EIGHTEEN
DION
FIFTEEN YEARS AGO - JULY
“Are you okay?”I ask, feeling a little stupid because it’s very clear from the noises he was making in there that he’s anything but okay.
And yet he pushes his shoulders back and elongates his neck like his limbering up for a football match. “I’m fine.”
“Well, that’s a load of bollocks.”
“How long…Were you out here the whole time?”
“Yeah, you looked like you were about to pass out, so I wanted to make sure you emerged in one piece.”
“Oh. Well…I’m sorry you had to hear that.” He’s mumbling, a hand on his stomach and his eyes darting around the floor.
I shrug. “Shit happens,” I say, not meaning it to be the pun it is, but it’s too late to take it back. Besides, I think Benji’s lips pull into a small smile in response. “But seriously, are you okay? Maybe you should go home.”
“Nah, it happens…A lot. I think I keep eatingsomething that doesn’t agree with me. It got worse around exam time, which I thought was stress, but now I…I don’t know.”
“Have you been to a doctor?”
He pauses, looks down. “No.”
Studying his face, I see his cheeks are more gaunt than usual. Already a tall, lean man, Benji has lost weight in the last few months.
“You should,” I say with some firmness. “Health is important, Benji.”
“Yeah, I know, I just…I didn’t want to worry my mum.”
“I get that but that’s what mums are for. To worry. It’s their favourite thing to do. They love it. Honestly, you’d be doing her a favour by giving her something to worry about.”
He smiles at me and I smile back. It’s a moment. A nice moment. But then Benji looks away again, his gaze lifting to look over the top of my head, towards the double doors that lead out onto the car park.
“Hey,” I say with enough edge that it prompts him to look back at me. “You want to get out?—”
“There he is!” A booming voice interrupts my suggestion that Benji and I take off somewhere else. “What the fuck are you doing?”
Benji and I both turn towards the hall to see Miles marching down the corridor, his swagger teetering on the edge between Liam Gallagher and drunken tosser. His question didn’t mention me but I’m pretty sure Benji knows as much as I do that he was implying, ‘what the fuck are you doing with her?’.
I don’t know if it’s his arrogance, the cocky glint in his eye or the way his approach has Benji physically cowering in front of me, but I’ve had enough of Miles Richards for one lifetime, and while I thought I could keep quiet until he’s long gone from this town, I don’t think I can anymore.
“If you must know, we were just in there,” I nod to the disabled toilet, “and Ben was making me see stars with just three of his talented fingers. But you wouldn’t know what that’s like would you Miles? Satisfying people sexually isn’t exactly your forte from what I’ve heard.”
Miles blanches and his eyes jitter from me to Benji to me again. Out of the corner of my eye, Benji is straightening up.
“Maybe Ben can give you some tips,” I say. “But I’d have a pen and paper ready, if I were you. I don’t think your little boy brain will be able to retain all the key information, like actually giving a crap about the people you string along.”
I push a single finger against Miles’ chest as I walk past but he’s so stunned he moves back some distance.
“What the fuck—” The rest of his outburst is muffled as I continue into the sports hall, a smug smile on my face. Looks like I might have a good time tonight after all.
The rest of the Leavers’Ball passes without major incident. People pull people they shouldn’t. Raquelle ends up crying on my shoulder in the Ladies’ loo for half an hour. And Miles throws up in a plant pot outside. I don’t see much of Benji for the remaining few hours, but I snatch little glances as he walks around the edge of the dancefloor with other boys from the football team. I even get to watch him dance when they decideMr Brightsideby The Killers is a song worthy of their frankly offensive dance moves. And then, suddenly, at eleven o’clock, the music is cut and the lights flicker on.
It’s sobering, even though I’ve deliberatelyavoided drinking any of the smuggled in liquor that’s been passed around. The bright light makes what little magic there was a moment ago vanish in a split second, and the mess, the dishevelled clothes and the mascara tear tracks on Raquelle’s face are all clearly visible.
But, I did it. I went to the Leavers’ Ball dressed like the man I am and aside from Miles Knobjockey Richards, nobody said anything. I was accepted and I was even, by Benji and many others, applauded.
