Kiss Read online

  He p u t his arm round Carl's shoulders and looked him straight in the face. 'You've got guts, Carl. I'm proud of you,' he said, and t h e n he hurried out of the door.

  'Oh God, spare me t h a t macho nonsense,' said Jules. 'You're not going into school today, Carl, not in t h a t state. They'll make mincemeat of you.'

  ' S h u t up, Mum,' said Carl as J a k e ambled into 278

  the room, his shirt flapping, tie hanging off, shoelaces trailing.

  'Now what?' said Jake. 'Hi, Sylvie.'

  'We're both telling Carl he can't go to school with his h a n d s so bad,' said Jules, shoving cornflakes a n d milk in front of Jake.

  'Yeah, you're mad, Carl,' said J a k e . He paused. 'But if you are going, do you w a n t me to come with you? In case these guys are waiting in the playground or whatever? I'd love an excuse to duff up a few of those snotty grammar-school twats.'

  Carl blinked. 'Thanks, Jake. But no thanks,'

  he said. He poured his own cornflakes and milk.

  His bandaged h a n d slipped and the j u g tipped.

  'There!' said Jules, dabbing with a J-cloth.

  'You're proving my point, Carl. Look, let me do it for you, love.'

  'For heaven's sake, Mum, I j u s t spilled a drop of milk. It's no big deal. I've only got cut hands.

  You're acting like they've both been amputated.

  Stop flapping so,' said Carl. 'Look, I'm not hungry. I'm going now. See you tonight. And don't worry!

  He stood up and gave Jules a quick kiss on t h e cheek. She patted him helplessly. He went to the kitchen door. I got up too.

  'Bye, Sylvie,' said Jake. 'Bye, Carl. Hey. Keep cool, little guy.'

  'Cheers, Jake,' said Carl.

  I walked with him to t h e gate. 'Can I come with you, Carl?'

  279

  'What? Are you offering to duff them all up, Sylvie?' said Carl. 'Hey, do you think J a k e knows why the boys at school are picking on me? Do you think Mum told him? Or did he hear us?'

  Whatever. I expect he j u s t put two and two together. He's not that dim.'

  'He seems to be acting OK about it.'

  'What, did you think he'd s t a r t beating you up?'

  'Oh, he's done that all my life. What about Dad? He seems to know too. Oh God, I feel like all t h e neighbours are suddenly going to pop out of their front doors and s t a r t waving rainbow flags at me.'

  'I'm waving mine,' I said.

  'Sylvie – I'm sorry.'

  'Don't start,' I said, p a t t i n g his bandages very lightly.

  'I'm not sure how much I smashed. Was it absolutely everything?'

  'Pretty nearly.'

  'I'm such an idiot.'

  'You're being an idiot now, going to school.'

  'I'm scared stiff, Sylvie. But if I don't go now they'll all know I'm too scared to face them.'

  'You don't have to go at all. I'm sure Jules w a n t s you to come back to Milstead. Oh, Carl, please, t h a t would be so wonderful. And no one would make a big deal of stuff there. They all know you and t h i n k you're really special.'

  'Look, I'd give a n y t h i n g to be back at 280

  Milstead. I've hated it at the grammar. It's j u s t such a weird atmosphere, all boys together. You breathe the testosterone, along with t h a t awful smell of s t a l e beds a n d smelly feet. The conversation's equally murky. Everyone wants to score off everyone else and there's all the joking a n d the shoving and the crazy rushing around. You can't get any peace anywhere, and you can't say stuff you really feel because they say it's so gay to talk about your feelings.'

  'So w h a t on earth's stopping you coming back to Milstead? You know they'd have you back like a shot.'

  'I don't w a n t them to t h i n k I'm scared of t h e m at Kingsmere.'

  'That's crazy! You're j u s t letting your stupid pride s t a n d in your way. Oh, Carl, why do you have to be so stubborn?'

