Girl Out of Water
Page 14
“Yes. Now where do you live?” I ask, getting out my phone so I can type in the address. I’m going to go and see him, I decide. Right now. Roman watches me.
“You want to see him?”
“Of course!” I say. “If that’s OK?”
“I was just about to get a lift off Pete, if you…?”
“Will Pete want to see me?”
“Oh, shut up,” he says, grabbing me by the rucksack and giving me a little shove. “We’ll drop you back by the end of lunch.”
Our strides match as we walk out to the car park together. I’m nearly as tall as him. I can see people watching us and begin to feel nervous.
This is one of the stupidest things I’ve ever done, and I’ve been really adding to that list this past couple of weeks. I’m cutting school with two boys who were recently accused of beating me up. In a cupboard. In an aquarium.
Pete is waiting in the car park in his Mini, having a cigarette. I guess we aren’t training any more, but I still feel a prickle of motherly irritation at him. He stares when he sees me, flicks it out of the window and gets out of the car. I give him an awkward wave and I’m shocked when he comes over and gives me a hug.
He squeezes pretty much every bruise I’ve got, but that’s OK.
Roman opens the passenger door, flipping the seat forward for me.
(This is SO cool! Or it would be if it wasn’t an emergency dash to the sickbed of someone I really care about.)
“Actually, do you want front or back, Lou?” (And if it weren’t physically impossible to get three lanky teenagers in a Mini.)
“Um.”
I feel like the only way we’ll all fit in is if we liquidize ourselves and someone pours us through the sunroof. So I take the back seat and we play a slow, careful game of Twister as eighteen feet of human being is folded up inside the car.
We get the giggles halfway through and this helps nothing but it makes me feel a lot better. I don’t remember the last time I laughed. I think it was pre-shark.
30
Lav
Are you OK? Millie says you cut school with Roman and Pete? You are aware this is the Worst Idea Ever?
Lou
Gabe’s ill, I’ve gone to see him. I’ll be back by the end of lunch!
Lav
OK. Stay away from fish.
We get to Roman and Gabe’s house – Ro lets himself in and Pete follows behind, clearly at home here. I suddenly feel a bit shy.
It’s bigger than our house, I notice as I walk in, but not as swanky as Hannah’s.
“Gabe! Lou’s here, are you decent?”
“Lou? Really?”
“Yes! Get dressed!” I call up the stairs. I hope his mum isn’t in, that was dangerously close to flirty.
Gabe is dressed but sitting on his bed surrounded by loads of books and a laptop. I don’t hug him because it feels weird: he’s in bed. Instead I sit on the end of the bed and squeeze his leg.
“How are you?” we ask at the same time, and laugh.
“Better.”
“Better.”
(Golden rule, never too many words with boys, even nice ones.)
The four of us sit and chat for a bit. I have to ask them: “Did you go to the try-out? I mean it’s cool if you had to go without me. Fine. Really.”
They all look awkward. Roman speaks first.
“Me and Gabe were suspended. I thought we’d be expelled; the three of us were nearly charged with assault and then Gabe got ill and we barely noticed the day of the try-outs.”
“I told my parents!” I protest, shocked. “I said the bruises were me being clumsy when I sneaked out and that I fainted because I was … coming down with something.”
“What were you coming down with?” Gabe asks, and Roman and Pete look at me.
Of course, now I have their full attention. When I’m trying to teach them how to dive neatly, no one listens, but for this they’re all ears.
“Girl Things,” I tell Gabe. “I was coming down with a case of Girl Things.”
“Are you going to get better?”
“No. It’s terminal. I may have to buy a dress.”
“Anyway!” Pete interrupts. Clearly he’d rather talk about getting arrested than my fascinating biology. Fair enough. “You were unconscious for hours.”
“We were really worried,” Ro says sweetly.
“Yeah, for you and us,” Pete puts in. “It looked like we’d abducted you and beaten you up. In an aquarium. Like weird, violent thugs.”
