Dead Romantic

by C. J. Skuse

  ‘It’s not very pretty,’ I said, trying to find some socks that weren’t black or black with a tiny bit of colour on the heel. ‘Can’t we find another winky for him?’

  ‘No,’ said Zoe. ‘I draw the line at that.’

  The queue was about thirty people long when we got there and looking into our basket I did some rubbish mental maths and found that I’d spent pretty much all my month’s wages. I was quietly pleased with my little haul though, especially seeing as I’d never bought clothes for a man before. It felt good. I’d got t-shirts, pants, some socks with Bart Simpson on, a shaving kit, some manly shower gel and shampoo the type that Louis smelled of, two pairs of jeans and some long shorts like Louis wears. I’d have to do this all the time before long. That’s what girlfriends did. Buy aftershave and golf balls for birthdays. Valentine’s cards and big teddies with hearts on for Valentine’s Day. Christmas cards with ‘For My Boyfriend’ on. I couldn’t wait. I still hadn’t got him anything posh to wear for the Halloween party though.

  ‘What’s his birthday?’ I asked Zoe as we shuffled forward in the line.

  ‘You decide,’ she said.

  ‘Um . . . how about the day he wakes up?’

  ‘Yes, that fits I suppose.’

  We shuffled forward another place.

  ‘And will he be able to, you know, do everything other boys do?’

  ‘Yes, he should be able to engage in intercourse with some assistance,’ she said, fiddling with some Halloween socks with ghosts on them. The woman in front of us on her mobility scooter whipped her head round and looked at us like we had bras on our heads.

  ‘Well actually, I meant playing football and driving and stuff.’

  ‘He wouldn’t be able to procreate though. My father’s research on goats and pigs proved that. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Oh,’ I said. ‘Edward in Twilight could. And he’d been dead for a hundred years.’

  ‘Who?’ said Zoe.

  ‘Never mind,’ I said, sagging. I was too young for babies anyway. But the thought of never having them was sad. I liked the idea of little mees. Little mees I could teach and cuddle and love. I guess we’d have to adopt or have artificial insinuation. That would be okay, I guessed.

  The queue was moving quite well so we shuffled forward a few more places.

  ‘Do you think he might love me when he wakes up?’ I asked. ‘Do you think he’ll get that love at first sight thing that baby chicks do?’

  ‘Of course. You’re a nice person,’ said Zoe, as the bells went off again at the checkout cos Mobility Scooter Woman had picked up a flannel with no price on it.

  ‘Aw thanks.’ My tummy went bubbly. ‘But do you think he’ll fall in love with me? Like, the sort of love where you always want to be around someone? I don’t know. I haven’t really thought that far ahead. I’d have to see how we got on at the party. It would be more awful if he came to life but didn’t love me back.’ We moved forward again.

  ‘I can’t manipulate his feelings to ensure he falls in love with you, I’m afraid,’ said Zoe.

  ‘But you said monkeys and dogs had been reanimated and had their memories wiped.’ Silence. ‘How about a love potion or something?’

  She looked at me. ‘My father and I haven’t spent our lives finding cures for hiccups or analysing what turns pigeons homosexual, you know. We have actually been doing rather important work. Love potions are bunkum.’ She picked up a pair of pumpkin deely boppers and flicked a little switch so they glowed orange.

  We shuffled forward. ‘What if he wakes up and thinks I’m odd, like most people do? I’m not as pretty as he is, or as clever. What if he thinks I’m thick?’

  ‘You’re not thick. And just because you don’t have a surgeon’s brain doesn’t mean you won’t fulfil his dreams. Opposites can attract, you know.’

  ‘Mum says opposites don’t always attract. You have to find someone who’s like you or it never lasts. That’s why she chose Dad, cos they’re both into gardening and canal boats and crosswords and the war. Mum really likes the prime minister and that bloke from CSI but says she could never marry anyone like that because they’re too perfect.’

  ‘That’s her opinion,’ said Zoe, putting down the deely boppers and picking up a chocolate vampire bat. ‘There isn’t one romance formula for all. Human beings make up their own minds. It’s one of the many things that differentiate us from the leafcutter ant.’

  ‘But he doesn’t have his own mind, does he?’ I said. ‘He’s got your dad’s.’

