by Anne Thomas
"...So, I'm hoping that I'll see him tonight," she said eagerly, "And, you know, stuff will happen. Kind of."
"What, with your dad just around the corner?" I snorted. "Sure."
She glared at me. "Cheers, Nerys, I love you too."
"Beth, I didn't mean it like that," I responded, "I'm just saying that your dad's going to be there, so you can't exactly leap on the boy and start snogging him to within an inch of his life, can you?"
"I wasn't planning on it!" exclaimed Beth, pale face reddening. "God, Nerys, I've got some self-respect, I'm not Siân you know!"
"That's true," I noted. "No one is quite like Siân Jones when it comes to self-respect or lack thereof. But anyway, what's your plan for tonight then?"
"Um, go home, get changed, go out, find him, and then, I don't know, I get lost. Preferably, not wrestle him over a jar of honey." She ran a hand through her hair, looking worried. "Oh, God, Nerys, what the hell do I do?!"
"Just say hello and ask for his name and his number and stuff," I shrugged. "I don't know; you're asking the wrong person. You should probably ask Siân."
"Are you mental?" It was Beth's turn to gape. "She'd have me turning up in a bra and a miniskirt before performing a lap dance on the guy –"
"You forget the fact that Siân doesn't do foreplay. She'd skip the lap dance and go straight to having sex in the freezer," I said wisely before Beth ruined the effect by cracking up and laughing.
"I guess," she giggled. "But what would you do, if you were me?" she pressed.
I pulled on her hair. "I, Beth, would never be so crazy as to fight a guy over a jar of honey," I told her, shaking my head. "You're completely bonkers, do you know that? But if I was you...Then I'd talk to him, find out his name and then his number. I'm pretty sure that Siân would say the same thing. She's not really into corrupting people like you, Beth."
"Okay. Okay. Ask his name, then his number...I think I can do that," she said confidently. Then she bit her lip. "Then what?"
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, Beth," I said with a small smile. "Don't worry about it just yet."
And she smiled at me, seemingly content with what I had just said before the panic set in again and she said, "Oh my God, what am I going to wear?"
Typical Beth. So overdramatic.
(May I just note, right now, that I still love Siân and think she's fantastic, if not a bit lacking in the self-respect department? Because, you know, I wouldn't want anyone thinking I don't like her or anything...)
Chapter 5: Adam´s Apples
Around about the same time as that incident with the underwear, and Beth's meeting of Honey Boy, as I nicknamed him, my drama teacher finally decided to get his act together and make us do some actual acting as opposed to running around the drama studio pretending to be different letters of the alphabet or whatever.
Mr. O'Connor was like your stereotypical drama teacher, I suppose – flamboyant, larger-than-life, with apparent years of experience in the theatre business. He was also fairly amusing and, out of all our teachers, was probably most like a friend. He wasn't really like a teacher, in some respects. He was strict, but sometimes the strictness was just him messing around. He terrified the younger students but not so much, the older ones, because the older ones tended to know when he was joking.
Anyway, he was one of my favourite teachers, but GCSE drama lessons with him hadn't been what I'd imagined. Rather than plunging headfirst into learning lines for scripts and actually performing, he'd spent the first few weeks telling us to do various tasks – such as the above, pretending to be different letters of the alphabet, or pretending to be various farmyard animals. Now, I'm a self-conscious, easily embarrassed sort of person, and I felt like an absolute fool doing most of those tasks.
So after a few weeks of this, I was thoroughly glad when he announced that he was finally going to put us into the groups with which we would work on our end-of-term performance. Of course, this proved some issues, too. I did have friends in my drama class – Beth, Sharon, Suzanne – but the likelihood of me actually being placed in a group with them was slim to none. In other words, I would probably end up working with a group of people who I didn't know, which I was not looking forward to.
It was a Wednesday when I walked into the drama studio, and the teacher began to put us into our groups.
As it turned out, Mr. O'Connor had decided to be a bit nice and put Sharon in my group. I wasn't best friends with her or anything, but we got on and had a laugh whenever we talked, which could often be.