“Did you not tell them the truth?” I ask.
They look at me.
“Hey, officer,” Ro begins. “We were practising underwater synchronized swimming … no, it’s not technically a Thing, we made it up.”
“And we broke into an aquarium …” Gabe adds.
“With a girl I only just discovered was a bizarrely tall child …” Pete splutters.
“Hey!” I protest.
“… to prat around in a fish tank with some eels,” Roman concludes.
“The police didn’t believe you, then,” I guess.
“It sounded so mad, they drug-tested us!” Gabe says indignantly.
I can’t help laughing. It does sound like a surreal excuse for breaking into an aquarium. Then I remember something that hasn’t crossed my mind since hospital.
“Hey! Want to see yourselves swimming in the tank?” I ask. “I filmed it.”
“No way!” Excited, they crowd around my phone, but it’s being stupid and slow. The video is taking up too much memory.
“Hang on, I’ll delete it.”
“I want to see it!” Pete whines.
“No, it’s cool, I uploaded it to YouTube. I didn’t tag any of us in it,” I add, seeing the looks on their faces. “No one from school will find it. You’re still cool, guys, don’t worry.”
I find the URL in my history, click it and leave it loading slowly, propped up against the window, and promise them they can watch it soon.
“You need a better phone,” Pete tuts.
“Not now I’ve lost my job,” I tell him.
I catch sight of the time and realize I’m already running late for my afternoon lessons. I have to get back! Just as I’m grabbing my rucksack and Pete is getting his keys, there’s a bang of the front door. Roman and Gabe look at each other and I can tell it’s a parent.
I hold on to my rucksack straps and feel nervous.
Light footsteps run up the stairs and a small, elegant woman pops her head around the door. Her eyes go straight to me.
“Um, hello, I’m Louise, hi!” I blurt.
I feel so awkward – I wonder if she thinks of me as the person that got both her sons locked in a police cell. It was a bad night for me, but I bet it wasn’t one for her family album either.
But as soon as Gabe and Ro’s mum sees me, she steps across the room and hugs me gently. My bruises thank her for that.
“Are you OK?” she asks.
“I am, yes, thank you. I’m sorry everything…” I trail off, unsure how to finish that sentence.
“I’m sorry my boys were so irresponsible,” she says. “I know they would never hurt you, but they were thoughtless and that caused you to get hurt.”
Nicely put. I feel like she’s untangled a knot in my head and I start feeling less guilty.
“I have to get back to school,” I say. “I’m sorry!”
“Yes, of course.” Pete holds up his car keys.
“Can I jump in and pick up some homework?” Gabe asks. “I really need to get out of the house.”
“OK,” says his mum, but she points a warning finger at Pete. “Drive. Carefully.”
Gabe gets up stiffly and pulls a hoodie on. We all head downstairs, me first. I don’t want him to feel shy about me seeing how weak he is. We head out to the car.
Gabe gets into the car first and I clamber into the back seat next to him, trying not to shove my bum in his face.
Roman looks at him anxiously. “Are you cold?”
We’re pulling out of the driveway – really slowly, in case Gabe and Roman’s mum is watching – when she appears at the front door waving my phone, which I’d left on the windowsill.
“Thank you!” I shout as she posts my phone through the window. “Nice to meet you!”
“I’ll feed you next time!” she promises.
I grab my phone as it falls and see that the video has uploaded.
“Ah look, here you are!” I say, and hand it forward. “This is you guys in the aquarium.” Ro holds up the phone so that he and Pete can see it in the front and Gabe can see it in the back.
The video begins. And the boys in the front suddenly lean forward, blocking our view of the screen.
“Oi!” I protest.
“Down in front!” Gabe prods his brother in the back.
“Wait. But…” Pete looks at Roman, then at us. “We’ve got over a million views.”
We all bang heads as we lurch forwards to see. One million, three hundred and twenty-two thousand views!