  'Oh well. Maybe they'll s t a r t throwing j u n k at me and shoving my head down t h e bog and it'll be so awful I'll be out of there like a shot.'

  'Do you t h i n k they really might do t h a t ? ' I asked.

  'No, I was j u s t joking. Sort of. They can't do too much in lessons, can they? I'll charge out as soon as school finishes, don't worry.'

  'What about lunch times?'

  'Well. T h a t won't be so great. Maybe I'll try eating my lunch very very slowly, chewing each mouthful a h u n d r e d times, so I get to spend the whole hour in the canteen.'

  'I know! Come and meet me at McDonald's.

  281

  We can both get there and back at lunch time.

  Go on, Carl, please. Then I won't worry so.'

  'OK. I'll see, anyway.'

  'No, promise. See you t h e r e – one o'clock?'

  'All right, one o'clock. Happy now?'

  He blew me a kiss and t h e n started running down the road. I waited until he turned the corner. He didn't glance back, but he waved his bandaged h a n d at me, knowing I'd be watching.

  I wished he could wear his magic Glassworld boots so t h a t he could o u t r u n everyone. I wondered if we'd ever be able to play Glassworld again. I tried to invent a new chronicle in my head but I couldn't come up with any idea at all. I tried re-running old adventures but the King a n d Queen stared at me blankly and wouldn't speak.

  I wondered if the book itself was all right.

  W h a t if Carl h a d ripped t h e pages, intent on destroying everything? I wondered about creeping back indoors and going through the hole in the fence in our garden to see for myself. No, I couldn't face all t h a t shattered glass j u s t yet.

  I trudged off to school instead. Miranda was waiting for me, surprisingly early.

  'Hey, why wouldn't you answer your mobile?'

  She'd texted again and again while I was waiting in the hospital with Carl, but I didn't know how to reduce the horror of what had happened into several lines of text-talk.

  'I'm sorry, Miranda. I couldn't. I was at the hospital.'

  282

  'What? Did you h u r t yourself? W h a t happened?'

  It was Carl,' I said. 'He was hurt.'

  Lucy was standing nearby, moodily flipping t h r o u g h a gossip m a g a z i n e w i t h J e n n y Rawlings, a sad spotty girl who didn't have any other friends. Lucy looked up at the sound of Carl's n a m e .

  'Carl's hurt?' she said.

  'What? No. No, he's fine,' I said quickly.

  'Come over here,' said Miranda, tugging at me.

  'Some people t h i n k they're it, bossing everyone around,' said Lucy. 'Yet she's j u s t a silly slag. Imagine, Jenny, showing your boobs off on a mobile phone!'

  'Why shouldn't I? They're lovely boobs,' said Miranda, sticking h e r tongue out at t h e m both.

  But when she'd dragged me to a private corner over by the canteen she took a deep breath. 'I think this photo might have been a bit of a mistake. I m e a n t it as a laugh j u s t to tease Paul. I didn't really think he'd show everyone. I wouldn't have minded j u s t one or two of his mates – Carl, for instance – but I don't w a n t to have t h e m all ogling. Sylvie, do you t h i n k I'm a slag?'

  'No, of course not.'

  She squeezed my h a n d gratefully. It was t h e sore h a n d with the stitched finger. She saw me wince. 'Sorry! Hey, you are hurt!'

  'Only a little bit. Carl's the one who's really 283

  h u r t . His fingers were cut to ribbons with all the glass.'

  'Not his glass? His collection?'

  'Don't tell anyone else ever, Miranda, swear?

  Paul was so hateful, him and all the others in their form, calling Carl all sorts of n a m e s – you know w h a t they're like – and Carl got a bit d r u n k and then he smashed up all his g l a s s — '

  'All? My Remember Me paperweight? Bloody hell, it cost a fortune!'

  'I don't know if it got broken or not. I j u s t saw glass everywhere. All the little animals were smashed, and the Glass Boy's broken.'

  'So is Carl in hospital then