Pica

by Jeff Gardiner

  ‘Yeah, so I thought you’d get all the work done then, so I could just copy it.’

  ‘No. She set me extra work on top of that. She said if I didn’t hand it all in tomorrow then she’d get my parents in.’ Her casual assumption annoyed me slightly.

  ‘Oh. So you ain’t got it then?’ She didn’t appear too concerned about my doomed fate. ‘Who else can I ask?’

  At first I felt hurt that she’d have to go elsewhere, but then realised getting the work from someone else could be mutually beneficial.

  ‘Then we can both copy their work. Thanks Cheryl – BFF.’

  ‘Um, yeah. Yeah, course.’ She began texting manically.

  ‘Flippin’ school, eh?’ I said, groaning.

  ‘Yeah. Well moody teachers making our lives a misery.’

  ‘All just a bunch of psychopathic sadists who want to take out their own problems on a bunch of defenceless kids.’

  ‘Sadies?’ Cheryl shook her head at me, still texting. ‘What the hell’s that? God, the words you come out with.’

  ‘Sadists. It means they like hurting people. They take out their own angst and neuroses on us lot.’

  ‘If you say so, darling.’

  ‘It’s what Guy always says.’

  Cheryl stopped texting and stared at me intently.

  ‘What?’ I put on a bad American accent and waved a hand in front of her eyes. ‘Hello? Talk to me, girlfriend!’

  ‘You know where he is, don’t you?’

  ‘Huh?’ She caught me off guard, I had to admit.

  ‘Guy. You said it as if you still see him and talk to him, otherwise you’d have said, “That’s what he always used to say”.’

  I panicked, not having expected such lucid deduction from Cheryl. ‘Uh, it’s just a figure of speech. That’s what I meant to say … what you just said.’

  ‘I can tell by your eyes when you’re lying. You’re a really crappy liar, Luke. You know where he is. You’re always talking about him. And I know why.’

  She gave me a coy look and I could feel my face stretch into an ugly expression.

  ‘No, I don’t.’

  ‘It’s because you’re in love with him. He’s your boyfriend.’

  ‘No, he isn’t.’

  I’d got myself trapped in one of those conversations where the more I argued, the more defensive and guilty I sounded. Cheryl started laughing at me; not pleasantly – in a sneering way.

  ‘You keep telling me I’m your best friend, but I’m not. It’s him. It’ll always be him, won’t it? Well, that’s fine. If he means more to you than me then go. Go to him and get all the man-love you can. ’Cos from now on you’re not my BFF. I thought I could trust you. I thought we had something special – a connection. But you just think about him and talk about him all the time, and I get sick of hearing how amazing he is. Go on! Go to lover boy if I’m not good enough for you!’

  Where did that come from? How irrational did that just sound?

  Cheryl’s eyes were challenging and uncompromising. My mind went completely blank. What would sound right just at that moment? I wondered if Guy was there to help me. Then she did the girly thing of crying as if I’d caused her some great emotional pain.

  ‘You’ve got it all wrong, Cheryl. I am friends with Guy – or I was. But you’re my best friend, honest.’ Even I knew this sounded insincere. Whenever anybody ended a plea with ‘honest’, you could guarantee it wasn’t true; just like ‘But it wasn’t me’. I decided to confess there and then. ‘Look, Cheryl, I’ve got something important to tell you. I might as well tell you now. Please, don’t get angry with me, but … I’m … not gay.’

  Her face twisted into something unattractive, especially with the smudged eyeliner glooping down her face. Then her face broke into a smirk – as if the idea of me being heterosexual was too difficult to contemplate.

  ‘Of course you’re gay, don’t be stupid.’ Flecks of saliva collected round the edges of her lips. The black rivulets leaked further down her face.

  ‘I’m sorry, Cheryl. I’ve been lying to you. But I really do like you –’

  ‘What? You like me so much that you’ve been lying to me – every day now!’

  ‘It’s not like that. Our friendship means a lot me. I really, really like you, Cheryl.’ My mind spun, but this train wasn’t stopping now.

  ‘What you trying to say, Luke?’

