Love Hurts

by Malorie Blackman

  Richard was a bit weird, grinning all over the place, but he was fun. I think he was shy or something. Jerry was okay, he was fairly normal but even he was putting it on a bit. I felt like they could have been vampires in disguise for all I saw of the real them. You had the feeling they were nice because they’d decided it was the fashion to be nice. For all I knew they were probably no nicer than I am.

  Now, if it’d been me, I’d have been sleeping in doorways and eating toenail clippings. But I’d have found a crowd to do it with, I expect. I guess I’m not all that interested in niceness. Sometimes people call me nice but that’s just because I can make them feel happy. Inside, I just want to have a good time, enjoy myself.

  I expect I’ll get found out one day.

  The first bad sign was that the meal Richard had made for us was drying out in the oven. Richard didn’t care. When I said we’d been sightseeing he beamed at the ceiling as if it was the most exciting thing in the world and said, ‘Oh, that’s all right.’ Vonny was a bit put out, though, even though she hadn’t cooked it. Well, except she’d made an apple pie for pudding.

  Over the apple pie Vonny said, ‘How long are you staying with us, Gemma?’ And there was this pause. I could feel them all looking at me.

  I thought . . . oho. Because it wasn’t, do you think you’ll like living here, but, how long . . .

  I just smiled and I said, ‘I don’t know. I just don’t know . . .’ And I smiled and they smiled and Tar smiled.

  Like I say . . . they were all very nice.

  Later on we went to the pub. It was good, sitting in there drinking half pints of lager. They had to sneak me and Tar in slightly, in case the barman refused to serve us.

  They wanted to know if I’d heard anything about Tar’s mum. So we talked about that for about an hour which made him utterly miserable. Mind you, they seemed to have a good time.

  After a bit it turned out they were all anarchists. That took me back a bit. I mean, I don’t know much about it, but aren’t anarchists supposed to go around blowing people up, not hugging one another? It turned out they had this big plan for Sunday night. They were going to go out and superglue all the locks in the banks.

  Richard got really beside himself about this. He kept putting his beer down and grinning wildly at the ceiling with the sheer delight of ruining the banks’ trade for a day. I said, ‘Don’t banks have back doors, then?’

  ‘Oh, we’ll glue those up, too. And the night safes.’ And he beamed all round the pub like a man who had been given a million pounds.

  It was all arranged. Me and Tar were going along with them. I got quite excited about it. I thought, This is different. I always looked down on the vandals at home – you know, having a good time by smashing up the kiddies’ playground. Great fun, eh? But this had a purpose and anyway, I’d have given anything to see the bank manager’s face when his lock wouldn’t open. We all had a good laugh about that.

  I told them about my mum and dad and they seemed very sympathetic. Richard was quite distressed about it. ‘My parents used to let me misbehave all I wanted,’ he said, and he grinned in that mad way he had at the ceiling. ‘I made plenty of use of the opportunity,’ he added happily.

  I was getting to like Richard.

  We started swapping stories about mums and dads and how terrible they were. Tar was a bit quiet. Well, he would be, wouldn’t he? But I was beginning to get the giggles. I’d had a vodka and orange on top of the lager and was thinking how just at that very time my parents would be beginning to get utterly furious. It was ten thirty and I was just one hour late. They’d be sitting there grinding their teeth and planning new restrictions, which frankly would be taxing even their imaginations because there wasn’t much left to restrict. They’d be wondering who I was sleeping with, what I was taking, etc. etc. It really cracked me up, thinking about them raging around at home and ringing round all my friends and promising themselves they’d be tougher tomorrow. And all the time I was a hundred miles away . . .

  They’d find out on Monday morning when my letter came through.

  And then, Vonny turned to me cool as a cucumber and she said, ‘Don’t you think you ought to ring your folks up and tell them you’re all right?’

  I just gaped at her. The hypocrisy of it! There we’d been swapping stories about parental horror and now she wanted me to start being nice to them!

  ‘What for?’

  ‘But they must be feeling awful. At least you could let them know you’re all right.’