  ‘True,’ she said. ‘In that case, I don’t know.’

  ‘But you know everything.’

  ‘Not when it comes to matters of the human heart I don’t. I can restart one so that is all that matters to me.’ It was nearly our turn at the tills. ‘Are you having doubts again, Camille?’

  ‘No, no, I was just thinking. In the graveyard there’s this couple who died within hours of each other. The lady died and then the man died of a broken heart. Louis Burnett showed me. They died still in love. Just made me think. That’s what I want. Love that’s felt by someone else. Everlasting. Like, beyond death.’

  She shook her head. ‘That, I’m afraid, is all a big myth conjured up by people who write garden centre bookmarks. Anyone who tells you otherwise is either a fantasist or grossly misinformed.’

  ‘You could have it,’ I said, waiting for a reaction. ‘If you could like someone back. Louis says Damian fancies you.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Damian de Jager. He fancies you for deffs.’

  ‘How preposterous,’ Zoe scoffed, chucking the chocolate bat back on the shelf. I could have sworn her brilliant white cheeks were glowing.

  ‘It’s true. Louis said he really fancies you. I think he wants to ask you out.’

  ‘Huh,’ she huffed. ‘Well, he’s got his work cut out with me then, hasn’t he? Or his liver, whichever he prefers.’

  I laughed. ‘So you wouldn’t want to go out with him then?’

  ‘I’d rather inject the Ebola virus into my eyeballs,’ she said.

  I didn’t know what that was but I guessed no virus was a good virus to get, especially in your eyeballs. ‘Louis is so different to Damian, isn’t he? It amazes me that they’re friends. Do you think Sexy Dead Boy could be their friend?’

  ‘Possibly,’ she said as we reached the till and started unloading the stuff onto the counter. She found the little pack of friendship bracelets I’d hidden under the pant packs. She looked at me.

  ‘I like Louis’ friendship bracelets and thought maybe SDB could wear some too. They’re only cheapy ones.’

  Zoe was still staring at me. She pulled a pen torch from the pocket of her pedal pushers. She clicked it on and shone it right in my eye. I jolted back. She clicked it off. ‘You’re in mydriasis,’ she said. ‘I noticed it when we came in.’

  ‘Am I supposed to know what that means?’ I laughed, blinking to get my eyesight back. The girl on the till was looking at us like we’d just sprouted antlers.

  ‘It means your pupils are almost completely dilated,’ she said. ‘You’ve either been taking drugs or you’ve bumped your head.’

  ‘I haven’t, I haven’t,’ I interrupted, like she was accusing me.

  ‘Or you’re in love.’

  ‘Really?’ I said. ‘You think I could be in love with Sexy Dead Boy already?’

  ‘Hmm,’ said Zoe, taking my wrist pulse. ‘It certainly seems like you’re in love with something.’

  We took Pee Wee for a long walk on the beach, which he loved cos there were a couple of dead seagulls he could gnaw on and the tide was in so he could splash. Then we wasted some coins on the arcades at the pier and I played Electrocutie a few times. Zoe couldn’t see the point. She couldn’t see the point of a lot of the games on the pier actually. Guitar Hero. Air hockey. The haunted house. The go carts. But she went on everything with me, just cos I wanted to. It was great to have a friend again. I wasn’t even thinking about the last time I’d been to the pier,
when Louis had banged my nose on the door and Lynx and Poppy had gone off with Damian and Splodge. It didn’t cross my mind that the last time I had gone there, I’d had Poppy and Lynx as my friends. None of that mattered any more. Well, I tried not to let it matter anyway.

  We went back to mine and I gave Pee Wee a bath and Mum cut us some of her homemade quiche and we went up to my room to watch Snow White cos I really fancied watching it. Zoe let me do her hair too so I gave it a trim to make all the ends the same length and straightened it. Zoe let me do whatever I wanted to her – she didn’t care at all. Manicure. Pedicure. Blackhead popping. We did it all. It was awesies! I think she enjoyed herself, sort of. In her own Zoe way.

  At teatime, I told my mum and dad I was staying at Zoe’s house for the weekend to sleepover and they seemed okay with it. Especially as I didn’t tell them who Zoe was, at least who her dad was. They weren’t as liberated as I was and I didn’t think they would understand. But I wasn’t really going to Zoe’s house for a sleepover of course. We were only going there to pick up my brand spanking new fully-assembled dead boyfriend and taking him to the Biology lab at college.

