by Will Davis
It's a lonely life, goes Fellows like he's dispensing this blinding pearl of wisdom, But things aren't what they were. Times have changed. I remember how much harder it used to be. You're very lucky, to be growing up now. Thirty years ago you would have found it even worse. Back before Stonewall and the protesting, people like you and me hardly stood a chance.
Being called 'people like you and me' has me practically choking on my own vomit. Fellows clearly mistakes this as a sign that I'm riveted to his every word. I bear it for as long as I can stand and finally I'm like, Can I go now?
Fellows loses his sympathetic smile. He looks at me for a minute like he's not too impressed by what he sees, and then goes, Off you go then, like it was his idea.
Al thinks it's really sweet. We're stood in the corridor looking for loopholes in the scheduling that mean we can get out of doing sport on Tuesdays and Thursdays. We were taking debating, but they kind of cottoned on to the fact that we didn't actually debate ever, and now we've both been ejected. It's compulsory to do sport, but it's just another great example of how stupid rules are, because all the kids who don't like sports, like us, end up just standing around in a field or at the side of a tennis court wasting our time watching balls fly back and forth. It's like, what's the point? Fortunately they always have loopholes, like the debating society. Right now it's looking like our best bet's gonna be to sign on to do handball with Mr Reginald, who's like, a thousand years old and is only employed by the school because he's like, a fixture here and has been around since like, the beginning of civilisation. He can't even remember who he is most of the time, never mind who's supposed to be in his games set.
Anyway, I'm telling Al all about how Fellows saved me from Fuck Face earlier on, and she's going on about how it shows what a decent person Fellows is, instead of rolling her eyes or having any vaguely normal reaction. And when I tell her about the 'It's a lonely life' part, expecting her to at least have enough taste to make a barfing sound, she instead goes all dreamy like it's the most beautiful thing she's ever heard. I give up trying to make her see the light.
I'm like, Sister, you've got it bad for this guy.
Al's like, What are you talking about? She can be pretty stupid when she's not being political.
I'm like, You totally want to bone Fellows.
Al's like, Fuck off, Jaz! She always refuses to admit it when she's got a crush. It's no wonder she's never even come close to getting laid, 'cos she can't even admit this kind of thing to herself. Probably it'll be easier if she really does become a dyke.
At this point Mary shows up with her posse. She hangs out with these like, total clones, Kathy, Louise and Athena, who all have dyed blonde hair and wear ultra-thick eyeliner that makes it look like it must take a lot of effort to hold the lids open. Their look is kind of like rock chick meets cheerleader or something, but it just makes them all look the same. Seriously, it's only from the sound of their voices that you can tell them apart. Athena's got this super-strong Greek accent and a really deep voice, while Kathy sounds like a pipsqueak. Louise is somewhere in between.
Mary's like, Hey, Jaz.
I'm like, Hey.
Al says hi, but no one even looks her way, which irritates the hell out of her, you can tell. She always says hello when Mary and her posse are around, even though privately she's always like, the definition of contempt for them. I guess she's also always had this secret desire to be liked by them, which is pretty normal I suppose, although at the same time totally fucked up.
Mary's like, You still coming on Saturday?
I'm like, Yeah, sure.
Bring some booze! cries Athena in her thick accent, which sounds a bit like foreign neighing. Kathy gives a supersonic giggle and Mary puckers up her lips in this pout that's probably meant to be sexy. I want to tell her, You're wasting your time, darling, but girls like Mary never get the message. She'd probably think a limp dick during sex was just coyness or something.
Al's like, Yeah! We're really looking forward to it. It sounds like it's going to be wild.
This finally draws a response from Mary and the clones, which is four totally blank looks, like this bogey has just launched itself into the conversation. Al kind of simpers and tries to say something else, which just comes out as this mishmash of words and makes no sense whatsoever. It's pretty painful to watch.
Louise is like, What language is she speaking? to Kathy, who lets out another glass-breaking giggle.