  ‘And tell them when to expect me back?’ I asked. ‘And to send on the woolly vests.’

  ‘No, like I said – just let them know you’re okay.’

  ‘I think that would be a good idea,’ said Richard to the ceiling.

  Well, I was cornered, wasn’t I? I went on about the letter coming on the Monday morning but it wasn’t good enough. Mum and Dad were worried now. I tried to point out that at this stage in the proceedings, incandescent fury would be a more typical reaction, but no. Even Tar rounded on me. Then of course he wanted to ring up his mum and we had to argue him out of that. I hoped that’d put them off the scent but as soon as he backed down they started on me again.

  They even had a whip round so I wouldn’t get cut off in the middle of something important. And before I knew it I was standing there in front of the pay phone stuffing in pound coins and thinking, Pig, pig, pig. How did this happen?

  ‘Gemma . . . where have you been? Where are you now?’

  ‘I’m all right, I’m just—’

  ‘We’ve been worried sick—’

  ‘It’s only half past ten—’

  ‘It’s eleven o’clock and you should have been in an hour and a half ago. I thought we were past this, I thought things were getting better. Your mother . . .’

  ‘Look, I’m ringing up to let you know I won’t be back tonight . . .’

  ‘You . . . you’d better be back. Picked up with some of those seafront friends again, have you? . . . It isn’t good enough, Gemma . . . blah blah rant . . .’

  And he was off. That’s all it took. I held the phone away from my ear and I whispered, ‘Please, please don’t do this to me . . .’ I was in the corner of the pub but I was aware of all of them looking over at me. I couldn’t talk to him, he was shouting so much. I couldn’t even look upset because they were all watching. I just had to pretend I was having a normal conversation with a normal person.

  ‘Oh, we’re having a great time, thanks. Yes, okay, I’ll be careful. Yeah, thanks, Dad. I’ll see you tomorrow . . . Yeah, give Mum a big kiss . . .’

  And he was going, ‘Why are you speaking to me like that, are you being sarcastic? Gemma, what’s going on? Look, let’s overlook this slip. You get back here WITHIN THE HOUR and we can discuss—’

  ‘No, I’ve already eaten, we had baked potatoes. I’ll give you a ring again, tomorrow probably. Okay, see you, Dad, thanks, bye . . .’

  And I put the phone down.

  I don’t know why it upset me so much. I just wasn’t ready for it. I was leaving home, I was running away, I just wasn’t ready to start talking to them. I guess it took me by surprise.

  I stood there for a bit staring at the wall trying not to cry. It wouldn’t do for them to see me cry after talking to my folks. Vonny came up to me after a minute and tried to peer into my face but I turned away.

  ‘Are you okay? Gemma?’ She came up close and touched my arm. ‘Is everything okay at home?’

  The stupid cow! What did she think things were like at home? I closed my eyes and nodded my head. It felt like she was drilling a hole in my skull. She just made everything so hard. I managed to whisper, ‘Look, I’ve done it, is that enough?’ She thought about it and nodded. I went out to the toilet to fix my face.

  Afterwards they were going to a party, but I didn’t fancy it by this time. I’d really been having a good time but now I felt shattered, totally shattered, as if I’d flown to the moon and back instead of catching the coach to Bristol.
>
  Me and Tar went back and sat in his room. I was furious with him for siding with them. We almost had an argument and then I started to cry and . . .

  I couldn’t really be angry with him for long. Once he saw me cry he got really upset about it. He started hugging me and saying, ‘Sorry, sorry . . .’ and getting all wet-eyed. And I thought, I’m not coming all this way just to fall out with Tar about that pair of sergeant majors.

  We got ourselves cosy. I wanted to light a fire but we weren’t allowed to in case the neighbours thought the house was on fire and called the fire brigade. They weren’t supposed to know the house was squatted. We weren’t allowed to have the lights on either, for the same reason. I was beginning to get a bit irritated with the list of things we weren’t allowed to do. But Tar stuck loads of candles in bottles and made coffee and we sat on the floor in a pile of cushions and had a bit of a cuddle, and we talked for ages about . . . I dunno, everything.

