Looking for a Hero

by Cathy Hopkins

‘OK. Ask what puts them off a girl,’ said Dylan.

  ‘Good one,’ I said and wrote it down.

  ‘What would impress you if a girl did it?’ said Lewis.

  ‘What makes a good kisser?’ said Dad.

  ‘Excellent,’ I said and scribbled them down too.

  ‘Describe what you want from a relationship,’ said Mum.

  ‘Thanks,’ I said and wrote that down too. It was a good start and Leela would be pleased.

  When everyone had gone to bed or, in Lewis’s case, gone home, I went up to my room and was about to go to bed myself when the phone rang. I quickly picked it up before it woke everyone up.

  It was Erin.‘India, thank God – I’m so glad you’re there.’

  She sounded weird, slightly out of breath.

  ‘Why?’ I asked. ‘What’s going on? Are you OK?’

  ‘Me yeah. Sort of. I just got back from Shawn Casey’s house. It was his birthday and oh . . .Jesus, what a nightmare.’

  ‘Nightmare? Why? What happened?’

  ‘Scott.’

  ‘What about Scott?’

  At that moment, Dad put his head around my door. ‘Who is it?’

  ‘For me,’ I said. ‘Erin.’

  ‘Bit late to be calling,’ said Dad.

  I nodded and luckily he disappeared. ‘Sorry Erin, parent patrol. You were saying . . . about Scott?’

  ‘Yeah. Sorry to be calling late. I just needed to talk to you. He’s out of control, India. I don’t know what to do.’

  ‘Why? What happened?’

  ‘Remember I told you that he’d got into drinking a lot and smoking.’

  Yeah but he’s always been a bit like that, hasn’t he?’

  ‘It’s getting worse. I’m so worried about him.’

  ‘Why? What exactly has he been doing?’

  ‘He’s using skunk. I know he’s smoked grass before, I’ve seen him do it loads of times - but this is much stronger stuff and it’s like he has a total personality change when he smokes it.’

  ‘Like how?’

  ‘He turns horrible, loud and aggressive. And sarcastic, really mean to people. Not the Scott I know at all. Like at the party, he turned up about nine, stoned – he looked totally out of it, his eyes bloodshot and blurry. Shawn didn’t look happy that he was there. I said I’d look after him and Scott heard me. He turned on me and started taunting me in a lispy little girl’s voice saying, “Erin Werin, gonna look after me”. Then he almost fell over. I leaned in quickly to catch him before he crashed into something and he pushed me against a wall and tried to snog me, but it was awful, slobbery and heavy and I know Scott is a good kisser, least he is when he’s not stoned. Shawn saw that I was trying to shove him off and stepped in and Scott went for him. A couple of Shawn’s mates threw him out, and I am so worried about him – like where did he go? And in that state? I want to call his house, but I don’t want to get his parents involved.’

  ‘Have you tried his mobile?’

  ‘Tried that first. No reply. I don’t know what I should do, like stay out of it or try and talk to him.

  ‘Oh God, poor you. That’s a really hard one. Look it’s late. There’s nothing you can do now; he probably staggered home and is snuggled up in bed oblivious to it all. Leave it for now and see how he is next time you see him. Or call him tomorrow.’

  ‘I guess. Oh hell. I’m worried he’s going to do something and regret it. What would you do?’

  ‘I think I’d probably try to talk to him when he’s not been smoking but, with guys like that, they can get defensive and accuse you of sounding like a teacher or a Miss Goody-Two-Shoes. It’s not going to be an easy conversation.’

  ‘I know. He’s already said that I’m no fun because I don’t want to try smoking it but I really don’t want to. I’ve seen how people change when they do. It really isn’t like grass. It’s like they get zombified.’

  ‘What do your mates say?’

  ‘To keep away from him but, India, we go back a long way and I know that he’s a nice guy underneath. I don’t want to see him get into trouble.’

  ‘Then talk to him.’

  ‘Yeah. No. Oh God. I’ll try. Not easy. How are you?’

  I decided that this wasn’t the time to drone on about my tragic love life. ‘Fine. Nothing major to report. Listen, try and get a good night’s kip and keep me informed. Anytime you need to talk, yeah?’

  ‘Yeah. Thanks, India Jane. I miss you.’

