a n d smelly feet. The conversation's equally murky. Everyone wants to score off everyone else and there's all the joking a n d the shoving and the crazy rushing around. You can't get any peace anywhere, and you can't say stuff you really feel because they say it's so gay to talk about your feelings.'
'So w h a t on earth's stopping you coming back to Milstead? You know they'd have you back like a shot.'
'I don't w a n t them to t h i n k I'm scared of t h e m at Kingsmere.'
'That's crazy! You're j u s t letting your stupid pride s t a n d in your way. Oh, Carl, why do you have to be so stubborn?'
'Oh well. Maybe they'll s t a r t throwing j u n k at me and shoving my head down t h e bog and it'll be so awful I'll be out of there like a shot.'
'Do you t h i n k they really might do t h a t ? ' I asked.
'No, I was j u s t joking. Sort of. They can't do too much in lessons, can they? I'll charge out as soon as school finishes, don't worry.'
'What about lunch times?'
'Well. T h a t won't be so great. Maybe I'll try eating my lunch very very slowly, chewing each mouthful a h u n d r e d times, so I get to spend the whole hour in the canteen.'
'I know! Come and meet me at McDonald's.
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We can both get there and back at lunch time.
Go on, Carl, please. Then I won't worry so.'
'OK. I'll see, anyway.'
'No, promise. See you t h e r e – one o'clock?'
'All right, one o'clock. Happy now?'
He blew me a kiss and t h e n started running down the road. I waited until he turned the corner. He didn't glance back, but he waved his bandaged h a n d at me, knowing I'd be watching.
I wished he could wear his magic Glassworld boots so t h a t he could o u t r u n everyone. I wondered if we'd ever be able to play Glassworld again. I tried to invent a new chronicle in my head but I couldn't come up with any idea at all. I tried re-running old adventures but the King a n d Queen stared at me blankly and wouldn't speak.
I wondered if the book itself was all right.
W h a t if Carl h a d ripped t h e pages, intent on destroying everything? I wondered about creeping back indoors and going through the hole in the fence in our garden to see for myself. No, I couldn't face all t h a t shattered glass j u s t yet.
I trudged off to school instead. Miranda was waiting for me, surprisingly early.
'Hey, why wouldn't you answer your mobile?'
She'd texted again and again while I was waiting in the hospital with Carl, but I didn't know how to reduce the horror of what had happened into several lines of text-talk.
'I'm sorry, Miranda. I couldn't. I was at the hospital.'
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'What? Did you h u r t yourself? W h a t happened?'
It was Carl,' I said. 'He was hurt.'
Lucy was standing nearby, moodily flipping t h r o u g h a gossip m a g a z i n e w i t h J e n n y Rawlings, a sad spotty girl who didn't have any other friends. Lucy looked up at the sound of Carl's n a m e .
'Carl's hurt?' she said.
'What? No. No, he's fine,' I said quickly.
'Come over here,' said Miranda, tugging at me.
'Some people t h i n k they're it, bossing everyone around,' said Lucy. 'Yet she's j u s t a silly slag. Imagine, Jenny, showing your boobs off on a mobile phone!'
'Why shouldn't I? They're lovely boobs,' said Miranda, sticking h e r tongue out at t h e m both.
But when she'd dragged me to a private corner over by the canteen she took a deep breath. 'I think this photo might have been a bit of a mistake. I m e a n t it as a laugh j u s t to tease Paul. I didn't really think he'd show everyone. I wouldn't have minded j u s t one or two of his mates – Carl, for instance – but I don't w a n t to have t h e m all ogling. Sylvie, do you t h i n k I'm a slag?'
'No, of course not.'
She squeezed my h a n d gratefully. It was t h e sore h a n d with the stitched finger. She saw me wince. 'Sorry! Hey, you are hurt!'
'Only a little bit. Carl's the one who's really 283
h u r t . His fingers were cut to ribbons with all the glass.'
'Not his glass? His collection?'
'Don't tell anyone else ever, Miranda, swear?
Paul was so hateful, him and all the others in their form, calling Carl all sorts of n a m e s – you know w h a t they're like – and Carl got a bit d r u n k and then he smashed up all his g l a s s — '
'All? My Remember Me paperweight? Bloody hell, it cost a fortune!'
'I don't know if it got broken or not. I j u s t saw glass everywhere. All the little animals were smashed, and the Glass Boy's broken.'
'So is Carl in hospital then
?'
'No, they've stitched him up. He's got these big bandages on his h a n d s and yet he's gone to school.'
'He's brave. Crazy, b u t brave. Oh God, I love him more t h a n ever now, don't you?'
You don't love him, Miranda!' I was suddenly furious with her. 'He's my boyfriend.'
