What’s Up With Jody Barton?, page 7
And, unsurprisingly, I heard him say, ‘Liam.’ But he must have had a bit of dust trapped in his throat or something because he didn’t sound as cool as he did before and his voice had gone all croaky.
‘And you left your phone here, did you, darling?’
Liam just made another croaking noise.
‘Well, Jolene certainly seems to be taking her time,’ said my mum. ‘Can I get you a drink of anything while you’re waiting, sugarplum?’
And Liam croaked, ‘Yes, please. Can I have a smoothie?’
‘With strawberries and banana?’
‘Yes, please,’ croaked Liam again.
I picked up Vee and Doreen’s empty plates and carried them over to the sink. They’d moved on from discussing childbirth and trapdoors, and were now noisily debating which member of Take That they liked the best.
I heard Doreen say, ‘For me, Vee, it’s that little Mark Owen every single time. He’s got the face of an angel sent down to us from heaven.’
Vee said, ‘Oh no. Not him, Dor! He’s addicted to nookie! I’d choose chubby Gary Barlow any day. He’s much more wholesome and there’s more of him to get hold of.’
And then they both started cackling into their jam roly-poly puddings.
As I passed Liam Mackie, I noticed that his face had gone massively red and he was looking a bit uncomfortable. I hesitated. Then I said, ‘Are you OK?’
He nodded.
I smiled and said, ‘You don’t say much, do you?’
My mum put a smoothie down in front of Liam. ‘There you go, handsome,’ she said. ‘Get your kissing gear around that.’
Liam’s face went even redder. For a moment, I wondered if he was actually in the process of mutating into a tomato or something – but then I remembered something vitally important. It explained everything.
‘Uh-oh,’ I said to my mum. ‘You’ve put yoghurt in his smoothie. He doesn’t like it with yoghurt in.’ I looked at Liam and added, ‘Do you?’
Liam croaked, ‘No . . . I mean yes . . . I mean I love yoghurt.’ And then he downed the whole thing in one long, slow gulp. My mouth fell open in utter disbelief. Some people change their likes and dislikes just as regularly as they change their undies.
But then I pushed that thought right out of my head because any contemplation of Liam’s undies was definitely a serious no-go area.
Just then, Jolene came back. She had a face like a trodden-on teacake. She put Liam’s phone down on the counter, slid it over to him and said, ‘Bye then. Have a nice life.’
My mum looked at Jolene and said, ‘Hi, baby.’ And then she frowned and said, ‘Why haven’t you got any trousers on?’
Jolene opened her mouth to answer.
My mum turned to Liam and said, ‘Are you leaving us already, sweetheart?’
Jolene slammed her mouth shut again.
Liam croaked, ‘Yes . . . I mean no.’
He seemed utterly flummoxed – which was odd really because it wasn’t exactly what you’d call a difficult question. Me and my mum and Jolene stared at him. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that my sister still had a face like a spat-out Smartie.
Liam Mackie put his phone in his pocket and scratched his head for a second. And then, suddenly, he looked at Jolene and said, ‘I’d like to see that film about the moth after all.’
Jolene looked surprised. I think I did too, to be honest. It was a helluva U-turn.
‘Would you?’ she asked.
‘Yeah,’ said Liam. ‘I was just kidding around before. But I really want to see you again.’
‘Same,’ said Jolene. Her face had brightened up.
Liam said, ‘I’ll drop by and see you after school tomorrow, shall I?’
‘Sure,’ said Jolene. She was actually smiling now.
Liam grinned. ‘Sweet!’ And then he leaned over the counter and kissed my sister lightly on her cheek. Just like they do in France. And he was so cool about it that he didn’t even seem to care that me and my mum were watching.
And all I could do was stand there wondering what it felt like to be kissed by him.
Jim Morrison is my favourite ever singer. I may have mentioned this before. He was also a poet. He was born on the eighth of December 1943 and his life was pretty normal and un-amazing until 1965 when he made friends with a massively talented keyboard player called Ray Manzarek. Together they formed the rock band, The Doors. A little while later, Jim and Ray found a drummer called John Densmore and a guitarist called Robby Krieger and then their band was complete. From this point onward, Jim’s life stopped being un-amazing.
