Faye Meredith - Becoming Edward

by Faye Meredith

  ‘I’m not interested in Lynn. It’s Rachel I like. Look, could you cover for me while I go talk to her.’

  ‘Sure, man. I’ve got your back.’

  Clive walked over to Rachel and Cassie who were looking at the Twilight section. Then he did something completely unexpected and spontaneous. He took Rachel by the arm and led her away. It was the first time he’d ever touched her and it was glorious. Rachel looked at him in surprise. He didn’t know why he did it. His arm had just reached out like it had a mind of its own. Maybe it was in reaction to what Ginster had said; he wanted to prove that he could get close to Rachel. But now he was panicking and didn’t know what to do. Thankfully his brain kicked in and saved him from his bizarre impulse.

  ‘Step away from the Twilight books,’ Clive said, as he led her along the shelves.

  The two girls giggled and Clive let go. He’d just got away with it – just. That was a moment he would never forget. He had just touched the object of his dreams. His mind felt like a street in the dead of the night when a fast car goes past and sets all the car alarms off. He was ecstatic and frightened and he also felt slightly seedy. He had touched Rachel without her permission and that was wrong wasn’t it? It was only her arm - surely that’s not a crime? Her skin had felt wonderful for the brief moment it was in his grasp.

  ‘Clive?’ Rachel said.

  ‘Oh, sorry, I just lost my train of thought,’ Clive regained his composure after his little flight of fancy. He turned to the bookshelf in front of him. ‘Now, please may I introduce you to the daddy of all vampire novels: Interview with a Vampire.’

  ‘Oh, I’ve heard of that. Isn’t it a film?’ said Cassie.

  ‘Yes but it was a book first and it’s fantastic. It’s also got a veggie vampire in it.’

  ‘Is it better than Twilight?’ asked Rachel.

  ‘No, not better. But different.’

  ‘Different is good. Different is exactly what we need,’ said Cassie.

  ‘I’ll leave you to it.’ Clive made a swift exit around the other side of the shelves and pretended to be rearranging books. He breathed heavily, trying to guzzle down as much air as possible. The feeling he got from touching Rachel wasn’t one he wanted to lose in a hurry. It was placed in his mental library and would be stored there for eternity and labelled: The Day I Touched Rachel Lyons.

  *

  Rachel pored over the book that Clive had recommended. The back cover had great reviews and she would definitely buy it, but the Twilight section started pulling her in, like she’d been hooked by an invisible fishing line. There was stuff about the author, graphic novels and movie posters, even little figures of Bella, Edward and the rest of the characters. She already had most of this stuff but it was good to check through, just in case anything new had been added.

  Something stood out that hadn’t been there before - a long metallic box with a sumptuous lacquer finish and two heavy fasteners attached to the lid. Rachel reached down and picked it up. Embossed on the top it simply read: ‘Twilight’. It was a limited edition special collectors’ box set.

  *

  Lewis was getting desperate. He’d been running around town trying to buy something for his sister Olivia but he was too late. It was 5.30pm and every shop had posted a security guard on the door who took great pleasure in telling him they were now closed. A guard at one shop did take pity on him and said if he knew exactly what he wanted he could make an exception. Sadly, Lewis had to admit he had absolutely no idea what he was looking for.

  Lewis stood in the middle of the town square wondering what to do. Where the hell was he going to get anything at this hour? He began walking back to his van when he saw that Books ‘n’ Beans still had their A-frame boards outside, advertising various deals. That was a good sign – they hadn’t taken them in yet, which meant they might still be open. He sprinted over to the large shop window and saw the small sticker advertising their opening times. It said Mon – Sat 8pm.

  ‘You beauty,’ he muttered and rushed into the vast hangar-like shop. He still had no idea what he was looking for. Books weren’t exactly eighteenth birthday material. He walked manically around the shelves searching up and down like a parent who had lost a child. Maybe he could buy Olivia lots of books and maybe lots of pens – no that was ridiculous. Then he saw something that made him forget his mission. There, standing halfway down one of the aisles was a girl that forced Lewis to blink a couple of times to make sure she was real.

