Nemesis: Because I Want You - 4. Chapter Four: Bruise Pristine

CHAPTER FOUR

Bruise Pristine

It had only just gone nine and Nick really didn’t feel like going home yet. Zoë was spending the evening at home with her boyfriend, Craig, and Nick didn’t want to be in the way, or walk in on something he’d rather not see. Besides, he didn’t want to come home drunk and his head was still spinning.

So he just wandered around town for a while, trying to sober up. Windfield Green was almost entirely empty, though he could hear chattering and music from one of the pubs when he passed it. In the end, he went to Tesco and bought himself a cola. He sat down on the pavement outside to drink it and pulled his mobile from his pocket.

He wrote a text to Linda.

Did you really just want to get to know me so you could make Dave jealous?

He sat for a couple of minutes, drinking his cola, listening to the silence. Then the phone buzzed in his hand and he looked down.

sorry. ur rly not my type. u should of known that from the start.

Well, at least she had the decency to respond, he thought, and gave a short laugh, in spite of himself. Mel had been right. He wondered if she would be online when he got home. Probably not. Surely she had better things to do on a Saturday night?

It was getting a bit chilly, so in the end he had to conclude that it was time to head home. He emptied his cola and threw the bottle in a bin.

When he got home, he stepped cautiously through the hall towards the sitting room. ‘Hello?’ he said, poking his head through the doorway.

‘Hey, Nick,’ said Zoë, smiling. She sat curled up in Craig’s arms on the sofa. ‘What are you doing home so early?’

‘Meh. Not really my cup of tea, this party thing. I’ll tell you about it later.’ He glanced at Craig. He wasn’t entirely thrilled about telling Zoë what had happened at the party in front of him. In fact, he wasn’t entirely thrilled about Craig in general.

Craig was fairly attractive, with a tanned, stubbled face, very light blue eyes, dark hair, and heavy eyebrows. He was in his late twenties and worked as a carpenter, which was, boringly enough, how he and Zoë had met, when they had needed new doors for the kitchen cupboards. Craig was powerfully built and very tall. He seemed easy going and pleasant enough, but for some reason, Nick found him creepy. But, he thought, if he made Zoë happy, it didn’t matter one bit how Nick felt about him.

‘Well, I’m glad you’re back,’ said Zoë. ‘I want to talk to you about something.’ She got up and pushed Nick into the kitchen. ‘Well, sit down,’ she prompted, looking a bit nervous. Nick sat down at the table, and Zoë sat down opposite him.

‘How would you feel about Craig moving in with us?’ she asked.

Nick froze and stared at her for a moment. ‘In here?’ he asked. ‘Wow. Erm, I don’t know…’

Zoë’s freckled cheeks were rosy, and she looked excited and nervous at the same time. She bit her lip. ‘It’s just that everything’s going so well. We’ve been together almost a year, and I’d really like to try it out. You see, we’ve been talking about maybe getting married . . .’

Nick swallowed and looked away for a moment. Zoë seemed so happy, like she really wanted this. She had given up so much for Nick’s sake, to look after him and be there for him. She had quit her veterinary medicine degree in Nottingham and moved back home, taking a job at the local library, all so Nick didn’t have to move to Plymouth or go into foster care. He didn’t want to disappoint her.

He looked at her again. She looked expectant, her grey eyes bright and wide. ‘That’s great, Zoë,’ he said and smiled as genuinely as he could. ‘That’s really great. And of course he can move in!’

Zoë let out a squeal of delight and got out of her seat to hug her little brother. ‘I’ll go tell him straight away!’

‘Yeah, I’m gonna go to my room,’ said Nick, quickly. ‘Bit knackered. See you in the morning!’

* * *

Nick turned on his computer and logged onto Messenger. Almost at once, he received a message from Mel. It seemed as though she didn’t have anything better to do after all.

Mel: You’re back early. I take it the party didn’t go so well?

Nick stared at his computer screen and sighed. Mel could never be accused of being stupid.

Nick: Why do you just assume that?

She didn’t reply straight away, so he continued.

