Bad Influence

by William Sutcliffe

  As she and Lucy get closer, there’s something about the way they’re walking that gives me the heebie-jeebies. They’re not heading up to the shopping centre or going on to McDonald’s, they’re coming straight at us. It’s not dead straight, since their balance isn’t very good because they hook their arms together when they walk, as if they’re trying to pretend they’re one four-legged animal. They practically are, as well.

  FIGURE 7.

  HOW TO BEHAVE IN PUBLIC WITH RACHEL : TERMS OF THE PEACE TREATY

  By the time Rachel and Lucy are a few metres away, it’s obvious they’re coming towards me. Carl and Olly are staring at them, and I’m dreading what’s going to happen next. I don’t know what it’s going to be, but there has to be a reason why Rachel’s coming to talk to me, and that reason has to be bad.

  You know how it goes dark just before it buckets with rain? That’s how I feel.

  But she comes right up to me, then walks past, and stops in front of Carl. ‘You’re Chainsaw Boy, aren’t you?’ she says.

  He looks up at her, and takes an extra long time to answer. ‘Who’s asking?’ he says.

  ‘You attacked my dad with a chainsaw, didn’t you?’

  Carl looks at me, and back at Rachel, then he does it again, checking us out – brother and sister.

  ‘I never attacked him,’ he says, eventually.

  ‘Yes, you did,’ she says.

  ‘No, I didn’t.’

  He’s got a funny look. It’s not the funny look he gets if I contradict him, it’s a different funny look. He’s smiling and not smiling at the same time. You can see right into his eyes, big and blue and clear.

  ‘You did. I saw.’

  ‘I wasn’t attacking him.’

  ‘What were you doing, then?’

  Carl takes ages to answer. It’s not like he’s trying to think of what to say, though. He’s just making them wait.

  ‘I was showing him how it works, wasn’t I.’

  Rachel and Lucy both crack up laughing. But they don’t take their eyes off him. They toss their hair around for ages to get it back to where it was before they started laughing, then Lucy pipes up. ‘Rachel wants to know if you’re a psycho.’

  He doesn’t even flinch. ‘Maybe I want to know if she’s a psycho,’ he says. The way he’s talking, you’d think he was a different person. His voice is all sweet and he’s got a little smirk at the corner of his mouth that I’ve never seen before.

  ‘Well, she’s not,’ says Lucy.

  ‘And I’m supposed to take your word for it, am I?’ he says.

  Rachel whispers something to Lucy, and they walk off, but after a couple of steps they stop and turn round.

  ‘How old are you?’ asks Rachel.

  Me and Olly both stare at Carl. We’ve never asked. It’s because we think he’s older than us but, if he tells us he’s older, it’ll make things different. It’ll mean he can tell us what to do more. But it’ll also do the opposite because, if he is older, it makes him a bit of a saddo that he isn’t with people his own age. It’s better to leave it unsaid.

  ‘How old are you?’ he says.

  ‘Thirteen.’ They both answer together.

  ‘Me, too,’ he says.

  ‘What are you doing with them, then?’ Rachel says, flapping a hand at me and Olly without even looking at us.

  ‘Babysitting, aren’t I,’ he says.

  They both stare at Carl out of the edges of their eyes, taking him in like he’s a plate of food they might eat or might throw away.

  ‘Want some Slush Puppy?’

  He tilts his straw at them. This is a record. Carl offering someone something.

  ‘What flavour is it?’ asks Lucy. She’s a bit fat.

  ‘Blue,’ he says.

  ‘That’s not a flavour.’

  ‘Yes, it is.’

  ‘It’s a colour.’

  ‘It’s both.’

  ‘No such thing.’

  ‘What’s orange, then?’

  ‘Clever dick,’ says Rachel.

  ‘Smartypants,’ says Lucy.

  Then the two of them run away. Literally, run. It’s embarrassing. It’s like they’re seven.

  ‘You’re thirteen?’ I say.

  ‘No.’ He’s not even looking at me. He’s watching Rachel and Lucy head up to the shopping centre.

  ‘You told them you were.’