“How … just how?” They all turn to me. It wasn’t me, I have barely any social media, it must all be down to other people. I look on my phone. It was chosen as a Pick of the Week on a couple of websites; some people stumbled upon it and shared it; an actor tweeted about it; a DJ and a model liked it… Basically, my little video travelled round the world rubbing shoulders with the stars while I was moping in bed with a hot water bottle. Mental.
Roman starts whooping and banging his seat, the roof, Pete… We all join in until Pete’s poor little Mini is rocking and making noises of complaint.
I look behind to see if their mum has heard us. I want to tell Mum and Dad and Lav but first I hug our fame to us – just for now it’s our secret.
“Who cares about BHT, eh?” I say.
“Damn right,” says Pete. “A million people have seen us already.”
“Thanks to you, Lou,” says Roman unexpectedly. “You’re a genius, I don’t know how you came up with those ideas. I’m sorry we never said it before.”
“I had help. From you guys and…” Feeling mischievous, I pull Swimming for Women and the Infirm out of my rucksack and flip it open. I can see from their faces that they recognize some of the moves.
“Never tell anyone about this,” Roman says firmly, and Pete agrees.
“Deal,” I say cockily. “If you pay my library fine. It’s massive.”
Gabe is still looking at my phone.
“Don’t look at the comments!” I warn him.
“Why not?” Pete asks.
“Life Lessons 101: don’t read what people say about you on the internet!”
“Wimp,” he scoffs and scrolls down.
The comments are amazing. There are a couple of mean ones, and some people accuse us of fish-abuse, but mainly they say that Roman is gorgeous, Gabe’s cute and Pete’s got massive feet. I’d never noticed that before and I sneak a peek, but he catches me looking.
“Size fifteen,” he says a little huffily.
When we get tired of reading nice things about the boys and the routine (which takes a while), we all sit back in our seats and breathe a happy sigh. One. Million. Views.
“At least something good came out of the aquarium,” I say.
“Worth getting arrested for,” Pete agrees.
“And suspended,” Roman joins in.
“Relapsing,” Gabe adds.
“I’m still having nightmares about sharks,” I lie. “So I win.”
“School!” Gabe says, catching sight of the time, and Pete starts the car again and prepares to drive off. A second later he stops, frowning at his rear view mirror.
“Is your mum OK?” he asks. We all look behind us to see their mum chasing down the road after us. But this time she’s waving the house phone.
“I don’t know,” says Roman, “hang on.” He gets out of the car and jogs back to her. She gives him the phone and watches him take a call.
Pete goes to join them, leaving me and Gabriel sitting in the back of the car like a pair of muppets.
“The seat in front of me doesn’t tip forward, but I think yours does,” he says.
“That’s all right,” I yawn. I suddenly feel so tired. I guess it’s been my first day out of bed in over a week and a lot has happened.
Gabriel rests his head on my shoulder and I rest my head on top of his. The silence goes on and on but it doesn’t get awkward, it’s the most relaxed I’ve ever felt with a boy. I close my eyes. Despite wondering what’s happening outside, the heat of the car is making me drowsy.
Suddenly Pete and Roman are rocking the car, opening the front doors and shouting. It’s the worst way I’ve ever been woken up, including the time Gran’s cat puked on my forehead. Gabe and I yelp and clutch each other. I let go of him very quickly as Pete and Roman smirk at us over the backs of the front seats.
“That was Britain’s Hidden Talent on the phone. They saw our video, they love it and they want us to come and try out! We’ve got one more chance! I told them we’ve got nothing to swim in,” adds Roman before I can open my mouth, “and they say don’t worry about it, they’ll sort it.”
I’m awake now, really awake, and I’m clutching Gabe’s arm again.
“Wh-when?” I splutter.
“This weekend. We’ve got four days.”
I look across at Gabriel. He’s smiling but already shaking his head.
“I won’t be well enough,” he says. My stomach sinks and I try not to show how disappointed I am. Just for one second it was like the last terrible fortnight had never happened.
