Trouble (18 page)

We’d gone outside and I’d stood like a useless purple lump as Katie pulled out a sun lounger and lay down on it, stretching herself out like a cat. Ten minutes later, Jay came and sat on the end of the lounger to talk to her. I sat on the grass and watched them.

The next day I begged Mum to take me shopping for a bikini.

WEDNESDAY 3
^RD
FEBRUARY

AARON

It’s cold, it’s windy and tiny droplets of drizzle lash what little of my face is exposed to the elements. How I ended up being roped into going to the corner shop to buy Hannah an ice cream is beyond me. I’m even more bewildered that I’ve been tasked to bring back treats for Anj and Gideon as well.

The bell on the door is broken, which suits me fine when I see who’s browsing the magazines as I walk in the shop. Katie’s hair is plastered to her head and there’s a distinct shiver to her stance. Thankfully, she’s too distracted to notice me walk to the freezer. By the time I’ve collected everything, Katie’s moved on to arguing with the shopkeeper about serving her cigarettes. There’s a stash of gossip magazines and various diet drinks on the counter in front of her. I guess as bottom feeder of the WAG hierarchy it’s her job to brave the rain and fetch supplies. I could be accused of hypocrisy here, since Katie’s going to get more enjoyment out of those magazines than I will out of this Feast, Gideon’s banana milkshake or Anj’s disgusting prawn-cocktail crisps, but at the end of the day I’m aware of the difference between buying refreshments and buying friendship.

“Thanks for nothing,” Katie hisses at the shopkeeper, turning so violently that she’s propelled the metre it takes to bump into me. For a second her glance slides over me as if I’m nothing but an obstruction, then her eyes narrow.

I step past and pay for my haul, aware that Katie hasn’t moved. As I head for the door, she falls into step beside me.

“News flash, Emo Boy, it’s
winter
.” She snatches Hannah’s ice cream from my hands and flicks it against my shoulder hard enough for it to snap before handing it back as we reach the exit.

I jam my toe under the edge of the door.

“Buy another one,” I say, quietly.

“Fuck off!” Katie tries to yank the door open, but I lean my weight on it. “Get out the fucking way!”

I wait, impassive.

“Aaron!”

“So you do know my name.”

“Just move.”

“Don’t want to keep your friends waiting, do you?”

She shoots me a murderous glare. “As if you’re going to stand there all day.” But I can tell by the way she looks at me that she’s not sure I won’t. “What do you want?”

I look at her and wait some more until she storms off in a cloud of swear words, returning with a new ice cream.

“Thank you,” I say, holding the door open for her.

“I hope you choke on it.”

“Unlikely. It’s for Hannah.” Katie’s three paces ahead, but she still hears me and I see her half turn, her face relaxed enough for me to see something there – a sadness so profound that for a fleeting moment I think that maybe—

“Well, Hannah can fucking choke on it, then, can’t she?” She marches ahead of me, arms crossed against the wind, magazines tucked under her blazer. Katie knows she made a mistake, but she’ll die before she admits it. She traded everything she had for the chance to be Marcy’s lapdog. There’s no going back now.

TUESDAY 9
^TH
FEBRUARY

AARON

Hannah fidgets during English. It’s distracting.

Could you maybe sit still for more than thirty seconds at a time? Some of us are trying to work here
.

I turn my notebook towards her and tap the page.

Cd u mayb stop bein such a suck up? Some of us r tryin 2 bum here
.

She adds a little smiley face with the tongue sticking out. I find it entertaining the way Hannah writes as if she’s texting.

What’s up?

Because something is. Emoticon aside, Hannah isn’t smiling.

Wot u doin @ wknd?

The question unnerves me. It’s Valentine’s Day on Sunday.

Seeing Neville on Sunday
.

I make a mental note to switch my date with Neville, which should amuse him.

Come 4 family dinner on Sat?
There’s a pause in her writing as Mrs English looks up from marking a stack of essays to check we’re all dutifully reading our texts.
J up 4 wknd
.

Jay’s home? This is interesting.

SATURDAY 13
^TH
FEBRUARY
HALF-TERM

AARON

“Hi,” I say and hold out my hand.

“Hi.” Jason takes my hand and sizes me up as he shakes. “So you’re Hannah’s boyfriend.”

