Apples (21 page)

I figured it was the hot weather making the boys that extra bit randy. There were a few Sexy Cunts and Honey Bunnies in the audience but I wasn’t sure if I wanted their tongues forced down my gob. Possibly they had rabies. We scooted out the way now and then, and I pouted at Rachel with the strawberry lip-gloss clogging me down – she was getting dry-humped by some monkey, grinning her head off though. I couldn’t resist wiggling my bum into another lad’s crotch when he took me round the waist, but it was total pot luck as to what he looked like. It turned out he was complete Eurotrash, and when he span me round to get dirty I just had to smile and slope off. Blinking neon through the Spanish mascara, I placed my shiny bag down on the dancefloor then tiptoed round it to some house tune we recognised, trying not to step on the rolling bottles and trying not to die from soaking wetness.

Pacha only started filling up at about three, and soon it got knackering in the scorching heat with all that men’s testosterone round our heads. It was a class night, but it was weird not knowing anyone except for Debbie and Rachel – in Middlesbrough you could latch on to twenty-odd mates on a normal night. Yawning slightly, I glanced up at the ceiling and the tangerine fabric hanging down off it, like a glow-in-the-dark version of Doggy market. Christ was I really homesick. Smoothing the blonde plaits down my neck, I flicked my lashes at the girls then led them off the dancefloor since we were completely evaporating. My face was still pretty fresh when I spotted it in the glass reflection, and we pushed open the double-doors then stepped into the cool nighttime. Outside it was hard to tell if the sun was going down or coming up and none of us had on a watch, so I touched Rachel’s shoulder and asked, How do you get the time in Spanish?

Rachel was big on her languages, and I giggled when she did the accent and went, El tiempo, por favor?

Smiling berries, I clip-clapped my platforms on the concrete then wandered round the tables and wicker chairs until I caught the beady eye of some bloke by the bar. He had nice funky sideburns and he winked as soon as we moved up, although we tried not to give the wrong impression. It felt really late and the drinks were fading off quite a bit, but I was still laughing when I asked him loudly, Eltimpo, mon pavor?

Pardon? Sideburns asked, sipping a funny red cocktail. I didn’t recognise the accent, and I just stood there staring while Rach giggled behind my back. Putting one of the black straps back on my shoulder, I looked at her and said, You try, then.

Rachel was just about to go all Spanish on us, when suddenly Sideburns’ eyes illuminated and he asked, Are you from England?

Yeah, I went, grinning my white squares. You having a good night, then?

Yeah, I was here last night too, he said, but he didn’t need to show off. Whereabouts in England are you from?

Middlesbrough; you know, up north, I said, although I wasn’t really that interested in him. His nose was too angular and bobbly, and he seemed a bit of a ponce with his fancy cocktails and Marlboro Lights. All his luck ended with the cigarettes.

Oh right, I’ve heard it’s pretty dodgy.

Ah, it’s okay, Debbie said, touching her rock-hard hair.

Finishing off his bevvy, Sideburns nodded then knocked a pair of sunglasses onto that nose. Me and Debbie laughed, then composed ourselves when he asked us, Would you like a drink, ladies?

What a dreamboat. I cringed then burst out laughing and went, Naw you’re alright. I thought about Mam back at the hotel – how bad would it be if I came home spewing my guts up. We promised her we’d go window-shopping in town tomorrow afternoon, and then some tea at the fancy place on the seafront and all of that. I didn’t want to be the one who wrecked her last ever holiday. Sideburns looked at us then stumbled on a chair as he tried to get closer, and we all just shook our heads then got the hystericals as we backed away from him. I guessed we’d had enough to drink anyway.

So have you got the time then? I asked, as we started to head off.

It’s four fifteen, Sideburns said, and that was the last we saw of him and the facial hair. I wasn’t sure if he was fibbing, but soon the tiredness started to gang up on us and we moped around getting exceedingly bored. Drink is the crappiest drug of all – it’s got potential to get you sad or violent, and you almost always end up needing a sit down. Ecstasy, on the other hand, is a big pink hovercraft you can float around on til the break of dawn. In time with the salsa drums and people’s voices, we decided to step inside again but I was wondering when the night was going to end. Me, Rachel and Debbie had another dance by the podiums for the sake of it, weaving in and out of skinny brunettes and greasy hunks – me and Rach felt pretty special being the only blondies in there. The music was blaring really loud and you couldn’t tell who was English or not, but we weren’t that fussed about boys anyway. Soaking up the synthy strings, I tried my best to stay awake but eventually we decided to make our way back home since we were all too pooped. I could feel myself getting sober as we walked along the shiny pavements with Pacha still glowing behind us, but we were still having fun and my belly felt fine. We were already dead late, but we took our time strolling on the promenade and I guessed Mam would be asleep in any case. I really hoped she was having an alright time, even though she spent a lot of it on her own and the cancer must be always on her mind. I was just trying to block it out, but often drink triggers bad feelings and you get a bit sniffy now and then.

