Noah Can't Even

by Simon James Green

  “How long?”

  “Five days,” Harry said.

  Sophie puffed her cheeks out. “OK, boys. Drink up, and let’s make a move.” She put her glass down and moved through to the hall to put her coat on.

  “No, but see, it’s realistic!” Noah bleated as she disappeared. “Normal Cluedo takes two hours. Who solves a murder in two hours? It’s ridiculous!”

  “Yeah. Totally. It’s cool,” she shouted back through.

  He decided the best thing would be to shut up about it, so he did as he was told and downed his drink. Damn it. He was nearly sixteen, for God’s sake. What the hell was he doing? He would never get to do things with a girl at this rate.

  Harry cocked an eyebrow at him. “What’s her problem?” he whispered, conspiratorially. “Why isn’t she more excited about this? It’s literally the best thing ever!”

  “Yes, totally. It’s amazing.”

  “Yes,” Harry agreed.

  They walked out. Sometimes Noah thought that Harry was the only person in the world who really understood him.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The front door of Melissa’s large detached house was ajar, with people spilling out on to the gravel drive and the music audible from the top of the street. They pushed their way into the hall, Noah doing his best to appear like he was meant to be there.

  “Hi, No-ah!” It was Jess Jackson, holding hands with some guy who looked like he was twenty. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “No, me either,” Noah agreed.

  “Hey, Sophie. This is Kirk, my BF. He’s not at school, he goes to actual college,” she said, clearly impressed she’d bagged herself such a guy. “He’s training to be a bricklayer.”

  “Nice to meet you,” said Sophie.

  Kirk turned away from the newcomers. “You wanna go upstairs, babe?” he grunted.

  Jess giggled, all coy and mock embarrassed. “Kirk’s a celebrity.”

  “Oh right?” Sophie said, giving a weak smile and glancing at him again.

  “He was in the national papers loads when he was a kid? The fundraising for his cancer treatment in Germany? He had his photo taken with some of the England football team and everything.”

  “Ohhhh,” Noah said, recalling. “Yes, I donated fifty pence for a cupcake,” he smiled, sure that Kirk would be grateful at Noah’s generous contribution.

  Kirk glanced at Noah. “You’re that kid, aren’t you?”

  “What kid?” Noah said.

  “Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum, my dad’s been kidnapped by pirates. That kid.”

  Noah chewed his bottom lip. “You know, I was ten.”

  Kirk gave a little snort and turned back to Jess. “Babe? Let’s check out the upstairs!”

  “Mmmmm – whatever you say, babe,” she said, as she dragged him off towards the stairs.

  Noah watched them go. What was upstairs that was so interesting? OH! Oh, God, of course. That’s what. Yuck.

  “Right, follow me,” said Sophie, taking charge and clearing a path into the party proper. “We’ll find the kitchen.”

  A party! Would it be like in the movies? Would there be people with their tops off, all hot and sweaty? Would there be snogging and shagging and would he be involved in any of that? Would there be nibbles? Noah hoped so. Even just a pavlova, and cheese and pineapple on cocktail sticks would be fine; it didn’t have to be a full-on buffet.

  “There are people here with facial hair!” he whispered to Harry as they squeezed past some exceptionally cool-looking individuals, one of whom had an actual moustache.

  “And?”

  “But I thought it would be mainly our year. I don’t know any of these people. How does Melissa know them?”

  “Because she’s popular, Noah. Popular people have a diverse range of friends and they invite those friends to parties.”

  Noah scanned the room full of those “popular” people… All the usual suspects from school – Jess Jackson, Jordan, Connor Evans, and of course, Eric Smith. Eric got invites to everything because everyone was scared of what he might do if he didn’t. He was like a virus: small, unpleasant, and with the ability to fell even the biggest and most popular kids. Blackmail was his talent. Noah didn’t know how he did it, but Eric intercepted sexts, hacked social media accounts and procured anything else with a secrecy value attached. He was better than MI5, better than the CIA. Eric’s dad (known locally as Mad Dog Razor Jaws Smith) was a vicious bully of a man with underworld connections, and he’d been in prison on and off for years. Nobody was in any doubt that Eric was heading the same way.

