Amy

by Mary Hooper

  Zed and I talked online a lot more, always using the messenger service. We could have texted each other, I suppose, but I asked him once about that and he said he didn’t like using a mobile, they worked out too expensive. I didn’t know if he even had one. We chatted nearly every evening, anyway, getting to know masses of things about each other. It’s weird – you find yourself saying all sorts of stuff you might take months to get round to saying if you were seeing someone in the normal way. He asked me about ex-boyfriends and I told him about James and Sammy, and he wrote back asking me if I’d slept with them. I said I hadn’t, that it hadn’t been like that, and I told him the truth – that I hadn’t slept with anyone yet, and when I did I hoped it would really mean something.

  He wrote back saying he was glad I hadn’t. That it would be all the more special when it happened. ‘I think, although you didn’t know it, that you’ve been saving yourself for me,’ he said. ‘When we get together it’s all going to be beautiful, you know that?’

  When he wrote that about it being beautiful, I printed it out so I could read it over again and think about it just before I went to sleep at night. It seemed pretty clear what he was getting at. The only thing was, I hoped he would take his time with me and lead up to it. I didn’t want him to just make a leap at me the first time we met. I wanted it all to be meaningful. Something we’d build up to after we got a proper relationship going.

  In turn, I asked him about girlfriends and he said he hardly had time. He said his job was quite stressful and he worked until seven or eight o’clock most evenings, then was so shattered that he went straight home. He told me that he’d had a steady girlfriend two years ago, someone he’d got quite serious about, but in the end he realised that she was just messing him about. I felt quite jealous when he told me about the girl, wondering what she was like and if he still fancied her. Did she live near him? Did she work in his office? Did he ever see her now? I wanted to ask him lots of things but I didn’t want it to sound too nosy, or as if I was desperate.

  He said he was saving up for a car and he lived in what he called a ‘well-smart new flat’ in a modern block overlooking the new marina. It all sounded brilliant. He was just what I’d been looking for.

  As he told me things about his life, I passed them on to Mum and Dad. I knew (at least I hoped) that sooner or later I’d be meeting him and I wanted to pave the way a bit. The more I talked about him, the more they’d get used to him.

  One night I was telling them how much I knew about him when Dad said, ‘You never really know anyone until you meet them face to face.’ He’s given to saying stuff like that – dropping what he thinks are wise remarks into the conversation. ‘You can tell a lot just by looking someone in the eye.’

  ‘Well, I hope I will meet him soon,’ I said daringly.

  Mum looked across from the TV. ‘It’ll be too late by then,’ she said.

  I sighed. ‘Mum, you’re always so negative about everything. So doom and gloom. What d’you mean?’

  ‘Well, he says he’s eighteen and you believe him – then off you go to meet him and when you get there he’s a forty-year-old pervert.’

  ‘We’ve had all this before. He is eighteen!’ I said.

  ‘How d’you know that?’

  ‘He sounds it. He knows about music and fashions and stuff. He uses the right words. He’s not forty. I know he’s not!’

  ‘Amy!’ Mum said warningly. ‘Don’t even think about going off to meet him, will you? Certainly not without discussing it with us first. If you do want to meet him later, Dad or I will come with you.’

  As I thought about how brilliant that would be, Dad added, ‘Anyone can feign musical knowledge. That’s easily learned.’

  ‘They’re clever, these men,’ Mum added.

  ‘OK,’ I said. ‘Just say you were right. Just say I went off to meet him and when I got there, there was a bald-headed old bloke waiting for me. I wouldn’t go off with him, would I? I’m not stupid! I think I can tell the difference between an eighteen year old and a middle-aged perve.’

  ‘He – he might bundle you into a van,’ Mum said. ‘That’s what I mean about it being too late once you’ve actually met him.’

  I sighed. ‘Look,’ I said, ‘didn’t you ever meet any of your penfriends?’

  ‘Never!’

  ‘That’s because they were all in foreign countries,’ Dad put in.

