by Will Davis
The bath-times are this super-shaming piece of our history together which The Nun likes to bring up when the whole family's together, like we're all supposed to find it really cute and laugh about it or something. Probably it was cute back then, but seeing how Teresa's turned out the idea of it now is like, totally gross and weird. But in a way it's quite a sad story really, and of course the reason for it being sad is all to do with Mum. I remember our last bath together, which was when we were like, eight and seven, and how Dad let us use some of Mum's bubble bath and we were building things out of it, giving ourselves beards and stuff. Then Mum comes back from work after having read this magazine article on teenage deviancy. Dad's downstairs watching TV and she asks him where we are and when he tells her we're where we always are on a Tuesday night she has like, multiple paroxysms. I actually have the memory to cherish of her marching into the bathroom and pulling me out of the tub by my neck, like me and Teresa are having incest or something. So that's like, this massive rift in our childhood, and probably the reason we're so different and hate each other is all totally Mum's fault.
But I guess we really stopped getting on around the same time it became clear that Teresa was one of those freaks who actually enjoys studying, which prompted Mum and Dad to enrol her in this prissy convent school up the road from us where she's seen as like, their star pupil or something. The one time I went there, which was with Mum to watch her perform in some crappy play, it was immediately clear to me that all the teachers and nuns have got like, major crushes on her. They kept running up to us and congratulating us for being like, related to her, and when she came on at the end to take a bow the Sister sat next to us was positively weeping with joy. Probably she's being molested or something, which is why she's all screwed up and religious now. You don't have to be Derren Brown to figure out the nuns there are basically just a bunch of lezzers in total denial of themselves. Plus you've already met The Order, so you know what her friends are like.
Anyway, once we started going to the separate schools we kind of stopped getting along too. All of a sudden she was coming back with these coloured ribbons for having like, the biggest vocabulary in her class or being able to braid her hair blindfolded with one hand tied behind her back or something, and meanwhile I was discovering that basically school is just a load of wankers, some of whom teach and the rest of whom sit next to you in class. So we kind of developed different outlooks and just got further and further apart until we were at like, opposite ends of the spectrum. We still had the odd moments of being civil though, right up until last year I guess. Like once or twice we'd share a joke, or Dad would say something lame or Mum would freak out about a piece of fluff on the carpet and we'd be like, united in pity for them. But then she refused to call me Jaz and I started calling her The Nun and then the Devil started possessing her and now it's like, if Mum and Dad ever do split up we're so not gonna end up living with the same parent. Probably we'd both make a beeline for Dad, but I'll settle for Mum if it comes to it.
About three years ago The Nun got this pet rabbit as a reward for acing her exams. I was offered the same deal but I couldn't be bothered and besides back then I wanted a PlayStation, which Mum refused to get me 'cos she said it induced violent behaviour, as if I was just this robot waiting to be programmed. What Teresa actually wanted was a horse, like every other teenage girl seems to want (there's, like, this gene for it or something), but she had to settle for this bunny. She spent ages trying to decide on what to call it. Eventually it got called Rabbity, which just goes to show that being clever doesn't also guarantee you'll be creative.
When she got Rabbity it was this huge deal. Dad called me downstairs to the kitchen to like, welcome this new member of the family. They gave it to her all wrapped up in this box in shiny silver paper, so the poor bunny must have felt like it was in a coffin or something. I think that's cruel. I'm not a vegetarian or anything, but I do think putting an animal in a small box with no windows is pretty cruel, 'cos it's kind of like being buried alive. Al's like, totally pro-animal rights, and sometimes she goes on about the poor foxes or minks getting made into coats and how would you like it if it was done to you? I say if you've ever seen a real live mink you lose sympathy for them pretty fast 'cos they're horrible animals, always wanting to get their claws at your eyes. You can make 'em into tea cosies for all I care. But I wouldn't be so cruel as to stick them in a small box covered with wrapping paper.
