Noah Can't Even

by Simon James Green

  “No need!” he chirped. “I’ve already thought about everything and it’s all cool with me!” He walked straight through to the kitchen, turned and silently flicked through a rapid sequence of obscene gestures at the door that had closed behind him. She clearly hadn’t even called the police, even though her emotionally distraught fifteen-year-old son had just run away and could have been in terrible danger. “You do as you please, it’s no bother to me!” he sang, quickly setting about his task.

  “Sweetheart,” she said, appearing in the kitchen like she was all sweetness and light, “I’m glad we can have a grown-up conversation about this.”

  “Me too!” It’s just acting, Noah! It’s revision for GCSE Drama, that’s all.

  “And you mean it? You’re really OK with all this?”

  Noah nodded. “Absolutely.” You lying, evil MOTHER FROM HELL!

  “I’m so proud of you for being so mature about this.”

  “Uh-huh!” Unlike you!

  “Thank you, Noah,” she said, pecking him on the cheek. “This means so much, and I promise you…” She leaned in and whispered too loudly in his ear. “I promise you that you will always come first. You’ll always be my number-one man!” She winked and sauntered back through to the lounge.

  Good. She had fallen for Noah’s acting skills and was clueless as to his real motives. She had no way of knowing that concealed in his pocket were two custard creams and five rich tea biscuits, procured by stealth from the plate of biscuits – where in this godforsaken house is that woman hiding the stash?! – she had laid out on the counter, presumably for Josh. The plan was very much in motion.

  “Mum? I’m just popping outside to get some air…”

  But she was already giggling with Josh in the lounge and didn’t register he was talking. Suited him just fine.

  “It’ll keep you going for a bit,” Noah explained, as he pulled the broken biscuits from his pockets.

  “Cuppa would be great too,” his dad said, looking up from his open holdall as he pulled out a jumper.

  “Would it?”

  “And if there’s any leftovers from dinner…?”

  “Yeah, OK.” He hadn’t bargained on his dad being so demanding. Parents weren’t meant to be needy and ask things of their kids until they were really old. “Do you need a blanket or something too?”

  “Yeah. Couple of blankets and a pillow. I’ll need other stuff too.”

  “What sort of stuff?!”

  “I’ve only got the basics with me, Noah…”

  Noah thought that seemed odd. Why embark on travel without the stuff you needed?

  “They lost me luggage at the airport, didn’t they?” his dad said, looking right at him.

  “Oh. That’s terrible.” A sense of dread started creeping through his body. Direct eye contact like that meant LYING. He knew because he did it himself.

  “Yeah … probably ended up in Timbuktu, or God knows where!”

  Noah nodded. Timbuktu. The precise place Noah had thought of when he first lied about his dad being kidnapped. “What do you need, then?”

  “A mobile. Pay as you go. With thirty quid credit on it.”

  Noah pointed at his dad’s iPhone in his open bag. “But you’ve got a phone.”

  “Sure. But I like to keep one for business, one for pleasure.”

  Great, Noah thought. Just like a drug dealer or some other shady underworld guttersnipe.

  “And I’ll need some more clothes,” his dad continued. “Only got enough for a couple of days with me. Maybe some stuff to wash with, a razor, that sort of thing.”

  “Where are you going to wash, though? It’s not a good idea to come in the house!”

  “I’ll sneak in whenever your mum goes out. Just leave me a key.”

  This was turning into a nightmare. “OK. Have you got some…”

  “What?”

  “Money?” Noah asked, holding out his hand.

  His dad smiled quizzically like the request was the most bizarre thing in the world. “Ah, matey, I wasn’t gonna say, but I got pickpocketed, didn’t I? In Madrid, on the way to the airport, I reckon. Didn’t have my wits about me, see? Thinking about other stuff. Thinking about seeing you! My silly fault for being so excited to see my boy!”

  “Oh, so…” Noah felt his throat tighten. He knew bullshit when he heard it, and this was grade A.

  “They took the lot!”

  “Oh. Then what…”

  “Clever, resourceful lad like you – you can get some money, can’t you?”