  ‘Anyway, that was different,’ Mum said. ‘Penfriends – you got proper letters from them, with addresses on them. And we wrote for years, sometimes, and swopped photographs of ourselves and our families. With this web business you don’t know where emails are coming from. Could be outer space! You’ve got no address or phone number or photo of him or anything. Nothing concrete. No way of tracing him.’

  ‘If he owed you money, you could never find him again,’ Dad said.

  ‘OK!’ I said, exasperated, ‘I’ll ask him for a photograph. I’ll ask for his home address, where he works, passport number and bank balance as well, if you want!’

  I was trying to be funny but they didn’t take it like that. Mum just nodded solemnly. ‘You do that,’ she said.

  ‘And you still be careful, even when you’ve got all that,’ said Dad.

  Of course, by then I was pretty desperate to know what Zed looked like anyway. I used to think about him before I went to sleep, think about the things he’d said and think about being with him, kissing him, and it was difficult to do that when I didn’t have a face in front of me. So, that night when I logged on I asked him if he could send me a photo. I said it was because of Mum, and joked that she thought he was a forty-year-old perve.

  He wrote back: ‘Cheek! I’m only 39’, which really made me laugh. He didn’t mind me asking. He said he thought that both of us should know what the other looked like, and he’d like to see me, too. ‘Just to get my imagination working overtime!’ he wrote.

  He said he’d do better than send a photo – he’d take one into the local print shop and get them to scan it through to my email address. He asked me to do the same, and I said I would. I gave him my email address, which I’d been holding out from giving before, just because it says in the chat room rules that you shouldn’t. I figured we’d moved on a bit from there, though. I’d been friends with him for long enough to give him that – and after all, I wasn’t giving him my home address or phone number, so even if the worst came to the worst and he was some sort of stalker, he’d never be able to find me and trail me.

  The day I got his photo – well, I’d just heard that Bethany and Lou were planning a party, so it couldn’t have arrived at a better time. The two of them had been talking in loud voices about this party all day, about who was coming and what they were wearing and what they were having to eat. It was going to be a supper party, whatever that was, and they were going to cook lasagne and have wine and everything. They just went on and on about it.

  They were talking about it near me – obviously just to get me going and make me feel out of it – and I was doing my best not to be got going. When they were talking about what fun it was going to be, how brilliant, I thought about Zed and fixed a little, superior smile on my face. I had a boyfriend. A proper boyfriend, not one of the drips from round here. Best friends were just for kids. I didn’t need Lou and Bethany and their stupid parties.

  Because I wanted to print out his photo and I didn’t have a decent printer at home, that afternoon I accessed my email account in the library when school had finished. His message was there waiting for me: ‘Hi, Babes! Click on the attachment to see me – if you dare!’ I did so and waited breathlessly for the photo to download onto the screen.

  I felt really jittery. Suppose he was awful? Suppose he was a geek or a thug – or just horribly ugly? How would I feel about him then? OK, looks weren’t everything, but I was never going to be mad about someone who looked like the back of a bus, was I? Biting my lip, hardly daring to breathe, I waited as slowly, line by line, the attachment downloaded
and his photo appeared.

  His hair came first … then his forehead. It all looked OK so far. I closed my eyes. I’d count to twenty before I looked again.

  I got to fifteen and couldn’t wait a moment longer, and when I opened my eyes, there he was. I breathed out heavily, staring at the screen, hardly believing my luck. He was really fit. He had short blond hair which was spiky on top, high cheekbones and eyes with long dark lashes. He had nicely shaped, very kissable lips and was smiling a little half-smile straight into the camera.

  ‘Wow!’ I breathed. ‘Oh wow … ’

  Hurriedly, I printed out the photo. It had obviously been taken in his office, because behind him I could just see, out of focus, some computers and a glass screen.

  I printed out two more copies. Lucky or what? To meet someone I could actually talk to, someone mature, who understood the things that were going on in my life, and who was really fit as well. Maybe, at last, nice things were starting to happen. Maybe losing Bethany and Lou was going to turn out to be the best thing that had ever happened to me.

  I turned off the computer and crossed the library, the photographs in my hand. The room was empty but for three people – and one of them was Beaky. She was bent over a table and looking at a book, her beaky nose almost touching the page.