In 1967, The Doors released their first album and a single called ‘Light My Fire’. It burned all the way up the American charts to number one. This song is totally and utterly brilliant and I often lie on my bed and listen to it on repeat. Over the next four years, The Doors released five more albums and had a total of seven Top 20 singles. I often lie on my bed and listen to all these songs too. Jim had it all. Good looks. An amazing voice. And a genius way with words. But, somewhere along the way, he totally lost control of his life and then, on the third of July 1971, he died.
He was twenty-seven years old.
Jolene can’t stand The Doors, but, to be fair to her, their music isn’t everybody’s cup of tea. It’s for people who have really good taste.
Eleven months before Jim left the planet, a little baby boy was born. He was called River Jude Phoenix and he is my favourite ever film star. I may have mentioned this before as well. His birthday was the twenty-third of August 1970 and he began acting when he was only ten years old. The first film he ever starred in was a sci-fi fantasy called Explorers and River played the part of a science whizz-kid called Wolfgang Müller. River was so completely brilliant that he won a Youth in Film Award for an Exceptional Performance by an Actor in a Supporting Role. Even though River was fifteen years old at the time, you’d have trouble believing it because, in this film, he actually only looks about ten.
His next films were released a year later in 1986 and they were called Stand by Me and Mosquito Coast. He won awards for his brilliant acting in both of these too. Even though River was sixteen years old when he appeared in them, you’d still find it massively hard to believe because, in both these films, he only looks about eleven. Or perhaps eleven and a half. In no way does he look sixteen.
I like these early River Phoenix films, but they’re not my favourites.
In 1988, River played the part of Danny Pope in Running on Empty. He was nominated for an Academy Award and a Golden Globe Award, but somehow he didn’t win either of them. He should have done though, because his performance was utterly mesmerizing. But in the end it doesn’t really matter whether he won any stupid poncey awards or not because this film will always be my favourite. I’ve got it on DVD and I reckon I must have watched it at least twenty times. And the reason why it’s so mesmerizing is that River was eighteen years old when he starred in it and – instead of looking ten or eleven or even eleven and a half – he looks totally and utterly amazing from start to finish.
When I watch him, I want to hold my head in my hands and cry.
And it doesn’t get any easier because River just goes on looking totally and utterly amazing in every single second of every single film he appears in. There are seven more of them. And I’ve got them all on DVD and I reckon I’ve watched every one of them at least twenty times.
Jolene has always found this pretty weird. I know because she told me. She said, ‘I don’t see why you have to keep watching those same old films over and over again. They’re OK for killing a couple of hours, but they’re not that good. Not like Mean Girls.’
So I shrugged my shoulders and said, ‘I find them thought-provoking.’
Jolene said, ‘You’re weird.’ Just like it was a fact. I tried not to let it bother me though. After all, she’s got that picture of Bieber on her wall.
And it’s really hard not to be fascinated by River Phoenix because he had absolutely everything going for him. He really did. But then one day, in 1993, he walked into a nightclub called The Viper Room and he never came out of it alive.
He was just twenty-three years old.
I think it’s fair to say that, like Jim Morrison, River somehow lost control too.
It happens. In all sorts of ways.
And every time I’m in the cafe I hear people singing songs about it. Like Adele who can’t control the fact that she’s in love with somebody who doesn’t love her back. And Dolly Parton who can’t stop a beautiful woman called Jolene from stealing her man away from her. And then there’s that song my dad is always singing – the one by the spooky old cowboy Johnny Cash. In it, Johnny sings about how he’s fallen into a ring of fire and how he can’t stop himself from burning up. And, personally, I don’t think we’re meant to interpret Johnny’s words literally because he’s not actually singing about being barbecued alive or anything. It’s much more symbolic than that. The ring of fire represents some colossally painful experience that Johnny is having, and, as much as he wants to get himself out of that colossally painful experience, he can’t. In fact, the flames around him just keep on getting higher and higher and there’s absolutely nothing he can do about it. And the most tragic thing of all is that Johnny Cash makes it very clear exactly what that colossally painful experience is.
