by Will Davis
Al's plays it innocent. She's like, No, it's true. Why?
I'm like, You're sausage meat, sister.
I prepare myself for a full-on hair-pulling/dribbling extravaganza, but it turns out that Al genuinely doesn't have a clue she's done anything wrong. I try to explain it to her, but she's like, Why do you even care about what they think anyway? They're so ignorant! I don't understand how they manage to persevere with such ignorance in today's society . . . She launches into this sermon about human rights before I get the chance to respond, and my anger gets totally killed under the tidal wave of boredom that follows, since when Al really goes off on one there's no point in even trying to get a word in edgeways. It's like, sit back and hope exhaustion sets in soon. She goes on the whole bus journey to school. When she finally comes to a conclusion (right before our stop) I make a last-ditch effort at getting her to see it from my perspective.
But the point here is from now on your mum and dad are going to see me as this queer freak who's corrupting their daughter.
Al's like, Didn't you hear any of what I just said?
I'm like, Yeah, I just didn't listen. I still can't believe you told them!
Al's like, Not everything is about you, you know!
I'm like, Fuck you, because this is!
Al's like, Fuck you, no it isn't! These things have far-reaching implications—
This is where I lose it. I'm like, Just fuck off!
Al's like, You just fuck off!
We have to get up for our stop. There's all these other kids from school standing there too so we squeeze in beside them and I hiss at Al, Loser bitch. She shakes her head and mutters, Pathetic, and that's it. When we get off she immediately starts pretending I don't exist so I decide to let the bitch stew and stalk out of Freedom wanting to kill someone (clue: Al). It's only when I get inside that I realise this is a Serious argument we're having. I know because I'm literally panting
But what's weird is that this is like, the first time we've ever argued seriously. Like, ever. We text-row a lot but that's just taking the piss out of each other. I can't even remember the last time we had a fall-out. I started hanging out with Al in year three, back when she was an overweight thirteen-year-old with a pudding-bowl haircut. Now she's an overweight sixteen-year-old with a pudding-bowl haircut (supposed to be ironic but I've got my doubts) and the worst we've ever done is bicker.
I spend first period feeling like life has let me down, which is topped off by Bull Face mouthing Faggot at me as I walk in. When Mr Pond laughs at me because I ask him why everyone always gets hitched at the end of Shakespeare plays I have this urge to start weeping which I only manage to distract myself from by twisting my watch all lesson so the reflection of the light keeps getting in his eyes.
After English I get stalked down by Mary, this chick who's, like, totally infatuated with me despite the fact that in a moment of exasperation I've even admitted to her I'm confused (some people just don't get it). She's always trying to get me to do stuff with her, like go hang out after school or meet at her house for some private candlelit study session for two. She stands between me and Freedom and gives me her dazzling perfect smile - her father's an orthodontist so she dealt with the whole brace pony-trap scenario thing the rest of us have all just been through (except for some poor metal-mouths who are still going through it) when she was like, a first year.
She's like, Hi Jaz, how's it going? - so obvious. It's like, get some self-respect.
I'm like, Hi/Whatever, 'cos I can't be bothered with her right now.
She's like, You are coming to my party, aren't you? like I've made a blood oath to her or something, when it's the first I've even heard about it.
I'm like, What party?
Turns out she's organising this party (wouldn't ya know) in two weeks' time and I'm like, the guest of honour or something. The thing I should explain about Mary is that she's one of those blonde, blue-eyed sorority types. To complete the stereotype she's even got cheerleader boobs, which stick out from her stick-thin body like Jessica Rabbit's. Al's like, madly jealous of her and totally hates her, but of course all the boys are totally obsessed with her, which makes it like, a hundred times more awkward for me when it comes to putting her down. Thinking of Al and just to spite her I'm like, Yeah, sure, why not? even though I'm pretty sure that a house party organised by Mary will basically involve watching one half of the school pairing up with the other half, like a mass pukatorium.