Hannah and I give him what must be identical stares. Whatever he’s been told, I’m sure no one’s told him we’re actually dating. That has
never
been the story.

“Sorry, I’m not sure what the appropriate title is…” he starts to say, but Hannah shoots him down.

“How about ‘friend’ – you’ve heard of those, right?”

Immediately I reassess the situation. Hannah’s been subdued this week, something I’d put down to hormones, which is the excuse she gives for absolutely everything. But I was wrong. Whatever this is, it has less to do with hormones and more to do with Jay. Whatever it is, I’m on Hannah’s side. As if I’d be anywhere else.

“Aaron!” Lola flies out of the front room and cannons into me for a hug.

Robert comes out of his office and claps his son on the shoulder. “So you two have met, then?”

“Just now, Dad. We exchanged maybe a sentence before Lolly came in and stole Aaron from me.” He playfully prods his little sister in the cheek, but she presses closer to me instead of him. It’s nice to be the favourite, but there’s something in the way Jay looks at me that tells me I’ll regret it.

Dinner is a Chinese takeaway that Hannah and Jay go to collect in his car. Paula and Robert are busy in the kitchen, leaving me and Lola to play Mario Kart in the front room. This suits me fine – although, being more of an RPG player, I endure a relentless drubbing from the nearly-six-year-old girl next to me. Lola doesn’t seem to mind that I’m a far from worthy opponent and when she hears her brother and sister come in, she pulls me into the kitchen and sits me next to her.

“And Mummy on the other side.” Lola pats the chair to her left.

“What about Jason, Lolly? You haven’t seen him in a while. I’m sure he’d like a chance to spend some time with you.” Only parents do this – presume it’s OK to speak for you even when it’s obviously inviting trouble.

Lola looks at Jason with wide eyes as he puts the bags on the table then she leans into me a little as she looks up at her mum and beckons her closer.

“I don’t want to sit next to Jay. He’s not been very nice to Hannah,” she whispers into her mother’s ear so quietly that I only just catch it and I’m sitting right next to her.

Hannah’s mum frowns and leans in to whisper back.

“I’m sure they made up when they went to get the takeaway.” She catches me looking and I turn away. “Please, poppet, ask to sit with Jay – he’s missed you.”

Lola glances at me and after I give the slightest of nods, she announces that she’s changed her mind. Disaster averted, we settle down and I watch as Jay tries to engage Lolly in conversation, then I watch Hannah watching him. It’s not as if I believed Paula before – about her stepson and her daughter making up – but it looks like they’ve been arguing some more. Hannah’s jaw is locked in attack mode and she’s snapping prawn crackers like a piranha. Jay on the other hand won’t look at her. At all. Not even when she asks him to pass her the soy sauce.

The conversation takes a dangerous turn at the unwrapping of the duck pancakes when Jay asks me whether I’d like to come and see what Warwick is like in case I fancy applying. He’s just being polite (or smug) but it draws attention to the fact that in two and a half years’ time I should be in a position to go to university.

“I thought I might go somewhere close by,” I say, smearing plum sauce on my pancake. Hannah and I haven’t really got an exit strategy for our fabricated relationship so I’m forced to ad lib.

“There’s not many good places that near. I checked.” Jay looks at me and I swear his expression is challenging. Under the table, Hannah presses her foot gently on mine. I ignore Jay and eat my pancake.

The subject comes up again at the fourth tub of rice. This time from Robert.

“Seriously, Aaron, what are your plans for the future now that” – he trails off and looks at Hannah – “you’ve others to think about?”

“I was thinking of seeing how it goes. Making plans seems a bit premature.” Good answer – well done, me.

“Mm. It never hurts to be prepared.” And that appears to be all Robert has to say on the matter.

But not Jay. “Still, gotta think about your options now, haven’t you? Work out which subjects to concentrate on when you’re revising – no point worrying about Biology if you’re going to study English, is there?”

“Aaron’s pretty smart, Jay.” Hannah steps in before I finish my mouthful. “I don’t think he needs to worry about his revision the way you did.”

Ouch.

Robert frowns at his stepdaughter, opens his mouth to say something, then sees his wife glaring him into silence.

“Keen, huh?” Jay sticks his lip out and nods in what can only be described as a patronizing manner. “What’re you doing hanging out with Hannah?”

