What’s Up With Jody Barton?, page 8
Natalie Snell snorted cherry cola all over the table. And all of a sudden something snapped in my head. Before I could stop myself, I said, ‘Do I look like I want to play a stupid gay game?’
Chatty Chong said, ‘Huh?’
From the furthest corner of the cafe, Latasha Joy – who thinks she’s it just because she’s got hulking great big bazookas – called out, ‘Is that a private conversation about maths or can anyone join in?’
From the counter, I heard Liam laugh and say, ‘Rock and Roll!’
And I know it’s totally tight of me and completely and utterly unforgivably crap, but I just wanted Chatty Chong to go right away. Anywhere. Just so long as it wasn’t near me.
‘For God’s sake, Chung Chong,’ I said. ‘You’re such a geek, do you know that?’
Chatty Chong looked at me in shock. I’d like to think it was because someone had used his actual proper name for once, but I know that it wasn’t. The reason why he was shocked and appalled was because I’d just been blatantly very nasty. I’m not proud of it.
He said, ‘Thanks.’ And then he picked up his big bag and walked out of the cafe.
Natalie Snell and Latasha Joy laughed and turned their attention back to their cherry colas.
Liam Mackie called out, ‘Just say it how it is, Jody!’
I picked up my book and held it so that it was hiding my face. I wasn’t reading it though. I was thinking about Chatty Chong and how upset he’d looked. Because of the stupid, nasty, crappy thing that I had said.
Liam said, ‘Is that a book about Jim Morrison?’ And then he came and sat down at my table.
Jolene wailed, ‘Liam, stay here and talk to me.’
Liam laughed and said, ‘I wanna talk to Jody. You should be working anyway!’
And then my dad laughed too and shouted, ‘Well said, young man.’ After that, he prodded his bacon with a fish-slice and started singing, ‘And it burns . . . burns . . . burns . . .’
I continued to stare at my book. But then, after a second, I peeped over the top of it and saw that Jolene was buttering bread at the counter and giving me full-on evils. For a second, I felt a bit bad about her too and then I remembered she’d told Liam I was technically only three and stopped feeling bad. I narrowed my eyes and gave her full-on evils back.
Liam said, ‘I love Jim Morrison. He was the Lizard King!’
My mouth twitched into a grin. And then I lowered my book and said, ‘Rock and Roll!’
Liam smiled back at me and it was the brightest most perfect smile I’ve ever seen. He leaned forward across the table towards me. What’s your favourite track?’
‘“Light My Fire”,’ I said. I didn’t even hesitate.
Liam’s eyes grew rounder. ‘Mine too,’ he said. ‘Although I really love that song “Touch Me” as well. It’s amazing.’
I closed my book and put it on the table. ‘I’ve got every album The Doors ever made,’ I said. ‘Except for the ones they did after Jim died. I can’t be bothered with those.’
Liam nodded in agreement. ‘Wow, I’m seriously impressed!’ And then he said, ‘I’ve only got their Greatest Hits.’
I almost stopped breathing. Liam Mackie was seriously impressed. With me.
Liam said, ‘Can we go and listen to them?’
I stared at him. My brain was having difficulty processing what my ears had just heard. Finally I said, ‘What, now?’
Liam shrugged. ‘Why not? Jolene’s working anyway. And it’s busy down here. I’m just taking up space.’
‘OK then,’ I said. Just like that. OK then.
Liam stood up and called over to Jolene, ‘I’m going upstairs for a bit with Jody. We’re going to listen to The Doors.’
Jolene slapped butter on to a slice of bread and said, ‘How fantastic for you both!’ And then she glared at me so hard that I thought her eyeballs might burst.
My dad said, ‘Chill out, Loopy Lou. Sulky Sue’ll look after him. And I’ve got a lovely load of onions for you to chop up.’ And then he laughed again and went back to singing the ‘Ring of Fire’ song.
Jolene said, ‘Lucky, lucky me!’
In the furthest corner of the cafe, Natalie Snell and Latasha Joy started giggling again. Natalie Snell called out, ‘Can we come up too?’
‘No,’ I said. Jolene stopped glaring at me and glared at them instead. It was a relief, to be honest.