  And we weren’t coming back until he was alive.

  Hooking Up

  I had dressed all in black, like Zoe, so we both looked like ninjas. Except I wore my (now dyed black) bridesmaid dress and long-sleeved top, and tights and Union Jack Doc Martens underneath, and she still had on her normal black pedal-pushers-and-turtleneck combo. We did look very disappearable though, just right for breaking into college at night, except for my stupid blonde hair. I thought about dying it black like Zoe’s so I’d be more camouflaged but she said there wasn’t time to get any and do that.

  My phone had been off since I turned it off at Zoe’s house. I switched it on again when we’d got SDB in the back of the van and Zoe had gone back inside the house to get some things of hers that she didn’t want the bailiffs to take the next morning. I had five messages and two voicemails. Oh my God, I thought. Poppy. Poppy’s been trying to call me and my phone’s been off! I listened to the voicemails.

  Hi Camille, it’s Louis again. I’m just checking you’re okay. I’m sorry about . . . I’m just sorry we fell out. Can you give me a call or a text or something. Bye.

  The second voicemail was also from Louis.

  Camille, it’s Louis again. I don’t think you’re a bad person at all and I do want to be friends with you. I understand why you didn’t want to talk to me this morning but I just hate that we’re not friends. I guess I just don’t know Zoe yet. Maybe I shouldn’t judge a book and all that. Okay. I’ll speak to you soon. Bye.

  And every single text message was from Louis too. And the texts were all just one big long message, basically saying what he had said in the voicemails.

  ‘Okay, Louis, I get it, you’re sorry,’ I mumbled, turning my phone off again and looking out of my window towards the house.

  ‘Pardon?’ said Zoe, as she opened the driver’s door and got inside, handing me a very small suitcase.

  ‘Nothing,’ I said. ‘What’s this?’

  ‘Just some essentials,’ she said, turning on the engine.

  ‘But what about all your clothes and stuff?’

  She looked at me and pulled the handbrake off. ‘I have everything I need,’ she said, and we moved off down the driveway.

  Zoe somehow had keys to the Sciences block at college so getting inside was not going to be a problem. What was a problem was the fact that the Biology lab where we usually had lessons was locked by some key that Zoe didn’t have. What was another problem was the fact that the cleaners were working when we got there, so we had to wait in the van for an hour until they’d left before we could even think about going inside. But once we were in, we were in.

  ‘Okay,’ I puffed, as we wheeled the body safely into the Chemistry lab, which we did have a key for. ‘What now?’

  Pee Wee walked in behind us, dragging the yellow incineration bag of rotting hands and feet, which he had clamped between his jaws.

  ‘Electrics,’ she said, jingling the van keys in her hand.

  I’d never been very interested in electrical circuits. At school in Physics, we’d been forever fixing screws and switches into wooden boards and hooking up batteries and tiny light bulbs to switch on. It had been dead boring. But now that we were setting one up to reanimate my future husband, it was actually quite interesting.

  First Zoe made me go and grab a rubber mat from the store cupboard in the gym and then we placed it on the workbench in the Biology lab. She then told me to get the big coil of wire from the lab store and a first aid kit, which I did. She popped out with the van keys without saying where she was going and I waited with Sexy Dead Boy and Pee Wee. Ten minutes later, there were three slow knocks on the door. I opened it and Zoe was there, carrying a heavy-looking grey brick.

  ‘What’s that?’ I asked her, opening the door wider to let her in.

  ‘Battery,’ she said, heaving it over to the table at the end. ‘From your mother’s van.’ She panted for air. ‘Where’s the wire?’

  ‘Here,’ I said, handing her the spool. ‘That’s the battery from Mum’s van?’

  ‘Yes,’ she puffed, prising Pee Wee’s teeth apart and grabbing the carrier bag of rotten hands and feet. He really didn’t look happy.

  Raawwwwrffff!

  ‘Where’s the first aid kit?’

  ‘Here,’ I said, giving her the box, wondering how on earth a) how we were going to get the van home and b) how I would explain its battery-less-ness to Mum.

  ‘Excellent,’ Zoe said. ‘But we may have a problem.’

