Boys for Beginners
Page 6
‘That’s great! Thanks so much!’ Suddenly I realize that sounds a bit desperate. ‘I mean, yeah, OK, whatever.’
Paul shouts over to me from where he’s standing with the other boys. ‘Gwynnie, we can’t be bothered to wait for the bus. We’re going to jog up to school and get in a game of footy. You coming?’
All eyes are on me. What do I say? ‘Errrr.’ Then I put on this girlie sort of pout and say, ‘Footy? Jog? No, thank you! I might break a nail.’
The BB girls smile. I’ve done well.
‘Er, OK. Catch you later, yeah?’
‘I’ll pencil it in to my calendar.’
The BB girls are now beaming at me. I roll my eyes at them as if to say that Paul is such a muppet sometimes. I’m becoming a mean girl and I hate myself a little bit. I won’t do it again and I make a promise to apologize to him later.
But now I’m a BB girl. Next stop: Charlie Notts’s girlfriend!
Chapter 12
My dad comes in the front door whistling a Spurs tune and carrying a takeaway pizza. We haven’t had pizza in ages because Dad says we can’t afford luxuries these days. Doesn’t he understand that pizza isn’t a luxury, it’s an absolute necessity.
We’re eating in silence, which is OK by me, until my dad makes a noise that sounds like he’s just stubbed his toe, but with his mouth full of pizza. He has dropped a pepperoni slice on to his chin. It looks like a nasty scab. I can’t help but laugh. He brushes it off his chin and there is a big red greasy patch underneath. I laugh even more.
Dad goes, ‘Bmdompn’t flaughfff.’ He’s still got a mouthful of pizza.
‘Sorry, Dad, I can’t understand you with your mouth full.’
He swallows his food and he’s laughing too. ‘I said, don’t laugh! That burnt my chin.’ He’s smiling at me. It’s been a long time since my dad’s been happy, so I’m happy too. ‘Imagine that, a father who has burnt his chin off.’
‘I’d still be seen with you, Dad . . . I’d just make you wear a bag over your head.’
‘Thanks a lot.’ He knows I’m joking.
He lets the silence fall again and I know what’s about to happen. The fun and games were just to ease me into a false sense of security before he starts . . . talking.
‘So . . .’ he says, ‘I hear you’ve made some new friends.’ How does he know that? Has he been spying on me?
‘S’pose.’ I am desperately hoping that something will happen to stop this conversation before it starts. Like maybe the phone will ring, or the house will fall down.
He sort of clears his throat and continues, but in a serious way. ‘Now listen, Gwynnie, it’s only natural for your taste in friends to change at this time in your life because there are a lot of other – erm – changes going on for you at the moment.’
Oh God, please don’t let him say the word that every girl hates to hear. He actually mouths the sentence to himself before he can bear to speak it out loud.
‘Ahem. You are going through – erm . . .’ even with practice he can’t do it without stuttering, ‘puberty.’
That’s it! That’s the word. It’s not so much the word itself but the way adults say it. They either sort of whisper it like it’s a secret word that only teenagers and embarrassing parents know, or they say it like it’s just a normal word and not the most embarrassing thing ever.
‘You will start – er – periods, and – er – boys.’ He’s having just as much trouble getting this out as I am hearing it. ‘When a man and a woman are in love, often they want to – erm – do things together—’
‘We don’t need to talk about this,’ I say, throwing him a lifeline.
‘You might not want to talk about this now, but some day you might have some questions you need answering.’
What does he think the Internet is for?
Dad’s mumbling his way through his speech, emphasizing the important words: ‘. . . Pregnant . . . Wear A Condom . . . Diseases . . . Sexual Intercourse . . .’ He’s making the same face as when I’ve seen him clean dog poo off his trainers. But trying to do it with a smile, which is so much worse.
‘Dad, I know it all already.’
He looks horrified. ‘You know it all already!?’
Oh God, now he thinks I am the most experienced girl this side of White Hart Lane.
‘What I mean is, we have education classes at school.’ I leave out the word sex as I can’t say sex in front of my dad. I realize that education classes doesn’t really make sense, but it’s the best I can do.