Mary's face lights up like a Christmas tree. While she's all elated from my unexpectedly easy affirmative I quickly tell her I've got to go and I slide past her before she can spout any more embarrassingly obvious garbage simply to be in my presence.
To try and cheer myself up about the day so far I decide to smoke one of Dad's cigarettes which I keep in the pocket by my heart for emergencies. I head for the traditional place of refuge, which is the bike shed. Behind this old shack it's like smokers' central and I don't know why the school doesn't just set up a CCTV camera or something unless it's due to some like, secret unwritten teacher-pupil alliance that stretches all the way back to the very first school ever.
Anyway, I've just sparked up when who should appear but freaky Fabian. I'm like, Oh brother. He doesn't see me at first because I'm wedged in between the bike racks, so I keep quiet and watch him light one up and start turning his hand round so he can admire his latest biro masterpiece. But sooner or later I have to exhale. He spins round like he's expecting the Gestapo or something. When he sees me he smiles in his comic-book evil-villain kind of a way and goes, Well, well, well, if it isn't the faggot.
I decide I can't be dealing with The Freak right now. I'm like, Did your neck just throw up or what?
Fabian's like, majorly incensed. You better be careful!!! he goes in this ultra-shrill way, like something's just bitten on his balls, You better be careful what you say to me, man! Faggot!
I'm like, Why, 'cos you'll burst a blood vessel?
Then, to my total horror, Fabian produces a knife. It's one of those ones that you press a button to make the blade click out. Fabian does this and holds it up against his cheek where he rakes it across imaginary stubble in like, homage to Clint Eastwood or something. He gives me a Nazi smile.
I'm like, Woah.
He's like, Want to find out what it feels like to be knifed in the chest?
I'm like, No!
He's like, Are you sure? as if there were a genuine chance of me changing my mind. He throws down his cigarette and steps on it really deliberately as if to say, Any second now this could be you.
It's one of those situations where there's just no point in bothering. On the one hand I have this weird sense of calm, 'cos I figure being stabbed would kind of fit in with my shitty day, and you have to just roll with these things. But there's another side of me which isn't exactly thrilled at the prospect of a painful death, especially at the hands of a loser freak with behavioural problems.
So I'm like, Just chill out, man.
Fabian's like, all menacingly, Oh I'm perfectly chilled, my friend. The question is, are you?
I'm like, totally not. Just put the knife away! but he just stands there grinning and stroking himself with it. He's like, practically masturbating here. Panic rises in me 'cos this is turning into a scene from the Texas Chainsaw Mascara.
I'm like, Listen - you're sick.
Fabian appears to be quite flattered by this 'cos his eyes positively gleam. But to my relief he flicks the blade back and puts the knife away in his pocket.
Just remember, I'll be watching your faggoty arse from now on, he says. Don't tell anyone or I'll cut you.
At this point I'm like, literally saved by the bell, so I grab my bag and run for it, half-expecting him to stick it in while my back's turned. It's like, a clear case of serious harassment and this freak obviously needs be locked up and lobotomised or something, but to be honest there's not a whole lot you can do. I don't know if it's like a code of conduct all kids are born with, or if it
's just because the idea of treating any of the teachers in this school like people who are there to help you brings up, like, bile, but I just can't quite bring myself to tell anyone (quite apart from the fact of me smoking would most definitely have to come out if they followed it up). I figure the best bet is just to hope Fabian decides to cut his own throat with it instead of mine or anyone else's.
Second period is geography and that's ultra-weird now for two reasons: Al and Fellows. Al and me see each other coming up opposite ends of the corridor and immediately we both start pretending like the wall is the most interesting thing ever and when we both reach the door at the same time Al pretends her skirt needs seeing to so she doesn't have to go through at the same time as me. It's like, how juvenile?
Fellows is at the board and has his plans for today all chalked up in bright green and pink. I've virtually forgotten about Al's seeing him in the club (this is before the whole fist fight so ho-ho-ho - little do I know what's coming!) but it all comes right back. When I tried to picture it before the idea of this guy in tweed dancing to cheese in Starlight was like trying to imagine Dad married to Grandma. But looking at him now, everything seems to be a possible indicator, from the tweed to the curly writing. But it's only when he nods to a couple of the spectoids at the front and starts sharpening his pencil that it becomes like, painful. He's totally like, gayness personified.