It’s meant to be a joke but no one – not even Lola – cracks a smile.

I’ve had enough of this.

“Being a friend. Obviously a subject you missed out of your revision.”

In any other company that might have been chalked up as a point to me but Robert stares at me in a way that makes me feel smaller than a grain of egg fried rice. There’s no chance to rectify the situation in the flurry of activity as empty containers are stacked and leftovers touted about and I regret what I said. Robert is someone I want to think well of me.

After dinner we go to the front room and provide a dutiful audience whilst Lola acts out a scene from
The Lion King
. I’ve seen it before. Actually, I think I helped her learn the lines. It’s late, though, and Lola can’t stop yawning, so Paula takes her upstairs for a bath, and just as Robert gets up to drive me home, his phone rings.

“Aaron, I’m sorry, but I’ve got to take this call and I could be a while…”

“That’s OK.” After my transgression at the dinner table the last thing I want to be is an inconvenience.

“I can run you home,” Jay says with a smile so forced that I’m sure he’s only doing it to impress his father. It works and as Robert rubs a hand over his son’s head on his way past, I can almost see the thought bubble appear above his head: my son is the
best
. Or something more eloquent.

Hannah comes out with me as I fetch my coat.

“Sorry about Jay,” she says with a sigh.

“I thought he was meant to be a nice guy?” I say.

“He was.” Hannah shrugs. “University is turning him into an arse.”

But Jay is golden. He is fanciable no matter what he looks like. He’s nice however he behaves. For guys like him, there will always be an excuse.

“Break it up, snuggle puppies.” Jay radiates irritation as he stalks out of the door. “Hannah, are you coming too?”

She is, which means I’m in the back because Hannah gets carsick. Jay makes a joke about evening sickness and I get a kick out of informing him that pregnancy hasn’t made Hannah ill. I know he was only joking, but it’s fun to be arsey to an arse. Obviously Hannah doesn’t think so since her shoulders are creeping up with every bit of one-upmanship Jay and I engage in. I’ll stop.

It isn’t long before I discover that Jay drives like a maniac. After he drives straight over the middle of one those painted roundabouts, I hear Hannah hiss at him to slow down. He drops to a petulant ten miles an hour below the speed limit.

The journey passes in silence before Hannah starts directing Jay to my house, until he pulls up outside, a squeal of the tyre scraping the kerb.

“Thanks for the ride,” I say.

“You talking to me or Hannah?” Jay laughs as I get out. I stop for a moment as the door shuts. I try to walk away, but I find myself opening Jay’s door, leaning in until my face is close to his ear and I can see my knuckles are white as I grip the doorframe so hard that I lose the feeling in my fingertips.

“I don’t know if you’re being a twat because it comes naturally” – my voice is quiet and precise – “or because you’ve been studying it, but that’s your stepsister you’re talking about.” I take a breath and tighten my grip on the door. I must not let go. Of the door. Of my temper. “Show some fucking respect.”

I swing the door with the full force of my outrage and turn away. There’s no clunk as it shuts – instead I catch Hannah’s voice issue a warning
“Jay…”
at the same time as a shove from behind sends me sprawling onto the bonnet with a squeak and a
thunk
.

Scrabbling upright, I swing round to find Jay right in my face. “I don’t know what you
think
you know about me. But you don’t get to talk to me like that.”

My hands squeeze up between my chest and his so I can push him out of my space. Bad idea. He pushes me back harder. I don’t mean to grab his shoulder to stop myself from toppling backwards, but there you go. All of a sudden I am in a fight. There’s a sting on my jaw where his knuckles catch me, but I know exactly how much it hurts to throw a punch so I yank a fistful of his top and twist so he falls face first onto the bonnet.

How can I stop this? I need to shut things down. I can’t be here, I can’t do this…

But Jay’s back up and swinging at me. I jump back and pain blossoms as his fist catches me full in the nose, then that’s it – I’m lunging for him with my hands balled up, aiming for his head. I catch a hit somewhere and we’re grappling and shoving. I kick out and at the same time I see a splatter of blood fly across his jeans. Jay’s thumb is digging painfully into my jaw as he pushes my face away and I reach up and clamp my hand around his wrist as I ball my fist up, ready to—