  Noah hesitated. This felt wrong. He’d thought he would be comforted by his dad’s return. But this wasn’t right. And he’d had enough of lies.

  “Dad, will you just tell me the truth? Don’t you owe me that, at least?”

  His dad sighed. “Sure. Sure, you’re right. I owe you that, at least.” He flopped down on the floor and leaned against the side of the shed, whilst Noah remained standing in the doorway, watching for any little body-language giveaways to suggest this was anything less than honest. “A few things didn’t go well in Spain. Some deals went bad. I owe some money over there. So … I’ve had to come back here.”

  “And you had to leave in a hurry?”

  “Yeah, well, some people get pretty mad when you owe them. Like, lose-your-kneecaps mad. So, it’s the best thing.”

  “Well, that’s just brilliant, Dad,” Noah said. “And what about the people you owe money to here?”

  “They’ll get it.”

  “How?!”

  His dad shrugged. “Give me a chance, I only just got back here! I’ve got contacts. Cut some deals, duck and dive, pull in some moolah. You’ll see.”

  Noah looked away. He was sounding like Eric. And look where that had led. Conmen always ended up disappearing.

  “What would be great, though, Dad, is… See, the situation is that I didn’t know where you’d been all these years, and so what I told people was that you’d been held hostage. By pirates. Now, I took a lot of stick for that. Lots of people called me crazy. So I was thinking, maybe you could tell everyone it was true?”

  “You want me to say I’ve returned from being kidnapped?”

  “Basically, yes.”

  “Mate, I need to be keeping a low profile right now. Get me? I don’t need no media attention. People chatting.”

  “I see.”

  “Else there’ll be a queue of people at the door demanding their cash back, right now. And I ain’t got it right now.”

  “No, of course, silly me. I just thought… It’s fine. Fine.”

  His dad looked him up and down – a sensation that made Noah feel like a second-hand car that his dad was thinking of buying. “You’ve not turned out too shabby,” he smiled.

  “Oh, thanks,” Noah said, furious that was the best he could manage.

  “I guess you might grow another inch or two.”

  “Or five, hopefully.”

  “You seeing anyone? A special friend?”

  Noah flicked his eyes down to the floor. “Special friend”? Was that his dad’s way of suggesting Noah might be gay? “No,” he muttered. “But I have been hanging out with this girl called Sophie. Yeah, she’s cool and everything, but we’ll see, we’ll see.”

  His dad smiled. “Sounds good.”

  “Yeah, well, I think she’d like to take things to the next level, but I’m like, Whoa! Hold on a sec! What’s the rush? You know?”

  His dad nodded. “I guess.”

  “She lives in Milton Keynes now, so it’s this complicated long-distance relationship thing, but absence makes the heart grow fonder, and she is pretty damn fond of me, let me tell you. Very fond. She is fond.”

  “Your mum mentioned some guy called Harry in her letters.”

  Noah’s eyes widened. “What did she mention about Harry?”

  “Just that you were good mates.”

  “Well, that news is out of date,” Noah said.

  His dad nodded again. “Anyway, can you get me the stu
ff I need?”

  “Yes! Fine. I’ll … I’ll do your bidding.”

  “Tonight would be good.”

  “Now? You want all these things now?” Noah ran his hands through his hair. “You do know this is Little Fobbing? Everything closes at six. What do you think I’m going to do?”

  “Borrow from a mate?” His dad shrugged.

  A hysterical little laugh bubbled up inside Noah. A mate? Like who? The only mate he could ever trust this information about his dad coming back with would be Harry. The only mate he wanted to talk to about any of this was Harry. Everything, every little thing, came back to Harry. But Harry wasn’t…

  Gran’s words bounced around his head: In one lifetime, you won’t find anyone else like him.

  Harry wasn’t…

  Do not let him get away!

  But he couldn’t…

  You can get over this. You have to.

  Yes. He did. He had to.