Then Mary's like, So we'll see you there, to me and she thrusts her boobs out like she's going to do a trick with them or something, and then they all turn together and totter off down the corridor.
Once they've finally gone I'm like, Could someone please call pest control? to Al. But she's like, Shut up! as if I'm totally out of line or something. She's been really irritable lately. I guess it's because of her parents, who are, like, applying for a diploma in being anal. But I don't see why she has to take it out on me. Maybe it's because of her unrequited love for Fellows, though the very idea of them together is a complete gross-out.
12
Anyways, if you're even a tiny bit on my side, you're gonna be wondering about Jon. What happened next with him? you must be crying, shivering with anticipation. Well, I'll tell you.
I call him up the night before in my room, while Mum and Dad are vegged out downstairs, recovering from the shock of being told about their issues. It's a mobile, and it rings for a few and then:
Y'ello, says Jon.
I'm ashamed to admit it, but I'm like, so totally lame here. In trying to be funny I say Orange! which gets met with this big pause. I'm tempted to slam the phone right back down and spend the rest of my life being a monk, but I take a deep breath and go, It's me, Jaz.
I think I can hear him smirking. It's like this series of weird vibrations down the phone, like there's a poltergeist interfering or something.
Jon's like, Hey, what's that music in the background?
It's some impressively naff boy band The Nun's listening to, which she's playing on full volume. It's almost like she knows I'm doing something important, through some sisterly sixth sense. I go over to the door and kick it shut.
I'm like, Just get over it, OK?
More smirking sensations. He's like, So how's it going?
I'm like, Great, how's the snorkelling?
Windsurfing.
I know. Whatever.
He's like, You know something, you've really got a chip on your shoulder.
I'm like, Do you wanna meet up or what?
And he does, so we do. We make arrangements to meet on Wednesday night, at this club which I've never been to, but is supposed to be really underground. I try to drag Al along, but of course she's like, locked in these days. (Right after my phone call that night Mum actually calls up Mr and Mrs Rutland for a healthy discussion about our influence on each other, not suspecting that she was singlehand-edly fucking up the girl's entire life - her parents both had, like, consecutive aneurisms when they found out she'd been going to a gay club.) Of course Al's perfectly capable of breaking a window, but she's like, determined to go to this lame party of Mary's so she's trying to play it safe this week. So when school is over I'm like, on my own. I figure to hell with it - either you do or you die.
I get into this club by the skin of my teeth - I'm right behind this punk with a blue mohican who throws this total hissy fit about having to pay to get in (it's like three quid, which even I can afford), but it turns out to be a good thing 'cos the girl kind of shies away from even looking at me, and the bouncer just jostles me along. So Bob's your uncle, I'm in.
This place lends new meaning to the word dive: it's like, artfully so. There's heavy metal coming out of the speakers from all sides of the room, while people are like, jumping up and down (it's so packed there's not much space, so I guess they have to dance upwards). It's basically this big mosh pit with trashed guys and girls with long black hair and lots of silver flinging themselves around, a bit like the zombies in
that vintage Michael Jackson video. I'm like, This so is not my scene. And I've no clue how I'm supposed to spot Jon in here. I'm looking down at my Levi's and T-shirt and thinking Shit - since I stand out like a hick in Beverly Hills 90210.1 decide I'll give it one drink and fight my way to the bar, which is like going to war or something. The goth there doesn't even listen to what I ask her for, and I finally get served with this weird green stuff, which tastes of aniseed and actually isn't too bad. In fact, once you roll with it, the whole joint is kind of OK in an alternative sort of way. They're playing some Guns N'Roses track which I dimly remember listening to when I was, like ten, but that's kind of OK too. And at least I'm never ever gonna bump into Fellows here, which is a definite plus.
After a few minutes the skinhead on my right tries to chat me up, or at least shout me up, over the music. It takes me a while to figure out what he's saying. He's going, I'm so into your look - it's really unique!