Nick: No, you’re right, it didn’t go well. You were right, as usual. She was just using me to get back at D.

Mel: I’m so sorry, sweet! :–( God, some people can just be so cruel… Are you all right?

Nick shook his head and smiled to himself.

Nick: Yeah. I’m doing much better than I thought I would, actually. She kissed me. Didn’t really do much for me. Guess I really am gay, lol!

He hesitated. Then he wrote again.

Nick: Something else has happened, though.

Mel: What?

Nick: You know my sister’s creepy boyfriend? Well, she asked me if it was all right with me if he moves in with us.

Mel’s response came quicker than usual.

Mel: Really? What did you say?

Nick: Well, what can I say, really? She says they’ve been talking about getting married. I can’t get in her way like that, after all she’s done for me. Don’t like it, though…

Nick leaned back in his seat and sighed. Life was getting a lot more complicated, it seemed.

* * *

The sound of Dave’s alarm clock pierced his unsettled dreams and he sat up in bed, slowly. The previous day had been the worst in his life thus far. After his confrontation with Nick and subsequent rejection of Linda on Saturday, he had gone on a bit of a bender. The hangover had lasted most of the Sunday, and he’d missed church. He had attempted to convince his parents it was just a stomach bug, but his father had seen right through him and grounded him for a week. He had also been bombarded with texts from a by now rather desperate Linda. He had ignored the first twenty, and then written back:

Stop texting me, you stupid whore!

He had regretted it the moment he hit ‘send’, but at least the texts stopped coming.

He made a face as he thought back to Saturday’s events. He felt a bit bad for exploding in Nick’s face. After all, it hadn’t been his fault that Linda had decided to trick him to get back at Dave. He gave a short, humourless laugh. He’d never had an evil ex before. It was nowhere near as fun as he’d imagined.

Dave got out of bed and got dressed, before trotting downstairs to the kitchen. His father was sitting at the table reading The Telegraph. His mother was nowhere to be seen.

‘Eat your breakfast,’ said his father stiffly without looking at him. ‘Don’t be late for school, and I want you straight home after. You have football practice this evening.’

‘Yes, sir, I know,’ Dave mumbled, grabbing himself a bowl of cereal.

‘I’m disappointed in you, David,’ his father continued, eyes still on the newspaper. ‘Getting drunk like that shows serious weakness of character.’

‘Yes, sir. It won’t happen again.’

George Thompson was a lawyer, a royalist, a tory, and an Anglican (if only because that’s what good Englishmen were), in that order, and he expected the same from his son. Dave had no interest in politics or the law, and was religiously indifferent, but he humoured his father to the best of his abilities. Some part of him still wanted his father to be proud of him.

When Dave arrived at school, he parked his bike and went to meet up with his friends by the front steps.

‘Hello,’ he said glumly.

‘Yo,’ said Chas. ‘I got some awesome new games for my XBox yesterday, bruh, you guys wanna come to mine and play this afternoon?’

‘Chas, have you even got enough brain power for XBox?’ said Alan, laughing. ‘I’m in. How about it, Dave?’

‘Sorry, can’t,’ Dave replied with a grimace. ‘Grounded. My dad figured out I’d been drinking. Only allowed out for school and football.’ He sighed. Then he noticed someone sitting some twenty feet away, reading. Something to take his mind off being grounded for a while.

‘Oi, Davis!’ he shouted, crossing over to him. ‘What are you reading today, oh great king of book nerds?’ Upon closer inspection he noticed that Nick had a smaller book inside the bigger one. He recognised the little Moleskine notebook. ‘Oh, even better. Writing poetry again?’

‘Piss off,’ said Nick and made to put the notebook away, but Alan snuck up behind and snatched it out of his hand. He read out loud.

‘“The bitch is breathing, panting, running, following the path of ins . . . insignificance. But out of the pre—predicament he walks, tall, unscarred and lurking round the corner of contempt mixed in with love . . .” What is this shit, faggot?’

‘Oh, it’s Nicky’s poetry collection, isn’t it, Nicky?’ said Dave, eyes glinting. ‘You writing about me again? We’ve been over this. I’m out of your league!’