The rabbit sort of nosed its way out of the box, all suspicious like it didn't trust anyone. Teresa took one look at it and started leaping up and down a bit like one herself, and screaming with joy. This was the first thing the poor rabbit must have seen, so it's not really surprising it retreated right back inside the box again.
Teresa was like, She's the cutest thing I've ever seen! She started poking the box, trying to get it to come out again.
Mum and Dad both had these ridiculous smiles on their faces like The Joker or something. They always get these smiles that look like they've been airbrushed on whenever we're together as a family and are supposed to be having one of those scenes which magazines and stuff tell you are meant to be timeless. They sure feel like it. But it's a load of bullshit really, 'cos it's all totally fake, and like I've said the only time Mum and Dad really look like they're genuinely glad to be together is when something fucks up and they have each other to hold on to.
Anyway, this rabbit finally got emptied out of the box and The Nun was all ga-ga over her and we all played pass the bunny and that was that. New member of the family recruited. But it's kind of funny, 'cos Dad got to hate that rabbit with a passion. It was winter and The Nun was supposed to be keeping it in her room but it started to stink the place out because it kept soiling the carpet. It turned out Rabbity could produce droppings like a factory. So in the end Mum told her she could bring it downstairs and let it run around on the kitchen floor so long as she promised to shovel up afterwards.
Dad couldn't stand it. This was before he became a chef at Breeze and he had this job where he was supposed to be assisting this writer by testing out her recipes for her. The Nun basically moved her whole life to the kitchen and whenever he was cooking he'd have to play dodge with this rabbit. It became like, totally normal to hear him shouting Ouch! or something even ruder if he was carrying stuff. It went on for weeks, and Dad grew to hate that rabbit like it was his own personal nemesis. He was always trying to get Teresa to trade it in for a nice quiet turtle or something, but of course she was having none of it because she thought of it as her baby or something and even thought the droppings were cute.
Anyway, so Dad was always tripping or getting burnt or something, while the bunny never got injured once, until this one fateful day when Dad dropped like this whole vat of caramel on it, which pretty much boiled the poor thing alive right there on the floor. It was kind of gross, 'cos there was all this congealed brown stuff all over its fur and it was all mangled and bloody in places. Plus it stayed alive all the way to the vet, who saw right away there wasn't much hope for it and put it down. It's a pretty horrible way to go. The Nun was traumatised by it, and Dad was like, guilty as. For the whole of the next year he was super-nice to The Nun and kept cooking little treats for us all and stuff, and she got quite used to this treatment and whenever she wanted something that she wasn't supposed to be allowed she'd just launch into tears about Rabbity. He probably would have even bought her a bloody horse if Mum hadn't put her foot down about it. That's how we ended up with Bilbo. To shut her up, basically.
But, and this is the important bit, right after Rabbity got stewed Teresa was so devastated she cried in her room for a whole week and refused to even look at Dad or talk to anyone else. Meanwhile we had this rabbit body decomposing in a black bag on the back doorstep. The vet had offered to dispose of it but Teresa had screamed at the idea that it might not get a proper Christian burial, so when her week of mourning was up it got taken out into the back garden and given this whole ceremony. It was still cold and
icy and Dad pretty much bust his back digging out a trench for it to go in, which must just have made him hate Rabbity even more. He also had to shell out for this baby tree, which was The Nun's idea, which they planted over the top of it to like, symbolise its spirit or something. She took pretty good care of that tree though. Sometimes, when she wasn't talking to Jesus or God, she'd go and stand in front of it. Mum and Dad never knew, I think, but she was whispering stuff to it, like the tree really was Rabbity now. I know this 'cos I heard her when I was having a secret smoke behind our old shed this one time. It was pretty freaky, but maybe you'll find it touching if you've got like, a soft spot for girls who miss their fluffy dead pets. As far as I know she was still going out there to whisper her secrets to it right up to the point where I kicked it down.