'No, he's not. Don't get ratty. We can both love him, can't we? I wish I could have seen him all worked up like that. He's always seemed so in control.'
'That's what's so awful. Paul's taken everything away from him. I h a t e him.'
'I h a t e him too. You'll let me h a t e him, right, even if I can't love Carl?' Miranda said, giving me a little shove. 'He is j u s t so uncool, turning on Carl like that. You'd t h i n k he'd be flattered.
He m u s t be terribly insecure about his own 284
sexuality, making such a fuss. Maybe he didn't fancy me at all? Maybe he was j u s t trying to prove to himself he wasn't gay? Well, Carl's well rid of him. I am too. Poor, poor Carl, it'll be horrible at school for him.'
'I'm going to meet him at McDonald's at lunch time.'
'Good plan. Yeah, we could maybe go somewhere great for the afternoon, the three of us.'
'I t h i n k Carl j u s t wants me to meet him. He doesn't w a n t anyone to know.'
'I'm not anyone. You're my best friends,' said Miranda. 'I'm coming.'
I couldn't stop her. I half wanted her to come anyway because I was scared about bunking off school on my own. Miranda walked boldly out of the school at lunch time, as if on some official errand. I dithered along beside her, anxiously peering over my shoulder. She paid our fare on the bus and then bought us both French fries and Coke in McDonald's. Carl wasn't there yet.
There weren't any g r a m m a r school boys in their purple uniform today.
'He said he would come?' said Miranda.
'He promised.'
'Text him.'
'I have. He's not answering.'
'What do you t h i n k they'll be doing to him?
They can be so horrible at their school – it's like it's still in the Dark Ages. Raj said there was even one little gang t h a t kept calling him Paki, and making out he was some kind of terrorist. I 285
don't think they really thought that, but every time he put his h a n d s in his pockets or opened up his school bag they'd shout "Duck" and drop to t h e floor, like he was going to throw a bomb at them.'
'What did he do?'
'Oh, he was so brilliant! He bought this pretend hand grenade from some tacky joke shop and pulled the pin out and hurled it at them. It made this wonderful screeching noise.
They nearly wet themselves. Raj is so funny.'
'Why can't you have him for your boyfriend?'
'Oh, I did go out with him for a bit, but his m u m and dad started fussing. They thought I was a bit wild for their precious boy.'
'Well, you are!'
Miranda smiled, taking it as a compliment.
She took a mouthful of French fries and then choked. There's Carl!'
I turned. He was walking towards us, his bandaged hands poking awkwardly out of the sleeves of his blazer. When he saw us looking he waved his h a n d s in the air like a minstrel, clowning.
Wow! Impressive bandages!' said Miranda, r u n n i n g up to him. She gave him a big hug, kissing his cheeks, pressing her face close to his, all the things I never dared do spontaneously. Carl played up to her, making a fuss of her too. I h a d to stand there, waiting my t u r n . Carl smiled wanly, not so good at pretending with me.
'How did the morning go?' I asked.
'Fine fine fine,' said Carl, sitting down. 'Hey, 286
feed me a few chips, will you? Can't get my bandages all greasy.'
'Really fine?'
'Of course not really fine. The bastards will be making his life hell,' said Miranda.
'Well, they did stuff my head down the loo, but hey, my hair needed washing anyway. No, only joking. They did all scream, "Backs to the wall, boys", when I walked down the corridor but it was obvious they all wanted to face front to admire me. And there was mass hysteria in the changing rooms for football, with Paul locking himself in the bog to change into his football strip. Perhaps he h a d a violent stomach upset and needed his privacy.' Carl said it all lightly, on one note, like a camp comedian.
'Oh, Carl,' I said.
'Is Paul being a total pig?' said Miranda.
'He hasn't really got any alternative. If he's nice to me, or j u s t mildly friendly, then all the others will call him gay too. So he's got to be the guy who s t a r t s all the rubbish behaviour and says the worst things,' said Carl.
'Stop being so insufferably understanding,'
said Miranda. 'He's behaving like a little shit and we both know it. We h a t e him, Carl.'
'I'm t h e only sane one. I've always hated him,'
I said.
'Oh well. Simple. I'll hate him too then,' said Carl. He couldn't keep his voice totally expressionless. I prayed he wouldn't s t a r t crying in front of us, in the middle of McDonald's.
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'That's right. Hey, hey. I'll make it easy for you,' said Miranda, holding a chip in front of his face. 'Look at t h e chip, Carl. Follow it with your eyes.' She wafted it slowly from left to right and back again. 'See t h e chip. There now. You're falling into a trance. A soft and starchy potato sleep.'
'Do McDonald's fries contain potato?'
