we started secondary. Ah still mind that first day at St Philomena’s, the churnin feelin in my stomach. All the different primaries had been mixed up and in the mad scramble for seats ah was left staundin like a stookie. Jemma rescued me. She appeared out of naewhere and said, Partner? Ah nodded and the two of us sat thegether at the front. Ah hardly knew her then, though ah’d seen her around cause she went to the same dancin school as the twins – her class came out as theirs went in. Monica arrived later, waited at the front of the class for the teacher tae find her a seat. Sweet and smiley, that neat and shiny in her uniform she looked as if someone had polished her. When ah got tae know her family ah suspected her mother actually did polish her alang with everything else in their immaculate house. Her parents owned a Chinese takeaway and her ma cleaned the house fae top to bottom, drove Monica to school and went tae mass afore her long day’s work.
Jemma was on a swing when ah arrived, swayin gently, tappin one foot on the ground tae stop hersel gaun high.
You’re late.
Had tae wash up.
Time your ma got a dishwasher.
Ah sat in the swing next tae Jemma’s, started to move, higher and higher, usin ma knees tae power me. Ah loved the squidgy feelin in my belly, felt ah was flyin. Ah kept on swingin, fast and high for a few minutes, then let the swing slow doon till it idled and stopped.
Ah love that feelin you get in your belly when the swing goes dead high.
A lassie in our Alison’s class says it’s a sin. Jemma’s sister was fifteen.
How can it be a sin? You don’t go tellin the priest in confession you went on the swings.
It’s okay when you’re wee. But when you start gettin your thingummies, the feelins you get are sexy.
Really?
A nun tellt her.
Ah started tae giggle. How did the nun know?
Jemma giggled too, then the giggle became a laugh and the next minute the two of us were nearly fallin aff the swings helpless.
Mibbe it’s a … test. Jemma could hardly get the words out. If you want tae become a nun they test you to see if you can control yer sexy feelins.
The tears were streamin doon ma face. Aye – when they join the convent … they have a row of swings and all these nuns swingin away prayin that they won’t feel sexy.
Jesus Mary and Joseph protect me fae impure thoughts.
Through the blur of tears ah seen Monica wavin at us fae across the road.
Ah waved back. Don’t tell Mon what we were laughin at.
Later, pretendin to read in the bedroom, ah kept thinkin about this efternoon. Sometimes it was like that when Jemma and me were on wur ain thegether. Monica was lovely but she’d of been really shocked about us laughin at nuns. And somehow, away fae Jemma, ah felt ashamed. Ah knew ah’d need tae confess it next time ah went and it made me feel a bit sick inside tae have to say it to a priest. Even though ah knew ah was really tellin Jesus and he knew anyway, it was dead embarrassin.
And ah kept wonderin about what Jemma had said. Ah’d always thought sexy feelins meant fancyin boys or someone in a band. In RE we’d done a unit called ‘Growing Up: Issues of Morality’ but it was all about no puttin yoursel in situations with boys that could go too far, kissin and stuff. No one ever said you shouldnae go on the swings. Ah wondered if ah’d ever had other sexy feelins without knowin. Sometimes if ah woke up at night and needed the toilet, ah’d lie there for a minute, enjoyin the feelin of my bladder bein full, wantin tae go but wantin tae lie in the warmth too. Then when ah got up and peed the nice feelin went. Was that sexy too? Was any feelin inside you?
Fiona? Mammy came in the bedroom. Ah’m gonnae get the twins aff tae bed.
Okay.
Mammy stroked my hair. Sorry, hen. Your da’s watchin the TV but if you want some peace you can read in the kitchen. She smiled at me.
Ah wanted tae ask her, but somehow the words didnae come.
Four Years Later
WHEN I FIRST knew Jas his front teeth had wee jaggy bits across their biting edge like a wean’s. Serrated. Most folk’s teeth wear tae a straight edge by the time they’re about fourteen but in sixth year at school his were like mini-saws. I could feel them when we were kissing, hours spent tangling with passion in a quiet bit of wasteground on the edge of the park. We never really done anything much, just kissed till wur lips swelled up. Every time it seemed as if we’d be carried away by it, one of us would pull back or move the other’s haund away fae the danger spot and we’d break, talk for a while until the moment passed. Sometimes, lying in bed at night, I’d imagine what it’d be like for him tae put his haunds under my claes, touch my naked skin. In the beds across fae mines were Mona, an unidentifiable lump under her downie, and Rona, wan airm thrown out of the covers, white in the light of the streetlamp.
How did Jas sleep? What would it be like to lie beside him, coorie like spoons all night long?
It seems weird we never spoke about it, since we spent all the rest of our time talking, never ran out of conversation. He never anyway. Always something on his mind; big things, never trivia.
Look at this, he’d say, showing me something he’d cut out the newspaper about fossil fuels. Or he’d start a conversation wi my da. So what do you think of the situation in Iraq, Mr O’Connell? D’you think we should end the sanctions?
Da cairried on watching Countdown wi the sound turned doon; I knew he was making up words in his heid while he answered Jas.
Havenae a scooby aboot politics son, but these things’ll never hurt the government – it’s always the ordinary folk end up suffering.
Jas didnae know the meaning of the word casual; everything was important to him and if it wasnae important, what was the point in talking aboot it? Why gossip aboot some daft popstar’s lovelife when you could discuss the meaning of life, why watch soaps when you could read about the molecular composition of polymers?
And he didnae just talk about things, he done them. He was aye writing letters for Amnesty or campaigning for something on the school council. Or studying. Or working. Probably the only time he wasnae daeing something purposeful was when he was with me.
I met Jas when I moved to the non-denominational (or – as my da called it – proddy) school in sixth year. I wanted to dae Advanced Highers in English, Art and History and St Philomena’s couldnae timetable them thegether. They tried tae persuade me to change one of the subjects, then suggested I go to Burnside just for History but it seemed less complicated tae move school – it was only for a year. And though I’d been dead happy at St Phil’s when I was younger, after all the stuff that had happened this past year, I was glad enough tae go where no one knew me.
I met Jas the first day when he came up to me after English and thrust a photocopied leaflet about the debating club in ma haund.
‘Is
