Lobsters (24 page)

We left in silence down the fire escape – I couldn't face going back into the office. Outside, by the bus stop, I told her that I didn't think things would work out between us. She nodded glumly. I don't think she thought it was true love either.

We hugged and I walked off. As I passed the office I saw Vicky, Sophie and Sarah huddled by the photocopier, laughing. At least I know that if I ever want a reference, I can call them up.

‘Sam has a good typing speed, a helpful attitude and a penchant for masturbating in stationery cupboards.'

Brilliant.

Hannah

We met Pax and Casper at Paddington. Stella wore hot pants. It was like she was going to war with the faceless – well not so faceless, due to Facebook stalking – girls of Pax's world. Girls from his gap year photos draped all over him at foam parties in Thailand. Girls from school in his leavers' pictures. The girls who wrote try-hard comments that seemed effortless but that any girl would know took two hours to compose.

We met them by the Paddington Bear shop and talked about our various feelings on marmalade. The kind of chat that fills up time until you feel comfortable.

I'd been pretty nervous about seeing Pax again, but it was clear straight from the off that he was here purely to see Stella. There was no mention of what he'd said to me at the festival. He was so pissed at the time he'd probably forgotten all about it. After giving me a big, friendly hug, he didn't take his eyes off Stella once.

On the tube to Stella's I sat next to Casper. We both knew to give Pax and Stella time alone. Casper seemed more relaxed than he had in Greece. He looked more comfortable in his clothes. He was wearing baggy jeans with thin blue-and-white stripes and a plain white T-shirt and yellow Converse.

‘I like your shoes.'

‘I picked yellow because I thought it would be like having sunshine on my feet, even in the rain.'

It didn't sound cheesy the way he said it.

‘Will you be OK with those two?' I asked. Four days must have seemed a long time stuck with Stella and Pax. Stax. Stella would probably prefer Pella.

I looked over at the two of them. They weren't getting off with each other but you could tell it was only because we were on the tube in the middle of the day.

‘Yeah. There's loads of stuff I want to see. I've made a list.'

He unzipped the front pocket of his rucksack and pulled out a notebook. As he rifled through it I could see a few sketches of people and lots of ones of birds' beaks. He found the page.

‘OK. So, in no particular order … Punch Drunk. Spaghetti Ice cream. Thames midnight walk. Buy new trousers.'

He paused.

‘“Buy new trousers” is an incidental addition to the list. Because I need new trousers.'

Before I could ask about what all the other things meant we had to get off the tube and walk to Stella's. My mum and dad would not be OK with two random boys that I met on holiday coming to stay. They probably wouldn't be that all right with the concept of random boys we met on holiday in general. It's weird to think that Stella didn't have to check with anyone.

We got to Stella's house and almost straight away Stella and Pax went upstairs. The bedroom door slammed after them. I made Casper and me a cup of tea.

‘Do you just want to come back to my house for dinner? I feel bad leaving you here alone. And what if Stella's cleaner comes back and you're just randomly in the house?'

‘That would be a bit weird, I suppose. Is that OK?'

I texted my Mum:

BRINGING MY FRIEND CASPER ROUND FOR DINNER. DON'T BE WEIRD.

We ate loads of the posh biscuits at Stella's house and then left them a note saying where we were going.

From the moment I saw my nan's silhouette coming to open the door I knew it was a mistake. Even through stained glass I could tell she had blow-dried her hair. She looked like a magician's assistant. She was wearing a powder-blue chiffon blouse with matching wide-legged blue trousers, a massive gold belt and gold wedge sandals. She belonged on a Nile cruise, or with Bruce Forsyth.

‘Come in, come in,' she said, welcoming me into
my
house, which she didn't even properly live in.

She fussed over Casper, taking his coat and leading him into the kitchen. Mum and Dad looked exactly the same as they always do. Dad was eating chips and dip from little bowls on the table.

‘A few nibbles before dinner?'

My mum bristled as my nan said it. We are never allowed to snack before meals.

Casper sat down at the table. He asked my dad about his day, he talked to my mum about Devon and how he was staying there with Pax's family because his parents were going through a tough time. He is the most honest person I have witnessed in conversation. He just said things without being embarrassed.

It didn't even feel like he was over-sharing. It seemed brave and special. My family never talks about things like that but all
of a sudden my dad was talking about his parents' divorce and how hard it had been. It was like being in a strange alternate universe where my family was made up of completely different people and I had come to a dinner party with them.

