Close Ups and Mess Ups

by Natasha West

  The next few hours moved in a blur. But a nice one. I was on the dance floor, my feet light as air. Then I was laughing at something, I couldn’t tell you what, but nothing had ever been funnier.

  And then I was in the toilets. In a cubicle. With someone else, someone whose hand I’d dragged through the basement bar, telling her, ‘You’re coming with me.’ And she’d come willingly.

  And then we were kissing, groping, messy but hot and I was soaking wet and her hands found that out pretty soon. I felt her lips on my neck as I came and it was something else. After it had happened, I said, bizarrely, ‘Thank you.’

  She laughed at me. ‘You don’t need to thank me. Just return the favour.’

  I grinned like a fool and went straight to my knees and unbuckled her jeans, her un-paint-splattered jeans, and went to work, giving it my all. She tasted like she smelled, like a sweet clementine. I couldn’t believe it. I was going down on Ashley Douglas, the hottest girl in the school.

  Thank god for Janey’s idiocy.

  Chapter Twelve

  The next morning was a lot less happy. I woke up feeling like I’d been poisoned. Which I guess I had. And I’d done it again. I’d had sex with another person from my school. I blamed Janey almost totally. At least for this one.

  I felt completely miserable. I regretted everything from the night before. In fact, the more I thought about it, I regretted pretty much my entire life. Some googling explained quickly why. I’d just burned through my serotonin reserves for the next few days. Apparently, the price for gorging on the happy chemical was that I didn’t have any left now. Which was perfect because I was now about to deal with my father.

  This Christmas visit home had just gone from bad to hellish.

  ‘Sis!’ cried my brother on the platform, waving at me. As I got closer, he added, ‘You look terrible!’

  It was hard to be offended. I’d seen my ashen face in the train toilet a few minutes before and it was the visage of a dying woman.

  ‘Just getting over a cold’ I lied.

  ‘You better not give it to me. You look like death warmed up’ he said, still looking at my pale little face.

  ‘Sod off’ I told him, punching him in the arm. He immediately gave me a return kick in the ankle. I dropped my bag and grabbed him in a headlock and he tried to pull my hands away but I wouldn’t let go. ‘You know what you have to do’ I instructed him.

  ‘Never! I will never say I give.’

  ‘What’s that? You give?!’

  ‘No!’

  ‘I heard it, you said it!’

  ‘I think everyone heard you both. Stop this now. You’re in a train station, you pair of hooligans!’

  I quickly released Robbie and turned to my dad. He looked livid. Great start.

  ‘We’re just fuckin’ about, Dad. Don’t get your knickers in a twist.’

  I don’t know why I said that. I knew I was just making it worse. But I could never help myself with him. I lived to make him angry. I always had and apparently going off to a fancy film school hadn’t changed that an iota. He was just so bloody stiff! And he cared way too much what strangers thought.

  ‘Come on, get in the car’ he told me, irritably. But he wasn’t as angry as I’d expected him to get. Perhaps he’d realised that now he barely saw me, he didn’t have time to fly off the handle at me for everything. We were supposed to be creating cherished Christmas memories.

  I picked up my bag, winked at Robbie and followed my dad out to the carpark.

  ‘Oh! Allie!’ cried out Deborah, rushing at me for a hug. She was supposed to be my wicked stepmother, but truthfully, I liked her a lot more than my dad. She always looked pleased to see me for a start. She also cooked like a demon, which had played a part in my decision to accept a Christmas invitation. She was a total sweetie pie with an easy smile and she was probably the reason my brother had turned out alright, despite my dad’s cranky influence. I had no idea why Deborah had married my dad, a stuffed shirt with no sense of humour. He must have pulled the wool over her eyes in the beginning, that’s all I could imagine. Pretended to be kinder, more fun.

  ‘Let me make you a cup of tea. Oh and I’ve got some plum cake. Homemade’ she said, sweeping into the kitchen. I followed her in and gorged while Deborah caught me up on news of home, such as it was. Apparently, my dad needed a new shed, a bigger one, but the council wouldn’t give him permission. It wasn’t thrilling stuff but it was nice to be home, so I listened as though it were the most interesting thing ever. And the cake was fucking good.

  The next day was Christmas. I woke up and saw a cup of tea already sitting on the bedside table. God bless Deborah, she knew how to host. I glugged it down greedily. I was still not a hundred percent, which put a come down way past any hangover I’d ever had.

  As I lay there with my tea, considering how long I could feasibly stay in bed without someone (Dad) coming to yell at me to get up, I heard a beep and checked my phone.

  Hey, Merry Xmas

  Ashley x

  It wasn’t really for me. The generalness made it clear. It had probably been sent to everyone in her phone book. Still, seeing her name pop up on my phone, I couldn’t help but think of the things that had happened in the toilets of the basement bar. Whether it was regrettable or not, while it had been happening, it had been good. Very, very good.

  I remembered the feel of her hands on my body, those pillowy lips, that shiny copper hair. It was all too much. I was going to have to deal with this before I could possibly face getting up. I reached down into my knickers and…

  ‘Are you getting up or what!’ said my dad, from behind my door.