“Hey,” I say weakly, “that’s OK. It’s just a dumb TV show for—”
“No.” He interrupts me. “You swim for me. You have to, you know everything I do and you’re a stronger swimmer anyway.”
“But…” I stammer.
“No buts. And you chose the Lycra so it’s your own fault you have to wear it.”
I’m dry-mouthed with shock. But there’s a familiar feeling in my stomach. A tangy, bubbly feeling. It’s competitiveness. Hello, old friend.
The boys pile back in the car and we play drum ’n’ bass loudly, shouting along to it with happy whoops. There are no words to drum ’n’ bass. FYI if you’re an old person reading this, it’s basically noise, so you just shout what feels right. It’s a lot of fun. Especially when it starts raining hard and the thundering on the roof adds to the deranged feeling.
I breathe in deeply. This car smells of hair product and empty Wotsits packets. I reflect that I will never smell a Wotsit again without feeling nostalgic for this autumn with my friends.
And then I think that that was quite a weird thought and wonder how many brain cells you lose when you headbutt a shark tank.
31
Roman
Lou, I’ve just realized you can’t wear Gabe’s competition outfit, can you?
Lou
No, Ro, because I am a girl and…
Gabe
Awks.
Lou
That’s cool, I’ve got loads of costumes. If you’re sure you can’t do it, Gabe?
Gabe
Sozzles. You’ll have to be the TV star.
Lou
I feel sick.
Pete
Think how we feel, we’ve got to lift you out of the water. You’re like a Gabe and a half.
Roman
What a gent.
Lou
Swoon.
Gabe.
No. More. Fainting.
I get back to school half an hour late for my afternoon lessons, but it’s English and I guess Mr Peters assumes I was skulking in the library trying to stay out of the way of gossip, because he taps his watch but doesn’t mention it. Mum’s right, he does have nice eyes, I think, grateful I’m not in any more trouble.
Teachers seem to be lenient on me all week
, probably because my face still looks so battered. This is useful because I’m back to nodding off in classes, thanks to swimming training every evening. Thankfully we’re managing to avoid Debs as I’m sure she’d book out the pool every evening if she knew we were still planning to compete.
Gabe persuades Pete to be a “honey trap”, which I find very funny once I discover what it means. Basically, Pete has to do some tactical flirting with Cammie to find out what she and her team are up to: practising in some swanky private members’ pool that Nicole’s dad owns. Whoop de doo for them. It leaves the public one free for us, at least.
I hear from Gabe, who hears from Ro, that Pete might go on a date with Cammie – he thinks she’s “really sweet”. Ha. Sweet like a snake, I tell Gabe, and hope the message heads back the way it came.
I suggest we train first thing in the mornings, too, but wow, if I thought Pete was a grumpy git normally, that’s nothing compared to how he is in the mornings. We all agree never to do that again. As Gabe says, bundled up in jumpers watching from the bench, the routine will look a little wonky if one of the swimmers has killed the other two.
Pete has started driving me home from practice. Dad was sceptical at first, but Pete waits till I get to the front door and then waves before driving off. Dad seems to appreciate the etiquette.
We’re just coming back from our last practice when my phone rings. It’s Lav. She doesn’t bother to say hi.
“Lou, have you heard from Hannah?”
“No,” I say, and then think. “Actually, I haven’t – since I asked if I should tell her parents.” I start to feel hot with guilt. “It’s just so much has happened…”
“Someone’s called the house phone a couple of times but hangs up when we answer. Have you had any missed calls from her?”
“No,” I say. Just as my phone starts beeping with messages. I take it away from my ear to look. Six missed calls from Hannah. Argh! Great timing. We get no reception poolside. “Hold on, let me try her.”
I hang up on Lav and call Hannah, but it goes straight to voicemail. I try a few more times, but either her phone is off or she’s poolside too (highly likely). I glance up; we’ve arrived at my house and the boys are all looking at me. I explain briefly.