  She looked like a goddess from ancient Greece. Small and petite, delicately proportioned with a neat waistline and slender elegant legs. This was offset by a mass of thick black curls that hung like a weeping willow around her pretty pale face. But it was her eyes that held his gaze. They were large and beautiful and the colour of darkest chocolate. He found himself unable to look anywhere else but into them. They drew him in like black holes in space.

  Lewis instinctively started to move towards her. She appeared to be mesmerised by a large metal box in her hands.

  ‘Is that any good?’ he asked. But the voice that came out of him sounded like a 12-year-old’s. What was going on? Surely he wasn’t nervous. He was never nervous in front of girls. Quite the opposite.

  ‘Mm,’ she replied, not even bothering to glance up at him.

  This was a unique experience for Lewis - being ignored by a girl. He realised what he must have sounded like talking to a complete stranger. There was only one deduction she could make and Lewis quickly countered it.

  ‘God, I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘that must have sounded like the world’s worst chat-up line.’ She didn’t reply so Lewis swiftly filled the silence. ‘I’m looking for a present for my little sister and like a complete idiot I’ve left it until the last minute.’ Still no reaction. ‘Do you think that would make a good present for an eighteen-year-old girl?’ he asked, pointing at the metal box that gleamed in Rachel’s hands.

  He got a response almost instantly and the icy-faced siren suddenly melted.

  ‘Are you kidding me? This is the Twilight box set. She’d love this, unless she’s read them already.’

  ‘Twilight? She’s never talked about it and believe me, my little sister can talk.’

  She smiled.

  ‘What’s it about?’ he asked.

  She looked surprised, like he was from the moon. ‘Vampires and stuff,’ she said.

  ‘Vampires?’ Lewis raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Yes, but it’s mostly a love story about Bella and a guy called Edward who happens to be a vampire – it’s a bit like Romeo and Juliet.’

  ‘But with fangs.’

  ‘These vampires don’t have fangs. They’re different, especially Edward. Believe me every girl wants to find an Edward and that’s why it’s so popular.’

  ‘With girls like you?’

  ‘With girls like me, and boys too.’

  ‘I’m intrigued, may I?’ Lewis held out his hands and Rachel handed him the box set. ‘Wow, this is heavy.’

  ‘Yeah, but once you start reading they’re really addictive.’

  ‘Sounds perfect. You know, you’ve probably just saved my life.’

  ‘You’re welcome. Hope she likes it. What’s her name?

  ‘Olivia, and she’s impossible to buy for.’

  ‘And you’re not making it easy for yourself at closing time on a Saturday.’

  ‘True, but I think I’ve been totally lucky to run into you.’ A little voice inside Lewis’ head told him the last phrase was too much. He needed to back off now, otherwise it would look like he was hitting on her in a creepy sort of way.

  ‘Thanks very much.’ He handed the box back to Rachel and picked up another one from the stack on the floor. He smiled what he hoped was a friendly and not flirty smile, then turned and walked towards the tills.

  From the other side of the shelves, Clive breathed a sigh of relief as the guy with the catalogue-model looks walked out of Rachel’s life.

  ‘Are you alright there, Rachel?’ Clive asked. />
  ‘Yeah, I’m fine.’ She watched as the handsome stranger walked away clutching her recommendation. She thought about how his perfect looks were nicely balanced by a complete disregard for what he was wearing: a scruffy t-shirt that had never seen an iron and a pair of shorts that looked like they’d come out of a bin. Someone who dressed like that certainly wasn’t self-obsessed. Rachel liked that quality and something stirred within her.

  ‘Who was that?’ Cassie breathed, rushing up to Rachel.

  ‘Dunno, just some guy looking for a present for his sister.’

  ‘Just some guy? You’re joking aren’t you? You could forget about Edward with that on your arm.’ Rachel didn’t say anything. But she knew her friend was right. ‘Oh my God, he’s coming back.’

  *

  Clive turned and saw, to his utter disbelief, that the person who could quite possibly crush his dreams was heading back their way.

  ‘Hello again,’ he said to Rachel.