And then, just like I was watching myself act in a very weird film, I saw myself walking up the stairs to our maisonette and Liam Mackie was one step behind me. Except that what made it even weirder was that it was actually happening.
And the next thing I knew we were sitting on my bed and listening to The Doors. ‘Touch Me’ was playing.
‘Wow! Nice room,’ said Liam. ‘Your posters are cool. Jolene has got Justin Bieber on her wall.’
‘I know,’ I said.
‘I’m not sure about your prime-number chart though,’ said Liam.
‘I like it,’ I said.
Liam smiled. ‘Fair dos.’ And then he pointed to a picture of River Phoenix and said, ‘Who’s this geezer?’
‘River Phoenix,’ I said. ‘He was an actor. But he died.’
Liam looked at River and then he looked at me. There was a cheeky sparkle in his eye. ‘Do you fancy him? You’ve got enough pictures of him.’
‘He was a good actor and I like his films,’ I said. ‘I find them thought-provoking.’
Liam said, ‘Weird!’ And then he turned his head to take another look at River. I felt like my life was being examined under a microscope. Liam laughed and said, ‘His hair is well sexy!’ And then he laughed again and said, ‘Do you think he looks a bit like me?’
I forced my mouth into a grin. ‘You reckon?’ And then I went quiet because I didn’t really know what else to say for the best.
Liam stood up and walked over to the window. For a moment he was still, just looking out over Willesden, and then he leaned forward and pressed his face up against the glass. ‘You can see the Wembley arch from here.’
‘I know,’ I said.
‘It looks like the big loop on a massive roller coaster or something.’
I smiled. I’d never thought of it that way. ‘I think it looks like the handle on a giant’s shopping basket,’ I said.
Liam laughed. And then he said, ‘I don’t really like shopping.’
‘Me neither,’ I said. ‘Well, not much anyway.’
For a moment we both went quiet and then Liam said, ‘There’s a Doors tribute band playing in Kilburn in a couple of weeks. A group of us are going. You can come along if you like.’
‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘Maybe.’
‘They’re good,’ said Liam. ‘I’ve seen them before. They’re called The Replacement Doors. I’ll leave you my number. Give me a bell if you fancy it.’
He picked up a pencil from my desk, scribbled his phone number on to a corner of my maths project and then tore it off and handed it to me. I folded it very carefully and put it in the pocket of my jeans. I didn’t even care that I’d have to draw that entire page of isosceles triangles all over again.
Liam sat back down on my bed. And then he closed his eyes and began to sing along with the track that was playing.
I hung my head and looked at my hi-tops.
Next to me, Liam went on gently singing. He was singing ‘Touch Me’. He had a really nice voice.
Even though I was trying very hard not to, I turned my head and looked at him. I couldn’t stop myself. And then I breathed out a big silent sigh. He had a really nice face too. But I think I’ve mentioned that before. A really seriously very beautiful face. I’d actually say it looked like the face of someone I’d been waiting my entire life to meet.
Just looking at him made me want to hold my head in my hands and cry.
Liam continued to sing.
I felt my heart thump inside my body. The sound of my own blood pumping past my ears was so incredibly loud that I don’t think I could even hear the music any more. And then, without stopping to think about what I was doing, I did a seriously uncontrolled and random thing.
I leaned forward, brought my lips right up to Liam’s lips and kissed him.
Just like that.
And, just like that, Liam’s eyes flicked open and the next thing I knew there was a burning, burning, burning ring of fire all round my right eye.
Liam Mackie had hit me in the face.
Then he pushed me away from him, leaped up from my bed and said . . .
‘What the hell was that? You gay piece of shit.’
For a second or two, I didn’t move. I couldn’t. I was completely frozen. I just lay there, sprawled across my bed with my hand held against my throbbing eye. And then I blinked back a horrified tear and whispered, ‘I’m sorry. I’m really ever so sorry. I wasn’t thinking.’
And I wasn’t, was I? Because why on earth did I think that Liam Mackie might actually kiss me back?
Me.
Stupid, boring, maths-loving Jody Barton.
Jody John Christopher Barton.