  Then bedtime came along. I had my bedroll with me that I used for camping. Tar had his mattress and he kept going on and on about me sleeping on that. I could feel myself losing my temper about it so I just said, ‘Okay, okay.’ I had his present to give him and I didn’t want to spoil this.

  I was feeling shy by this time. I put the bedroll down next to the mattress and got undressed and into my bag while he was out of the room.

  And I thought, right. I’ve done my bit. He can do the rest.

  Tar came in. He blew out the candles, got undressed in a corner and into his pyjamas. Then he slid into his bag and just lay there.

  I was furious. Livid. I had the bag up around my nose so my hair and my eyes were peering out at him, three feet away with his eyes closed, all set to go to sleep. The worst of it was, I was getting cold and if this kept on I’d have to sneak out and get my pyjamas on.

  I lay there for about ten minutes getting really chilly. And then he said, ‘Can we have a cuddle?’

  ‘All right, then.’

  He pushed his mattress across so he lay next to me and hugged me. He didn’t try to kiss me. Then he put his hand on my neck and I could feel his fingers slide down to my shoulder . . .

  I was watching him. I saw his eyes open and catch me looking at him and he closed them again, quickly. Then in a moment the fingers slid down a little further, down my waist, to my hips.

  That was my present, see. Me. I wasn’t wearing a stitch.

  Tar opened his eyes and smiled at me and I smiled back and said, ‘It’s a double. The sleeping bag.’

  ‘Oh . . .’

  The big oaf.

  ‘I’ve taken two bags and zipped them together.’

  He got out of bed and was just about to slide in next to me when I said, ‘Have you got anything?’

  ‘Oh . . . no . . .’

  It was such a pain. I was so cross. I sat up in bed and seized a cup of cold coffee I had by me. ‘Do I have to do everything?’ I snapped, and started slurping the coffee.

  ‘I’m sorry, I’m so stupid . . .’

  Well . . . I suppose I should have supplied them. How was he to know? Still, Tar was never a Boy Scout, that much was clear.

  Then he said, ‘Hang on . . .’ And he ups and outs the room with his jeans on and I thought . . .

  ‘Oh, no!’ I knew what he was doing. He was going to borrow some off Vonny and Jerry . . . I was half amused, half furious . . . because, I mean, this was my first time. I didn’t want to use boring old borrowed anarchist condoms!

  And then he was away for ages. He must have been half an hour and then he came back quietly in case I was asleep, all sheepish.

  ‘Sorry . . .’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘They were a bit reluctant to lend them.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Well, you’re only fourteen, see, and . . .’

  I got the picture. There’d been a big discussion about whether Gemma was old enough. I was livid. I sat there and steamed. He was dithering around the room. He came and sat next to me and asked me if I didn’t want to any more. It was dreadful. This was exactly the sort of thing I’d wanted to avoid. I thought he’d discover me wearing nothing at all under my sleeping bag and it would just happen. Now he was sitting there in his blue jeans and I had my jumper back on, I’d got so cold waiting.

  I said, ‘Oh, never mind,’ and I turned away and wrapped myself back up in my sleeping bag as if I wanted to go to sleep. I could feel him standing there for a moment, then he got into his. He lay close and cuddled up to me.

  Well. Sometimes you’ve got to work harder than you want to. I turned round and he kissed me and he slid out and into my bag and he lay there very still for a bit, although I could tell he was really excited. He can be very tactful sometimes. We cuddled and it got very warm and then a bit steamy and pretty soon my jumper found its way up around my neck . . .

  Later on, Tar said in a little voice, ‘I love you.’

  And I said . . .

  Oh . . . I felt so sorry for him, but I hadn’t anything else to give him, you know? It was just a moment we had together. I mean, he was a really special person to me, but . . . I just felt that someone could come along and blow hard and I’d fly away from him, go in the wind and end up . . . next door or on another planet with someone else, anywhere. Just because the wind blew.

  I didn’t want to hurt him.