  ‘I miss you too.’

  ‘Laters.’

  I glanced at the photo by my bed of Erin and me. Both pulling daft faces for the camera. I felt bad for her. She’d sounded so anxious. She’d been really into Scott last year. I knew him too when I was in Ireland. He was a cutenick with a cheeky grin that could melt most people – teachers and girls. I tried to imagine how it would be if Joe was in trouble. I think, like Erin, I’d feel I had to do something. I couldn’t just stand back and watch him fall apart in front of me. Sometimes it was hard not living near to Erin any more. Even though I had new mates, Erin would always be my best friend and, when she was sad, I felt it too. Some days feel all out of sync, I thought. I got changed for bed then snuggled down under the duvet. PoorScott. Poor Erin.

  ‘If he mirrors what you’re doing, he’s interested,’ Brook read out of a manual about body language in the self-help department of the bookshop near Portobello Road.

  ‘So if you stand on your head and he stands on his, he’s interested?’ asked Leela.

  Brook slapped her arm lightly. ‘Since when has standing on your head been a way to attract boys?’

  ‘Since junior school when showing off her knickers was her favourite party trick,’ said Zahrah.

  ‘Hmm. Probably not the best technique any more,’ I said, ‘although worth a try if nothing else works.’

  Leela laughed. ‘I did not show off my knickers. Give me a break.’

  Zahrah raised an eyebrow. It must be nice for these guys, I thought, they’ve hung out together for years. I felt envious. My family had been on the move my whole life and I’d always felt that, as soon as I’d made friends, I was saying goodbye to them. Hopefully, this time, we’d be staying in Notting Hill at least until I’d finished school. I couldn’t bear another move and having to start all over again.

  ‘OK, team,’ said Brook. ‘Ready to go and stop some boys’ hearts?’

  I shook my head. I felt underdressed and a bit scruffy in my jeans, sneakers, padded jacket and striped scarf. I’d dressed for the weather, which was cold and threatening rain, rather than to look the part of a professional interviewer. Brook had borrowed her mum’s trench coat and was wearing a red beret to match her red lipstick. She looked amazing. Really grown-up and selfassured. Leela also looked smart in a knee-length grey coat and fab black riding boots. At least Zahrah was also in jeans.

  Leela peered out of the window at the busy street. She had brought us all a clipboard so that we looked the part and handed one to each of us. ‘You’ll be fine, India,’ she said. ‘Let’s go.’

  Leela and Brook were straight in interviewing and flirting, while Zahrah and I stood back and watched for a while. I think Zahrah was feeling as reluctant about the whole venture as I was. A lady who knew Zahrah’s mum walked past and she got involved in a conversation with her. Across the street, Leela motioned that I should approach a couple of boys who were standing close by looking at a stall that sold CDs.

  I took a deep breath and approached the boys, one of whom was tall and dark, the other had a stockier build like he played rugby. ‘Er . . . excuse me. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions for a survey?’

  ‘What sort of survey?’ asked the dark-haired boy.

  ‘About what boys want from girls.’

  The boy’s face lit up. ‘Hmm. What do you think, Josh?’ he asked his mate. ‘What do we want from girls?’

  His friend put the palms of his hands up to the level of my chest and made a jiggly motion like he was about to grab my breasts.‘Sex,’ he sa
id.

  I took a step away. ‘And . . . and what turns you off about girls?’

  ‘Girls who don’t want sex,’ said his mate and they both laughed like they’d made the best joke ever.

  ‘And your perfect girl? In fact don’t bother. I think I know the answer. Thanks very much; you’ve been very helpful,’ I blurted, stepping even further back.

  The dark boy shrugged. ‘You did ask. Now let me ask you something for a survey I’m doing. Any chance of us doing it?’

  His friend cracked up again and I realised that I was wasting my time with them. I moved back to join Zahrah, who was still talking to her mum’s friend. Maybe it would be better to ask a boy who is on his own, I thought. Sometimes, when there’s a bunch of them, they act a lot cockier than they actually are. I watched the passers-by for a while and then I spotted a boy who appeared to be alone. As he approached, I took a few steps towards him. He was small with a sweet mouse-like face.

  ‘Excuse me,’ I started.

  The boy looked terrified and turned his face away.