  I yanked my hand out of my knickers, worried he might walk in. ‘Yep, one sec.’

  I heard his footsteps move away and I sighed, giving in, getting out of bed. I was still kind of revved up but my dad’s voice had killed it for me. Typical. The man had a way of sensing anyone having a good time and knowing precisely how to ruin it.

  ‘Oh, I was almost out!’ Deborah said, unwrapping the perfume. It had cost me more than I really had to spare but I got it for her every year. She would never spend it on herself and my dad wouldn’t buy it for her, the cheap prick. ‘I’m not spending fifty quid on a smell’ he’d say.

  ‘Thanks, I’d never have this without you’ Deborah said, kissing my cheek. It made me happy to make her happy. She’d married my dad when I was five (my Mum had been gone only a year, cancer) and I’d been a brat at first but she’d put up with it until I realised she was actually a nice person who cared about me, not some monster come to replace my Mum. And then my brother came along shortly after and I’d loved him from the second I clapped eyes on him, so my view of Deborah was that she’d put more love into my family life than my dad would have ever managed alone. It was worth some perfume.

  Robbie gave me his gift and I unwrapped it. It was a book on how to get a boyfriend. I threw it at him. ‘Hilarious.’

  ‘What?’ he asked, trying not to laugh. ‘You never have a boyfriend, I thought you could do with some help.’

  My dad, who never got our jokes, shook his head. ‘Waste of money.’

  I handed Robbie his gift and he unwrapped it. It was a mug printed with a picture of him as a baby printed on it, wearing his own nappy on his head, dribbles of brown liquid pouring down his face. Underneath, it read, ‘A+ student.’ He laughed at it. ‘Nice one. I love it.’

  ‘That’s revolting, Allie’ my Dad said. ‘How can you drink out of that?’

  I grabbed the mug and licked the side of it, right on the nappy. ‘Because it’s not real poo.’

  Robbie and Deborah laughed. Dad didn’t. I gave him his gift, which was a boxset of classic westerns on Blu-ray and I thought I saw him smile a bit. ‘Thanks’ he said quickly. But I knew the old man, he liked it.

  And then he gave me my gift. It was in a card. It was three hundred quid cash. ‘Thought you could probably use it more than anything else right now, since you’re a student.’

&nb
sp; Maybe it wasn’t very personal, but he was dead on. Money was tight this year. ‘Oh Papa! How did you know!’ I cried and then I jumped up and kissed him on the cheek and he said, ‘Alright, alright, enough theatrics!’

  Dinner was delicious. I hadn’t eaten that well since… Actually, since the last time Deborah cooked for me. I was existing off supermarket own brand freeze dried noodles at the moment, so it was something else to get the full three courses, plus cheeseboard. I was stuffed and drowsy, content.

  Afterwards, Robbie and I went into the kitchen to clean up. The place looked crazy. Deborah had been flinging food all over the place as she put together the meal. ‘Did she forget to put the top on the blender when she was making the soup?’ I asked Robbie, examining a long green splash on the wall.

  ‘Either that or she stabbed The Hulk to death in here’ Robbie replied, stacking plates. ‘You dry, I’ll wash.’

  ‘That’s my preference, anyway.’

  We worked quickly, Robbie placing plate after plate on the rack while I quickly dried them off and put them away. Fifteen minutes in, Robbie had moved to pans, and was trying to shift some stubborn food out of a large one. He glanced at me as he worked. ‘How’s it going at school?’

  ‘It’s going’ I told him.

  He grinned. ‘Well, you don’t seem too changed by your fancy pants film school anyway.’

  ‘As if I’d change’ I told him.

  ‘Any action?’

  I tutted. ‘You’re sixteen. I don’t tell you that sort of thing. You’re too young and innocent.’

  ‘So there’s something to tell?’ he said with a comical wriggle of his eyebrows.

  ‘No, no, no, no…’ I said quickly. I hadn’t been joking before. I didn’t want to sully Robbie with my sordid tales. I had no idea if he was still a virgin or not but I really wanted him to be. I wanted him to save himself for the right girl. I’d given myself to all the wrong girls lately and I wanted him to do better than me.

  ‘What about that firewoman, you still see her?’ Robbie asked.

  ‘Nope, we broke it off when I left.’

  ‘Shame. She was fit.’

  I laughed. ‘Yeah, I guess she was. Not exactly a genius though.’

  Robbie cackled. ‘Yeah, one time I mentioned Schrodinger’s Cat in front of her and she was like, ‘Oh, I love cats!’

  I snorted. I didn’t want to be mean about Hannah but she was kind of a sexy idiot. It was what I’d liked about her.

  ‘No hotties at film school?’ Robbie asked.

  I paused, just for a second, and then said, ‘No, I-.’

  Robbie was on me in a second. ‘You liar! Tell me now.’

  I tutted. ‘I don’t want to talk about girls.’

  ‘Girls? Plural? As in more than one! Oh man’ he groaned. ‘I wish I had your skills with women.’

  ‘Trust me, there’s no skill. It’s more like blind luck’ I explained.

