Behind the Tears (Behind the Lives) (16 page)

“No, Corey. Calm down, man. Just get some sleep. I’m not gonna tell Sledge, and I’ll make sure Juliet doesn’t talk either. Everything will be fine.”

“No it won’t, I still can’t have him completely.”

Naf exhaled. “Well, you already knew that. But at least you two can still be mates.”

“I just wanna go out, and blow off some steam.” Corey sneered. “Or maybe I can go to one of those gay bars you mentioned.”

“Okay, I’m sorry for saying that, but
c’mon
, sleep it off, things will be better tomorrow.”

“Nope, I wanna go out, and if you’re so worried ’bout me why don’t you tag along.”

“But Aroha’s home.”

“Tell her to take a nana nap, she’s the right age.”

“Don’t be a bastard.”

“Nah, Mum and Dad were married when they had me, but I can’t say the same for you.” Their mother had met their father at a widows and widowers support group, Beth’s dad having died from meningitis. Corey didn’t know what had happened to his father’s first wife, because his old man refused to talk about her.

“You’re being a right cunt today.” Naf smirked. “But I guess there’s a reason for that now.”

“I’m not a girl!”

“No, but you’re acting like a li’l kid. So, if you wanna go out, both me and Aroha are coming whether you like it or not, cos obviously you need a babysitter.”

Corey glared at him. “I’m fuckin’ seventeen, I can do what I like, and the only way that Aroha can come is if she washes and has a rabies shot.”

Naf closed his eyes, his jawline clenching, the furious expression on his fat face almost comical. If Corey wasn’t in such a shitty mood he probably would have laughed.

Naf reopened his eyes. “It’s my car, so if you say one word to her I won’t take ya.”

“Then gimme my keys back.”

“No, if you’re goin’ out, I’m driving, which means you shut up about Aroha.”

“Then the smelly bird can ride up front with you,” Corey said, holding out Naf’s keys.

Naf snatched them off him and stomped down the passage. Corey followed him into the lounge. Aroha was lying on the couch, watching a chick flick with a beer in one hand. Corey grabbed his jacket off the rack and went outside to Naf’s green escort. Shouting started inside. A few minutes later his brother came out alone.

“She wants to wait around for that bitch.” Naf unlocked the car and yanked open the driver’s side. “Where we goin’ anyway? I don’t know of any parties tonight.”

“I wuz invited to one last week.” Corey smiled. “It’s where all us gay guys go for a shag. You never know, you might get lucky too.”

Naf’s face dropped. “No way, I ain’t goin’.”

“I’m just pullin’ ya tit, you homophobe,” Corey said, sneering. “It’s at some chick’s place who hit on me last week.” He grabbed his wallet and pulled out a slip of paper. “Kirstin Jones.”

“Does she go to Wera High?”

Corey nodded.

“I know her, she’s hot. And she hit on you?”

“Yeah, but I’m not into emo chicks...” Corey smiled. “Or any chick.”

“Ha, ha, funny, girl-boy.”

Corey flicked Naf the finger then jumped into the car, hoping Kirstin’s cousin was going to be there. He remembered the way the bloke had hit on him a few months back. It was kind of cool that Tyler had liked him even when he’d been fat. Yeah, the guy was nice, and it would be even cooler to talk with Tyler openly without having to worry about being treated like a freak. His family couldn’t give him that, and there was no way Sledge could either—no matter how much he wanted him to.

***

Naf got out of the car. “You sure this is the right place, bro?” he said, looking over the hood at Corey.

Corey closed the passenger door and glanced at the slip of paper. “Yeah, it’s the correct address.” He lifted his head and took in Kirstin’s road. Until today, he’d thought Pleasant Parade was the worst street in South Auckland, but man, he was wrong,
way
wrong, because Kirstin’s road was dive central, along with her property. There was an old wreck out front, the grass was overgrown, the graffitied fence was falling apart, and the exterior was flaking paint.

Naf shook his head. “Well, I wouldn’t have picked a hot babe like Kirstin to live in this dump, but guess we can’t choose our family.”

Corey glared at his brother. “Is that a rib at me?”

“Talk about sensitive, but then again, you were always overly emotional.” He sniggered. “And now I know why, girl-boy.”

“Stop calling me that!” Corey flicked Naf the finger, then stomped towards the front door. He thumped on it, wishing it was Naf’s face.