‘I know, Gwynnie, but—’
‘It’s cool, honestly.’
‘It’s just that, with your mother gone . . .’ He hesitates for a sec, as he always does when he mentions Mum, and I hate it. I hate it that he misses her as much as I do. ‘You might think you have no one to talk to. I want you to know that you can always talk to me – about anything—’
‘That’s great, Dad, thanks.’ Quick, change the subject. ‘Is there any football on tonight?’ But he’s stuck on puberty like Claudio Gentile marking Diego Maradona.
‘I’ve spoken to Angela and she said that you’re welcome to talk to her if you’d like.’
‘You’ve been speaking to Angela about me?’ So that’s how he knows about my new friends. Angela must have told him about Charlie and Jenny.
‘I speak to Angela about lots of things.’
I imagine this Gwynnie convention with charts and pictures of me while they all discuss what’s going on with Dad’s weirdo daughter.
‘I’d better go, Dad. I’ve got homework.’
‘Well . . . But . . . OK.’ He admits defeat. ‘Take more pizza if you want.’
‘Thanks, Dad,’ I say, and grab three slices out of the box.
I am just about to escape, opening the door with my elbow as my hands are full, when he captures me again. ‘Gwynnie, just a sec . . .’
Not more puberty talk, please.
‘I’ve got a job,’ he says.
This is brilliant news. ‘Dad! That’s so cool!’ I beam at him. It is really cool. ‘Now we can have pizza every day!’
He laughs. ‘Well, perhaps not every day. It’s not a great job. I’m only working in a sports shop in the centre, but at least now we’ll have a bit of money coming in.’
I’m so happy that I put my pizza down for a second and go over and give Dad a big hug. ‘Well done, Dad.’
He gives me a big hug right back. I love my dad sometimes.
‘The best thing about the job is that I get a staff discount.’
Why is that the best thing about his job? Oh no, I can see where this is going.
‘On Saturday we could go and get those football boots you wanted.’
Wanted. Past tense. I don’t know how to tell him I’m not playing football any more. I say, ‘We could wait a bit, Dad. Or we could not get them at all. You probably have other things you need to buy first, don’t you?’
‘There is nothing more important than getting my little girl her birthday present.’
I don’t know how to tell him that I am not into football any more. Maybe I won’t have to. Maybe the shop will burn down before then. Maybe they’ll put a nationwide ban on football. Maybe, if I’m really lucky, my feet will fall off.
It’s Saturday morning and all I have done this week is speak to girlie girls on Instant Messenger or Facebook or both at the same time. We can have, like, a two-hour conversation about rubbish, but mostly we seem to talk about Charlie Notts, which is a subject that never bores me.
Elizabeth P says < wot do u think he wears in bed? >
Tanya D says < definitely plum burgundy silk pjs that his dad bought him when he was on a diplomatic trip to japan >
Melissa R says < no way! he wears boxer shorts 2 bed and the tight ones 2 so u can c the outline of all his bits >
Elizabeth P says < lol >
Tanya D says < lol >
So I quickly write < lol > too.
Jenny G says < u lot r obsessed! itsa bit sad really >
Eli
zabeth P says < imagine pulling them off. like unwrapping a present 2 c the ‘package’ inside >
Jenny G says < lol >
Kimba O says < lol >
Tanya D says < lol >
So I write < lol > too.
So far with the BB Club I have bided my time. I don’t say too much in case I get anything wrong. But I can’t keep quiet while they talk any more – especially as they talk so much!
Gwynnie L says < i bet he sleeps naked! lets just spend a moment thinking about that . . . >
Kimba O says < yum yum >
Elizabeth P says < mmmmmmm! >
Tanya D says < he definitely sleeps naked >
Elizabeth P says < hey gwynnie, we r meetin at s bucks to talk more charlie. u wanna come? >
Paul S says < hi. wanna play g of w l8r? >
I’m about to answer his message when Jenny pings in with. < we cd go shopping and get G some new clothes! that wd be awesome! >
Elizabeth P says < cool. makeover! >
Kimba O says < i spose that might be ok >
Tanya D says < primark here we come! >
Melissa R says < usual time usual place? >
I have no idea what the usual time or place is. I’ll have to call Jenny. Everyone agrees. Then Melissa goes:
Melissa R says < wot were we talking about? o yeah. charlie notts naked . . . >
‘Gwynnie?’