I'm like, Thanks. I guess he thinks it's ironic. He's wearing ripped leather and has a skull pendant which dangles over his groin kind of amusingly. He grins at me and I'm thinking Oh shit man, leave me alone, since he's, like, so not my type. Fortunately at this point Jon appears. He's wearing this net thing which would probably look totally faggy on anyone else, but on him looks totally gorgeous. I rapidly start to feel better about this whole manoeuvre.
I'm like, Hey, is this your kind of scene?
He grins and shrugs, and shouts in my ear, I'm very adaptable! and then give me this sexy look in case I'm in any doubt as to what he means. I'm like, so there, man.
He orders a drink - of water, if you can believe it, and starts fiddling with the side pocket on his trousers. The skinhead sees this as an opportunity to move in again, and starts shouting in my ear some stuff about how he wants to show me his tattoo and will I come to the bathroom with him to see it?
I'm like, mouthing Help Me to Jon, who finally stops fiddling, licks his fingers and comes to rescue. He just leans forward, pushes this guy away and kisses me, and the next thing I know is his tongue is in my mouth, and there's something on it. Before I've even thought about what it is, I've swallowed. Then I realise. I'm like, so pissed off, and I shove him away.
Jon's goes, Hey, what's the deal? That's a good pill.
This'll probably make you snigger some, but until this point I've managed to remain a blissfully vitamin E-free zone. I tried a dab of coke in the toilet with some guy at Starlight (one of the fumblers), and weed is obviously always good for a rainy day, but this is totally new for me, and I'm not sure if I'm ready for it. Still, I didn't spit it out. I swallowed. Joke. Ha ha.
I'm like, Yeah, well thanks.
He's like cottoned on to my reaction, and looks a bit guilty. You don't do them? he says. I shrug, since what's the use of making a big deal out of it now?
Anyway, we shout at each other for a bit more over the music, and pretty soon we're kissing again, and I'm thinking that this is totally the night for it when I start to get this little tingle at the back of my spine. It starts right at the bottom and gradually travels upwards, till it's at my neck, and all of a sudden I'm dancing crazy and so's Jon, and I can't stop myself. But it's great. I'm telling you, I feel like I'm flying through the stars or something. There's all these sparks of happiness just igniting all across my body and it's like I'm on this new level where everything's just fucking wonderful. Nothing can stop me.
We wind up back at Jon's. I'm going to be in so much shit with Mum and Dad the next day, I'm thinking, but who cares? It's like, three o'clock, and I'm still feeling good, though I've kind of got used to it now and maybe it's even starting to wear off a bit.
We get a taxi, 'cos the idea of the bus is a total turn-off. I pretend to be too wrecked to function when the time comes to pay, since I used up the last of my money on the aniseed alcopop, but then I come right around once Jon's dealt with that little situation. Turns out he's staying in this flat in Kensington, which is totally swank. He reminds me that it belongs to his friend who's out of the country. I'm like, What are they, royalty?
We go to the kitchen, which is so big you can like, run and it'll still be a few seconds before you reach a wall. Jon makes us some tea and I hang around watching his cute behind as he gets out the cups.
So what's the deal with the age thing? I hear myself asking him all of a sudden. I don't know why I do - it must be this like, self-destructive urge to spoil everything or something.
He's like, Just a thing I have. When I was small my dad was always seeing younger men, and I always swore to myself I wouldn't turn into him.
That totally shuts me up for the next few minutes while the tea brews. While he drinks it he goes into greater detail about his parents. Turns out they were totally fucked up too. He had this crazy gay dad who used to offer him speedballs, and this Barbie-doll mom who was, like, obsessed with plastic surgery and now looks like the Bride of Wildenstein. By the time he's finished I'm almost at the stage where I'm glad of who my parents are. Almost but not even.
