by Claire Davis
Oskar waved both arms, unable to contain his frustrations any longer. He was absolutely wasted on this lot! “Because, Carol…” Because police were not to be trusted. “…my instincts tell me no,” he finished firmly. That should be enough. “I’m sure he’s harmless. He waves at Bear! He’s not likely to do that if he’s eyeing us up to shoot.”
Carol HS crossed her arms with Pink. “You’re still talking funny,” she said.
“Look,” he reasoned, “you two go on watch together, OK? You don’t have to talk to him or anything. Just follow, and observe.”
A hand slipped into his own. Pink and Carol HS watched with fascination as Bear jiggled about, rubbed his arm, kissed his cheek noisily. At first, they’d kept apart when the others were around, but during the last few weeks, they’d got gradually nearer and nearer, culminating the night before in a sofa tussle. When Oskar had come up for air, four girls watched with desperate interest. He was not one for public shows of affection—or any affection. At least, he hadn’t been, before the Bear tidal wave.
“Are you going to be doing it together?” Carol HS giggled. Pink nudged her sharply. “Watching, I mean?” She laughed harder. “Watching! I wouldn’t mind.”
“Fuck sake, Carol! Get a grip,” Oskar said crossly, but his heart was no longer hell-bent on dictatorship. Bear’s presence was already affecting him profoundly, wilting his resolve. Muscles acted independently of will, it seemed. They made him lean up on his heels and kiss Bear back. He just couldn’t help himself. “Don’t be vulgar, Carol Headscarf. This is a serious mission which you begged to be a part of. And close your mouth, it’s not a pretty sight. Never seen blokes snogging before?”
“That was before I realised it involved stalking in freezing cold car parks. Look—I’ll do it once on the rota but then I have exams to revise for and I’m way behind. And yeah—I saw you two at it on the sofa, remember? Gareth’s hand was down your jeans and you were making a lot of noise. Oh, yeah. Oh, Gareth. Oh, oh.” There was a silence. “How he got his hand down there is a miracle.”
“’Cause you never do any work!” Oskar snorted. “And shut up, you perv.”
“The boots look great,” Bear murmured in his ear, making Oskar’s body do strange tingly things all over again. “So does the sequin waistcoat.” He was deep in the grasp of some hypnotic force. Hard-ons…taking his top off…
Painful urges to be near.
Losing touch with the world.
Affection!
And the kissing…Oskar would throw his head back and let Bear’s tongue in then lose yet more hours. He allowed Bear to touch in ways he’d swore no-one ever would…arching his back and pushing himself forward for more. And they hadn’t even got on to sex yet, or being naked. He gulped as Bear’s fingers tickled his wrist then up the inside of his arm. “Sex,” he muttered. It might have been out loud, or it might not. “Naked.”
He blinked. Pink and Carol HS were smirking. “You’re in another world.” Pink laughed. “Sex?”
“Urgh—OK. So, here’s the rota for today. You two do this morning then we’ll take over this aft.”
“Call us with any developments. And if there’s any trouble at all, ring the police. Do you want me to stay with you, Paula?” Bear asked, still stroking Oskar’s arm. “I don’t mind keeping you company. My course hasn’t got exams until after Christmas.”
“Nah, you’ve got better things to do.” Pink nodded meaningfully.
Life was suddenly plunged into the middle of a soap opera. Oskar shook his hair and stood up straight, determined to stop slouching against Bear and get on with his own revision. Of course, he’d already swotted way beyond the realms of most of the students on this stingy planet.
“Right. We’ll meet up for lunch in the kitchen. Take notes,” he said briskly, and pulled Bear back to the hostel for more kissing.
Chapter 12: Can You Dig It?
Gareth
Dear Dad,
Exams are here! First one starts in a week so I expect you’ll want to be sending me champagne and flowers, hah-hah. My revision is going well, but to be honest, I don’t think I can get the grades to start the course I want in September because I was too behind when you sent me here (over a year ago now). Should be able to get enough to start the foundation course, though, which will be good enough. I’m not fussy. It means an extra year of loans, which is funny when you think my dad is a millionaire.