  ‘I went along with the gay thing because I enjoy your company and it gave me the chance to spend time with you. I really fancy you –’

  ‘But that would mean you just pretended to be gay so you could watch me getting undressed and letch all over me!’

  While there was a certain element of truth, it didn’t really tell the whole story.

  ‘Nah! I don’t believe it.’ She looked me up and down and snorted with laughter. ‘You haven’t got the guts to do something like that. No, you’re definitely gay, honey. We got photographic evidence, remember? Connor calls you The Bum-Bandit.’ She laughed mockingly.

  ‘Connor?’ I spluttered. ‘What’s he got to do with anything? He’s a complete knob.’

  ‘We’re going out, if you wanna know the truth.’ She was full of surprises today.

  ‘What? You and Connor?’ Disbelief wasn’t the word.

  ‘I got a bit drunk at his party last week.’

  ‘Oh my God! But … Connor?’ My world imploded.

  ‘He’s a great kisser and he’s really misunderstood. Poor little love.’

  ‘You’re going out with Connor?!’

  ‘Yeah, what’s wrong with that?’

  ‘Well … because it’s Connor, that’s why. The guy’s a complete moron.’

  ‘He’s more of a man than you’ll ever be.’

  ‘No, no, no, no, no. This is all going wrong.’

  ‘He was right about you being a crap friend.’

  ‘What? He said that?’ I replied, gob-smacked.

  ‘Yeah. He warned me about you. And now I know he’s right. He might be a crap boyfriend with anger issues but at least he’s not a liar and a … a … bitch like you.’

  ‘What have I even done wrong?’

  ‘You’re always on about Guy. Guy this. Guy that. Well, sod off then and be Guy’s BFF. Looks like you’ve made your choice.’

  ‘But I really like you, Cheryl.’ This was hard to say at the moment with her black starfish eyes and ugly frown, but I kept getting images of her bra and knickers in my mind and couldn’t help thinking I’d missed out on something. My mind wasn’t working properly. ‘I really fancy you. I was waiting for the right time to ask you out.’

  ‘Nice try, but you don’t fool me. And even if you were straight? You? I wouldn’t fancy you. Eugh! You were lucky to be my friend for so long. But I’ve had enough of you now. I think you should sod off – once and for all.’

  Her phone beeped.

  ‘That’s Connor. He’s on his way round. I could tell him your story about perving and stalking me if you really want me to. And I’ll tell everyone that you know where Guy is!’

  I looked at her ugly face and shook my head slowly. With as much dignity as I could muster, I grabbed my coat and left. I passed her mum on the stairs and let myself out, leaving the front door wide open.

  Chapter Thirty-six

  What the hell would happen to me the next day at school? I tried feigning illness but Mum saw right through me. Then I considered truanting and going to Coney Island but I’d only get caught out and punished; I was still on report to make sure I attended all lessons. No, I had to face up to my fate and get through as best I could. In the cold light of day, the worst I could be accused of is lying and being a bit of a perv. Guilty on both counts, m’lud. Perhaps when the lads worked out the advantage of my plan, they might finally give me some respect; although if Connor was now going out with the girl I’d been stalking then I might just be dead meat. Perhaps being killed was the best thing all round.

  And why was Guy so quiet? Was he OK?

  That night, once
my parents had gone to bed, I experimented with learning how to become Felis. It seemed to take a great deal of concentration and clearing of my mind for me to learn any kind of control, yet after hours of patience and intense focus I only had a piercing headache to show for all my effort.

  I crept downstairs to get some headache tablets and a glass of water, remembering to give Frisky a quick pat as he uncurled slightly on the stool, making that weird pigeon noise which is half-purr, half-meow. Then I sneaked back to my bedroom, grateful for the supportive softness of my mattress; rolling up my pillow behind my neck, drifting in and out of consciousness as if in a hypnotic trance.