‘Do that again and I’ll mess you up.’
The violence in his voice made me flinch. But he needn’t have bothered with the warning. He’d messed me up already.
‘I’m sorry,’ I whispered. ‘It was a mistake.’
My own voice sounded weird and alien. I don’t tend to whisper all that often. And I don’t tend to say sorry all that often either. To be honest, I hardly ever get into trouble so I don’t tend to need to.
‘Too right it was,’ said Liam. ‘BIG mistake!’
Without moving any other part of my body a single millimetre, I shifted my eyes and dared a glance in his direction. He was standing by my bedroom door and rubbing his mouth furiously against his sleeve. Just like he was trying to wipe the taste of something terrible from his lips. Behind his arm, I could see that his face was twisted into an angry scowl and he was staring at me with eyes as hard as conkers. He still looked incredible. And he always will, I suppose. But he didn’t look beautiful any more. He looked dangerous.
Liam lowered his arm and said, ‘Quit staring at me!’
I let my gaze fall and looked back down at my hi-tops.
Liam said, ‘Do I honestly look like a gay boy?’
‘Oh God,’ I said. I was still whispering. Anything louder seemed completely impossible because all the energy had disappeared right out of my body. I felt as if I’d turned into my own shadow. In fact, I might have felt less terrible if I had. ‘Just leave it,’ I muttered. ‘I said I’m sorry.’ And then I slumped forward and held my head in my hands.
Liam said, ‘Do I look like a gay?’
I lifted my head up again. Using all the self-control that I could pull together, I said, ‘Just keep it down a bit, will you? Someone might hear.’
Liam sneered. ‘What’s up, Jody? Don’t you want the world to know what you are?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘I mean . . . I dunno . . . Oh, just shut up!’ I dropped my head back down into my hands and pressed my thumbs over my ears.
I could still hear him though. He said, ‘You’re bent. They’ll find out sooner or later.’ And then he hawked up a load of phlegm, gobbed on my bedroom carpet and left.
For a moment or so, I didn’t move. I just sat there on my bed, as still as a statue, and stared down at my carpet.
Stared down at the billion bubbles of Liam Mackie’s filthy frothy blob of gob.
But even though I looked like a lump of stone, my insides were wobbling around like jelly and my brain was busier than Piccadilly Circus. I could hear Liam’s feet thumping down the stairs. I could hear my blood pumping in my ears. I could feel my heart pounding against my ribs. I could feel my right eye socket throbbing from where he’d decked me. And all of a sudden, amongst all this noise and confusion, I started to feel something else too. It wasn’t a new feeling exactly. I’d felt it before, but only ever in manageable doses. Like when I was ten and Jolene tried to convince the classroom helper that I was adopted. Or when I was twelve and Natalie Snell stole my maths book and helped herself to my homework. Or the time in Year 9 when Mr Leonard, my PE teacher, made me do fifty press-ups in the mud just because I’d forgotten my crappy kit. Or that first time I looked up and saw Liam Mackie’s face . . .
I started to feel that life was really really unfair.
And I wasn’t feeling this in any manageable kind of way. I was actually feeling it in a really hard-to-handle and way-beyond-reasonable kind of way. In fact, now I come to think of it, I’d never before been struck quite so squarely by how stinkingly unfair life can sometimes be.
Because Liam Mackie was NOT the perfect and beautiful person that I’d thought he was.
And I’d tried to kiss him.
I lifted my arm and slowly began to wipe my mouth against the sleeve of my hoodie. And then, without really being aware of what I was doing, I stopped wiping my mouth slowly and began to wipe it really really hard and fast, and I only stopped when I realized that my lips were starting to hurt almost as much as my right eye. Letting my arm fall, I hung my head and stared back down at the floor. Liam Mackie’s blob of gob sneered back up at me. And, seeing it there, foaming like a sick slug on my clean beige carpet had an instant and powerful effect on me. Every single emotion that had been whirling around in my head disappeared immediately and got replaced instead by a big, intense cloud of choking smoking rage.