'Shut up and concentrate! Follow the French fry with your eyes. Follow, follow, follow, follow, follow the yellow French fry. Now you're in a trance and you will believe everything I say, even when you wake up. You hate Paul, OK? You love Miranda,' said Miranda.
'No, you love me,' I said.
'OK, you love Miranda and Sylvie – but she's your old old old girlfriend, I'm your exciting new girlfriend, all set to entice and beguile you.'
You're both lovely,' said Carl. 'But—'
'No buts!' said Miranda. 'Look, you can't be rock-solid decided yet t h a t you're totally one h u n d r e d per cent gay.'
'I know' Carl looked at me. 'Mum says I might j u s t be going through a phase.'
'And might you?' said Miranda, eating h e r hypnotic chip.
Carl shrugged. 'How should I know? I j u s t know w h a t I feel now. What I think. What I want.'
'You want to shag Paul?' said Miranda.
Carl blushed painfully, going as red as if she'd slapped him.
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'Shut up, Miranda,' I said, giving h e r a shove.
'Maybe,' Carl mumbled. 'No, actually, I j u s t want to kiss him.'
'Well, his loss,' said Miranda. 'You're a great kisser.'
I felt as if she'd stabbed me in the stomach. I hated the way she always h a d to be the leading part, centre stage. I stuffed cold French fries in my mouth even though I wasn't hungry.
'Have you h a d any proper lunch, Carl?' I asked.
'Here, get him a burger,' said Miranda, giving me money.
'You go and get it for him!'
'I don't want it. Can I have a sip of your drink though?' said Carl.
He p u t his big bandaged h a n d s on either side of the paper cup and raised it carefully. He drank it down steadily. 'I wish it was beer,'
he said.
'We could get some,' said Miranda. T e a h , let's go and buy some. We'll go to the park this afternoon. I've got heaps of money. We could buy some vodka too, get really really wasted.'
'Not a good idea,' said Carl. 'No, I'm going back to school.'
'We don't have to do the drinking bit,' I said.
'Let's go to the park, though. Go on, Carl.'
'No. T h a n k s for t h e offer though, girls. See you, Miranda.' Then he looked at me. 'See you tonight, Sylvie.'
He walked off, his cheeks sucked in, his chin up.
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'He looks like a cowboy going to a shoot-out,'
said Miranda. 'Oh, wouldn't he look great in a cowboy h a t and denim and boots. He's going to be such a hit at t h e Alhambra.' She looked
at me pityingly. 'It's this pub in town where all the gay guys go.'
'I know,' I said, though I'd never heard of it.
'It's such a cool place. You can dance there too, and they have drag acts. It's great.'
'Have you been there?' I asked.
'Yes,' said Miranda. 'Well, I haven't actually been inside, b u t I've seen it. I wanted Raj and Andy to go there with me for a laugh, but they wouldn't. Maybe we could go with Carl, Sylvie?'
'Oh yeah, like I'd be allowed in a gay pub – in any pub,' I said.
'I don't know. I t h i n k you're starting to look a little bit older,' said Miranda, tucking my h a i r behind my ears and staring at my face.
I started to believe her, thinking t h a t all my misery over Carl h a d given me a new knowing expression, but when I went to the ladies' toilets in McDonald's I looked as baby-faced as ever. I stuck my tongue out at myself unhappily.
Miranda came out of h e r cubicle and laughed at me. She stuck h e r own tongue out. I crossed my eyes and made my tongue touch my nose.
She screwed h e r face sideways and stuck h e r tongue out of the corner of her mouth, drooling.
'The great kisser?' I said.
M i r a n d a waggled h e r tongue a r o u n d lasciviously, looking revolting.
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'Stop it!' I shrieked.
A woman came into the toilets with h e r little girl and frowned at us. We giggled weakly and escaped.
'Are we going back to school?' I asked.
'Are we hell! No, I've j u s t h a d a brilliant idea for later. But first let's have t h a t picnic in the park.'
'With vodka?' I asked anxiously.
'Of course.'
'I don't like it.'
'Don't be silly, it doesn't have any taste. You can't not like it.'
Miranda marched us off to Oddbins. She whipped off her school tie, rolled up her sleeves, undid the top button of her blouse and tucked her skirt up at the waistband so it was even shorter. Then she looked me up and down. 'You stay outside,' she said.
I watched h e r s a u n t e r inside, strolling around, peering at bottles of white and red wine, tossing a packet of peanuts from one h a n d to the other. Then she picked up a half bottle of vodka and took it to t h e counter.
I watched the bored guy behind the counter say something to her. She laughed at him, tossing her hair, sticking out her chest. He said something else. Miranda flushed and banged t h e vodka down h a r d on the counter. She flounced out of the store, marching straight past me in h e r buckled boots. I had to r u n after her.