  ‘Well, I hope you do meet someone at BSF. You need a proper girlfriend. Hannah was nice but…’ He left it there, we both knew what he meant.

  ‘I don’t think anyone I’ve met lately is really wanting anything from me beyond…’ I stopped and coughed, realising what I’d been about to say.

  ‘Booty?’ My brother suggested.

  ‘Robbie, don’t say things like booty. It makes me want to puke.’

  ‘Hey, can I visit?’ Robbie asked abruptly.

  ‘You wanna visit me at film school? What for?’

  ‘Just wanna check it out.’

  ‘Alright then, Easter break. You can come’ I told him, pleased.

  Term

  Two

  Chapter Thirteen

  I frowned at Janey and exclaimed, ‘A play?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Like a play on stage?’ I confirmed, doubtfully.

  ‘That’s where they put ‘em on. Typically’, Janey replied with a raised eyebrow.

  But I wasn’t getting it. It wouldn’t go in. ‘But a play though?’

  ‘Are you really surprised? You know what Kim’s always saying. Director’s work with actors. That’s their only real job. Everything else can technically be taken care of by heads of departments.’

  ‘So you think it’ll be useful?’

  ‘Oh, fuck knows. But we’re doing it, so I’m just tryna get on board.’

  ‘How come you know about this, anyway?’ I asked her as we lounged on a sofa in a corridor on the second floor of the school. There were random sofas everywhere. They were supposed to serve as informal meeting places but mostly people just napped on them. ‘Kim hasn’t announced it yet, has she?’

  ‘A director from last year, I know him from around. He told me they always do it.’

  ‘How do you know everybody?’ I asked, confused.

  ‘I get about, go to stuff, talk to people. You should try it.’

  I huffed. ‘I hate all that.’

  ‘You can’t hate it. You’re not allowed.’

  ‘Well I do. Networking is gross. It’s like, ‘Hi, can I get to know you in case I need to use you at some point to get ahead?’ It’s sociopathic.’

  Janey shrugged. It didn’t seem to bother her in the same way. ‘But they’re doing the same to you, so it’s all kind of…’ she moaned, annoyed at me. ‘It’s just the way it goes, Allie. People wanna work with people they know. So you gotta make sure you know people.’

  ‘I’m fine working with people. I’m just not comfortable working them.’

  ‘You better get fine with it. Because it’s how it works and if you wanna get directing jobs or get a feature funded, that’s how you do it.’

  I sighed. People kept telling me this. I didn’t want to believe it. Did I really have to kiss arse to make movies?

  ‘Shit, we need to get upstairs’ Janey blurted. ‘Can’t be late on the first day of term. Kim’ll string us up.’

  We ran in, seconds to spare and Kim came in just behind us. Everyone else was already there. Jonny looked as sour as ever. I recalled that he’d been working with Cameron over the break, putting together some project. I desperately wanted to know how it had gone. What was the film? Had Cameron liked working with Jonny? Did she think he was a better movie maker than me? Did Jonny have Cameron under his thrall? I was desperate to know but I’d rather have poked myself in the eye than ask him. I had this feeling that if I tried to casually enquire, Jonny would see through me. And I didn’t want him to sniff out my jealousy. It would give the bastard too much satisfaction.

  Paranoid thoughts? Possibly. But that’s how it went here, I was finding out. You always felt like other people were doing more, doing better. A few months ago, I’d just felt lucky to be here. And now getting in felt like it was only the first rung on a very long ladder.

  ‘Right, so this term, we’re going to focus on performance. Everyone will get a ten-minute one act play to direct, which will be put on at a local theatre for an audience of people from the industry.’

  A few people looked around in surprise. Some seemed to know this was what happened in term two, just like Janey.

  ‘What will we direct?’ Janey asked.

  ‘You won’t get the scripts for a couple of weeks. The writers have to finish them first.’

  ‘Oh!’ I said out loud, without at all meaning to.

  Kim turned to me. ‘Problem?’

  ‘No. No problem. Will we… Will we be able to pick?’

  ‘No, you’ll be assigned. And it won’t be the same person you got last term, we’re mixing it up.’

  I nodded. I wasn’t going to get Cameron. Why did I want her, anyway? Was it just because I liked her writing, that I thought we were simpatico? Or was it something else? Now that we’d settled our little sexual incident, I was feeling a little warmer towards her. But I wasn’t going to let myself get drawn in like that. And as I kept telling myself, I was too goddamn busy to get into that kind of mess!

  Later, down in the cafeteria, sipping lukewarm tea, I was pondering all this when I felt a hand on my sho
ulder. I spun round to see it was Ashley.

  ‘Oh! Hi!’ I said, a lot less cool than I might have liked. She looked fantastic. Her lustrous copper hair was down and she was wearing a loose black t-shirt, off the shoulder.

  ‘Hello’ she said easily. Getting a close up look at her, I couldn’t begin to imagine how on earth she had let me seduce her in that toilet. If I’d been her, I wouldn’t have let me sleep with her. It was painful but true. She was a ten. I’d always felt that I was about a six and a half, when I made the effort.