  As the headache slowly seeped away I enjoyed that goose-pimple moment of liberation and light-headedness. My entire body melted into a liquid of relaxation and at last I found the ability to focus. Now I could imagine myself with the streamlined body of a cat as my limbs became slender yet powerful and my senses heightened beyond human experience. I could extend and contract my claws at will; ‘see’ in the darkness – not only with brighter eyesight, but by the sixth sense of my whiskers that allowed me to feel the size and shapes of objects close by. I could even judge movements in the air around me through these sensitive strands attached to my face. And my hearing! My ears detected sounds completely unfamiliar to me. Suddenly my bedroom filled with a cacophony of noises; echoes of everything, however small, collecting in my brain for further analysis. Then the new smells. Each breath drew in layers of tastes and aromas – some pleasant, others rancid and making me recoil.

  I stood up on all fours and found my claws sticking annoyingly into the pillow and duvet with each step. I was about to leap off the bed and test my new-found agility when I smelt something strong and heard a noise that sent my instincts into defensive mode. The fur raised on my back, which became arched. Something other than logic had sensed a problem before my mind managed to work it out. The noise increased in volume behind me; a high-pitched growl that became a hiss. I leapt up and round to see a shadow just a few inches from my face. I thrust out a paw, but was too late. The attacker had already clawed my face and was now prone and hunched before me, ready to spring again. I yowled in pain and leapt off the bed to give myself a few seconds to prepare for the next strike.

  Now I could see Frisky on my bed, creeping right up to the edge, staring at me wildly. He had the advantage of height. His reactions were not surprising. He’d just encountered a strange cat in his house – his territory – so this behaviour was natural and instinctive. I’d been stupid enough to leave the kitchen door open and he’d come up innocently to sleep on my bed. Poor Frisky had never expected this.

  Unfortunately, I knew nothing about fighting. I had to let my feline senses take over. The human urge to use rational thinking served no purpose here. This fight was animalistic – about survival and use of natural skills. Frisky had more experience than me. He leapt at me again, without clawing at me this time. Now we stood face-to-face both trying to look as big as we could – in a crazed stand-off. His throaty yowl deepened as a warning to me. If I could I’d have turned and scarpered, but he’d cut off my only means of exit. I wondered if there was a cat way of showing respect and submitting. He certainly had the advantage over me and I would have been willing to yield to his superiority as a cat. Just as he lowered his haunches with his ears folded right back and face a demonic mask, a thought occurred to me in those fleeting seconds – I could regain the advantage as a human. I needed to stop panicking, overcome any fear inside me, and focus on my transformation. That’s what Guy would tell me to do.

  I inched closer to Frisky – which was counter-intuitive, but caused him to remain wary of me. This bought me a few moments to concentrate. When nothing happened I had to quell my fear and try again.

  Frisky seemed to sense something unusual occurring. In fact, it wasn’t until he started backing away with his growl getting deeper that I realised I was changing again. The whole room shrunk until I stood above Frisky, who stared then dashed suddenly out of the door and rushed downstairs, yowling his head off.

  I stood stock still with my feet refusing to move. Sounds from my parents’ room indicated that the noises had disturbed them. The whole fight must have lasted less than a minute, but Frisky’s terrified meows had echoed through the house.

  Mum reached the landing first.

  ‘It’s OK. It was Frisky,’ I explained as she came into my room.

  She turned on the light, which half-blinded me.

  ‘God, what’s happened to your face?’

  I’d forgotten about my wound in all the excitement.

  ‘Oh, er, I’m OK. It wasn’t Frisky’s fault. He somehow got out and was on my bed. I woke up suddenly and startled him.’

  ‘And he scratched your face?’

  ‘Um, yeah. He was asleep on my pillow. I must’ve turned over suddenly and woken him up.’

  Mum and Dad accepted the explanation and whilst Dad went down to secure Frisky back in the kitchen, Mum dabbed Savlon onto my cheek.

  ‘That cat’s a liability. He could’ve had your eye out.’ She squeezed another small blob onto her index finger. ‘Maybe we should think about getting rid of him. He’s becoming expensive anyway and I’m tired of clearing up his sick and poo all the time.’

  ‘No, Mum,’ I implored. ‘He’s part of the family. You can’t do that. This is his home and he needs us.’

  ‘Oh. OK. I didn’t think you really liked him much. You always used to complain about him and I remember you being horrible to him at times.’