We go to the bedroom and Wow. It's like one of those penthouse suites from the perfume ads where everything is impossibly perfect. The walls look like they're lined with silver and there are pillars, like, from a temple around the door and windows. There are red silk sheets on this bed that's, like, a mile wide, and on the ceiling there's this mirror so you can, like, watch yourself doing it.
Jon's like, What do you think?
I'm like, It's OK.
He thinks this is funny, and he gives me this affectionate poke which turns into a full-on grope. I give him one back and we kind of flop on to the bed, kissing. But then the weirdest thing happens. This great wave of stuff comes over me. Like, stuff. I don't know how else to describe it. I have all these good and bad feelings, like a total nostalgia overload. It's feelings about all these random people I can't stop thinking about. Like Fabian, and how we used to be friends and how sad it is that we don't hang out any more because he's this screwed up Nazi loser now. Like Mary and how she fancies me and how sad it is for her because she could have any boy in the school but she wants me and it's never gonna happen. Or Teresa (if you can believe it), and how maybe beyond the whole religious thing and beyond the whole spoilt-brat thing she's actually just this confused teenage girl and that's kind of a sad thing too. I even think of Fellows and how sad it is 'cos he does genuinely mean well even if he doesn't know the difference between his mouth and his anus.
So we're like, kissing and all that on the bed and I'm not feeling it. This should be really great. I've like, totally had a hard-on for this guy since I first laid eyes on him. He keeps moving his hand down to my cock, but it's just not working like it should. It's not stage fright either, which I've never had a problem with. It's just that I've got this woozy sensation all over and I can't seem to concentrate. The truth is this bed is so nice and big I just wanna shut my eyes and roll around on it.
Jon's like, Oh fuck, you're one of those.
I'm like, One of what?
Jon's like, You can't get it up on E.
I'm like, Oh. It seems to make sense, and in a way it's all pretty funny, since he was the one who tongued me with it. But he's horny, and he keeps trying to grab me. I give it another go, but all of a sudden sex is the last thing on my mind. I'm getting these ideas about what Mum and Dad are gonna think if they wake up and somehow discover that I'm not in my room. They'll either disown me or padlock all the exits, I think, which is stupid because all that'll happen is the same thing that always happens, which is that Mum'll go on a death rave and Dad'll stand there behind her trying to look like he matters. It's the drug that has me all bothered, I'm sure, but it's weird and I just can't stop thinking about it. I have this overpowering feeling that I need to be home, back in my own bed. Then, and this is like, über-weird, I find myself actually missing Mum.
Jon's like, totally stunned when I say I have to leave. He pleads with me not to, but I'm like, totally focused on this new mission. It's the E, it must be, 'cos it feel
s great to actually have this journey planned out ahead of me. To be actually going home.
At first he walks with me along the road to the bus stop, saying that he doesn't get it but he knows someone else who can't sleep in other people's beds and oh well he doesn't mind so long as I don't have any flatmates who are going to be annoyed by us getting in so early in the morning. He goes on and on, and it must be something about the E too because I didn't know he could be such a talker. There's like, smoke coming off his jaw from so much use.
Once we're at the stop I realise I can't have him come back to Mum and Dad's. Without thinking I kind of go ahead and say so, whereupon his face literally gains another six inches as his mouth drops open. Whoops. Forgot about that.
How old are you? he demands.
I'm like, completely found out, but I tell him I'm seventeen to ease the pain a little. He looks like he's going into shock or something. He kind of drops to his knees and goes all foetal, and then starts rocking back and forth repeating Fuck, oh fuck! in this tinsey-winsey little voice like he's just found out that death exists or something.
Just chill, I tell him.
Don't you tell me to chill! he goes, and he sounds really like he's about to explode. For a minute I think I'm going to have a fight on my hands. Jon's quite big like, in terms of body weight, and there's no way I'd stand much of a chance against him (but just in case I prepare my fingers for Uma Thurman's eye-jabbing move in Kill Bill II).
I'm like, Listen, what's the big deal?
