Storms - 10. Loz

It was with mingled excitement and trepidation that I went to school Monday morning. I went through my morning lessons in a daze, nothing but PE on my mind. At least, that’s what I told myself. In truth, the reason for my mental state sat in front of me in Mr. Hassan’s Core Sciences class, and I tried my hardest not to stare at the nape of his neck as he bent over the desk to scribble in his notebook.

I didn’t look, and I didn’t care. Just as I hadn’t looked and hadn’t cared all Thursday and Friday, and hadn’t spent the weekend burying myself in violent video games on the XBox so as to continue not to look and not to care.

For PE, Griffiths had set up posts with various exercises. The class split into groups of four to time each other and measure each other at the various tasks. I ended up with Aziz, Jason, and a kid called Kareem. Alec was off sick, apparently, which was how Jason found himself without his partner in crime for once.

As I counted Kareem’s push-ups, I glanced over at Daniel. He was grouped with Julie Kinkaid and two other girls, the only group with one guy and three girls. They were climbing the ropes. The week before Daniel had laughed and joked with Julie all lesson, but today he seemed quiet, subdued.

‘Oi!’ said Kareem gruffly. ‘Are you still counting or what?’

‘Course I am,’ I said. ‘Fifteen.’

‘Sixteen,’ Jason corrected. ‘He’s keeping pace with Aziz. You missed one.’

‘Fuck,’ I mumbled. ‘Sorry, Kareem. Sixteen. Four more to go, yeah?’

Kareem shook his head and grumbled something in Arabic before continuing his push-ups.

Then it was my turn. I’ve always liked exercise. It helps me clear my head. When I do something physical I can shut out everything but my own heartbeat and breath, the feeling of my muscles stretching and contracting, the smell of fresh sweat. Not today, though. Today my mind raced ahead without my permission.

Why did Daniel seem so subdued? Had something happened? Was it because of me? I thought I’d caught him looking my way a few times, but I had looked away so quickly I couldn’t be sure.

I tried to shake the thoughts from my head, focus on my breathing and my pulse. I didn’t care. I didn’t care. I repeated it like a mantra in my head as I did my push-ups. Up—I don’t care—down—I don’t care . . .

The tip of a white trainer nudged my side, and I stopped, glancing up at Kareem. ‘What?’

‘You’re done,’ he said. ‘You got to twenty ten push-ups ago.’

‘Show-off,’ said Aziz, grinning.

I stood, wiping the dust from my palms on my shorts, and tried to ignore the heat in my cheeks. ‘Sorry. Zoned out.’

Kareem shrugged. ‘Whatever. Shall we move on to the next post?’

* * *

I showered quickly and left the changing room. Then, when I figured everyone but Daniel must have left, I doubled back. I worried that he’d be gone when I got there. No, not worried. I didn’t worry. I just thought. Thought that maybe he would have decided to finish up earlier and go to dinner for once. But when I got back, his things were still there, and the shower was going.

I took off my clothes again and then stepped into the shower room. He must have heard my footsteps, because he turned his head as I walked in. I couldn’t read the look on his face. Not that I cared what he was thinking. I didn’t care at all.

He left quickly afterwards. I got in a kiss before he scurried off, which I instantly regretted due to how fucking gay it was. I rinsed off, got dressed. I didn’t want dinner. People would just wonder where I’d been anyway, so I went outside instead.

I sat on a bench and watched some year sevens and eights kicking a football around the school yard. At one point the ball rolled over to where I sat, and I picked it up, throwing it back to the younger kids. A boy of about twelve with curly red hair waved and called, ‘Nice one!’

Life used to be simple. It used to be kicking footballs around and trying not to get in trouble with the teachers, getting homework help from Darren and watching telly with Dad and just feeling safe. When did it get not simple?

When you grew up queer, a voice in my head told me, and I shook my head, as if that would shut my brain up.

I’m not queer! I thought back, and tried so, so hard to believe it. But it was getting harder to convince myself, and that voice kept taunting me.

* * *

When I got in just after three that afternoon, Dad and George were already home. Dad was making dinner, chopping carrots and onion for a chicken casserole.

I sat down at the kitchen table and got started on my homework.

‘How was school?’ Dad asked.

I shrugged. ‘Fine. It’s school.’

Dad chuckled.

‘How was work?’ I asked, leafing through my English textbook for the correct page.

‘We finished the patio,’ said Dad, dumping the vegetables into a frying pan. ‘There’s a pretty penny coming in from that work. Tomorrow we’re refurbishing some old lady’s kitchen.’

‘Glad to be rid of that annoying client?’ I asked, and Dad chuckled again.

‘He wasn’t so bad in the end. George is pleased, though. He’s still convinced the guy’s a poof and shagging his brother-in-law.’

George walked into the kitchen with a towel draped around his middle. ‘Because he totally is,’ he said, pulling a beer out of the fridge. ‘No way is that guy not bent.’

‘All evidence to the contrary,’ Dad said. ‘He’s married, and to a beautiful woman, no less.’

‘Maybe she’s a lesbian,’ I said, ‘and they’re just married for show.’

‘Woman that pretty, a dyke?’ Dad scoffed. ‘It would be a crime against nature. What an utter waste! Get the chicken out of the fridge, would you, George?’

‘Give her a taste of proper cock and she wouldn’t be a dyke anymore, eh?’ said George, grinning.

‘Now, don’t be vulgar, George,’ Dad admonished him, but he was still smiling.

I turned to my English book, but as I tried to read the assigned text I started to wonder if I had ever met a girl I was attracted to. I couldn’t think of a single one.

* * *

My mobile phone buzzed in my pocket just as I was loading the dishwasher. It was a text from Jason.

It read, Nicked sum whiskey from dad. U wanna join us 4 a drink? Playground by the centre.