Yeah. That's what I did. I don't know exactly why. I mean, I was kind of in shock, I suppose, over this thing that happened that day. I was kind of feeling all angry at her too, and my whole perspective was totally like, angular. I guess that probably won't excuse it to you, and I've got to admit it wasn't too lovely of me, but all I'm trying to say here is it wasn't like I did it because I'm evil or anything. I was just wandering back and forth in this straight line (our garden's pretty small so there's not much else you can do) and I was looking at this tree and feeling really mad at like, The World. And I kept thinking about The Nun and how she'd informed on me going out and how smug she'd been about it and how much I hated her. She just became like, this focus of everything that'd gone wrong, like ever. And then I noticed the tree and I just thought Fuck it and next thing I knew I'd given it like this full-on roundhouse, which I practise in my room sometimes and which I'm pretty good at doing. And then I was kicking it and kicking it for all I was worth. After my fit finally subsided I looked down and saw that the tree was now just, like, a log and stump and I was in deep shit. But the worst thing was I didn't even care. It was like I'd totally lost my clutch.
15
So, stepping back in time here, Mum's got this new curfew thing going on, which is where she says I can go out at the weekend but I've got to be back before twelve. Also she wants this like, detailed plan of what I'm going to be doing and says she's going to call me halfway through the evening to make sure of it, which is like, lamest of the lame. Anyway, she knows all about Mary's party 'cos somehow it's become like, this legend at school and everybody wants to go to it (apparently), and even the teachers and parents know it's happening.
Al takes like, a century to get ready. When she finally comes downstairs after leaving me to deal with a total overload of awkwardness with her Mum (who spends the whole time gabbing about school and is super-careful not to come within a metre's distance of me), she's wearing this miniskirt and low-cut red top and has got blonde extensions clipped to her hair. She's even got heels on. It's basically just like the kind of get-up Mary and her posse totter around in.
Hi there, Al goes in this deep, throaty voice.
I'm like, What are you referencing?
She's like, I just felt like I'd try a change, all breezily like she's undergone some dramatic de-spectacle-isation scenario and emerged a beauty queen.
Darling, are you sure you should be wearing that top? goes Mrs Rutland nervously.
Al waves her off and then we leave for the party. All the way there Al's teetering like any second she's gonna do a forward flip. I'm sure it's going to be a total drag but she's all geared up, being the kind of kid who never gets invited to this gang's dos. Right at the last minute I go, Are you sure you want to do this? but she totally insists on it and tells me she'll never forgive me if I don't take her on this like, golden opportunity to be made to feel insecure for the rest of her life.
Mary's house is in Kensington and it's pretty posh. The second we walk up the drive you can hear the usual whoops and laughs and my heart's just sinking at the prospect of putting myself through this, but we've come this far so we keep on going. On the porch there're a couple of older kids I've never seen before drinking beer and smoking a joint while at the same time being like, bouncers or something. Seeing them makes me a little hopeful that inside there might actually be some vaguely cool people, so I chin up a bit. We're friends of Mary's, I go and they smile and nod and gesture for us to go inside.
No sooner have we got in the door than Mary is on top of me. She must have been watching at the window like some heroine in a Victorian novel or something. She appears out of nowhere with this smile which is totally blinding even without much light on it, and then like, welds herself to my arm. She's wearing this glittery black top which her boobs are like, overflowing out of. Straight away she starts propelling me in the direction of the music.
I'm so glad you came! she says, totally unnecessarily. Everyone's here! It's really kicking.
I'm like, Oh. Cool.
From behind us Al's like, Hi Mary, in this pipsqueak voice.
Mary looks over her shoulder as if she's just noticed the donkey that brought me here and then goes, Oh hi, in this total maybe-I-could-care-less-if-I-could-actually-be-bothered-to kind of a way, before immediately turning back to me. I can positively feel the vibes of fury Al is now transmitting. Good, I think, since it means we can go soon.