I’m still sharing a room with John. A lot changed after the woods incident. I don’t know what he said to the others but they’re a lot nicer to me now. In a way, I’m glad it happened, which is sick really.
Not going to bother asking about Bubble or vitamins. Is there any point?
After exams. Something I’ve been worrying about for a long time. All the boys—except John—are going home for good, unless they come back to resit. What am I meant to do? I don’t have a home, do I?
Which brings me on to something I did a while ago, just before the woods. I didn’t tell you because I thought you’d be mad. Now, I just don’t care if you’re mad as mad can be. In fact, I’m glad you’re mad. I got the train and I went to our house. It was after a really bad week with Jerk 1 and Jerk2. I was so down, I thought about jumping out the window, but then I thought, if I could just go home and find out what was going on, I would feel better.
It took most of a day and a few buses, but I got there in the end. See? I’m not as useless as I was when you wouldn’t let me out by myself in case the press caught on you had a shitty kid.
Home looked just the same from the outside. It hurt my heart to see the place, to be honest. I ran up to the front door, all excited because I thought you’d be there. I knocked on the door, and thank god I did, because can you imagine if I’d used the key?
So, I found out the house isn’t ours anymore. Well, I knew it was only a rented house, but you know what I mean. The lady who came to the door said she’d lived there six months! Six months, Dad! She didn’t know anything about the previous occupants—us—because the house was managed through a rental company.
And no, she hadn’t seen a little black cat hanging about.
You moved without even telling me? When I was still in shock or whatever it was, I told John about it all and I’m not even sorry. You don’t deserve my loyalty. You know what he said? He said it was good that I went to the house, because it means I am now free and can make decisions without even telling you. He says it looks like you’ve been trying to tell me through your absence that you don’t want me. He says you don’t love me. He swears there was a boy at school once whose mum died and the school didn’t even tell him! So it’s actually possible you told them not to inform me you’d moved away and not to give me your new address.
To be honest, I just can’t believe you’d do that, but he says the only way I can live is by accepting I am alone in life. I still kind of want to steal into the school office at night and find my records, though, to see if they know anything.
Anyway, I took the trains back to school even though I hate it here. Had to wait until the next day in the station by myself. I cried all the way. Where else could I go? I thought about calling Kip but I know you’d be really mad, so I didn’t. Also, I think you changed agent. What do I know? Maybe Kip hates me too. I don’t know anything, because that is how you’ve left me. I don’t dare call my own mother because I know she hates me.
But John is right. I don’t have family. I have no-one. When school finishes, he says I can go with him to Lincoln to pick fruit for the summer. You get a bed and food and earn some money. So that’s what I will do, unless by some miracle you turn up all sorry and explain how you’ve been in a coma, dreaming about me and how bad you feel that you weren’t a better dad. And you love me.
Whatever.
John is very cool, but now I don’t know if I’m in love with him anymore or just best friends? It’s complicated. I can’t forget about what he did. But I wonder—maybe it was my fault? Maybe something about me makes other peopl
e cruel.
He is also breaking all ties with his family because he says he never wanted to be a lawyer or follow in his father’s footsteps. What he wants is to be an actor. So he has applied to a college in the USA without his family knowing. He worries his dad will track him down, which makes me so jealous I can’t even tell you. Imagine having a dad who cares that much! Sometimes I suspect he uses me to give himself strength, kind of. Like me being so pathetic makes him feel good.
It breaks my heart, Dad. But I also feel numb about it all like I’ve cried so many tears since you dropped me off here and now there are none left.
I might not be able to write again until exams end. But you know where I am, and if you read this letter and still want me, please come to the school and we can talk. We can still sort it out, Dad. It’s not too late.
Please take your vitamins and play with Bubble, wherever you are. Even if you’re in New Zealand, cats still need love, you know.
Love, Gareth.
P.S. OK. Maybe I am in love with John but he is not in love with me. I guess no-one could love someone like me. I probably deserve everything I got, and I am lucky John even talks to me.