So there I am, I’ve basically created an online forum about naked men, and my dad has sneaked up behind me.
‘What are you doing?’ he asks.
‘Nothing. Just talking to my friends.’
‘Why has someone just written the words “takin off ur bra”?’
‘It’s just my friends being stupid.’ They must be running through the how far would you go with Charlie Notts conversation.
‘These friends are not older men, are they? You haven’t arranged to meet any strangers, have you?’
‘No, Dad.’ Parents always think their children are so stupid. I cover the screen with my hand. ‘Do you want something?’
‘We’re going to get your football boots, aren’t we? I’m ready when you are.’
Errr.
‘We can get some lunch too, if you like.’
My dad is being so nice and it’s making me want to be nice back. But I don’t need boots any more, and I do need clothes.
‘Actually, Dad . . . I don’t think I want those Nike Mercurial Vapor VFGs made from Teijin synthetic leather that adjusts to the contours of your foot.’
Dad looks really confused. ‘What do you mean, Gwynnie?’
I stare at the floor and mumble, ‘I want to spend the money on something else.’
‘What do you want to spend the money on, Gwyndoe?’ My dad looks really worried, and for a second I think it would be funny to say, A boob job. Which actually might be an idea.
‘Um, I think I want to buy some new clothes.’ I don’t know why I feel bad when I say this, but I do.
‘What do you need?’
‘Umm . . .’ I don’t know how to tell him.
‘Do you want to buy a – erm – bra thing?’ My poor dad. If we have to have another embarrassing girl conversation I think he might combust. ‘I’ve heard that Marks & Spencer is a good place—’
‘No!’ I’ve got to stop him before he says the words cup size. For both our sakes. ‘No. I want to spend it on clothes . . . at Primark . . . with my friends.’
‘Oh, OK. No problem.’ Dad looks crushed. He takes out his wallet and hands me a wodge of notes that is more money than I have ever held in my entire life. ‘Of course you don’t want to go shopping with your old dad.’ He is trying to not sound sad, but he’s not doing a very good job.
‘Sorry, Dad.’
‘No, no. You go and meet your friends and have fun. It’s your birthday treat. I’ve got things I need to get done today anyway.’
‘Thanks so much, Dad.’ My dad is officially the best dad ever.
So I am about to go shopping with girlie girls. I have no idea what to expect.
Chapter 13
Shopping is the most exhausting sport in the world. It tests strength, stamina, endurance and even mental agility as some of the clothes require a PhD in mechanics to work out how to do them up.
‘Gwynnie, you just have to try this.’
‘Gee, you’ll look so good in this.’
‘Try this one on in a 10 and an 8 and see which is better.’
‘This would so go with that goooorgeous little thing over there. You just have to try them together.’
They pile stuff into my arms and it’s heavier than a thirteen-year-old boy. I know that because we once did an experiment to see if I could pick up Paul. This hurts worse than that as I have to hold the clothes as we do multiple circuits round the shop.
‘Try this.’ Jenny puts a flowery shirt on top of the pile. ‘The pattern’s not very nice, but just try it.’
‘Errr, why am I trying it if it’s not very nice?’
They stop in their tracks and look at me like I’m insane.
‘Because things sometimes look different once they’re on,’ Melissa tells me. ‘Haven’t you ever been shopping before?’
Thinking about it, I’d have to say, Not really. Whenever I’ve needed a new T-shirt, or tracksuit bottoms, or socks, I ask my dad for the money, he gives it to me, I walk into the shop, pick up the thing in the right size, pay for it and leave. I’ve never done this before.
I’m in a cubicle trying to work out whether the long tube is supposed to be for my arm or my leg. I look on the tag for clues. Fortunately it helps me out; it says ‘Off-the-shoulder top’. OK, that’s a good start, but why, if this tube is for my arm, is there only one of them? Primark must make tops for people who have had an arm amputated in an accident or something. I shout over the wall, ‘Do they make clothes for people with disabilities?’