  “Hi, Harry. Hi, Noah,” said Melissa, suddenly in front of them.

  “We’re here with Sophie,” Noah blurted out, terrified they were about to be ejected.

  “That’s nice.”

  “Great party,” said Harry, nodding enthusiastically.

  Melissa did a fake little smile. “The punch is on the table, but if you want to drink it you’ve got to put your alcohol in too. Up to you.”

  “Is there a recipe, though?” Noah enquired, keen not to screw the punch up and ruin the night for everyone.

  “No. It’s just whatever. Don’t go in the downstairs loo, someone’s puked,” Melissa said, walking off as Noah sniffed at the punch bowl.

  “You don’t want to drink that stuff,” Sophie grimaced. “Not until you have to, anyway. That stuff will wreck you. Keep hold of our vodka and the Ribena for now.”

  Within an hour they were drinking “that stuff ”. And it was good stuff. Their vodka had disappeared so fast that Noah was convinced someone had been stealing it, although he hadn’t quite worked out how, since the bottle had been in his hand the whole time. Meanwhile the Ribena had been caught up in an incident in the kitchen involving a sixth former puking in a microwave, and none of them fancied it any more. Emboldened by alcohol, Harry had to be stopped from getting his boy parts out in front of a group of girls who repeatedly requested knowing “how big it was”, and Noah had been faced with the indignity of having to have a wee behind a prickly bush in the garden, as the queue for the upstairs bathroom was long and unmoving. It was turning out to be a night of exciting firsts, and Noah was beginning to see why parties were considered so brilliant. Earlier, in the packed kitchen, someone had given Noah’s bum a squeeze. He didn’t know who, it could have been anyone, but he was secretly quite pleased and flattered. There were some Year Tens dry-humping in the hall, some sixth formers smoking weed in the garden and fabulously dirty rumours about what was going on in the master bedroom. This was where it all took place. All that “growing up” and “first times” and all the wild stuff. And Noah was here. Being a teenager. He glanced over at a Year Nine girl vomiting in the large pot of a yucca plant. Yes. He was living the dream.

  Also, his nose had gone numb, and he kept tripping over his feet. But, despite these obvious impediments, he felt GRRRRREEEAAAATTTT! He carefully manoeuvred himself and two plastic cups of punch through the crowd and over to Sophie. “Here you are, m’lady,” he said, having decided that calling her “m’lady” was somehow amusing.

  “Thanks, Noah.”

  He decided that now was the time to put Operation Flirty-Pants into action. He felt confident and sexy. Operation Flirty-Pants was go! He went in with his knockout opener, “You look nice, what a lovely blouse.”

  Sophie looked at him and chuckled. “This is a just a top.”

  “Oh. Right.” Women’s fashions were confusing. Best not to get into a debate about that. He would press on with his next seductive offering! “Do you want to smell my fingers?”

  “What?! No, not really,” she said.

  “No, but then you can smell my eau de toilette. It’s nice. I thought you might like it,” he said, offering his index finger to her. Lynx. She would be impressed. That stuff had magic powers. Smell was an important sense. In perfume adverts people always ended up getting off with each other because they liked the other person’s smell.

  She batted his fingers away. “I
can smell you from here, it’s … really nice.”

  Noah grinned. Excellent! She could smell him from there. Using half a can hadn’t been a waste after all! Step three – show an interest in her interests! “Do you like music?”

  “Um, yeah. I’m really into Mustard Gas at the moment.”

  Noah nodded, like he knew who they were. “Oh, yeah! Yes! They’re great!”

  “It’s just one person, not a band.”

  “Yes. I know. I know that. He’s great!” Arse!

  “It’s a woman.”

  Oh, God! “Uh-huh. Yeah, woman. What’s that well-known song of hers?”

  “Which one?”

  “You know, it’s like, boom! Sha! La! La!…” Why are you randomly making this up and spouting crap? Why don’t you go home now? Why are you a moron?

  Sophie looked unimpressed. “She’s an indie folk singer, so I doubt her lyrics include ‘Boom! Sha! La! La!’ Maybe you’re thinking of someone else?”