Seconds later it pulled open. “You came,” Kirstin Jones squealed, sounding like an overexcited kid, although she looked anything but. The sixteen-year-old was dressed in a short black skirt and a matching sleeveless top, the latter covered in safety pins. Her ears had multiple piercings and her makeup was black lipstick, eyeliner and some powder to lighten her complexion. She was an emo boy’s wet dream.

Her smile dropped. “What happened to your face?”

“Said the wrong name while having sex.” Corey grinned. Shit, he had cancer, so he might as well make light of the situation—or slit his wrists, and he was too squeamish for that.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, she smacked me about, but I don’t hit chicks back.”

“Oh, you poor sweetheart.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek, then gently wiped it. “Sorry, got my lippy on you.”

Naf mumbled behind him. “Poor sweetheart, my fat arse.”

Corey stepped to the side. “This is my brother. Can he come in too?”

Kirstin gave Naf a once over, her little nose screwing up like she’d smelled something rotten. Corey bit his lip to stop from laughing. Naf always inspired chicks to drop their knickers. Not!

“Yeah, of course,” she said, her smile returning as she refocused on Corey. “Come in, cutie-pie.”

“
Come in, cutie-pie
,” Naf mimicked behind him.

Ignoring his brother, Corey stepped into the room, AGAIN unimpressed. What a bloody slack party. No wonder it had been far too quiet. He’d thought Kirstin was supposed to be cool; her group of friends anything but sweetsie, but all he could see was a bunch of guys playing video games, while a short, podgy girl glared at the back of their heads. No music, no drugs, no alcohol, just a smelly room crammed full of boxes. Man, he’d stepped into grunge-ville. He hoped there were no parents hanging around, because if there were, he was so out of here.

Corey’s gaze wandered over the guys on the couch. One had dreadlocks just below his shoulders, the boy next to him had more tyres around his waist than the Michelin Man, and the third one had his hair dyed black like Kirstin’s, his blond roots also noticeable. Corey’s attention shifted back to the dreadlocked boy, thinking he was smoking hot ... and vaguely familiar. Where had he seen him before?

“What’s there to drink?” Naf asked, snapping Corey’s fixation away from the boy.

Kirstin pointed to the divider between the lounge and kitchen. “We’ve got Coke, Sprite...”

Naf screwed up his face as though she’d offered him sewage. “Unless it’s Coke as in
cocaine
, I don’t want it. Now, where’s the booze?”

“Nah, sorry, can’t give ya any of my dad’s beer, he’d kill me.”

The dreadlocked guy looked up from the game. “Which is why I brought my own supply.” He chucked Naf a can, hitting him in the chest. Naf swore and scooped it up off the floor.

Corey sniggered. His brother was such a klutz, hence his nickname,
non-athletic fuckwit
, Naf for short. Only the olds called him Samuel.

“Sorry, dude,” the dreadlocked guy said to Naf. His gaze shifted to Corey. “You want one?”

“Yup,” Corey answered before Naf could veto it. He didn’t give a shit that he wasn’t supposed to be drinking. He wanted to enjoy himself tonight, and was willing to put up with the consequences.

The guy chucked him a beer. Corey fumbled it slightly, but managed not to drop it. He wasn’t exactly Mr. Co-ordinated either, but at least he wasn’t a total klutz like his bro.

The fat boy jumped up from the couch, and threw the remote down on the floor. “Fuck you, Josh!”

Emo boy laughed. “Sore loser.” He picked up the remote and held it out for Corey. “You wanna play?”

Corey went to take it, but got pulled back by Kirstin. “Nah, let your brother play, I wanna introduce you to my BF, Farrah,” she said.

“Yeah, Corey loves being with girls, since he’s a...”  Naf made a slurping sound as he walked past, the same way Tama did when referring to pussy. Corey glared at the back of Naf’s head, wanting to punch him.

“Cool,” Kirstin said, yanking him over to her friend.

Kirstin’s BF smiled at him. Man, she was short, barely five-foot. In heels! “What happened to your face?” Farrah asked.

“He called out someone else’s name while having sex,” Kirstin said.

Farrah laughed. “You got beaten up by a girl?”

Corey could hear the boys sniggering on the couch. “I don’t hit chicks,” he replied, feeling like a loser.