  The cream was stinging now, which meant it was working its magic on the wound.

  ‘Well, I’ve changed a lot recently. I don’t think like that anymore. Animals like Frisky need our help and protection. We should be looking after animals and the world.’

  ‘Right. Well then.’ She screwed up her face. ‘Glad to hear you have such strong feelings about something worthwhile. Good.’

  My little speech surprised and impressed her. She finished with my cut and kissed me on the head.

  ‘I’m really proud of you, Luke. You’ve really changed and your Dad and I very much like the new you. I know you don’t like me saying this, but – ah – sod it. I love you. I really do.’

  The Savlon had a powerful stench, but I could also detect the separate smells of my mum: soap, faint sweat, yesterday’s perfume, hairspray, and bad breath. I felt that I would never react towards people I knew in the same way again.

  That night I woke up, scared I was dying. At first I couldn’t breathe or even cough. My head and lungs were about to burst. My spluttering became a series of gasping moans. Vision blurred as my eyes rolled about beyond my control.

  Death was painful. It burned. I flapped around, desperate to cling to life.

  Air. I needed air. Water. Anything to stop the burning in my throat. My neck bulged out at the side, and my jaw was wrenched open as something hard clacked against my teeth. Sharp points scratched at my lips and tongue.

  Suddenly a small gust of air entered my mouth. I had to eject the object blocking the way. I poked my fingers into my mouth and felt something there, soft, wriggling, alive. It thrashed and wriggled.

  Coughing and spluttering in agony, I finally ejected the writhing, fighting creature, and became aware of claws and wings flapping furiously.

  Pica was back.

  ‘You stupid, freakin’ bastard!’ I hissed, still choking on bits left behind on my tongue. I spat to one side and wiped my tongue with my fingers.

  Pica hopped onto my bed’s headboard.

  Miscalculation.

  ‘Really? You don’t say. You could’ve killed me!’

  You wanted me out.

  ‘Yeah. Thanks. Mate.’

  We’re all learning as we go along.

  Bloody hell, I was learning a lot. And most of it the hardest way possible.

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  I arrived at school late after dawdling via a very long route, and even survived the first lesson unscathed wit
h the absence of Cheryl, Connor, and Simon. I tried to hang around at the end of the lesson, but the teacher clearly wanted me to leave so he could have a cup of tea in the staff room. Avoiding my locker, I found a place to loiter unnoticed by the car park and waited for the bell until strolling to my next lesson, which was maths – the same set as Cheryl. As I entered the room, she turned her head away from me as if in a very dramatic huff. This, I could handle. If she kept quiet then I could see a way through until home-time. I sat alone – as had become the case in recent weeks. In fact, nobody spoke to me for the whole day, which was lonely and embarrassing, but at least I wasn’t in hospital with broken limbs.

  Simon found and confronted me at lunchtime near where we used to play football.

  ‘So is it true? You know where Guy is?’

  ‘Uh? Course not.’

  ‘It’s what Cheryl reckons.’

  ‘So what? Who cares what any of you think?’

  Simon looked at me pitifully. ‘I can’t believe we used to be mates. Did you fancy me then? When we played together as kids?’ He puckered his lips and his eyes shot to the side as if remembering a particular moment. ‘I just thought you liked me ’cos I owned a football, but all that time you were just checking out my packet … I really thought we were just friends.’

  It was a terrible thing and I realised from my position just how spiteful, judgemental, and downright nasty they could be. Simon was also displaying incredibly arrogant reactions by assuming I found him attractive anyway. Even if I was gay, surely I could be friends with another boy without having to ‘fancy’ him. How stupid and irrational he sounded. Simon was betraying the pig-ignorance, selfishness, and lack of empathy for another human being which came with any kind of discrimination.

  I shook my head and turned to go.

  ‘Yah! You poof! That’s it. Walk away like a big fairy.’

  It wasn’t Simon’s voice this time. Connor.

  I turned to face him and had to dispel the sickening images of him and Cheryl snogging, heavy-petting and swapping saliva. By doing this I realised that my hatred for him was mostly jealousy: I so wanted to touch her naked flesh, but now this git had ruined my greatest fantasy.