  Noah nodded. “I like your blouse.”

  Silence.

  “That had better be your phone sticking out in your pocket and not anything else.”

  “I haven’t brought my phone with me. Pickpockets. Can’t be too…” He realized what she was referring to. “Oh, don’t worry, I haven’t got an erection.” He pulled out his Mini Maglite. “It’s this!”

  “Why the hell have you brought a torch with you?”

  Noah scoffed. Stupid question! Why not? The Cub Scouts had taught him to be prepared, so he always was. “In case of emergencies,” he explained. “Like, a power cut?”

  She blinked at him. Blinking was a sign of attraction. He’d read that somewhere in a book about body language. He would be kissing her by the end of the night. He was sure of it.

  “I’m just gonna get some fresh air,” she said, moving away.

  “Copy that, roger and out,” Noah replied, giving her a salute.

  He turned round to find Harry standing right behind him. How long had he been there? “All right, Haz?”

  “How’s it going with Sophie?”

  “Yeah,” Noah grinned, “pretty good, actually… So, we’ve done flirting and stuff and found out we’ve loads in common and I’ve liked her blouse thing and she’s told me she likes my smell.”

  “Cool,” Harry said.

  “So, have you made a romantic advance towards anyone?”

  Harry shook his head. “I’m not really up for all that tonight. But I’m glad you have.”

  “Wanna be my best man? If I marry her?”

  Harry stared at him. “Oh, grow up, Noah!” And he stormed off.

  “Harry?!” What the hell was the matter with him?

  “Probably drunk,” said Melissa, who was standing nearby and had clocked the drama.

  Noah nodded. Probably.

  “Oi! Oi! Sleeping Beauty!”

  Noah opened an eye and Connor Evans gradually came into focus, looming over him on the sofa. He had skintight black jeans, a white short-sleeved shirt (wouldn’t he be cold?) and hair that was quiffed up ridiculously high and in complete contravention of the laws of gravity. Noah supposed he looked fashionable. Actually, how was his hair doing that? What had he put in it – superglue? The music seemed impossibly loud. Everything was strange and spinning, like a dream, a magical vision, a—

  “Oi!” Connor said again, kicking Noah’s feet.

  “What … what… Hello, Connor… How can I help you today?”

  “Your mate’s upstairs, kicking off in one of the bedrooms.”

  “Who? Hazza?”

  “Yeah, Hazza. You need to sort him out. I tried talking some sense into him, but he just kept yelling stuff about you.”

  Noah blinked at him. What the hell was going on?

  “Like, now!” Connor said, pulling Noah to his feet.

  “I…” Noah steadied himself and took a deep breath. “I’m gonna go sort him out. Man to … man.”

  He pushed his way through the sweaty crowd and slid up the stairs, supporting himself against the wall on the way up and dodging an assortment of crying girls with running make-up.

  Why was Harry kicking off in a bedroom?

  Noah was faced with about eight doors once he was on the upstairs landing, and finding which one led to Harry was like Russian roulette. After two more girls sobbing, some spliff smoking and the beginnings of a lewd sexual act, he flung the fourth door open to find Harry flailing around in a small child’s bedroom, sweeping an entire Sylvanian Family off the top of a chest of drawers in a fit of rage. He turned and saw Noah, a wild look in his eyes.

  “Harry?”

  But Harry just glared at him. Then he bent down, picked up a doll’s house and held it aloft.

  Not just a doll’s house. Noah recognized it immediately from their extensive research for 3D Cluedo. They had dismissed this particular brand of house because it was too expensive, because this, this doll’s house, was very special.

  “Harry! No! Not the Barbie Princess Castle!” Noah screamed. “What the hell’s the matter with you?!”

  “I don’t care!”

  “You can’t destroy a little girl’s dream castle!”

  He lowered the castle a bit. “How do you know it’s a girl? Maybe it’s a boy who likes playing with dolls!”

  “A boy who likes wearing dresses?” Noah added, looking at the clothes that Harry had thrown about.

  “Maybe! Maybe! Don’t make assumptions!”

  Noah followed Harry’s eyes as they settled upon a wooden sign that read “Emily’s Room”.