  “I’ll see what I can do,” Noah said, backing out of the shed, his mind made up.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Noah hurried along the pavement towards Harry’s house, not wanting to waste another second not being friends. He needed Harry. He needed his kindness and his humour and his way of making Noah feel like nobody else mattered, just them. Only them. And when the rest of world had proved themselves to be liars – unreliable, useless or just plain criminal – he needed Harry in his life. And that’s just what he was going to tell him.

  “Oi, dickhead!” said the voice.

  Noah looked up and came face-to-face with Kirk. Shit. He desperately looked around. No one.

  “Haven’t got your boyfriend to rescue you now, have you?” Kirk said.

  “Josh is not my boyfriend—”

  “You’re gonna die this time. You know that, right?”

  Noah crossed his arms and cocked his head to the side. “No, I don’t think so. I don’t think so one little bit!”

  “What?!” Kirk snorted.

  “I know about you and Jess. She told you she was pregnant at Melissa’s party. She told you. The baby is yours. I’ve got it all on video, thanks to Eric Smith.” He felt about ten feet tall, towering over Kirk with his brilliant revelation. “The baby is yours!” he said again, laughing. “You’re the daddy!”

  “No, you’re the daddy!” Kirk said, jabbing a finger at Noah’s chest.

  “You’re the daddy!”

  “I’m not the daddy!”

  Noah gave a mocking laugh. “Did you honestly both think you’d get away with this? You’re an idiot. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

  “No,” Kirk said, ashen-faced. “You’re wrong, Noah.”

  “No, I’m not,” Noah said, and then, since he was feeling particularly powerful, he added, “You cock cheese.”

  Kirk grabbed him by the throat and hurled him up against the wall. “What did you call me?”

  “No!” Noah wailed. “No! I’m sorry! I didn’t say anything!”

  “I want that video. You give it to me.”

  “But it’s evidence! In court, it’s what I’ll use to prove my innocence!”

  “Give it!” Kirk tightened his grip on Noah’s throat.

  “Aarrggh – huh – that video … aaah … s’mine… and no way … huh!”

  Kirk let go and dropped him down.

  Noah brushed himself off. “You can kill me if you want,” he said. “But I’m not giving you that video.”

  “You will!”

  “No! No, I won’t. And if you even try to make me, I’ll go straight to the police! I’ll tell them everything! And then they’ll probably think you killed Eric! He’s missing, after all – well, what if he’s dead? What if he’s dead and you killed him because he knew secrets about you?”

  “Eric? You think… Oh, shit.” Kirk considered him. “You are such a bitch squealer.”

  “And proud of it!” said Noah.

  “Fine. Then I’ll tell you why that video doesn’t show jack shit. Why it won’t help you showing it to anyone. And then you promise me that you won’t do anything with it, ’cause most people don’t know about this, and no one’s gonna know. Yeah?”

  Noah shrugged. “What do you mean?”

  Kirk shook his head. “I had cancer when I was a kid.”

  Noah squinted at him. This again. What had this got to do with anything?

  Kirk shuffled towards him, pulled out his phone, tapped away at the screen, then handed it to Noah: a Google page, about how certain kinds of cancer treatment, when administered to young men and boys, can leave them unable to conceive children later in life.

  Noah scrolled through the article, realizing with horror that if this was true, if this was what happened to Kirk, there was no way he could be the father. He looked back up at Kirk, who was kicking his feet against the brick wall. “So, you mean…”

  Kirk nodded. “I can’t have kids. Jess didn’t know that. No one knew that. It’s not the sort of thing you spread about, right?”

  Noah stared at him, breathing hard.

  “So when she told me she was pregnant that night, I knew the kid couldn’t be mine. I knew she’d cheated on me. And worse, I knew she was prepared to lie about it.”

  “Then … who’s the father?” Noah said, trying to swallow back the sour taste in his mouth. “It’s not me, I promise you that!” He wanted to run, hide, get far away from there. He’d thought he had the solution to his problems – but no. That memory stick had brought nothing but trouble.

  Kirk shrugged. “I dunno. But if that video gets out, I’m gonna have to tell everyone why it ain’t true. And I don’t want everyone round here knowing my business like that. You with me?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m used to being dealt the shitty cards. Had them all my life.” He looked up at Noah. “But you go back on your word, you die. I’m not messin’ about. You die.” Then Kirk seemed to remember himself. “Oh, um, but that doesn’t mean I killed Eric or anything like that. I didn’t.”