  ‘Hi!’ I said. Normally I wouldn’t have spoken to her, but I felt so excited about the photo I wanted to show it to someone.

  She looked up and said hello.

  ‘You know I told you about someone I met on the Internet?’ She nodded. ‘Well, I’ve got a photo of him!’ I pushed it in front of her. ‘What d’you think? Pretty fit, eh?’

  She looked at the photo. ‘Is that really him?’ she asked.

  ‘ ’Course it is.’

  ‘Only you can download all sorts of stuff from the Internet. Photographs of anyone.’

  ‘It’s him! D’you think I’m stupid?!’ Crossly, I snatched up the photo again.

  ‘No, I just … ’

  I pushed the photo into a folder and marched towards the door. ‘You’re just jealous,’ I said over my shoulder. ’Course she was, I thought. She was jealous because she didn’t have a boyfriend like I did.

  She looked taken aback and I felt a bit horrible, but by then it was too late. Who needed her, anyway? Who needed anyone at all now that I had Zed?

  At home, I showed Mum the photo (‘Well, he looks all right,’ she said doubtfully) and then I started a major trawl through all the photographs in our photo box to try and find one that was good enough to send him.

  They all looked fairly awful, so in the end I put a lot of make-up on and went down to the photo machine at the station. I had three tries of having a decent one taken, and the last was moderately OK so I decided it would have to do. The next day, at school, I scanned it in and sent it to his email address.

  Section 5

  Printout of text conversations (ii) & (iii) included here

  Text conversation (ii)

  B: Love the photo. I’ve got it by my bed.

  Z: Yours is GR8. You’re a babe!

  B: Was yours taken in the office?

  Z: Yeah. It was for the Salesman of the Week board. We’ve got a big chart and our photos go on it in order, according to how many sales we’ve made.

  B: Have U ever been at the top?

  Z: Loads of times. I’m brilliant at selling!

  B: I’d B useless.

  Z: Hey – U look GR8 in your photo, but it’s only head and shoulders. What about the rest of U?

  B: What about it?

  Z: Your figure?

  B: I go in a bit and out a bit!

  Z: I need 2 know more than that if I’m going 2 get the full picture. I like 2 fantastise! So how about giving me your bust size?

  B: 34.

  Z: Cup size?

  B: B.

  Z: OK! Hang on a sec – I’m going to close my eyes and think about U.

  B: Not while I’m online. It’s costing money!

  Z: So how about taking R relationship 2 the next stage …

  B: ?

  Z: How about us 2 getting together sometime?

  B: You mean, meet up 4 real?

  Z: Right. U could come down here 4 the day. Stay the night with me.

  Z: U still there???

  B: Sorry. I was thinking. UR going to think I’m a real wuss, but I kind of think we haven’t been writing 2 each other 4 long enough.

  Z: Every day 4 2 weeks seems a long time 2 me!

  B: And I’ve got a really busy time coming up at school.

  Z: I thought you’d done your exams.

  B: We have. There’s lots of other things, though. School play and stuff. I might have a part in it and I’ll have lines 2 learn.

  Z: Well, don’t let me hassle you. When you’re ready, Babes! In the meantime I’ll just look at your photo and use my imagination.

  I don’t exactly know why I suddenly panicked and said that I didn’t want to meet, seeing as I’d been waiting for him to ask me out almost since the minute we’d starting chatting. I think it was him asking for my bust size and then my cup size. I didn’t know that boys knew about things like that. Anyway, I wasn’t going to tell him I was practically as flat as an ironing board, so I’d said I was B cup.

  I mean, it just seemed so sort of creepy, the way he asked. And to ask me to stay the night, too! It made me feel weird. And anyway, I didn’t think it would do any harm to keep him waiting for a date. Aren’t you supposed to do that if you want to keep boys keen? You’re not supposed to be available the first time they ask.

  I put his photo in a frame and placed it by my bed. I’d look at it and kiss it first thing every morning and last thing at night. And soon, soon, we’d meet up. It was up to me to say when. I’d take things slowly and then we’d meet up and it would all be beautiful. Like he’d said.