  “It could be a boy called Emily,” Harry insisted. “But the point is, people shouldn’t make assumptions. OK?”

  “What—”

  “OK?!” he shouted, raising the doll’s house up again, his breathing jagged and unsteady.

  “OK! OK! Calm down! I don’t make assumptions!” Noah said, backing off. He could see the vein in Harry’s temple pulsing furiously. Had Harry taken drugs? Was it the drink? Was Harry really the Incredible Hulk or something? He’d never seen Harry like this; it was … scary, it was … like he was a savage junkyard dog, or a massive bomb on a hair trigger…

  “You do make assumptions,” Harry snarled. “You make a whole lot of assumptions!”

  Noah was open-mouthed. Was this somehow all his fault? What the hell had he done wrong? But it was too dangerous to argue. Best just to let it go, talk later. Calm Harry down. “OK, well, if that’s the case, I’m sorry!”

  “I hate this party!” Harry shouted. “I hate everyone here! We should never have come!”

  “Harry, what’s happened?”

  “It’s just shit! It’s ALL SHIT!”

  Noah nodded, desperate not to antagonize him further. “I think we should go home.”

  “I think you should SHUT UP!”

  He flinched and felt his heart leap. It was like Harry might punch him any second! In the absence of any elephant tranquillizer, Noah attempted his best soothing voice, the one he would use if he ever had to talk a suicide down from a tall building, or negotiate a hostage release. “Put the Barbie castle down,” he cooed.

  “No!”

  “Gently lower it… The Barbie castle is innocent in all this… Just put it down… Put it down…”

  “Stay back!” Harry screamed, as Noah inched forward. “Get any closer and I’ll smash it!”

  Noah stopped and put his hands up, as if to say “fine”. And then he tried a trick he had seen used to great effect on a TV programme which dealt with insanely crazed bad guys: he pretended his attention was quickly drawn to something to his left, and just as Harry instinctively looked across too, Noah launched himself forward to try and grab the doll’s house and restore order.

  Only his feet were slow to respond due to fact he was utterly hammered, and he tripped over himself and crashed on to the floor. He was expecting carnage to follow, but when he looked up, Harry had put the doll’s house back down and was he was now just standing there, quietly sobbing.

  Noah s
crambled to his feet and tentatively approached him. “Harry? Haz? What’s up?”

  “Nothing,” Harry muttered.

  “Come on, what’s up?” Noah said, reaching out and putting a hand on Harry’s shoulder, giving it a little rub.

  “I’m just … really unhappy.”

  “But … but why, Harry?”

  “Do you really love Sophie? Are you really gonna get together, do you think?”

  Noah snorted. Was this really what all this crazy stuff was about? Was Harry jealous that Noah had nearly had a bit of romance with a girl? “Well, I mean, I’d maybe like to, but I doubt it. She’s leaving town anyway, so … I guess we’re both back at square one on that score.”

  And Harry just stared at the floor and breathed.

  And then he looked up, directly into Noah’s eyes.

  And something happened.

  Something that would blow Noah’s little world completely apart.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “Oh, what the hell,” Harry muttered, putting his hand behind Noah’s head and pulling him towards him.

  He never thought the day would come. Things like this just didn’t happen to him. So he’d never given it any thought … but now … it was…

  It was actually happening.

  To him.

  Their lips touched, and his heart was immediately all thump thump thump. His stomach lurching, heavy, like before an exam, or when someone says “I’ve got bad news.”

  Thump.

  Lurch.

  But sort of nice.

  And some sort of terrible.

  Definitely weird.

  Sick and warm and trembling hands that he didn’t know what to do with.

  What the hell was going on? What was Harry doing? Harry was kissing him, that’s what, but why? Why were they kissing? And why was Noah allowing himself to be kissed like this? Was Harry suddenly gay? Harry was never gay before. Not that Noah had noticed, anyway. And he, Noah, wasn’t gay either. Was he?

  They were both drunk.

  He couldn’t feel his nose.

  They were still kissing.

  It was tender and soft and … Harry was good at it. Had he done this before? He was a master at kissing. A pro.