Jason had always been decent enough to me, but I’d never really considered him a friend, and I certainly hadn’t had an invitation like this before. I supposed Alec must actually be sick.

I finished loading the dishwasher and stuck my head out into the sitting room where Dad, George and Darren were all watching telly.

‘Dad? Would it be okay if I go out for a bit?’

‘Back by ten,’ said Dad.

I nodded. ‘Sure. See you later.’

The playground in question wasn’t far, but Jason was already there when I got there. He sat on the swing set, sipping amber liquid out of a plastic bottle. When he saw me he raised the bottle in a toast. It was about a quarter of the way full.

Jason hopped off the swing. ‘Want some?’ He held the bottle out towards me.

My dad would likely not be pleased if I came home pissed, but I supposed a couple of sips couldn’t hurt, so I took the bottle. ‘Cheers.’

The whiskey burned my throat going down, but I refrained from coughing, which was more than I could say for Jason, who seemed to make a show out of making a face and loudly clearing his throat after every sip.

It was only half past seven, but it was dark and there was a chill in the air, so there weren’t many people about. I had somehow imagined that Jason would want to go around knocking over dustbins or graffitiing walls, but he seemed content to stay on the playground drinking whiskey. He sat back down on the swing, while I perched on the edge of the bottom of the slide.

‘My mum’s been trying to take a leaf out of my crazy Aunt Erin’s book. Trying to be strict with me. I fucking hate my cousin. Julie, you know her, right?’ I nodded. ‘She’s such a little miss perfect, Mum swoons over her, wishes I was just like her. As if I’d ever be like that goodie two-shoes little freak . . .’

I raised an eyebrow. ‘So, how come you’re out?’

Jason scoffed. ‘I said “trying”, didn’t I? She sucks at it. I just told her I needed to give Alec some homework materials. With his mum working evenings at the hospital, it’s not like she can check. And she got all impressed that I was “taking care of my friend while he’s sick”.’ He said the last bit in a high pitch probably meant to mimic his mother.

He fell silent for a moment, glancing over at the road, possibly to see if anyone interesting was around. Then he took another sip of whiskey before handing the bottle back to me.

‘Course, I guess it’s not strange Julie’s such a freak, with the way her mum is. Since Uncle Rob died, Aunt Erin’s been a complete nutter. Won’t let Julie do anything. Julie would never be allowed to go out after dark like this on a school night.’

I took a small sip. ‘I never did get her,’ I admitted. ‘Like, she seems so sort of good and quiet, and then suddenly she’s like someone took Mrs. Lawton, made her a quarter her age and four times as hard.’

Jason scoffed again. ‘Julie is not hard. She’s a weak little mummy’s girl who can’t even think for herself.’

He glanced towards the road again. This time he seemed to spot someone he knew. ‘Oi!’ he shouted, his voice echoing across the playground. ‘Isobel!’

A pretty-ish girl with chestnut hair waved and came towards us. I recognised her. She was in our year, but I didn’t think I had any lessons with her.

‘Hey, Jason,’ she said, stopping next to the slide I was sitting on. ‘Loz, right?’ she asked, looking at me. I nodded.

‘Want a drink?’ Jason asked, and I offered her the bottle. We’d finished off about half of what had been in it.

‘Yeah, why not? Ta.’ She accepted the bottle and took a sip. She also made a face, but didn’t cough. ‘What is it?’ she asked, offering the bottle back to me, but I gestured towards Jason and she gave him the bottle instead.

‘Tullamore Dew,’ he replied. ‘Dad mostly uses it for Irish coffees on special occasions. He won’t notice a bit gone missing.’ He took a sip. ‘Come sit in my lap, Isobel.’

She laughed. ‘Fat fucking chance! You’re not my type.’ She turned to me. ‘I’ll sit in your lap, though.’

Which was how I ended up spending my Monday evening at a playground, drinking whiskey with a reasonably attractive girl in my lap. I wasn’t sure whether I actually found her attractive, but I knew she was the sort of girl that guys were supposed to like. If I were to like someone, I could probably do worse.

Jason and Isobel did most of the talking, and around nine she said she needed to get home. ‘Dad’ll throw a fit. See you guys tomorrow.’ She kissed my cheek before standing.

‘Oh, come on!’ said Jason, grabbing her wrist. ‘Stay a bit longer?’

‘Piss off, Jason!’ she said, trying and failing to pull her wrist back.

‘Well, don’t I at least get a kiss too?’ he asked.

‘You’ll get a slap if you don’t let go of me!’ she said angrily, and Jason reluctantly let her go.

Once Isobel was out of earshot, Jason turned to me. ‘The hell, bruh? You don’t say a single fucking word, and she’s all over you! Please teach me your lady killing ways.’

I shook my head. ‘Maybe she just likes guys who shut up.’

Jason drained the bottle and dropped it carelessly on the ground. In the yellow light of a street lamp, I could tell that his cheeks were a bit red.

‘I wish I didn’t have a mum,’ he grumbled, suddenly back on the subject we had been discussing before Isobel turned up. ‘It must be great growing up with just your dad and brothers. I wish Mum had fucked off like yours did.’

Before I quite had time to realise what had happened, I was on my feet, and so was Jason. I had him by the collar, had slammed him against the side of the swing set.

‘Shut up about my mother,’ I hissed. ‘Do not talk to me about her! Understand?’

Jason nodded. His eyes were wide and he looked suddenly terrified.

I let go of him and stepped back, but he remained where he was, gaping at me.

‘I’m going home,’ I told him, calm once more. ‘Thanks for the whiskey. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

Without waiting for his reply, I turned around and headed back home. Dad didn’t have the chance to notice the whiskey on my breath. I went straight to bed.