By now they had acquired an audience. Nick stood up calmly and took the notebook back from Alan.

‘Oh, bollocks!’ he sighed, in mock defeat. ‘And I’d planned out this romantic date and everything. Whatever shall I do now?’ He shrugged one shoulder. ‘What can I say? You make me happy in my pants.’

Dave snorted. ‘What have you even got in your pants?’ he said derisively, hoping Nick would back down.

‘Oh, more than you could possibly imagine, Mr. Thompson . . .’ Nick winked at him.

Dave blinked. That had been unexpected. It had been a long time since Nick had been this bold. He found that he could think of no response that wouldn’t sound either petulant or gay and felt a hot blush creep up his neck. He was literally saved by the bell, as it rang a moment later, signalling the start of the school day. He escaped into the building with great relief, and avoided Nick for the rest of the day.

* * *

Nick: So then he tried to make a joke out of it, like what have I even got down my pants, so I said, ‘more than you could ever imagine,’ and I could see it, he just froze.

Nick was typing quickly and more than a little excitedly.

Nick: He was totally blushing!

He waited for Mel to respond, still grinning. It had just been too good. The look on Dave’s face had been priceless. Nick had felt so powerful just then and he couldn’t help but wonder, if Dave was really completely straight, would he have blushed like that? Mel replied afer a few moments.

Mel: Maybe he just got flushed cause he was angry?

Nick: No, that wasn’t his angry face. That was his embarrassed ‘what do I say now’ face.

Mel: What did he say?

Nick: Nothing. The bell rang. He ran away. Rushed inside as quick as those sexy legs could carry him.

There came a knock on his door. ‘Nick?’

Nick: Brb, my sister wants a word.

‘Yeah?’ he said out loud.

Zoë pushed open the door, looking a bit anxious. ‘Aunt Karen just called,’ she said. ‘Mum’s had a nervous breakdown again. I’ve got to head off to Coventry.’

Nick stood up quickly. ‘Is Mum all right? Has she hurt herself?’

‘No, she’s okay. She’s in a right state, though, so she might have to be admitted again. I’m just gonna help Aunt Karen get everything sorted.’

‘I’m coming with you,’ said Nick, making for the door, but Zoë caught hold of his wrist, gently.

‘Absolutely not.’ Her tone was gentle, but firm. ‘This isn’t a social call, Nick. You don’t need to see her like this.’

‘She’s my mum, too!’ Nick said savagely.

Zoë studied his face with a pained expression. ‘I know, sweet, and I’m sorry, but you can’t come. She wouldn’t want you to see her like this, and you have school in the morning, too. You’re staying here, with Craig, and that’s final. I’ll be back in the morning.’ She tried a smile. ‘This might be a good opportunity for you to get to know him better, too,’ she added.

* * *

‘So, how are things?’ asked Nick in what he hoped was a friendly tone. He looked up from his book at Craig, who was sitting on the sofa with a rugby match on the telly, a can of Carling in his hand. Nick himself was in the armchair by the reading lamp. It was about half seven in the evening. Not wanting to disappoint his sister, he had taken her advice. Maybe all he really needed was to get to know Craig a little better. It was possible that he’d turn out to be a perfectly lovely person.

So far, Nick was unimpressed.

‘Oh, what the—What are you doing, you stupid bugger?’ Craig shouted at the television. ‘Just hammer him!’

Nick glanced at the screen, trying to make sense of it. He liked football well enough when he was in the stands, though he suspected he liked it better because a certain someone was on Windfield’s youth team. Rugby, on the other hand, he had no particular affection for. It really just seemed like a lot of testosterone and not a lot of brains to him, violent and over the top.

‘Not going too well, then?’ he tried.

‘Bloody awful!’ said Craig, shaking his head and emptying his beer can. ‘They’re fucking useless . . .’ He looked at the empty can in his hand and then put it on the table next to the other five. ‘Get me ’nother one, would you?’ he said to Nick without looking at him. His speech was slightly slurred.