  I sagged. ‘Oh what now?’

  ‘I think we’re being watched.’

  ‘What? By who?’

  ‘I don’t know, but there was a definite movement in the bushes as I was getting the battery.’

  Pee Wee was straining at the lead to get to the incineration bag which Zoe had put under the sink. I picked him up. ‘Could have been a bird?’

  ‘No, I don’t think it was. I need you to do a sweep of the area with Pee Wee. Take the torch and just check the perimeters. When you come back inside, lock us in again and check all exterior doors are secure.’

  ‘And what if someone’s out there and they ask what I’m doing, or worse . . .’

  She strapped on her headlight, to which she had added a magnifying glass on the end of an old television aerial so she could see things more clearly. ‘Well if we shouldn’t be on the premises, then they definitely shouldn’t be on the premises, so we should stand the better chance in court.’

  ‘But . . . what if it’s a flasher or a stranger?’

  She turned around and turned back and handed me a pair of surgical scissors. ‘Threaten him with these. He’ll soon take to his heels.’

  ‘But . . .’

  ‘. . . and when you come back, I’ll have wired up the circuit and we’ll be ready to electrocute. Off you go.’ She shooed me and Pee Wee out of the room and closed the door, leaving us standing in the long, empty corridor, wondering what had just happened.

  It was weird walking around college when no one was there. The place was silent except for the echo of my feet on the tiled floors. As we walked past the notice board, a draught ruffled the papers on it, advertising the bring-andbuy sale and the weekend exercise and cookery classes. I felt like a burglar ghost. A burglar ghost with a zombie dog.

  Every now and again, I’d catch sight of a little thing scurrying along the wall and then disappearing into a classroom. I couldn’t be sure as I was always too late with the torch but I think the pest controllers had missed a couple of the demon hamsters. Every room was empty and smelled of coffee and old meaty sandwiches. We walked past the Art room and saw the Halloween masks that had been designed for the party, pegged to a washing line. A little shiver ran through me. They’d done them already! For the party! The party where I’d bring along my brand new boyfriend, who wouldn’t be dead any more. I got a little bit excited. Pee Wee did too
and had a little wee. I went to grab some tissue from the boys’ toilets to mop it up and when I came back, I found him ripping one of the masks to pieces on the floor.

  ‘Bad Peeps!’ I said, picking up all the bits of paper. A little thought flashed through my mind. What if Sexy Dead Boy did that to his mask on the night of the party? What if he started gnawing through the walls like the hamsters? No, it was too ridiculous a thought to have. But I had it nevertheless.

  ‘Come on, Peeps, come on,’ I called him, clapping my thighs and bending down to hurry him up. He wouldn’t. But eventually he followed me like the good boy he really truly was.

  I went upstairs and across the glass bridge that led to the Humanities block rooms. I shone the torch down as we walked to see if there were signs of anyone outside, but there was nothing there. Everything was still and quiet and dark. I came upon our History classroom. All the chairs were pushed in neatly to the desks and there were still some markings on the whiteboard from the last lesson. Pee Wee found a half-eaten sandwich tucked behind the teacher’s desk and he was right on it. I walked to the back of the room and sat down on the chair where Louis Burnett usually sat. I ran my finger over the pen markings on the desktop. He scratched them with his Biro in the lessons. I put my head on my arms on the desk and looked at them. Letters and symbols everywhere. A wolf’s face with gnashing teeth with drips coming off them. A devil with little horns and a fork. Flames, like the ones on his skateboard. A heart with stitches running through the middle of it. The letter C.

  Voices.

  I heard definite proper actual voices, coming from outside.

  Without a second’s thought, I scrambled up from the chair, knocking it backwards and ran to the window. I couldn’t see anything outside. I clicked on the torch. The hedge. Something in the hedge.

  I saw it, I saw it! A leg. A definite person’s leg as it darted back into the hedge.

  Somebody was out there. Zoe was right!

  ‘Come on, Peeps,’ I said, picking up his lead and we raced back down the corridor and down the stairs. My heart was way too racey to even consider going outside so I just checked all the external doors like Zoe had told me to. All locked. All safe. No one could get in. And if they were going to, then we had to make sure Sexy Dead Boy was alive before they did. Otherwise . . . well, otherwise didn’t bear thinking about.