‘YOU TOTAL MORON,’ I said. Actually, I think I may have shouted it – I was way beyond caring whether anyone downstairs would overhear. I stood up and stomped off to the bathroom. With the door locked, I examined the damage in the mirror. It was pretty bad. The area around my right eye was already so puffed up and purple that I almost didn’t recognize myself. For a second, my rage vanished and I felt nothing at all but numb shock.
‘Oh my God,’ I said.
I raised my hand and carefully pressed my fingertips against my alien face. It felt completely the wrong shape. It also hurt like hell.
‘Oh my God,’ I said.
I tipped the toothbrushes into the basin, shoved the empty toothbrush glass under the tap, stomped back to my bedroom and chucked water over the gob on my carpet.
And then I threw the glass at the wall. But it didn’t break because it’s made out of plastic.
So I picked up the nearest thing I could lay my hands on and threw that at the wall instead. It was my scientific calculator. I only got it last year. It’s plastic too but it hit the wall with a loud crack, the back snapped off and the batteries fell out.
‘YOU TOTAL AND UTTER DICKHEAD,’ I said, and grabbing hold of the end of my duvet, I pulled it right off my bed and on to the floor. And when I’d done that, I lifted up my mattress and heaved that on to the floor as well.
There was no logical reason for doing any of this. I just felt like it. And my hands were shaking so badly that I needed to give them something to do. The truth is that I was angrier than I’ve ever been in my entire life.
Angry with Liam for thumping me in the face.
Angry with him for fobbing on my carpet.
Angry with him for looking like River Phoenix.
I wiped my eyes on the sleeve of my hoodie again and looked around my room. River Phoenix was everywhere. And I mean everywhere. He was on colour posters I’d bought from Kilburn Market. On black and white postcards I’d picked up in Willesden Green bookshop. On pages I’d ripped out of magazines. Sometimes he was a big facial close-up and other times he was a small frozen image from a film. He was wearing sunglasses and he wasn’t wearing sunglasses. He was long-lank-haired and he was sporting a big back-combed quiff. Occasionally he was smiling shyly, but mostly he was frowning intensely. And always . . . always . . . he looked utterly amazing.
And, all of a sudden, I stopped wasting my energy on being angry with Liam Mackie and began to feel really colossally furious with River Phoenix instead.
For being so beautiful.
Only – being a boy – I wasn’t supposed to notice that, was I.
‘This is all your stupid fault,’ I said, and springing to my feet I took hold of the edges of the picture closest to me and tore it right off the wall. It was the one where River is wearing a red jacket and red trousers and a big pair of boots, and he’s walking straight down the middle of this empty desert road just like he’s the loneliest person in the entire world.
I crumpled the poster into a tight ball and threw it on to the floor. And then I moved on to the next picture which was a head-and-shoulders shot of River doing nothing at all other than looking impossibly handsome. I tore that off the wall as well. And then, even though there was some part of me that didn’t really want to, I just carried on pulling posters and postcards and magazine clippings off my walls until there wasn’t one single picture of River Phoenix left. I trashed them all. Even my original film poster of Running on Empty that cost me twenty-five quid and which the nice woman on Kilburn Market says is quite hard to get hold of these days.
And then I just stood there, all out of breath, and stared at my walls. They were much barer than they’d been before. For the first time in ages, I could see the Tottenham Hotspur wallpaper which my dad put up for me when I was nine and which I’d never actually asked for or wanted. My bedroom looked weird. If it hadn’t been for my posters of The Doors and my prime numbers wall-chart, I might have believed that I’d wandered into a total stranger’s room by mistake.
I looked at The Doors.
Three forgettable-looking blokes and Jim Morrison. No one could ever describe Jim Morrison as forgettable-looking.
And it was only then that I realized that music was still pumping out of my mega-bass super-woofer and that The Doors were still playing. Liam’s favourite track had finished ages ago and now Jim was singing a song about how weird and unfriendly the world is when you’re different from everyone else. For a moment, it caught me by surprise. So much other stuff had been going on that I suppose my ears had temporarily tuned out. But now that they’d tuned back in again I didn’t want to listen to The Doors. In fact, they were the last band on earth I wanted to hear. Because, all of a sudden, I couldn’t be certain whether it was the songs I liked or just the guy who was singing them.