‘Oh, Gwynnie, you have issues, sure,’ Jenny shouts back, ‘but I wouldn’t say you had a disability.’
‘I don’t know, does lack of dress sense count as a disability?’ I can tell that’s Kimba being mean, but I ignore it.
Maybe this isn’t an armhole at all. Maybe it’s supposed to be one of those accessories I have heard so much about. The top goes off-the-shoulder, so I put it round me under my armpits and across my chest. But where does the long tube thing go? It must be at the back, like a tail. It wouldn’t be at the front like an elephant’s trunk; that would be stupid!
I quite like having a tail to swoosh.
‘I think I am going to get this one,’ I say.
‘Let’sseelet’sseelet’ssee!’
I pull back the curtain, proudly showing off how good I look in my new top.
They all stick their heads out and crack up laughing.
‘Oh, Gwynnie! You are hilarious!’ Tanya says.
‘Don’t you like my tail?’ I ask, feeling confused.
‘A tail!’ Jenny says through tears of laughter. ‘Good one, Gee.’
I pretend it was a joke and laugh my head off too but I have no idea why. I stand in my cubicle for a moment and feel confused. A moment later there’s a patting against the curtain and I realize that it’s someone trying to knock.
‘Gwynnie?’ It’s Elizabeth. She’s whispering. ‘Can I come in?’
‘Yeah,’ I whisper back.
She sticks her head through the curtain and looks at me in my top. ‘That top is really nice and the colour is nice too, but it comes in another colour that I think might work better for you. I got you one in your size.’ She hands me the same top but this time in a dark grey. ‘And, um, that’s not how you wear it.’
I feel really stupid and try to shrug it off like I knew that all along. The shrugging makes the top fall down from under my armpits and I have to catch it before I expose my M&M boobs.
‘You put one arm in the tube,’ says Elizabeth, still whispering so the others can’t hear, ‘and the other side leaves your shoulder bare.’
‘Oh.’
I reshuffle the top like she says, and I suppose it makes more sense. I show the other girls.
‘I told you to try that one,’ says Kimba. ‘It was a good choice of mine.’
‘You look fully awesome,’ says Melissa.
‘You’re so lucky, Gee,’ says Elizabeth. ‘You have such a nice flat stomach.’
‘That colour is exactly the same as your eyes and it really brings out their beautiful shade,’ says Tanya.
‘Thanks, Tanya.’ Wow, I feel so good about myself.
‘And doesn’t Gwynnie have divine hair,’ says Jenny. ‘It’s so long and lovely.’
They all nod in agreement.
This is such a surprise. They are being so nice it makes me want to be nice to them too.
So when Tanya shows us what she’s tried on I say, ‘Ooooh, that skirt has so many flowers on it!’ I’m not sure if that’s a good enough compliment, but Tanya seems to like it.
Then Kimba comes out in a dress she’s tried on. ‘That dress is completely pink. It really brings out the beautiful colour of your eyes.’
Kimba looks at me like I’m insane.
And to Elizabeth, who has only tried on some bangles and a scarf, ‘Your hair is really clean.’
She says, ‘Thanks, Gwynnie,’ with a big smile. And we all feel like proper friends.
Then I spot the tag. ‘This must be a mistake.’ I turn to the rest of the girls and show them. ‘It says it’s only three pounds.’
‘That’s Primani for you,’ says Jenny.
When she says Primani they all laugh.
‘Pradamark,’ says Elizabeth, and they all laugh again.
‘Primada,’ Melissa says and they laugh more. I laugh at these nonsense words too, but I have no idea why.
Primark is, without doubt, the best shop in the world! With my £110 I have bought the whole place twice over. I buy jeans, leggings, jeggings, loads of tops and dresses to go over trousers and tons of accessories. I buy the off-the-shoulder top. Even if I did prefer it when it had a tail.
I now have a wardrobe full of clothes and shoes and jewellery.