  ‘Hi,’ said Rachel. Cassie just stood staring at Lewis like he was the second coming.

  ‘I was just wondering, would you and your friend like to come to my sister’s party as my guests?’

  Before she could answer, Cassie leapt in. ‘We’d love to. Hello I’m Cassie,’ she said thrusting her hand out. Lewis smiled a perfect smile and shook her hand.

  ‘Hi Cassie, I’m Lewis. So what do you say, er …’

  ‘Rachel, her name’s Rachel,’ Cassie said.

  ‘Cassie, I can speak for myself, you know. I’m Rachel.’

  Clive was descending rapidly into hell. Right before his eyes, his beloved Rachel was being stolen away from him by some guy with a cheesy grin who had just walked in off the street. This wasn’t meant to happen. This was against the rules. He wanted to call in a referee or someone he could shout at and say that this wasn’t fair. But there was nothing he could do. He was powerless to stop it.

  ‘So would you like to come? It’s very casual and my sister loves meeting cool new people.’

  Clive wanted to stick a knitting needle through this guy’s tongue. How was he doing it, being so flattering without actually sounding like he was flattering her? He glanced at Rachel to see her expression. There was certainly something happening - her normally melancholy eyes were starting to twinkle.

  ‘Okay, maybe we’ll come along,’ replied Rachel.

  Clive gripped his pen so hard that sweat began to seep out from between his fingers.

  ‘Excuse me, can I borrow your pen?’ Lewis asked Clive, who grudgingly handed it over. ‘Here’s the address and hopefully I’ll see you tonight. That’s unless you’re busy of course.’

  Please say you’re busy, please say you’re busy, thought Clive.

  ‘No I think we’re free tonight,’ Cassie butted in.

  ‘Oh, okay,’ said Rachel.

  ‘Great, and thanks again,’ Lewis said, holding up the box set.

  Smooth git, thought Clive. Drop down dead or have a crash on the way home.

  ‘Oh my God, Rach, have you seen the address?’ Cassie blurted out when Lewis was out of sight. ‘It’s in Sandbanks.’

  Chapter 4

  *

  Clive hated the pavement he walked on. He hated the spots of chewing gum that had been spat out and trodden flat so they looked like little grey pancakes. He hated the stupid people who passed him with their stupid mobile phones wedged into their stupid ears. And he hated their stupid conversations. He hated the clothes he wore and he hated the shoes he walked in. He hated all the stuff Ginster said. But most of all he hated himself.

  Clive found hate much easier to deal with when he turned it on himself. He detested that he’d been such a coward. All this time he could have said something to Rachel but he hadn’t. He’d been hiding behind some pathetic idea that he was biding his time and waiting for the right moment. But in fact he was too scared to say anything. Fear had been the barrier that prevented him from telling her how he felt. Fear of rejection. Fear she would laugh at him. But mostly fear that once he’d told her how he felt, he could never go back. The knowledge would be out there and he’d have to live with it. Because deep down he knew she wouldn’t be interested.

  His pursuit of her, or lack of it, was just a dumb fantasy. Like when he was young and wanted to marry Princess Leia. It was never going to happen but it was nice to think about.

  Strangely, he didn’t hate Lewis anymore. Lewis was just doing what any normal heterosexual male would do. He had seen Rachel, he had liked Rachel, he had asked Rachel out. Simple. That was what real men did, wasn’t it? They asked girls out and to hell with the consequences.

  It was easy for them. Whereas Clive had a kind of romantic dyslexia. He’d created this intricate game which was so difficult to play that Clive had no way of winning. And now Rachel would be marching off to this party in Sandbanks of all places, falling for this guy with his floppy hair and those ridiculously perfect cheek bones, and that would be that.

  Clive’s body filled to the brim with something bitter and toxic. It gave him a strange type of energy. It was like nuclear fuel - powerful but unstable, and he was ready to go into meltdown at any moment. It burned through his veins like acid down a paper straw. There was nobody to blame but himself. He wanted to punch and kick himself into a coma. He had no outlet for his rage. He would go home, tell his parents he had a good day and then sit in his room, stewing in a soup of self-loathing.