Then there was Molly Hale. She'd been in my classes in Year 7, and she had a reputation in school for being an all-round nice girl who could be friends with everyone when she chose. Plus she seemed to remember me from those classes I'd had with her before she transferred to the other band.
Next was Brendan Dent: universally known for going through girls like most people change their underwear. He was the sort of lad that managed to be really popular, but he hung around with the girls, just like John did. Unlike John, however, he managed to surpass any accusations of homosexuality just because he made his romantic escapades well known. At the time it was happening, he was in an on-off relationship with this girl named Gina, who he seemed to like really but he seemed to like kissing other girls more. Anyway – personally, I didn't get his appeal, because he was very sleazy, the sort of guy who let fly with the cheesy chat up lines, and probably showered in aftershave. But he wasn't so bad. To girls he thought weren't "in his league" (i.e. me and Sharon), he was just a bit polite and kind of joking.
And finally, was Adam Lougher.
Now, I mentioned Adam Lougher before. He's a friend of Louis Jensen's but, you know, he's much more than that, if you know what I'm saying. Everyone knows who Adam Lougher is. It's like an unwritten law of our high school. Rather typically, most girls want to be with him and most boys wants to be him. He was, I must admit, quite good-looking – better looking than Antal, in all honesty. He had what my mom would call a "lovely face," and he had dark brown eyes and dark red hair that he wore slightly too long and messily spiked. He also had freckles, but unlike me, they didn't go overboard and just covered his face slightly. He was quite slim and did a hell of a lot of sports – basketball, football, badminton, you name it, he does it, and he had a body to match it. He was also one of those cocky boys who even the teachers found amusing. He had an ability to get away with murder in most of his lessons, and because of this was incredibly confident. He was very open about the fact that he did ballet outside of school, as well, and was a very, very good actor.
And, as I walked over to him and Molly, stood in the corner of the drama studio, I pondered whether or not Adam Lougher might have had a slight apple fetish. Because at that point, he was juggling three red, shiny apples and pretty much ignoring whatever Molly was chattering on about.
Sharon and I approached them, giving each other curious looks. Molly caught sight of us, grinned and waved, before pouncing forwards to say hello properly and tell us how excited she was to work with us. Then Brendan came along, and she did the exact same thing to him, only it finished with him trying to kiss her, an act for which he received a smack around the head. It seemed that Brendan's charms – whatever they were, exactly – did not work on Molly Hale.
But then Adam Lougher's eyes zeroed in on me, and he neatly caught his three apples. Two of them he tucked into the pockets of his blazer, while the last one, he took a large bite out of and then pointed at me.
"You," he said. "You're the girl with the boy shorts from the stairwell. Mr. Trow's star debater, or whatever he called you."
I felt my face flush, and then I replied. "Um, yes. Yes, I am."
"What's your name again?" he asked, cocking his head to one side.
"Nerys."
"Nerys. Right. Pete Powell's sister, yeah? He used to do coach basketball after school in my primary," Adam then said conversationally, taking another bite of his apple.
"Yeah," I agreed. "I rem
ember. It was part of his GCSE course."
"Sure. I have to do the same thing next year." There was a pause, and then he said: "So, does Billie Winters hate you or what? He was a bit of a prick on the stairs."
"Oh," I waved a hand in the air, "I don't know. He has this... thing..." I shook my head, seeing the look on his face. "Not that kind of thing. It's more of an I-hate-you-so-I'm-going-to-embarrass-you-for-all-eternity kind of thing. You know, because I punched him in France."
Adam laughed. "I heard about that. Nice one. He's a great basketball player, but him and those mates of his – they can be dicks when they want to be. It's about time someone took them off their high horse. So why'd you hit him?" He held the apple in his teeth and then tugged a chair of the stack, setting it down and sitting on it.
"He leaned me over a shark tank. I kind of saw red."
"Who wouldn't." It wasn't a question; it was a statement. "That was a pretty cruel thing to do. Did he bruise?"
"Apparently. I don't know, but his face was all swollen at the time," I informed him, getting a chair for Sharon and myself. He laughed again, tipping his head back as he did so. His diamond earrings glittered with the movement.