  Noah nodded and Kirk trudged off down the road, while he remained frozen to the spot. So that was it, then. Noah was screwed. He’d got the clues all wrong, misinterpreted them…

  He needed someone on his side.

  He needed someone to help.

  Harry was his only hope.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Noah kept his finger on the doorbell until Harry’s mum opened the door. He’d seen people do that on TV. It was the best way of getting a speedy response. It said, This is urgent.

  “Hello, Noah,” she said, opening the door a crack and peering round.

  “Is Harry in?”

  “Well, yes, but—”

  Noah slithered through the gap in the door. “I need to see him.” He hurried through the hall, pulling his trainers off as he went – Harry’s mum had a thing about shoes in the house – up the stairs, across the landing, a polite knock on Harry’s door and a three-second wait just in case he was, you know, and then opened the door, walked in and—

  “Noah!” Harry said, wide-eyed. “Me and Connor were just doing the history homework.”

  Connor gave a half-hearted wave from where he sat, next to Harry on the edge of the bed.

  “I should’ve phoned, but I … didn’t,” Noah explained.

  “Sure,” Harry agreed.

  Noah turned to Connor. Harry’s new best friend situation was really inconvenient. Especially now that Noah didn’t have a friend at all. “Um, look, sorry and all, but this is really important and I really need to talk to Harry, you know, alone. No offence.”

  Connor held his hands up. “I’m out. Catch you later, Harry.” He collected his school bag, turned to Noah and gave him a nod. Noah nodded back, and Connor left, closing the door gently behind him.

  “What’s up?” Harry said.

  “So, I found out who my mum is seeing, and it’s Josh Lewis.”

  “Ouch,” Harry said, flinching.

  “And I found out I’m still in the
frame with Jess Jackson because Kirk was my prime paternity suspect and it turns out he… Well, there’s solid evidence he’s not the father.”

  “Uh-huh…”

  “And Dad’s come back.”

  Harry looked at him agog. “He’s—?”

  “He’s come back, Harry. He’s here. Well, he’s in the shed. But, yeah. He’s here.”

  Harry took a step towards him. “And … well, how do you feel?”

  Trust Harry to cut to what mattered. Where other people might be full of questions about the whys and wherefores, the “where’s he beens” and the “what’s he been doings”, what Harry cared about was how Noah felt.

  And Noah didn’t really know how he felt. The tears that suddenly bubbled up out of him were ones of relief, confusion, anger and feeling totally overwhelmed by every single thing in his life right now.

  “Come on, it’s OK,” Harry said, standing up and putting his arms around him.

  It felt so good. Harry holding him like that. The bad words between them melting away. Everything could be fine. Everything OK. He wiped his eyes with his palms, blinked away the tears, looked at the bed where Harry had just got up from. “Where are all your books?”

  “What?”

  “You said you’d just been doing history with Connor, but … no books.”

  “We’d finished. We’d packed up.”

  Noah broke away and stepped back. “You’re in the other top set for history. Connor’s set two. You don’t even have history together, so…”

  Harry sighed. “Trust you to know what bloody set everyone is in for any subject.” He shook his head. “Look, I know we’ve been through some stuff this last week, and I did spring things on you that I maybe shouldn’t have done, and for that I’m sorry, but also, you’ve done stuff that maybe you’re sorry about too…”

  “Yeah, I am, I totally am—”

  “Right, yeah. And so I hope I’m right in saying that after all that, and after doing a lot of thinking, we still basically like each other and I think we’re always going to be friends. Right?”

  “Well, yes,” Noah said.

  “OK. So, that’s fine. That’s good. Because I’ve missed you. But you know, I’m still gay, and that’s kind of part of me. And a pretty important part in some ways, you know? I suppose what I’m trying to say is, in terms of that, in terms of the gay stuff, and I think this’ll be a relief to you, I guess I’ve kind of moved on.”