  Clive’s mobile buzzed twice in his pocket. He imagined it was a text from Rachel asking him to accompany her to Lewis’ party. The chances of that happening, as Ginster rightly pointed out, were slim to none.

  It was a text from Lynn asking him to give her call. Great. Why could he attract the girls he didn’t like, but not get anywhere with the girls he did like. It just wasn’t fair. He didn’t reply to the text, deleting it immediately. He also made a mental note to avoid Lynn as much as possible. The last thing he wanted was her following him around like a lost puppy. Lynn would cramp his style and get in the way of him attracting Rachel. He didn’t want another girl distracting him from his mission.

  Eventually his feet carried him the three miles home. He opened the door, to be greeted by his Mum’s curvy smile.

  ‘Hi, Clive. What happened to you?’ she said.

  ‘Hi, son,’ said his father standing beside her. It looked like they were posing for a photograph.

  ‘I felt like a walk,’ said Clive.

  ‘What, after work? You’re usually tired after work?’ said his Mum.

  ‘Well today I felt different.’ Clive was struggling to keep his anger under control.

  ‘Oh, OK. You hungry?’

  ‘No.’ Clive turned and used his long legs to take him up the stairs and into his room as swiftly as possible. He closed the door, leant against it with his back and slowly slid down until he was sitting on his haunches. He banged his head against the door several times.

  About a minute later there was gentle knock.

  ‘What?’ Clive snapped.

  ‘May we come in?’ said his Mum.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Please, son. We’re worried about you,’ said his father.

  Why were his parents so bloody nice? It made him sick, like they were trying to roll him up in a protective mattress made of marshmallow.

  ‘I’m fine. Just go away.’

  ‘Please, Clive. Are you in trouble?’ asked his mother.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Is it a girl?’ she asked.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Is it a boy?’ asked his father. Meltdown was going to begin in 3,2,1…

  Clive flung the door open. ‘I’m not gay, alright!’

  ‘I didn’t say you were,’ said his father.

  ‘Well that’s what it sounded like. Why do all fathers assume that if their son hasn’t got a girlfriend then he must be gay? Have you thought I might be finding it hard to get a girlfriend? Or the genes you’ve given me don’t exactly make me a catch? No, course you haven’t. You think - no girlfri
end, he must be gay.’

  ‘Let me handle this,’ his mother said to his father.

  ‘Handle this!’ Clive’s overload was cranked up to 11 now. ‘What do you mean handle this? There’s nothing to handle. You’re talking as if I’m a broken shopping trolley. I don’t need handling.’

  ‘Go,’ said his mother to his father. He didn’t need anymore encouragement and retreated down the stairs and away from the domestic war zone erupting on the landing.

  Clive’s mother went into his bedroom and sat on his bed. ‘I think I owe you an apology.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘I always pretend to know what you’re going through and that’s a stupid thing to think. I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re going through; only you know that.’

  ‘Who says I’m going through anything,’ Clive said, looking at the floor.

  ‘If you are and you want to talk about it, I’m listening. If not, then that’s fine too.’

  ‘Why are you always so bloody understanding? I’m being a shit and you should be shouting at me. That’s what parents are supposed to do, isn’t it?’

  ‘That wouldn’t be very helpful.’ She bent her head down level with Clive’s. ‘I can do the shouty parent thing if you want. That’s what my mum did to me and I hated it. So I swore that if I ever had children I’d never do it. It’s your choice.’

  ‘You wouldn’t understand.’

  ‘Maybe I won’t, but at least we can try. We’ve got nothing to lose, have we?’

  ‘S’pose.’

  ‘Girls are funny things, you know. I used to be one so I should know.’

  Clive cracked a microscopic smile.

  ‘What are you smiling at?’

  ‘Nothing. How do you know it’s about a girl?’

  ‘I’ve got three brothers and I’ve seen your exact same expression on all three of their faces when they were about your age. Each time it was a girl. So it’s just an educated guess.’

  ‘Good guess,’ said Clive.

  ‘So what’s the problem?’