I clung on to my friends. As we walked, the stars, yachts and hotels all shone together in a messy white blur across Palma, and it was a really beautiful sight. I grabbed Debbie and Rachel’s arms and we clicked our heels between gangs of happy foreigners, all drunk and moist as morning started to break over the Mediterranean. It must’ve been past five when we reached the Blue Coast Hotel, and I could feel my head dropping because I was so hot and wrecked. We took the lift up to floor four then sat on the terrace for a while, watching daylight spread across the water as we sat alone on the white plastic chairs. It would’ve been nice to get off with a Majorcan boy, in the hope of getting married and never having to see a grey sky again, although I couldn’t just force myself on someone I wasn’t even sure of. I guessed boys were all the same the world over, but I still wanted one.

Come Wednesday Abi was seeing the Prick. It was Burny and Donna’s idea to go down the Viking during half-term, and I felt like a total gooseberry sat there with those four. Fucking stupid couples, I hated them. Abi was making a point of licking the Prick’s face off, and I was making a point of not looking at them. We might’ve made a good couple, but she was weird. Abi always went on about Eve being a slag, when it was her getting her flaps out all the time. I was making a heroic effort to get pissed – I wasn’t depressed but I missed Eve. It was dead boring without her, and I hated the thought of other lads getting their hands on her and me just sitting around all on my lonesome. Abi and the Prick were annoying as fuck, snogging and grinning all the time like their lips were each other’s favourite penny chews. They made my skin crawl, but I had far bigger things to think about. That weekend my dad’s records told me all you need is love and wouldn’t you love somebody to love, and I had to admit they had a point. The songs slotted in my head like that kids’ game with the hexagon and the circle and square and triangle and the holes.

‘Can you pass us that?’ the Prick said, picking the Richmond off Abi. It was no surprise she got him smoking as soon as they started going out, but the Prick was acting like the ladies’ man and like he’d been smoking all his life. I hoped they all got lung diseases and died terrible deaths.

‘You want one?’ Burny went to me, holding out a Regal. It was like the pint glasses were stood in a fog of dry ice, but I’d rather be alone on a misty moor any day of the week. I shook my head, trying not to get all their crap in my eyes – I’d had it with smoking, after all I’d never seen Eve do it and I pretty much revolved around her since Rachel’s party. I couldn’t wait to catch her in full consciousness.

‘You alright, hun?’ Donna asked, but I didn’t know if I was or wasn’t. Most people were applying to St Mary’s College after Brackenhoe, but I couldn’t help thinking time was running out with Eve, or at least it was fucking dragging. Donna flashed her eyelashes at me – she had on this shiny white dress thing, but I hardly even noticed her boobs wibbling around in it. It wasn’t so much that I’d lost my sex drive, I just felt a bit maturer than back in the
Razzle
days. In fact I’d been getting on a lot better with my dad – he was finally out of the coma, his skull all bandaged but unfortunately he didn’t have amnesia. I was surprised he hadn’t brought up the attack though – I couldn’t remember if there were stars circling his head when I smashed him with the guitar, but it was pretty serious. Perhaps he had more respect for me, now I was standing up for myself all the time – he’d started asking me about school and football and girls and this and that. I didn’t bother bringing up Abi’s cunt though. I didn’t want to go out with her; the worst thing about not shagging Abi that night was perhaps not knowing what to do when it came to Eve.

‘How long we stopping here for?’ Abi asked, though it wasn’t even nine yet and the pub was still filling up. Burny and Donna glanced at each other, whispered something then just shrugged and drank their drinks. We took it in turns to go to the bar, and it wasn’t long before Abi and Donna got giddy and started rambling about boys. Abi was throwing her voice just to wind me up.

‘So you on the Pill or what?’ she asked Donna, and they both gazed at each other with criss-crossed eyes. Burny had a really big tolerance for drink, and was pretty embarrassed and all. The Prick was just a beaming smile on the end of the wet table.