  ‘I just want to ask you a few questions,’ I said as he hurried by. He didn’t look back. Hmm, I thought, my interviewing technique clearly needs some work.

  Not long after, another boy approached. He had an open friendly face and shoulder-length curly hair. I walked towards him with a smile. ‘Hi. I’m doing a survey to discover what boys want from girls,’ I said again.

  The boy stopped and looked me up and down.‘Hmm. What do I want from a girl?’

  I smiled again to encourage him in case he was shy. ‘Yes.’

  He nodded and looked pensive for a few moments. ‘Right. Three things. Great boobs. Great bum. Total subservience.’

  ‘Oh. I . . . And . . . um, I am sure you’ll make someone very happy one day,’ I said as I hastened over the road and said,‘Not,’ under my breath.

  ‘What is it with these stupid boys?’ I asked Zahrah, who was now on her own again. I quickly filled her in on the answers that I’d been given and she burst out laughing.

  ‘Let me have a go,’ she said and darted out in front of a small boy who was strolling past.

  ‘Hey you,’ she said.’I’m doing a survey.’

  The boy stopped and looked at Zahrah as if she was going to attack him. I thought he was going to hurry on like the other boy had but he stayed put. ‘OK,’ he squeaked.

  ‘So. How do you know if a girl is The One?’ asked Zahrah.

  ‘The One?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘The one what?’

  ‘The One as in your soulmate, love of your life, you know, The One,’ Zahrah expanded.

  ‘I’m only thirteen,’ said the boy. ‘I don’t even know what a soulmate is.’

  ‘Your other half. Someone you love more than anyone else in the world, right?’

  ‘OK,’ said the boy, but he looked completely puzzled. ‘I love my dog Petra best in the world.’

  Zahrah wasn’t put off. ‘No. I’m talking human. Soulmate. If you did meet her, what qualities would she have?’

  Fur and four paws in his case, I thought. I felt myself getting the giggles. Zahrah’s technique needs more work than mine, although she might be good at interviewing those politicians you see on telly sometimes who sidestep awkward questions.

  ‘Well?’ Zahrah insisted.

  ‘Er . . . she’d have a nice smile.’

  ‘And . . .’

  ‘Um . . . she could, er . . . do party tricks . . .’

  ‘Party tricks?’

  Yeah. Like lick her eyebrows. Yeah, I’d like a girl who could do that. That would be cool.’

  Zahrah gave the poor boy one of her withering looks (raised eyebrow and an expression that says, Are you for real?) ‘Thanks. And I sincerely hope you find what you’re looking for.’

  ‘Can I go now?’ asked the boy.

  Zahrah waved him away and he scuttled off down the street. I creased up laughing.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ asked Zahrah.

  ‘You are. In fact, not funny, terrifying. He was so sweet.’

  Zahrah shrugged. ‘You were right about one thing though. Boys are stupid.’

  ‘He was young,’ I said, ‘but I should have known what kind of responses we’d get whatever the age. I have enough brothers to know what boys are really like and most of them never grow up mentally past the age of twelve. My brother Lewis is nineteen going on ten, and my half-brother Ethan is thirty going on . . . fifteen – he’s more grown-up but not much. Dylan on the other hand is twelve going on fifty. He’s a strange boy. Mum says he was born an old soul.’

  ‘Same with my brothers,’ said Zahrah.‘They are all little boys. Us girls run the house.’

  ‘I can imagine,’ I said. I’d only been to Zahrah’s house once for a brief visit, but it was clear immediately on meeting her sisters and her mum that they wore the trousers.

  Zahrah grinned.‘Women rule. Ah, here’s another contender.’ She approached a nice-looking boy who had stopped to look in a nearby window. She beckoned me to join her.

  ‘Excuse us,’ she said to the boy, who turned when she tapped him on the shoulder. ‘We’re doing a survey. Please could you tell us what your perfect girl would be like? As in soulmate?’

  The boy grinned. He had a nice face, open and friendly. ‘Hmm,’ he said. ‘There are lots of perfect girls around but, if you’re talking soulmate, then I’d have to say she’d be a he because I’m gay.’

  Hah. That shut Zahrah up.

  ‘Perfect boy then,’ I said, taking over.