"I like you," he declared, smiling, before taking a rather large bite out of his apple. He nodded past me. "Here's Mr. O'Connor."
"Molly, Brendan, get a chair and sit down," Mr. O'Connor boomed, flapping a pile of white paper in their squabbling direction. "Now, you guys are getting a highly stylised piece," he continued after Molly and Brendan had sat down. "It's going to be quite difficult but...Adam, how many times do I have to tell you that food is forbidden in the drama studio?"
He said that with a sigh, and Adam shrugged. "I like apples," he said and defiantly bit into the red flesh of the apple again. Mr. O'Connor rolled his eyes and didn't push it further.
"Anyway, as I was saying...It's going to be difficult, but I have full confidence that this group can pull it off," he continued smoothly. "You'll have to research drunk driving in the future," he added as he handed out the script. "That's what the play is about. It's quite challenging."
Molly flicked through it, her face going pale with horror. "Sir, I...I can't do this!" she shrieked. "There's swearing and sexual innuendos and all sorts! I'm...I'm a lady!"
Brendan let out a bark of laughter, and Adam grinned, reaching over to ruffle her hair.
Mr. O'Connor pointed at her. "That's exactly why I put you on this play," he told her, and then pointed at each of us in turn. "All of you. It's going to challenge you all. Now, just read through it, choose your parts and get to grips with it." And then he went off to give the other groups their scripts.
I quickly read through the script, my frown getting deeper and deeper. It was about a pair of sisters who go out and get drunk a lot, and one of them winds up accidentally killing the other when she drives while drunk. The opening scene involved a lot of seedy chat up lines and references to sex, while the rest of it was pretty tame. I quickly decided I wanted to play the role of the girl's mother.
"Well, I don't care," Brendan said.
"I'd rather not play the two main girls," I said, pushing my hair out of my eyes. "If that's all right with everyone else."
"That's fine," Adam agreed. "Look, I'll play one of the men in the start. Brendan, why don't you play the other one, and Molly and Sharon, you can play the two girls." I flicked to the back of the script and raised my hand in the air.
"Oh, and there's some guy at the end, and two policemen that we need to play too," I said. Reading the lines and the stage directions, I nodded. "Sure, that's fine. I can play one of them, and then Adam and Brendan can play the other two."
"Why can't Molly and Sharon play them?" Brendan objected.
"Because that's the scene where Molly and Sharon'll crash the car," I told him. "The guy finds the scene of the accident and calls for an ambulance, and then the police arrive, so Molly and Sharon will be in the car, yeah?"
Brendan nodded. "Fine. Okay."
"Molly, Sharon, you okay with that?" I asked, my eyes focused on Sharon. Sharon nodded, a small smile on her face.
"Sure, whatever. I really don't mind." Molly looked reluctant, a frown marring her usually pretty face.
"But I have to swear and stuff," she whined. "In front of my Nana. She'll be there. I can't..."
"Don't worry," I responded in the most soothing voice I could manage, "We can speak to Sir and ask if there can be some revisions on the lines. For now, though, let's just read through the script and get to grips with the storyline, okay?"
They all agreed, and the rest of the lesson was spent going through the script. Well, I say 'going through'; it was more us stumbling through our lines before Brendan or Adam interrupted by being stupid or, in the case of Adam, juggling apples. We were limping towards the end of the second scene when Mr O'Connor called the lesson to an end, gave us a brief chat, and then let us go five minutes early.
Sharon, Beth and I all congregated into the group. Suzanne gravitated towards Gordon's friends and a girl named Sarah Vickers who was quite friendly with Gordon. In the first few weeks of being back at school, Suzanne had distanced herself from me and everyone else. I don't know why: she'd already started doing it at the end of Year 9. At this point, I barely even noticed that she wasn't there.