He notices how me and Al are sitting at like, opposite sides of the room and obviously interprets it as us being conscientious and doing what he told us to do. He comes over to me with this pleased look like we've made his day or something.
Very well remembered, he says, Just try it for a couple of days and then you can sit together again.
I'm like, the definition of LIC GAS.
But funnily enough it's thanks to Fellows that this thing between me and Al resolves itself, because halfway through his narcolepsy-inducing lecture on the oil industry Al catches my eye and just like that the battle's over. We both start giggling like maniacs. It's the memory of Al's face when she told me she'd seen him that does it for me. Fellows doesn't stop talking, but he looks between us suspiciously like he's trying to gauge the likelihood of us both bursting into spontaneous fits of spluttering coughs at the exact same time. He decides to let it pass at first but it just keeps getting more and more uncontrollable and it's infectious too 'cos several other guys can't help joining in. It must be pretty hard to lecture a class when half of them have their hands clamped over their mouths and are quivering like a bunch of switched-on vibrators, but he manages it for a good ten minutes.
Unfortunately it's the kind of virus that just doesn't go away, and the second I let out a sound that could just possibly be identified as laughter he loses it and decides to put the blame all on me.
Wait outside! he barks.
I'm like, This is total discrimination, but as I've said before there's just no talking sense with an angry teacher so I end up doing what he says.
I hate being made to stand in the corridor outside. It's like, the most humiliating punishment 'cos all the moles-tables from junior school can see you through the window as they pass by on their way for elevenses or whatever. I end up standing there with my middle finger permanently stuck in the air for the next half an hour, bored out of my brain. But I'm relieved that at least the issues are over with Al. When the class is over all the pupils file past me, most of them giving me sympathetic looks. I'm expecting a lecture from Fellows but instead he just gives me this look that's like a weedy version of Mum's death stare. When I catch up with Al we have hysterics all through lunch hour and agree to disagree about her parents because, according to Al, that's the mature thing to do. We make plans to go to Starlight at the weekend (though as you know for her it doesn't happen) and then I tell her about Fabian. She's like, Stay away from that freak show from now on, like I need any telling.
So the day wouldn't have turned out so shitty after all were it not for this mind-bendingly stupid thing that I do on my way out of study period. Maybe it's just because it's the end of a long day and I've regressed to this younger version of myself, or maybe I've just lost all sense of proportion after my near-death experience with Fabian. Anyway, it's pretty simple. I'm walking towards Freedom and I happen to turn my head at the wrong point and find myself looking at this naff collage the molestables have put together to commemorate some field trip to a farm. It's massive and takes up half the wall, so even though it's the usual crap it's quite impressive when you think of the size of the people who worked on it like, in comparison. But directly facing me are two cows, one of which so closely resembles Bull Face it's like, uncanny. In my pocket my fingers touch upon my pen and it's like, destiny has spoken or something. The next thing I know the deed is done and there's a simple arrow pointing towards the cardboard creature with Joseph aka Bull Face written in a circle above. Then I turn round and find the genuine article standing behind me and pointing at it like he can't believe what he's seeing. He looks like he's just been flashed at. And before he has a chance to connect it in his brain with the sight of me standing there with the pen, and then like, have an appropriate violent reaction (which with Bull Face it has to be said is quite a long time), I start bolting for my life.
7
So all in all I'm not much looking forward to Monday morning. But Sunday happens first, and I'm going to give it to you so you get an idea of exactly what our family is like as a collective.