  The boy smiled.‘Oh the usual, someone you can talk to, have a laugh with and the chemistry has to be there. Someone who makes your knees buckle. Know what I mean?’

  I nodded. What a shame, I thought as he walked on. The only decent boy we meet out here and he’s gay. Still lucky for some other gay boy somewhere.

  ‘Come on,’ said Zahrah.‘Let’s go and join Leela. See how she and Brook are getting on.’

  We made our way across the road where Leela was questioning a couple of boys with Brook standing by and writing down the replies. The boys looked about sixteen, one with totally mad hair, long, spiky and sticking out in all directions, and the other with cropped dark hair.

  ‘Good looks,’ said the wild-haired boy. ‘Very important. Enthusiasm and confidence. I like confident girls. And intelligent.’

  ‘That’s four things,’ said Leela. ‘I only asked you for three.’

  ‘Oh and I like girls that smell nice, like of apple shampoo or something like that,’ he added

  Leela held up five fingers.‘That’s five now.’

  The boy looked at me. ‘Your mate’s bossy, isn’t she?’

  ‘Tell me about it,’ I said and pointed at Zahrah. ‘But she’s nothing compared to Miss Scary Boots here.You should be glad she’s not asking the questions.’

  ‘So question two,’ said Leela.‘What turns you off about girls?’

  The boy moved a step closer to Leela. ‘Wimpy girls who act like they couldn’t even change a lightbulb. I like girls who are assertive —’

  ‘I can’t stand girls who are always on about being on a diet,’ the dark-haired boy suddenly interrupted. ‘And I hate girls who whinge or are loud or depressed or too demanding, like, Ooo, I’m a princess and you’re my slave. And I don’t like girls who are too clingy either, like, Why haven’t you phoned me? When are we seeing each other again? Where’ve you been? Who with? Like, give me a break.’

  We all burst out laughing. ‘Oh poor baby,’ said Zahrah. ‘Sounds like you’ve known some demanding girls.’

  ‘Yeah,’ he said, then he turned to look at her properly and his eyes twinkled. ‘I don’t like difficult or demanding but... I definitely like a challenge.’

  ‘Do you now?’ asked Zahrah and she met his gaze and held it for a few moments. She had a twinkle in her eye too.

  Brook and I exchanged glances. There was major flirtation going on in front of us. We decided to give Leela and Zahrah some space, so we linked
arms and sauntered off to interview some boys of our own.

  The rest of the afternoon was a great laugh and by the end of our ‘survey’, Leela had two boys’phone numbers and Zahrah had a date with her boy called Ryan. Brook was asked for her number but she had decided to hold out for someone really special and told the boy who had asked her that she only dated scientists because she had a thing about Bunsen burners. He looked at her as though she was mad. We’d bumped into some boys from our school at one point, including Eddie O’Neil and we tried the survey on them. As he always did when he saw me, Eddie flirted like mad but, although his attention was flattering, I couldn’t kid myself that I fancied him, even though he was tall, blond and athletic-looking. There was no one all afternoon who came even close to making my heart beat faster or having even a tiny bit of the effect on me that Joe did. But I didn’t mind too much. I’d had a fun time and there would be other days – Leela’s way of getting talking to boys was a good one and had given me hope.

  After I’d left the girls, I set off down the main road then turned into a quieter street that led to home. In my mind, I started putting together the outfits that I might take to Italy at the end of the following week. After I’d sorted out a few, I got out my phone to call Erin to see if she had spoken to Scott as well as to fill her in on my hilarious day. She would have loved it, and she’d have been a star interviewer if she’d been here. I called her number and held the phone up to my ear. I could feel myself smiling even before she answered.

  They came out of nowhere.

  ‘Wu . . . arggghhh!!’ I cried as someone grabbed me from behind. I felt a hand clamp over my mouth and another cover my eyes, and I was pulled back off my feet by somebody behind me and, whoever he was, he stank of cigarette smoke.

  A third hand grabbed my phone out of my hand and a male voice demanded.‘Give us your purse.’

  ‘Hmmnuh,’ I muttered through the palm over my mouth. I felt the grip loosen a little. I was terrified. I could hardly breath, never mind talk. My heart was beating like it had grown and was too big for my chest. I tried to twist away from the hands on my face but the person behind tightened their grip.

  ‘Hurry up,’ he said.