Nick raised an eyebrow, taking in the six empty cans and Craig’s red face. He hadn’t realised how much the man drank before. ‘Don’t you think you’ve had enough?’ he said casually.

Craig looked at him, then, apparently struggling to focus a little. ‘Yes, thanks, mum,’ he shot back. ‘Just get me another, yeah?’

‘I think we’re out,’ Nick lied. He knew there was more in the cellar.

Craig glanced at him, sat back in his seat and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. He put one to his lips and made to light it.

‘Don’t light that in here!’ Nick said incredulously. ‘You wanna smoke, you go outside. Don’t poison me with that shit!’

‘You know, I don’t like your attitude, kid!’ said Craig, anger creeping into his voice. ‘And I’ve noticed you don’t like me. Way you look at me. Like you don’t think I’m good enough. And you know what? I think you’re just a slimy little twat who needs to get over himself!’

‘You know, you’re right,’ said Nick, anger rising inside him.

‘About you being a slimy little twat? I should think so . . .’

‘I don’t like you!’ Nick interrupted, talking over Craig. ‘I’ve tried giving you the benefit of the doubt, tried being civil, and just look at you! You’re a fucking drunk!’ He shot him a look of contempt. ‘I should probably mention that to Zoë. Maybe she’ll dump you before you move in any of your stuff. It’ll save everyone a lot of trouble.’

‘Oh yeah?’ Craig growled, now openly glaring. He took the cigarette from his lips and pointed it at Nick. ‘I’ll bet you think you’re awfully clever, don’t you? But you’re not. You’re just another obnoxious little kid who gets in everyone’s way. Probably why your daddy left and your mum’s a head case.’

Nick snapped his book shut. ‘My mum is not a head case! She’s ill!’ he shouted. ‘I just keep noticing more things I don’t like about you. You are rude, and a drunk, and you’re the last thing Zoë and I need in our lives!’

‘Shut up!’ Craig dropped the cigarette onto the coffee table and stood up. He grabbed Nick by the collar of his t-shirt and pulled him out of his seat. ‘Would you mind repeating that?’ he growled menacingly.

Nick stared straight into his eyes. ‘You are a mindless alcoholic who nobody needs, least of all us!’ he hissed venomously.

Craig pulled back his fist and punched Nick square in the face. Nick felt a trickle of blood from his nose. ‘You worthless little shit!’ shouted Craig, hitting him again. Nick didn’t scream, but he squirmed and managed at last to wriggle free of the older man’s grasp. He ran out into the hallway, stopping only to grab his shoes. Craig caught up with him, then, and grabbed his left arm, twisting. Now Nick did scream. He did the only thing he could think of and batted at Craig with his trainers. Craig let go of his arm and Nick ran out the door in his socks, clutching his shoes to his chest.

* * *

Dave buckled his belt and pulled on his jacket. He stuffed his kit into his black sports bag and shouldered it.

‘Nice work today,’ said one of his teammates, Matt.

‘Cheers, you too. See you tomorrow,’ said Dave.

‘Yeah,’ said Matt, nodding. ‘See ya!’

Once outside, Dave unlocked his bike and took off. He was taking a shortcut through the park when he noticed a familiar figure on a bench by the fountain, illuminated by the light from a lamppost. He stopped.

‘Davis!’ he called. He got off the bike and started rolling it towards him. ‘What the hell are you doing out here so late? Get kicked out of your house or something?’

‘Go away!’ said Nick, but it was barely more than a whisper. Dave frowned. He leaned the bike against a tree and went closer.

‘Hey, what’s up with you?’ he asked.

Nick turned his head around and glared at him. Dave’s eyes widened. The other boy had a black eye, his nose was bleeding, and he had a bad cut on his lower lip. He was shivering in only jeans and a blue t-shirt, and he was clutching a bruised left arm to his chest.

‘Christ . . .’ Dave breathed. ‘Wha—what happened to you?’

‘None of your fucking business!’ Nick growled, looking away again.