In the living-room the lights are all dimmed and the speakers are blaring some out some electro crap. Mary wasn't lying about the place being full, but of course her definition of Everyone is everyone from our school, which is a total let-down, because of course everyone from St Matthew's is some style of loser. It's like a zoo freak-show exhibit because here they all are, every like, subspecies of school attendee: the football heroes, the tennis preeners, the IT jerks, the Samaritan bitches and the redneck toffs. There are even a few spectoids, who've somehow slipped into the party unnoticed and now stand out like a clump of mutant bacteria in a petri dish. So it's like there's a representative for every demographic, and looking around it's so depressing I just want to curl up and cry. It's like I'm in the middle of this great human stew which is made up of all these types which everyone already knows, and which holds no surprises at all. It's such a total yawn. I mean it's like, can't someone just get a morsel of originality or something? I don't know, maybe this sounds totally OTT to you, and you're like, thinking, So what makes him such hot shit? But I never said I was special or anything, so if that's what you are thinking just remember that you can LIC. And I'm sorry if it sounds like I'm being all negative, but quite frankly the way I feel is that if this is what it's All About then someone better give me some medication or something. Fast. Because I totally Do Not See It.
Mary parades me around the crowd like I'm this trophy she's just been awarded. Various people including Kathy and Athena turn and go Hi! in these super-bright voices, like all of a sudden we're best buddies or something. Meanwhile Al loiters behind us like a steward. We wind up at the corner of the room where the more popular kids have gathered like it's a VIP area or something. If you can't see it just imagine a scene out of Carrie. About half the guys are dressed in these oversized T-shirts with Che Guevara on, and they're all digging each other in the ribs, gulping from cans of beer and burping in a way that by comparison would make Homer Simpson look sexy. They're so not even worth wasting your eyesight on. Meanwhile half the girls are standing around against the wall trying to look like models. Instead it looks like they're waiting for life to happen to them or something. The other half are dancing with rest of the crowd, doing en masse homage to Beyonce by waving their bits around like every roll of puppy fat is a gift from God (it's like, someone please bring back heroin chic - and like, soon).
It's really rocking, says Mary, who's obviously really proud because it's her party.
I'm like, Yeah, cringing all over.
After a bit of mindless banter with various loser nobodies Mary forces me towards the kitchen. Al's like, trying to make conversation with her, but Mary just brushes her away like she's a glob of dirt, and at some point or other she gets lost in the sea of insignificance behind us.
In
the kitchen is Ian, who's this fitness obsessive. His head is being supported over the sink by Kristy, who's this total slut and who's making these cooing sounds like the sight him choking back his vomit is the prettiest thing she's ever seen. It's not even ten o' clock, so this kind of thing is even more stale than it ought to be.
Looks like Ian's had a bit too much, goes Mary, who's clearly got this talent for making like, redundant observations.
I'm like, Uh huh.
Mary gets me a bottle of beer and one for herself, and then sits on the counter and starts telling me the story of her life, like my sole purpose on this planet is to be fascinated by her. It's like, Pass the Valium. I try to at least nod along, but I keep getting distracted by the sounds of Ian's retching just a few feet away, and then the complete grossness of realising that it's actually, the sound of him and Kristy snogging. I'm like, Someone get me out of here, but then I realise what Mary is now saying to me. She's going, I've always kind of liked you, it's just that you're so aloof. It's hard for a girl to talk to you, you know?
She gives me this meaningful look, like I'm in any shade of doubt about what she wants here. Another blinding smile. Then she starts leaning in with her eyes closed. It's like it's happening in slow motion and I have this full-on urge to burst out laughing because it's like, total amateur's night. I don't do that though of course, 'cos I know that would be like scarring her for life.
Still, the sad truth is there's no nice way to let someone down so I'm like, I better go look for Al! like God's suddenly just given me this mission or something. Before Mary has a chance to like, open her eyes and realise I'm not there any more I'm running for it.
I fully expect to find Al hanging out with the nerds in Rejectsville and wanting to go, but I can't see her anywhere. I ask one of the nerds if they've seen her but they get so flustered from the fact that someone's actually noticed their existence I can't figure out what they're saying to me. It kind of makes you wonder why they bother - they all look round with these faces like they know this is where they're supposed to want to be, but in reality it's totally obvious they'd be much happier at home deciphering algebra. They should just deal with it.
