‘Did you have a nice time tonight?’
‘What?’ I asked coyly.
‘I guessed you were meeting a boy.’
I felt myself blush with embarrassment. ‘Just a mate, Mum.’
‘Corey’s a mate. This was a date, wasn’t it?’
Suddenly, I longed to jump into bed and escape this unwelcome interrogation.
‘Not really. Mum, I’m really tired.’
‘Okay, love. But you know you can talk to me about… anything.’
‘Yes.’ I was already hiding under the covers.
‘And feel free to bring him round. Perhaps I could make us all some tea. Snapper and rice?’
Knowing I’d rather boil my own toe, I nodded a quick agreement and raced upstairs to dream about Mickey rescuing me from a pack of green dinosaurs.
At school, Carla and I gossiped heavily about my date and then replayed it all back at hers that evening.
‘This is sooo cool!’ enthused Carla.
‘I know!’
‘You know what?’ asked Corey, who since leaving school seemed to have embraced maturity overnight. His walk strayed from anxious gorilla to masculine strut, and he now wore his jeans straight.
‘None of your biz!’ I said.
‘Oh, go on!’ he whined, sounding like a five-year-old all over again.
‘Lois has a boyfriend!’ blabbed Carla.
I stamped on her foot.
‘Ow!’’
‘Who?’ Corey asked.
‘Why?’
‘Want to see if I know him,’ replied Corey.
‘You don’t, so mind your biz!’
‘I was only wondering…that’s all!’
‘Wondering what?’ questioned Carla.
‘If he’s a wanker or not.’
As soon as he left, Carla and I resumed our gossiping. It felt so great to have something in common with my best friend again. And as time went on, I began to enjoy this more than the company of Mickey Mills, who on closer inspection had really bad breath. I knew I’d never kiss him and was glad when he finally dumped me, citing my refusal to ‘frenchie’ as strong-enough grounds.
* * *
There’s a Good Way and a Bad Way To Do It
Kevin Trivia: The best thing to happen to me the year I turned seventeen? Watching Pele’s amazing opening goal against Italy. What a match!
To leave or not to leave?
You probably hate school and can’t wait to be released from the shackles of all those rules, not to mention the revolting school dinners. But please, Lowey, really think about staying on at sixth form or going to college. Get those extra grades. Remember, it’s all about having choices.
Sixth Form College represented a change of scenery, and with it a handful of perks. Top of the list: no school uniform, plus daily access to some really cool guys. Not that any were ever interested in me. It had been and would always be my best friend Carla who enticed the hungry crowds. She’d grown into something quite special too – if you liked slim waists, large breasts and a sassy Jessica Rabbit walk just to top it all off. Even Mr Tally had started to look at her funny as he weighed out a quarter bag of cola cubes. While I preferred to live in my jeans, Carla’s Daisy Duke’s (i.e. the tiniest shorts ever) seemed to be in constant competition with her bum cheeks, so it was hardly surprising when she got together with Antoine Richards, a smooth guy from the upper sixth, proceeding to spend most if not all of her spare time with him. Again, I got used to this and it failed to niggle away at me until I called round one day and Corey answered the door.
‘She’s out with some boy,’ he offered. I hadn’t seen him in ages. Almost eighteen now, he seemed to be into more grown-up things like Art College and a scooter. He’d also grown a goatee and looked really impressive. And he’d been spotted recently with some blonde bombshell from the Hankle Estate. Not that I cared about that.
‘This is the second time she’s blown me out for Antoine!’ I whined as we entered the lounge.
‘What kind of name is that?’ he asked, producing a box of cigarettes from nowhere.
‘No thanks. Don’t smoke.’
‘Neither do I, then!’ he said, flinging the box across the room.
‘She said she’d be home by six!’ I continued pointlessly.
‘I dunno why you bother with my sister.’
I wanted to say, because my dad told me to.
Corey disappeared into the kitchen.
‘Where is everyone?’ I called.
‘Mum and Dad are at the pictures. It’s just me here.’ He reappeared with two cans as I parked myself in front of the telly as always. He threw a can of beer at me, which I failed to catch.
‘Still can’t catch, Lo Bag. Bad. Very bad indeed.’ He shook his head in mock horror and I gave him the finger. ‘So, how is you?’
‘I’m all right.’
‘You still with that idiot?’
‘You mean Mickey? That was eons ago.’
‘No one since?’
I ignored him and began sipping at the beer, which tasted absolutely disgusting (although I’d never, ever tell Corey that). ‘How are things at college?’
‘I’m really enjoying my art course…’ he began, smiling, showing off those dimples. As he spoke, I hoped he’d forget to ask me anything ‘profound’. He attended Art College to study…art, I suppose, while I studied A-level English and Computer Science at the local sixth form. His friends were all arty folk, whereas my only friend was Carla. The more we chatted, the more I knew we’d hardly anything (except Carla) in common any more, and this made me a little sad.
‘Music,’ he said with a smile.
‘What about it?’
‘You still into LL Cool J?’
‘A little bit…’
‘You