****
Oskar
“Oh, really,” Stella-Artois said witheringly.
“Yeah. Christmas won’t be much as Dad is in the States filming. Like always.” He sighed. Stella-Artois was really dampening his fire.
“That’s so sad! You should come first.” Pink tapped his arm. “You can come home with me over the holidays if you like? Mum and Dad would love it.”
“Thanks, babe! But no, I’ll stay here alone and work. Won’t be the first Christmas I’ve spent on my own.” Two Christmases without Morris.
Stella-Artois rolled her eyes. “You don’t have a mother? Or is she still on the planet Diva?”
“You’re so funny.” Over the last few weeks, Oskar had hidden fifteen of Stella-Artois’s lame letters. He kept them stuffed under his mattress just in case she or anyone else went snooping. He drew his legs up on the sofa, and sipped coffee, on the outside calm and sweet, but inside something lurked. It was Mum’s birthday. He’d sent a card and written a meaningless ‘Happy Birthday, love Oskar.’ Pitiful.
He’d bought the first card last week, accidentally writing the words ‘Happy Birthday, not that you deserve my greeting because you were a terrible mother and because of you I let my own dad die without saying goodbye’. The second card ended up ripped up in the bin, and by card three, he was so wrung out he didn’t brush his hair for a whole day. Almost a whole day.
“Any news about Josh’s missing letters? I miss my weekly Josh. He’s as near as I get to having a guy.” Pink moaned. “I’m having a love life through you.”
“Nothing. They’ve vanished into thin air. I’m certain they’ve been stolen.” Her eyes slid to Oskar.
“That’s terrible!” he said sympathetically. “Are you sure Josh is actually sending them?”
“Yes!” she snapped.
“But how can you be? Lads can be bastards.” He shrugged, and smiled. “Maybe he found someone else. While the cat’s away…”
“Fuck off.” She glared. “What would you know about love? People like you expect everyone to be as fucked up as they are.”
“Stella!” Pink looked shocked, but Oskar wasn’t surprised. Stella-Artois was always making digs about him being a liar. The way she looked at him now—like he was beneath her—made him seethe.
“People like me?” he asked, quietly. But she was right. He was the world’s worst son, ever. There he was waking up to another day at college and Mum was probably wearing regulation blue tracksuit and drinking prison slop. The permit to visit was hidden under the bed, along with Josh’s letters. Somehow they got mixed up in his head, along with Bear, college and home. Mixed up, rolled over, like a gigantic ball of volcanic plasma.
“Stop it, both of you. Have you asked the postman?”
“I asked. He says he can’t remember exactly how many letters he delivers here because there are always so many.” Her face was thunder. “All those parcels from your rich daddy are clogging up the system. Selfish!”
“Sorry for being so popular,” Oskar said pleasantly. His eyes met Stella-Artois’s but he wouldn’t be the one to back down first. He began humming songs, nodding along to the music. “Love this one so much!” He laughed. Stella-Artois’s eyes glinted. Oskar winked.
“What does Josh say?” Pink asked hurriedly.
“That one of the letters has something very important in it. That’s all he says. I don’t think he believes me about them going missing. Stolen. There is a thief amongst us.”
“We don’t know that. Look what happened to Gareth’s and Oskar’s—stored up at the hospital for weeks on end. If you ask me, the post is all out in this town.”
“I didn’t ask you,” Stella-Artois said. “Your advice stinks.”
“He’s dumped you.” Oskar sipped his coffee thoughtfully. “Didn’t have the nerve to tell you himself so sent a letter. Happens all the time. Poor old you.”
“Oskar,” Pink muttered. “You’re not helping.”
“Stell? Maybe you could try—what’s it called?” he pretended to think. “Oh, yeah—being less sour.” He laughed hysterically. “No-one likes a misery-guts!”
A cushion hit him on the head. The coffee cup overturned all over his lap. Scalding liquid seeped through his fluffy onesie onto his legs. “Fuck!” he shouted. “You’re gonna pay for that!” He grabbed the cup and threw it in Stella’s direction. It hit the wall and smashed into pieces. Something exploded in his head. “You bitch!”