And we were chatting, Sharon, Beth and me, about our plays. Sharon wasn't too pleased about being in our play, while Beth was far from happy with her group – not the play, just the group. I knew why: she'd been lumped with some of the school's social outcasts. It wasn't a good group to be in, and I felt slightly sympathetic. Anyway, we were chatting, when Adam ambled over, now starting on his second apple. He just stood next to us, eyes flickering from face to face as we attempted to continue our conversation. The conversation came to an abrupt end when Beth momentarily lost her head and demanded why Adam Lougher was stood with us.
"I like her," he said, pointing at me with his apple. "And now I like you," he added as an afterthought. Beth's face flushed red.
"You're strange," she decided a few moments later when her blush had lessened. Adam laughed.
"Why, thank you. I'll take that as a compliment. Don't mind me, by the way – continue your conversation."
Beth gave me a look, and I shrugged in response.
"So, uh, Beth...Have you phoned Danny yet?"
Danny. Danny was the name of the boy she'd met at the supermarket. She'd met him the next day and got his number, but that was about it.
Beth blushed again, fumbling with the hem of her blazer. "Nope," she mumbled. "I...I don't know what to say."
Adam eyed her curiously. "This Danny... Is he a lad you met outside school?" he asked, nibbling at the stem of his apple.
Beth bit her lip. "Yeah." She turned to me. "I mean, I really want to ask him out, but I don't want to go anywhere alone with him, I mean, I don't know him and I'm not Sian, I'm not interested in the mother and child toilets –"
"Beth, calm down," I said soothingly, pulling on her hair.
"No offense, like, but I bet this Danny doesn't want to go out with you alone anymore than you do," Adam said, in what I suppose he imagined to be a wise voice. Beth just looked offended.
"Do you mean that as in – like – You know...Because he doesn't like me?" Beth demanded, now looking kind of pissed off. Adam held up his hands defensively.
"Uh-uh, not at all. What I meant was, you'd be best off inviting him to come out as part of a group." Adam shrugged. "You know, like, phone him up and say, like, 'I and my friends are going to the cinema, do you want to come?' and then suggest he brings his friends too. That way, you can see each other, but if you get uncomfortable, you have Nerys here to fall back on."
"He talks sense," I nodded. "I'd give that a go, Beth. Seriously."
"Would you come with me?" she appealed, eyes wide. I rolled my eyes in response.
"Obviously. That's the whole point of going as a group," I reminded her. Beth ignored me.
"D'you think
Sian would go? Actually, no, scrap that, she might try and get off with him...John would, wouldn't he?"
"John would, yeah, and I think you need to have more faith in Sian," I replied. "She's not going to try anything with him, I promise. She's not an idiot."
The bell rang for dinner, and Beth didn't seem convinced. As we left the drama studio, Adam caught hold of her rucksack and put a hand on my arm. "Let me know how it goes," he said, flashing us a pearly white grin. "See you next lesson." And with that, Adam Lougher swaggered off to join his friends.
"Okay, so, Adam scares me," Sharon said quietly as we took our seats at our usual table.
"Me and you both," I chuckled.
Little did I know then that Beth's trip to the cinema with Danny would set off a chain of events: you know, I've not blamed anyone in a while, but I'm going to go ahead and blame Adam. It was, after all, his idea for us all to go to the cinema...
Chapter 6: Quite the Little Stalker
After much discussion, Beth and I decided that we'd schedule the cinema trip for that weekend. That evening, she phoned Danny and tried to arrange it. As it turned out, his cousin was getting married that weekend, so he had to go to the wedding; and the weekend after that, Beth's family were going on a "family bonding trip" to Southport (look, I don't know). So, they arranged it for the weekend after that.
Date set, we went about inviting everyone. Siân and John agreed immediately, as did Sharon and Elisha. Ann needed a little bit of persuading because she wanted to revise for a science test, but she eventually caved in. This was kind of when Gwen overheard our plans and invited herself, Suzanne, Evelyn Awbrey, Linda Folland, Sarah Vickers, Gordon Morgan and some of Gordon's mates along. It was typical Gwen, and Beth was slightly pissed off about it.
It was a Friday, the Friday before the Saturday when I'd be meeting Honey Boy. It was now October, and the day started off well (although I felt like slapping Glyn because he resumed his usual pestering during form time).