It’s love.
Because sometimes love can be a very painful thing.
And I think I’ve always known this – so I really should have kept my mind fixed firmly on formulas and fractions. Because when I’m solving maths problems it makes me feel like I’ve got everything fully under control.
But I didn’t. I let my mind wander and I fell in love, and this time it wasn’t with an impossible unreachable face on a poster or on a television screen. It was with Liam Mackie. And, to be honest, it felt pretty much as if I’d fallen head first into a burning ring of fire.
Because I honestly never wanted to fall in love with him. In fact, I did everything I could to stop it from happening. But, however much cold water I poured over my feelings, it wasn’t enough. Those flames just kept on getting higher and higher. And I definitely never meant to mess things up between Liam and my sister. I honestly didn’t. And I swear to God that I didn’t ever intend to be all on my own with him inside my bedroom.
It just happened.
And it happened like this.
It was the following Sunday. I’d just lived through five more colossally confusing days and Jolene and Liam had been going out together for almost a week.
Except that, technically, I don’t even know if they had been. Because not a lot of going out was going on. Mostly they just stayed in the cafe and got on my nerves.
And, although I wasn’t exactly standing behind the counter and studying their every move, it was easy enough to spot that their ‘dates’ pretty much followed this pattern.
1. Liam rocks up at the cafe at around 5 p.m.
2. Jolene instantly starts pouting poutrageously.
3. Liam kisses her lightly on the cheek just as if he’s a French person in a foreign film.
4. Liam smiles and says hello to me and then talks in a charming manner to my mum as she makes him a strawberry and banana smoothie – with yoghurt.
5. Jolene asks Liam if he wants to go clubbing/to the cinema/to the park/to Brent Cross Shopping Centre with her.
6. Liam says no because he’s got family visiting him/he’s grounded/he has loads of coursework to do/he’s all out of cash.
7. Jolene looks disappointed.
8. Liam kisses her full on the lips.
9. Jolene looks very pleased.
10. They sit down together and share a deeply romantic plate of turkey twizzlers and oven chips and lean across the table every now and again to kiss a bit more.
11. I start feeling sick.
12. After a while, Liam stands up, smiles at me and says bye, and then smiles at my mum and says bye to her too.
13. My mum tells Liam he’s a sweetheart and that he must call round again.
14. Liam gets embarrassed and goes all twitchy.
15. Liam goes home.
16. Jolene strops about with a face like a pickled egg and then disappears up the stairs to her bedroom.
This exact same routine happened Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday.
Now, I’m no expert on these matters but this doesn’t sound like the right pattern on which to build a successful relationship. In fact, I’m not at all sure that there is a right pattern. Don’t get me wrong – patterns are incredibly useful and necessary at places like Dollis Hill tube station or Willesden Green bus terminal or Heathrow airport but we can’t rely on them all the flipping time.
Because sometimes a bit of random behaviour is simply a symptom of being crazy in love.
(Beyoncé Knowles would totally understand what I’m trying to say.)
And while Jolene was acting weirdly enough and dippily enough to suggest that she possibly might have been in love, I don’t think that Liam was at all. Not even slightly. He just seemed to be going through the motions and following the flowchart.
And then, on Saturday, he finally took her out. But it wasn’t to go clubbing or to the cinema or to the park or Brent Cross Shopping Centre or to anywhere she actually wanted to go – it was to Loftus Road to watch Queens Park Rangers play Norwich City. And the worst thing of all was that Spurs were playing at home against Manchester United at the exact same time, and even though my dad had offered to buy her a ticket, Jolene had to put on her stripy socks and pretend to be a QPR fan.
‘You know what, Jody,’ she said, just before Liam came to call for her. ‘I’ve got to laugh about this situation or else I’d cry an entire flipping river.’
And if you think my twin sister was stretching a point and incapable of crying quite this much I can tell you, for sure, that she wasn’t. She can cry an entire flipping river. And I know because I was right on the verge of seeing it happen.