  ‘Well done, deaf aid.’

  ‘But you’re not?’

  He shrugs.

  ‘You twelve?’

  He shrugs again.

  ‘Eleven?’

  ‘Let’s go after them,’ he says.

  ‘No way.’

  ‘Stay here, then. I don’t care.’

  Then he’s up and off, following Rachel and Lucy.

  Me and Olly sit there for a bit. There’s no way I’m following my own sister around a shopping centre on a Saturday afternoon. Absolutely no way.

  Olly’s had proof about the chainsaw story now. He can’t still tell me it’s a lie. I’m trying to think of a non-gloaty way to point this out, when Olly stands up and runs after Carl.

  Sitting there on my own, I feel like a total idiot. There’s still a whole afternoon to go. If I let Carl and Olly leave me out, it’ll be the beginning of them doing it more and more often. I know that’s what Carl wants. He wants to cut me out. I don’t even think it’s because he likes Olly more than me or because he thinks he’ll have more fun without me. It’s just that he’s trying to beat me. And if he gets rid of me, that’s how he’ll know he’s won.

  I swivel in my seat, and I can see Olly’s hair straight away. Him and Carl are just going up the steps into the shopping centre. Before I know it, I’m running after them.

  I find them in Dixons. Carl’s pretending to look at TVs, but is actually staring out of the window at the entrance to Chelsea Girl over the way. Olly’s gazing at the different piles of blank tapes, and you can tell from the way his lips are moving that he’s trying to work out how much cheaper a five-pack is. He does this every time we go into Dixons. Olly’s tortured about the difference between a D90, an AD90 and an AR90. He has a personality crisis every time he buys a blank tape, and that’s before you even factor in the single, three-pack, five-pack problem. He used to agonize over the sixty versus ninety thing, too, but he’s got over that now. Olly’s dad’s got a tape-to-tape with high-speed dubbing. You can turn the volume up while it’s going, and it sounds like mice singing. Olly’s the taping guru because of his dad’s stereo.

  ‘Let’s go,’ Carl barks.

  We turn, and he’s already out the door.

  When we catch up with him, he sticks out an arm to hold us back, and puts a finger to his lips. He points up ahead, and we can see Rachel and Lucy not far in front, doing their leany walk across the marble floor.

  We follow them all the way to Etam. They go in, and Carl spins us all round to face the nearest shop, two down from where Rachel and Lucy are. The three of us pretend to look in the window, which is stupid, because it’s a jeweller’s, and we’re looking at a display of wedding rings.

  ‘This is boring,’ I say.

  ‘Shut up,’ says Carl.

  ‘What are we standing here for?’ I say.

  ‘Because I want to.’

  ‘Let’s go.’

  ‘Shut up whingeing.’

  ‘Bloody ‘ell!’ says Olly. ‘That one’s three hundred pounds!’

  We’re there for ages, long enough to buy ten years’ worth of clothes, but when Rachel and Lucy come out they aren’t even carrying anything. That’s when they see us. Or Carl, anyway.

  Lucy spots him first, looks away, whispers something to Rachel, then they both look, and rush off.

  ‘They’ve seen us,’ I say. ‘Let’s go.’

  But Carl’s already gone after them. Then Olly, too. I don’t have an option. I have to go, following my sister around the shopping centre. This is the bleakest day of my life.

  Rachel and Lucy duck into the Body Shop, and Carl g
oes right in after them. This is one step too far for me and Olly. We just hover in the doorway, watching. Rachel and Lucy go round the whole shop, like they’ve never seen any of it before, spraying, dabbing, sniffing and wiping little patches of things on the back of their hands. Carl does the same, but only in the bit of the shop with soaps and shampoo. He’s not really looking at any of it, though, he’s just watching the girls. He doesn’t even pretend he isn’t. Every time they look up they see him staring at them, which makes them just concentrate harder on the bottles and tubes in their hands, but you can tell they’re not really thinking about shopping, either.