  I put my finger on his lips and I said, ‘Ssssh . . .’

  I could see him looking at me. He was hurt and I felt cross because I’d done my best. And what right had he got to love me?

  I said, ‘Don’t say that.’

  There was a long silence and then he said this funny thing . . . ‘Dandelion.’

  I just looked at him, it was so out of context. I said, ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  He sort of smiled and shrugged and I smiled back because I realised . . .

  He’d given me a picture he’d done of a dandelion. It was a lovely picture. I didn’t know what the dandelion meant to him but I knew what he was saying. He was saying that he still loved me, even though . . .

  I wanted to say something to him . . . to tell him that I felt so much for him, even though I didn’t love him. I couldn’t say dandelion so I said, ‘Ladybird.’ It just came into my head.

  He laughed and said, ‘Why ladybird?’

  I said, ‘Because they’re nice, and everyone likes them, and they’re pretty and red . . .’ He began to kiss my mouth.

  ‘ . . . and they like dandelions. A lot,’ I said. I touched his nose with the tip of my finger, as if I was telling him off.

  Tar smiled and nodded.

  ‘Dandelion,’ he said.

  ‘Ladybird.’

  ‘Dandelion.’

  ‘Ladybird.’

  And I really did love him in that moment, more than anyone, more than myself, even though tomorrow it might all be over.

  He kissed my mouth and we snuggled up as close as we could get.

  FROM

  NOUGHTS & CROSSES

  BY

  MALORIE BLACKMAN

  Sephy

  It took a while before I heard the strange tip-tapping at my window. And once I was conscious of it, I instinctively knew that it’d been going on for a while. Not bothering to wipe my face, I headed for my window and opened it. Tiny stones lay at my feet.

  Callum . . .

  Callum in our back garden. I leaned over my balcony and saw him at once.

  ‘What . . .?’ I lowered my voice. ‘What’re you doing here?’

  ‘I need to see you.’

  ‘I’ll come down.’

  ‘No. I’ll come up.’

  I looked around anxiously. ‘OK. But be quick.’

  ‘How do I get up there?’

  ‘Just a sec. Er . . . can you climb up the drainpipe and use the ivy for footholds?’

  ‘I’ll break my neck.’

  ‘Hang on, I’ll tie some sheets together then.’

  ‘No, don’t bother.’

  Without another word,
Callum clambered up the drainpipes and the ivy, reaching my balcony in about ten seconds flat. My heart leapt up into my throat as I watched him. If he fell now . . . The moment he reached my balcony, I hauled him over, terrified he’d plummet to his death.

  ‘Did you phone me? I didn’t hear your signal,’ I told Callum, confused.

  ‘I didn’t phone. I came straight here,’ Callum replied. ‘I hid in the rose garden until the coast was clear.’

  We stood in the middle of my room. He looked at me and I looked at him and all the events of our lifetimes finally caught up with us. I wanted to say sorry for everything that’d happened to his dad, sorry for everything that was still happening, but even in my head the words sounded trite and totally inadequate. Better to say nothing. Safer. And I couldn’t forget the way he’d looked at me as the prison clock struck. I was the first to look away. I’d known Callum all my life and yet I felt as if we’d only just met.

  ‘Is there anything I can do?’

  Or maybe I’d done enough. Me and my kind . . . I risked a glance at Callum. He didn’t answer. He just watched me.

  ‘How’s your mum . . .?’ Stupid question. ‘Is she still staying with relatives or friends? Is she . . .?’

  ‘She’s at my aunt’s house,’ Callum replied.

  I looked around my room. Should I sit or stand? What should I say? What should I do? Inside, I was beginning to panic.

  I ran to lock the door. The last thing either of us needed was to have my mother or sister enter the room. Sighing with relief at the click of the key in the lock, I turned, only to bump straight into Callum. Dazed, I looked up at him.

  ‘I . . . I thought you were going to get help,’ Callum told me.

  I shook my head, shocked. Why would he think such a thing? ‘Listen, if I wanted to get help, you wouldn’t have made it to my bedroom window,’ I told him.