It starts off with me trying to sneak out to meet Al, but Mum's guarding the ground floor and catches me before I can get away, so I end up having to go with her, Dad and The Nun to visit Grandma. I'm not the only one who doesn't want to go. Once me and The Nun are stood to attention in the kitchen, Mum barges into the living-room where Dad's peacefully watching some football match. She switches off the TV and we hear her saying to him in this contradict-me-and-I'll-bite-your-eyes-out voice, It's time for us to go! Mum has no sympathy for when you're watching TV - the only programme she ever watches is Trinny and Susannah. Still, it seems pretty mean for her since it's one of the few pleasures Dad seems to actually take in life these days (apart from secretly smoking). He once told me that football is the last remaining tenet of true masculinity. I was like, Ahuh, and Did you not see Freddy Ljungberg in those underwear ads? but he just smiled like I would never understand, which is probably true.
The journey there is the worst bit. Dad's car radio doesn't work and it's actually one of those ancient bombs that don't even have a CD player. Mum's always on at him to trade it in or something, but Dad loves it like a third testicle and it's just about the only thing she hasn't managed to bulldoze him into doing. But I wish he would. The Nun alternates between humming snatches of hymns and the latest Westlife album, until finally I can take it no more. I'm like, You're giving us aural cancer.
The Nun's like, I can hum if I want to, and Dad's like to me, Leave her alone, trying to seem like he has a presence or something. A few minutes later though he comes round to my side and asks her if she wouldn't mind doing it in her head. I start sniggering and she mouths at me to get lost (Teresa doesn't swear, she thinks it's sacrilegious).
After a while, not used to being in such closed-off space with his entire family, Dad makes this chronically feeble attempt at having a conversation with us. First of all he goes to Mum, Do you think you've remembered everything for her? quite brightly like, given the circumstances it would be completely understandable if she hadn't.
Mum's reply is like a mousetrap snapping shut. Are you trying to make me even more nervous, Lawrence? she goes, Because if you are, you're doing a fantastic job!
Dad waits a few seconds and then tries with me. He's like, So how was school this week, Jaz?
I'm like, the definition of Don't ask. Finally he tries The Nun, who he asks if she still wants to be an actress these days, which is what she wanted to be back when she was like, still being breast-fed. But The Nun's all, like, jumping at the opportunity to talk about herself. She's like, Either that
or a nurse, and then starts going on about how much she admires nurses and what an important job they have and how wonderful it must be to care for sick people blah-blah-blah. It's like, Go and be a nurse in a leper colony then.
Eventually I interrupt to ask how much further we've got to go and Mum snaps back, Not very far all right? like it's this question I've been firing off every minute or something. I'm like, Fucking hell, I was only asking, and Mum's like, God damn it, Jarold! Is it so much to ask that you do not use words like that when we're together as a family?
The Nun's like, to her, And can you stop saying things like that too and have a bit of respect please?
Mum's like, Not now, Teresa! like religion's this annoying habit of hers rather than this chronic insanity she's got.
The Nun's like, Anyway, what I was saying about being a nurse is—
I'm like, Jesus fucking Christ.
The Nun crosses herself when I say that. I don't know at what stage it's supposed to become like, pathological, but if I actually cared I'd be seriously worried for The Nun. Someone ought to be, since it seems to be totally bypassing Mum and Dad that their only daughter's becoming this religious maniac, which is far worse than being gay. You'd think they'd take her to a correctional facility or something. But no, it's all about me. Every now and then in the evening Mum'll switch to Brady Bunch mode and say stuff like, Do you want to have a discussion, Jaz? in this scary happy singsong voice. Of course I'm always like, No, I'd rather have AIDS or something, which I only say for effect because obviously it isn't true, but it makes Mum go all silent and shake like she's having a conniption, and is the only way I can get her to leave me alone. Meanwhile The Nun gets more and more out of touch with reality every day and nobody notices or thinks it's a big deal. It'll serve them right if she decides to go and have a full-on stigmata.
Anyway we finally get there, in silence of course, which is how we always end up travelling. I'm sure our family isn't more dysfunctional than other families, and I know Pm supposed to be all lucky to even have one, but to be honest if Mum and Dad came along and told me I was adopted and they'd decided to swap me or something I really wouldn't give a toss.