It all kicked off the next day. Sunday. Jolene was doing a shift in the cafe and I had the day off. But I was in the cafe anyway. It was raining outside and I didn’t really have anything else to do. I wasn’t working though – I was eating a fried-egg sandwich and reading a book called No one Here Gets Out Alive. It’s about the life of Jim Morrison. And for once the cafe was pretty busy. Round one table, a group of workmen were chatting away together in some totally foreign language and tucking into Champion Chunky Breakfasts with extra side orders of chips. Behind the counter, my dad was frying bacon and pouring cups of tea and looking chuffed. At another table, Whispering Bob Harris was eating apple pie and custard and looking the opposite of chuffed. I don’t know why. But he mostly looks like that, to be honest, so nobody was paying him much attention. The two old ladies, Vee and Doreen, were back again for matching BOGOF chicken dinners, and Natalie Snell and Latasha Joy were drinking cherry colas and giggling together in the furthest corner from me. I stayed out of their way because I don’t like them. They stayed out of my way because they don’t like me back.
And then the cafe door opened and Liam walked in. He saw me sitting all on my own and waved. Unfortunately, it was at the exact same moment that I stuck my tongue out to stop some runny egg yolk dribbling down my chin.
Liam grinned, pointed to his chin and said, ‘You missed a bit.’
I felt my face turn burning red hot but, with a massive effort of self-control I kept my cool anyway and said, ‘Yeah, course I have!’ And then I just put my head down and went right on reading.
Liam said, ‘Nah, Jody. You seriously have. You wanna wipe it off cos it makes you look like a three-year-old.’
My fingers flew up to my chin and made contact with sticky egg yolk.
‘Thanks,’ I mumbled, and rubbed it off. I swear to God, I’m going to stop eating fried-egg sandwiches. No wonder Natalie Snell and Latasha Joy never talk to me.
Liam laughed and said, ‘Mind you, you are only three, aren’t you? Until the end of the month and then you’ll be four. Jolene told me about your weird birthday.’
I glared into my book and said, ‘Did she? That’s nice.’
I wanted to kill her.
Liam laughed again and said, ‘I actually think it’s pretty cool. It makes you special.’ And then he said, ‘Where’s your mum?’
‘She’s off today,’ I said. ‘My dad’s here instead.’
Liam’s face clouded over. ‘Pity. I like your mum’s smoothies the best.’ And then he looked over to where Jolene was and said, ‘Yeah, yeah, I’m coming over to see you now, ain’t I?’ And then he walked off.
I sat and stared at page forty-three of my book. I wasn’t reading it though. I was thinking about what he’d just said.
It makes you special.
I couldn’t get those words out of my head.
And then a voice said, ‘Hey, Jody, do you wanna come down to the library with me and play on my PSP? I’ve got some well good new games loaded on to it.’
I looked up. Chatty Chong was standing by my table and smiling down at me. He had his big bag with him.
From the furthest corner of the cafe, Natalie Snell and Latasha Joy started giggling quite a lot louder.
‘Oh, I dunno,’ I said. ‘I really want to read my book.’
As excuses go, it was a pretty lame one. I don’t blame Chatty Chong for being offended.
Chatty Chong’s eyebrows rose. ‘What’s up?’
‘Nothing,’ I said.
Chatty looked at the floor. Then he looked at me again and said, ‘Something’s up. I ain’t hardly spoke to you all week, yeah?’
My fingers fidgeted with the edges of my pages. I sort of smiled at him and sort of didn’t smile and said, ‘Well, you hardly talk to me all that much anyway. You hardly talk to anyone. That’s why everyone calls you Chatty Chong!’
Chatty Chong’s eyebrows edged up some more. He looked a bit bothered. ‘Yeah, but I just talk to the people I want to, don’t I?’ Then he stopped looking bothered and looked a bit hopeful and said, ‘I’ve got this amazing new maths game you should have a go at. It’s called Indiana Jones and the Homogenous System of Equations.’