  There’s a spot where the women’s stuff joins the men’s stuff, and the three of them get there at the same time. They stop staring, and for a moment it looks like they’ve never met. Then Rachel sprays a tester right at Carl’s head, and the two girls crack up, dump everything and run right out of the shop. They go past us as if we’re invisible, so close that the stink of them makes my nose itch. Between them they’re wearing every tester in the shop. Carl’s after them straight away, running, and he also pretends we’re not there.

  The girls head straight for the escalator that goes up to the food hall. Carl’s right behind them.

  Me and Olly stand there in the door of the Body Shop for ages, not speaking.

  Rachel, Lucy and Carl have long since disappeared from sight when Olly says, ‘Shall we see what’s happened?’

  It doesn’t feel like following any more. It’s just curiosity. I nod, and we walk slowly to the escalator. We go all the way up in silence, just letting it carry us even though there’s no one in front to stop us walking.

  The food court’s mostly empty. We can’t see them anywhere. We do a big circle, all the way round, before we get to the corner where the emergency exits are and see the three of them, in the most hidden table of the whole place, sitting together with an ice cream each.

  Lucy looks a bit embarrassed, but the other two just stare at us crossly. It’s as if they’ve got a word each stamped on their foreheads: ‘GO’ on Carl’s and ‘AWAY’ on Rachel’s. By the way Olly’s shifting from foot to foot, I can tell he just wants to turn and leave. That’s the worst thing we could do, though. We mustn’t let Carl and Rachel humiliate us.

  I can’t stare for long, or they’ll think I’m upset.

  ‘Let’s get some chips,’ I say, just to Olly, but in a voice that everyone can hear. Chips are more grown-up than ice cream.

  We get them from the burger counter and sit at a table on the other side of the hall, too far away for them to think we’re watching, but close enough to see what’s going on. I make sure it’s me facing away from them and Olly towards. He keeps me posted, but there’s nothing to report except that they just carry on talking.

  Long after we’ve finished our chips, we’re in the middle of making sugar patterns on the table when suddenly there’s a huff of air, sugar granules are all over the place and Carl’s sitting at our table, smiling his wonky smile.

  ‘All right?’ he says.

  I look round and the girls have disappeared.

  Carl’s House

  On the way back from the shopping centre no one speaks much. Even Olly realizes that Carl’s gone too far.

  Both of us being cross with him is a first. I have to do something with it, before it goes away, but I can’t think how to turn Olly’s anger into anything useful. I just know it’s an opportunity. A chance to tip the balance back towards me.

  It happens in wrestling all the time, when one guy is beating up the other guy, but he gets too cocky and starts showing off, and makes a mistake, and the guy who was losing suddenly switches it round and beats up the guy who up until then was winning. Dad laughs at it and says it’s all a fix, but he doesn’t understand. You can learn everything you need to know from wrestling.

  Carl’s trying to chat as we wander home, but neither me or Olly is answering properly. He can’t just ignore us one minute, then try and be our friend the next. He can’t take sides with my sister against me. That’s not how things work. Even Olly knows that.

  Then I get an idea. ‘Let’s go to your house, Carl,’ I say.

  He gives me a quick, sharp look. We’ve never been there, not once. Carl’s always acted like it’s not an option. It’s one of those houses you can tell from the street doesn’t get any visitors. If you had a paper round, you’d want to skip it.

  Carl pretends I haven’t said anything.

  When we get to the corner where it’s one way to Olly’s and another way to Carl’s and mine, Carl keeps on going to Olly’s, like normal. I stop, and Olly stops with me, which is a good sign. It feels great to have Olly there, next to me, starting something against Carl.

  ‘I thought we were going to yours,’ I say.

  ‘Why d’you think that?’

  ‘You didn’t say no.’

  ‘I didn’t say yes.’

  ‘So let’s go, then.’

  ‘I don’t want to.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I just don’t.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I just don’t.’

  ‘What if Olly doesn’t want you to go to his?’

  ‘Who says he doesn’t?’

  ‘Olly does.’

  ‘Says you.’

  ‘Says him.’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Yeah. Isn’t that right?’

  We both turn to Olly. He’s standing there, not looking at either of us.

  ‘You want to go to Carl’s, don’t you?’ I say.