  I felt a bit guilty about snapping at Beaky, so the next day at lunchtime, when I saw her sitting on the field reading, I went up and said I was sorry.

  ‘That’s OK,’ she muttered. She looked up at me and then her eyes slid away, embarrassed.

  ‘I was just so excited about getting the photo.’

  ‘I’m not jealous, anyway,’ she said.

  I shook my head. ‘I know you’re not.’

  ‘Are you going to meet him now you’ve seen what he looks like?’

  ‘You bet!’ I said. As I was speaking I became aware that Lou and Bethany had appeared, arms linked, and were walking along the path near us. I raised my voice slightly. ‘He’s asked me to go down to the coast for the day, actually. He lives right by the sea and he’s going to take me out to a restaurant for a meal.’

  ‘Seaside – fish and chips!’ Bethany said as they walked past, and they both shrieked with laughter.

  I didn’t say anything – mostly because I couldn’t think of anything quickly enough, and just as they went in through the swing doors I heard Lou say, ‘She must be hard up for friends,’ and Bethany went, ‘Tweet … tweet!’

  ‘Silly cows!’ I shouted after them, which was just so stupid and childish. I wished I could have ignored them, wished I could have been all superior and risen above them, but I just couldn’t. They still really got to me.

  I looked at Beaky, but her expression hadn’t changed. I suppose she was used to everyone calling after her.

  ‘Well, they are stupid cows, aren’t they?’ I said.

  ‘I thought they used to be your friends,’ said Beaky.

  ‘Yeah. Used to be is the right word,’ I said, and to my horror felt a big lump come up in my throat. I missed them. Missed them and hated them at the same time. All the laughs we used to have … I didn’t want to be friends with someone like Beaky. I wanted them back.

  When, anxious to speak to Zed, I logged on to our usual messenger service that night, I got a shock. In the box where it said who was online, it said: Already chatting: Zed and Sexylegs.

  Text conversation (iii)

  B: Hi, Zed. Who’s online, then?

/>   Z: Hi, Babes. We’ve got a new mate. I found Sexylegs in the chat room and asked her 2 join us.

  S: Hi, Buzybee! Everyone on the chat room was a boring geek ex Zed. What d’you do, then?

  B: I’m at school at the moment. What U?

  S: I left at Easter. Work in a club now. 10 until 2 every night.

  B: What doing?

  S: Serving drinks. I have a few myself while I’m there!

  B: Right. UOK, Zed?

  Z: Fine, Babes. Sexylegs has been entertaining me. Telling me about some of her more colourful customers.

  S: I could rite a book, I tell you!

  Z: And do U live up 2 your name?

  S: Sexylegs? That’s 4 me 2 know and you 2 wonder!

  Z: I will wonder, believe me!

  S: Maybe I’ll send U a hot snap. How about letting me have 1 of you?

  B: Hey, Zed. I was thinking about what U said yesterday. About coming down to where U live and meeting up.

  Z: Yeah?

  B: I could get out of doing school stuff. I haven’t got that much on.

  S: Like me when I’m behind the bar!

  Z: Now you’ve really got my imagination going …

  S: You ought to see me tonight. It’s party night and I’m wearing two tassels and a thong!

  B: So how about Saturday week?

  Z: That’d B GR8.

  B: I’ll have 2 find out about trains. Will U meet me at the station?

  Z: Sure thing.

  S: This all sounds cosy!

  Z: U come as well if U want. A guy never minds having 2 babes 2 show around!

  S: Cool idea but I’ve got 2 work most of the weekend. Besides, U live near Hastings and I’m in Essex. Hours away.

  B: Zed, I’ll get hold of some train times and log in tomorrow.

  Z: Bye, Babes.

  S: Bye!

  * * *

  I logged off and fumed. What was she doing on our messenger service? Why had he asked her to join us? Was it because I hadn’t said straight away that I’d go down and see him?

  Sexylegs! How blasted obvious could you get? I bet they weren’t. I bet they were short and pale and stumpy. But now she was on our messenger service it would mean that every time he and I logged on to chat, she’d be alerted that we were online. We’d never be able to talk to each other alone again.