Dave sat down next to him, trying to catch his eye. ‘Nick,’ he said seriously, ‘tell me who did this so I can kill him!’

Nick gave a harsh laugh. ‘Why the hell do you care all of a sudden? You hate my fucking guts, don’t you? Please leave . . .’

‘Oi, you’re my worst enemy. No one else is allowed to mess with you! Now tell me who’s responsible for this! God, if it’s Alan, I’m gonna—’

‘It’s not, it’s no one you know.’ Nick looked resigned. He sighed, finally meeting Dave’s gaze. ‘If you must know, it was my sister’s boyfriend.’

Dave stared at him for a moment. Then his mouth fell open and he uttered the only phrase that seemed appropriate for the situation. ‘Fuck me!’

‘Maybe some other time,’ said Nick drily. ‘Thanks for offering.’

Dave shook his head and looked away, ignoring the quip for once. ‘Someone should tell him to go pick on someone his own fucking size! How old is he? Your sister’s in her mid-twenties, right? I’ll bet he’s older than she is . . . Fucking prick. You should report this,’ he rambled. Then he looked at Nick again, who was still clutching his bruised arm. ‘Let me see your arm.’

‘No!’ Nick growled.

‘Shut up, Davis, and let me see your fucking arm!’ Dave snapped. Nick scowled at him, but let him take hold of his arm and examine it. Nick winced at the touch. ‘This doesn’t look too good,’ said Dave.

‘Didn’t look this bad ten minutes ago,’ said Nick. He winced again as Dave felt the bruises. ‘It hurts less now, though.’

‘Shit . . .’ said Dave. ‘What did he do, twist it?’

‘Yeah,’ Nick replied. He looked up and their eyes met, but he quickly looked away again.

Nick’s arm was icy cold and covered in gooseflesh. ‘You’re freezing,’ said Dave and let go. He took off his jacket and draped it over Nick’s shoulders. Nick looked like he might protest. ‘You’ll catch your fucking death dressed like that this time of night!’ Dave insisted.

He proceeded to have a look at his face. He brushed some hair away from Nick’s forehead to look at his black eye. It was swollen and purple. ‘Can you see at all?’ he asked.

Nick nodded. ‘It’s not as bad as it looks, I think,’ he said.

Dave pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket to try and wipe away some of the blood around Nick’s nose, though most of it had dried up. ‘Your nose isn’t broken. Just bruised. He just burst a blood vessel when he hit you.’

‘How do you know this stuff?’ said Nick, sounding half annoyed, half impressed.

‘Grey’s Anatomy,’ Dave joked. ‘No, I really don’t watch that,’ he amended quickly. ‘Hey, I play fucking football. You think I haven’t had worse than this? And my mum was a nurse before she got married. I found some of her old text books in the library. I like reading them. Bet you didn’t know that about me!’ He moved on. ‘This is a nasty cut,’ he said, looking at Nick’s lip.

‘Actually, that wasn’t Craig,’ said Nick weakly. ‘I tried to put my shoes on and run at the same time. Took a fairly spectacular nose dive.’

Dave frowned. ‘Clumsy and stupid,’ he said absent-mindedly, without any real malice. ‘Act now and get one bloody lip, free of charge . . .’ He prodded Nick’s lip with his right index finger. It wasn’t too swollen, but he could feel Nick wince at the touch.

Digging into his bag, he pulled out his water bottle. He poured some on his handkerchief and tried to clean the cut as best he could, holding Nick’s face with his left hand for support. He noticed a slight tremble as his thumb accidentally brushed the other boy’s lips.

Suddenly his heart was racing and he wasn’t sure why. Their eyes met again. Nick’s uninjured eye reflected the light from the lamp post. He could feel Nick’s breath on his hand and became suddenly acutely aware of the feel of his soft skin on his palm, warm in spite of the chill.

Not quite sure what he was doing, he leaned in closer, and Nick’s eyes fluttered shut.

Dave blinked, let go of the other boy’s face and pulled away. ‘I should get home,’ he mumbled. ‘See ya.’ He picked up his things and hopped on his bike, pedalling away as fast as he could.