Stella-Artois stood up and laughed. “Not so cool now, are we?” Her eyes went up and down him in exactly the same way as the kids from his school after Morris had turned grass. “Simon Le Bon, indeed! You’re a little liar off some nasty council estate. You’re a benefit sponger.”
He went cold and hot. “You,” he drew breath to shout, “are a stuck-up bastard. You only talk to me to put me down or if you wanna show off. All you ever do is whine! Me-me-me. You ugly gas-bag shithead. I don’t blame Josh for finding someone else ’cause I’d do the same thing if I had to kiss your miserable face. Poor bastard! I feel sorry for him.”
“Stop it!” Pink wailed.
“You can clean up the mess, ’cause it’s your fault.” He swept from the room in a blaze of glory. Moira, Carol and the others stood gathered in the doorway to witness his dignified exit. He waved his hand towards them, to signify outrage.
“Are you OK, Oskar?” Carol attempted to touch his arm but he was above such meaningless declarations. Where had she been when he was under attack by the dragon?
“No, I am not,” he retorted frostily and stalked off to his room, feeling a little better than when he’d woken up. He waited a few minutes to see if anyone was coming to show solidarity, but Bear had already left for a run and Pink was wailing. “Cowards,” he declared.
Underneath his bed, the pile of letters waited. He scanned the writing quickly then practised copying a few words. Years of forging Mum’s writing to the school had made him an expert in the art of forgery, though experiments with counterfeiting hadn’t been as successful. He began writing, wearing white Michael gloves so as to disguise fingerprints. Soon the words flowed:
Dear Stella,
Flower of my existence! Know that this is the hardest thing I have ever had to do but it is with a sad heart I must end our relationship for I have found another. She is less mardy than you. Please return my gifts.
Josh.
P.S. Don’t bother begging me to go back. It will only harden my heart against you.
He took the most recent letter from the pile, and swapped his for the real one. The envelope sealed back easily. He was pretty sure no-one would be able to tell it had ever been opened.
****
Bear’s tongue licked the insides of his mouth then ran along the edges of his teeth. It was disgusting. He should never have allowed this, or any of the other
things.
“Come here,” Bear said breathlessly.
Strong hands slid to Oskar’s waist and pulled him, right onto his lap. Oskar had never sat like this before—arms wound around Bear’s head, his body arching forwards—yet it felt like he’d wanted to all his life. The desire to show and be looked at was strong again. He raised his arms higher, knowing his top would ride up. Last time they’d kissed, Bear had slipped his hands underneath Oskar’s top and stroked his body. Every inch of him had internally screamed to push Bear off before he got too close. But it had felt so good, and instead of hating it, he’d wanted it to go on and on.
Bear held Oskar’s hips, but then he began moving up and down Oskar’s sides. His skin was warm and prickly, like it was on fire. “Is that good?” Bear asked softly. Oskar moved into the caress and nodded. Bear tugged at the top to push it aside.
“Take it off.”
Bear pushed the top up to Oskar’s shoulders. “You sure like taking your clothes off.” He peeled the rest away. He told himself it was the power he liked—being responsible for the hunger in Bear’s brown eyes. But, as Bear’s hands swept across Oskar’s chest and down his stomach, he knew he had no power at all. He pushed his arms back and his chest forward, letting Bear roam his body. Noises started building, sexy noises that made them both pant. He forgot if it was pretending or not, and he forgot to be in control.
A few moments of elbows and legs and then Oskar was lying flat and Bear was kissing his way up his stomach with one hand on his zipper. “Can I?” Bear asked brokenly.
Oskar nodded and grunted. They both watched as Bear deftly unzipped then pulled out Oskar’s erect dick. It sprang free, deliciously smarting against the cool air. Oskar watched Bear, who stared down with utter concentration as he peeled down underwear and jeans to Oskar’s thighs. Being half undressed was humiliating, especially since Bear was still dressed.
Oskar’s dick twitched. His hips jerked upwards towards Bear, as if begging him to see.