‘Yeah,’ Donna went, scratching her arm just under the elbow.

‘You still use rubbers and that?’ Abi asked. ‘I hate them …’

‘Yeah, we usually stick one on.’

‘Oh right, yeah, well I guess it’s best to be safe not sorry, but there’s nothing like him going in bareback. Proper mint orgasms all round.’

On purpose Abi flicked her eyes at me then, but I didn’t even know what bareback was so it didn’t matter to me. For some reason I had the image of Abi and Prickless riding ponies round an orchard together. I didn’t give a fuck – they could do whatever they wanted. I started swallowing the Carling a bit quicker, waiting for my head to get melty and just block them out altogether.

‘So how often youse have sex now?’ Abi said next, and I rolled an eyeball. Everyone’s a show-off. There had to be a lot more to life than sex – I felt sorry for those people who go out with someone they’re not even sure of, just to get their end away and act all big and stuff but not even get any real joy out of them. I wanted Eve like nothing else – just sitting by her bed and making sure she was okay was the biggest rush of all. Better than skydiving and better even than Keith Richards’ solo in ‘The Last Time’. I just hoped it wasn’t the last time I’d ever see her. I sat back and downed the rest of the Carling, wishing she’d walk through the door and I could tell her all of that. I was sick of people sleazing around girls and trying to grab them and then now and then getting their tongues down their throats and putting their dicks in them and then not really being bothered about seeing them again and maybe making them cry. If Eve heard all that, I hoped it’d make her smile – she had a big pink love- heart in the middle of her chest. Abi was wrong – she wasn’t the type to go sleeping around. But I hardly saw enough of her, and I almost had a few wobbly tears going as I got up from the table. It was a bit of a lonely stupid night.

I made a trail across the patterned carpet, setting my eyes on the bar rather than the table and Abi and everyone. She was probably still talking about men’s penises and women’s vaginas – or probably not, seeing as I wasn’t sat there. Even though I sort of shunned Abi on Sunday, I stood there and promised never to be horrible to a girl in my whole life. I tippy-tapped my fingers on the bar, ordered another Carling, then tried to compose myself a while. There was a whole host of bald and beardy drunks stood along the wood panel, and I stood there watching in the mirrors until Abi and the Prick got up for the loo. I couldn’t hack it with those two any more. It’s funny how you grow apart from your friends, but you still want to keep seeing them. Burny and Donna were okay, but they had the tendency to be stony silent like it was so cool to be boring. I went back to sit in the corner with them, but we couldn’t really talk at all. I was a freak as well, only wanting to wallow and obsess over Eve and other various things. I wondered how she felt about me – we’d danced and she said I was sweet and we did have eye-contact now and then. God, did I really have a chance with her? My brain was a loopy tumble-drier.

‘What’s up with you?’ Donna asked, looking over. She crossed her legs, and as if by magic she added, ‘Is it girls or something?’

I nodded, but I wasn’t sure how much I wanted to talk about it. I knew Donna was tiddly, and I didn’t want her finding out about Abi or that I was a virgin or anything like that. She was knocking back vodkas and Cokes and she went, ‘Who do you love?’

‘It’s just … Eve really,’ I replied, but there wasn’t much Donna could say. All of a sudden I felt embarrassed – I wasn’t all that drunk, and I wondered why I thought I had a chance with her. There were a ton of nicer, hotter normal boys in school, and we’d hardly even spoken to each other. I slumped.

‘She’s a bit wild for you, isn’t she,’ Donna went, and I wondered what she was getting at.

‘What are you getting at?’ I asked. Eve was a nice girl compared to Abi Ellis, and I wasn’t exactly a hermit any more. I started taking bigger gulps of the lager just to illustrate my point.

‘Well she’s on drugs, isn’t she. Jenni Farrell reckons they nail pills and everything every weekend – she’s a nutter. She nails a load of boys too, so I’ve heard. She’d eat you alive, hun.’

And that’s when my heart shrunk to the size of a Smartie, and it could hardly pump my blood round and I got awful light-headed. In fact I felt like utter shit. A raincloud wandered on top of my head, and I sat back in the chair thumbing condensation off the glass. I’m not sure how much of me actually thought I’d end up going out with Eve, but sooner or later I had to wake up. Drugs scared me; the only aspect of psychedelia that excited me was all the bright clothing, and even so I was sat in the Viking wearing a grey top and boring jeans.