Kirstin tugged on his arm. “You wanna go to my room and talk? These guys are boring.”

“Yeah, we can smoke some weed,” Farrah whispered.

“No, we can’t.” Kirstin’s eyes darted to the boys. “My dad will kill me if he smells it. He only lemme have this party cos he was going to my mum’s.”

“Your dad won’t know,” Farrah said. “And whenever he visits your mum he doesn’t return until well after lunch the next day. The smell would’ve gone by then.”

“But, what about my uncle? I can’t remember whether he’s back today or tomorrow.”

“If you don’t let us, we’ll take off.” Farrah smiled at Corey. “You wanna come with me?”

“If you’re giving me freebies, hell yeah.”

Kirstin muttered, “Bitch,” under her breath. “Okay. We’ll do it in my room, but if we get caught you hafta take the fall.” She looked back at the boys on the couch as they yelled at each other over the game. “And they aren’t allowed in, cos Tag and Josh always cause trouble when they get high.”

“I like it when Tag gets high.” Farrah grinned. “He strips.”

Corey glanced back at the dreadlocked guy, wondering whether it was him. “Is he a graffiti artist?”

“Yup, that’s him,” Farrah said. “His real name’s Kane Talich, but he insists on being called Tag.”

“Man, he gets his name on some dangerous places,” Corey said, in admiration. “He’s got balls.”

“More like rocks in his head,” Kirstin muttered, then shouted. “He’s a bloody moron!”

The guys turned around. “Yeah, I’m talkin’ ’bout you, Kane.”

“It’s Tag, you bitch. And you’re just sore at me cos you can’t get any of this.” He waggled his tongue at her.

Corey grinned, thinking Tag’s pierced tongue looked hot.

“No female wants any of that, you moron. Only gaybos,” Kirstin retorted.

“You bitch.” Tag went to climb over the couch, but got pulled back by emo boy and his fat mate. “Lemme go, she’s just askin’ for a smack.”

Laughing, Kirstin poked her tongue out at him. “Well, you ain’t gettin’ any of this either, no matter how much you ask.”

“You just called me a fag, now you think I want some of your emo arse. Dream on, skank, I’ve got chicks lining up for me.”

“Yeah, I’ll give ya some, Tag,” Farrah said.

“Like hell. I meant good-lookin’ chicks, not fat umpa lumpas.”

The other guys started laughing. Farrah flicked them the finger, then stomped off down the passage.

“You guys are horrible!” Kirstin shouted. She followed her mate, then came back and grabbed Corey.

Corey glanced over his shoulder at Tag, wishing the guy was gay. He wasn’t usually attracted to pretty-boys, but Tag’s reputation, dreads, and the tongue stud did it for him. He grimaced, but not as much as Sledge did. Man ... why couldn’t he stop thinking about his mate? It was driving him nuts.

He got pulled into the end room. It was full of posters of actors dressed as vampires and some skinny emo dudes with guitars. Kirstin closed the door, then directed him to sit next to her and Farrah. Farrah was crying and wiping her nose on her jacket sleeve.

Kirstin ran a hand down the girl’s long, curly brown hair. “Ignore those creeps. You know what they’re like. They insult me too.”

“Not the same way. They’re always making fun of my weight, even Mick who’s way bigger than me. They never tease
him
.”

“Pro’bly cos that fat fuck would squash them,” Corey added. “And you look hot in my opinion; a li’l bit of jelly is healthy.”

A smile lit up Farrah’s face. “Really? You reckon I look hot?”

“Yeah,” Corey lied, knowing how much the truth hurt when he was fat. Maybe he should’ve said
nice
, but at least she was happy now.

Farrah pulled out some joints, passed him one, then lit it up.

Corey scooted up the mattress, and leaned against the wall. He closed his eyes and took a long drag on the joint, ignoring the girls’ whispering. All he wanted to do was to get high and forget about his troubles. He grimaced, not looking forward to starting radiotherapy. He was sick of being a human pincushion, plus needles scared him, which was why he would never get a tattoo. Although he liked looking at them, he didn’t know how people could stand the pain. Though, he definitely liked the idea of Sledge getting one. He felt his balls tingle as he imagined Sledge with a tribal tat covering his arms and pecs. Hmmm... Definitely something he’d love to see, touch and kiss.