  He looks at me, then at Carl, then at me, then at the ground. He nods.

  ‘See?’ I say.

  ‘Why are you such a baby?’ says Carl.

  I shrug. He’s just trying to change the subject.

  ‘I’m going home,’ Carl says. ‘This is boring.’

  ‘You not inviting us?’ I say.

  ‘No.’

  ‘What if we come anyway?’

  ‘You can’t,’ he says.

  ‘What if we follow you?’

  He steps right up to me, close as someone who’s about to give you a kiss. He looks right into my eyes, not blinking. ‘You wouldn’t dare.’

  ‘You reckon?’ I say. I try not to blink, but I can’t do it. I end up blinking twice as much as normal.

  ‘Yeah, I reckon,’ he says. And without looking back, he slowly walks home.

  We watch him for a bit, ambling away, and part of me just wants to give up, but I make myself hit Olly on the arm and say, ‘Come on.’

  We cross the road after Carl and duck into the driveway of the first house on the block. I poke my head out and watch until Carl goes round the corner into my street. We jump out and sprint for it, right to the corner, then we pin ourselves against a fence and peek round.

  Carl’s still walking home, not waiting to ambush us, or even turning to see if we’re behind. His walk’s more of a lollop than usual, and he’s scuffing his heels on the ground with each step.

  When he’s way ahead, we sneak up a few houses and duck into a driveway. We have to do it in stages, sprinting then waiting, so if he turns round he probably won’t see us. We don’t really have to do it at all, since we know where his house is, and we know he’s going there, but that’s beside the point. It feels right to be tailing him.

  He doesn’t turn round once. By the time we get to his house, we reckon it’s about 50/50 whether he knew we were following and ignored us, or whether we did the whole thing unnoticed.

  Standing in the drive of Carl’s neighbour, with him disappeared inside, we don’t know what to do next. If we want to prove a point, we have to ring the doorbell and tell him we’ve come to visit. That’s what we threatened to do. Just following him home then chickening out doesn’t achieve anything. We might as well not have bothered. Except that up close, with the scary, flaky house right there in front of us, neither me or Olly feels like seeing it through. There’s something about the way the
curtains are all closed, or about the heaps of stinky bags where the bin ought to be, that makes you not want to go in.

  A light goes on upstairs, which is probably Carl’s room, but could be someone else’s. After a while, it feels strange to be standing there in Carl’s neighbour’s driveway, not doing anything except spying.

  ‘Are we gonna do it?’ says Olly. It’s not a challenge, it’s just a question, but I don’t want to be the one that admits to bottling it.

  ‘S’pose so.’

  ‘Go on, then.’

  ‘We’re doing it together.’

  ‘I know.’

  If there was a record for the slowest walk ever up a front path, we would have won it. We keep on stopping, staring at each other, then almost scarpering, but not. Even when we get right up to the door it’s ages before either of us rings. Just touching the bell without even pressing it makes us feel funny, and both of us has to try several times before I finally manage to give it a proper push. Even after that we’re within one twitch of running for it.

  There are loads of locks which clunk and slide before the door swings open. But it’s not Carl. It’s a woman. His mum. It’s normal, really, that she should answer the door of her own house, but neither of us is prepared for it to be anyone other than Carl, and the sight of her makes me instantly regret what we’ve done.

  Her face is all made up for a party that looks as if it happened days ago. She’s wearing black leggings and a baggy white T-shirt which says ‘RELAX’ on it in huge letters. You don’t normally notice what someone’s wearing. It’s only when it looks wrong that people’s clothes stand out, and there’s definitely something wrong about Carl’s mum. She’s dressed like she’s going out from the neck up and staying in from the neck down.

  Her hair’s all bouffed up, except for one side where she’s probably slept on it. At first she looks right over our heads, and it takes a moment for her to look down and see us. When she does, she peers into our faces as if she can’t tell whether she’s supposed to know who we are. There’s something strange about the slow way she looks at us, with a shiny stillness in her eyes like someone playing dead.

  I really wish we’d never rung the bell now, but it’s too late to turn back. ‘We’re Carl’s friends,’ I say.