On holiday Casper had seemed so awkward, someone to be pitied. But here he seemed totally at one with his surroundings.

‘Does that piano still work?' he asked.

My granddad's piano is in our kitchen, even though none of us can play. My nan didn't want to get rid of it, but it seemed pointless shipping it to Marbella.

‘Yes,' said Nan.

‘Can I have a go? My parents had to get rid of theirs. I haven't played in ages.'

When Casper said it, I think Nan was at the point of getting down on one knee and proposing. He played ‘I Want to Hold Your Hand' and Nan and Mum danced. And for two minutes they actually got on.

Sat back at the table after the song had finished, Nan said, ‘Where are you staying, Casper?'

‘At Stella's house with Pax.'

‘Oh dear. What a gooseberry. Stay here with us.'

I looked to Mum to gauge her reaction.

‘Of course, we can make a bed up in Hannah's room.'

It was a bit weird that they hadn't asked me if it was all right.

‘Um, yeah, that would be great, if it's really OK?'

I think he was asking me more than them.

‘Course it is,' I said. ‘We don't have M&S biscuits like at Stella's though.'

I could tell Nan was put out. ‘Well, I've never liked that Stella. She's hard as nails.'

‘Maybe she has to be.' Casper just said it, matter-of-factly. And it got left at that.

Lying in bed, I wondered what Pax and Stella were doing. If they were wildly and passionately having sex under her princess canopy, next to her lilac fairy lights,
Breakfast at Tiffany's
poster and the collection of Beanie Babies she kept hidden under her bed. Probably.

We spoke to each other through the darkness and eventually the conversation came round to Stella and Pax.

‘Are you jealous?' Casper asked.

I closed my eyes and thought about the first moment I'd seen Pax by the boat.

‘Maybe. Yeah, I guess I am, but not because of Pax. Just because they seem to fit together.'

‘You reckon?' He sounded doubtful.

‘And I want to fit together with someone like that.'

Nothing needed saying about Sam. I was sure Pax had filled Casper in on what had happened at the festival. Even though the light was off I glanced at
The BFG
on my bookshelf, with the Polaroid of me and Sam hidden inside.

‘I'm sorry he didn't turn out to be what you thought he was.'

I groaned and rolled over. ‘Where is my lobster?' It was a rhetorical question, directed at the universe more than Casper.

‘Your what?'

‘My lobster,' I mock-wailed, drawing the word out and pounding my fists on the mattress like a spoilt child.

He laughed. ‘What the hell is your lobster?'

‘Lobsters mate for life. I want to meet my lobster.'

Casper shook his head. ‘Well first off they don't, and second—'

I sat up in bed and looked down at him. ‘What?'

‘What?' he shot back innocently.

‘What do you mean they don't mate for life? Yes they do. It's a thing. It's one hundred per cent a thing.'

‘Well, I'm going to uni to study Marine Biology and I'm telling you it's one hundred per cent
not
a thing.'

I flopped back down on to the bed and stared up the ceiling, blankly. ‘How can my whole life since Year 8 be based on a lie? That is just
typical
.'

‘Hang on,' said Casper. ‘You've been basing your whole life since Year 8 on the incorrect assumption that lobsters mate for life?'

‘Yes.'

‘Well, the next time you base your whole life on something I suggest you google it first.'

He got out his phone and seconds later was reading out a list.

‘Bald eagles mate for life, apparently. Oh, hang on … what about schistosoma mansoni worms? That's got a romantic ring to it. They also cause the snail fever disease, so that's two for the price of one, there.'

I rolled over grumpily. ‘Well, I want to find my bald eagle, then.'

‘What, just before you go to uni you want to meet the love of your life and then be torn apart as soon as you've found each other?'

He had a point. ‘Yeah, I suppose …' I said.

Casper smiled, and switched his phone off. ‘Night, Hannah,' he said.

‘Night.'

A few seconds went by in silence, then I said, ‘Casper?'

‘Yeah?'

‘You know Sebastian from
The Little Mermaid
?'

He laughed. ‘Yeah?'

‘Is he a lobster or a crab?'

‘Crab. Definitely a crab. Goodnight.'

‘Night.'

I grabbed my phone off the bedside table and texted Stella:

SEBASTIAN IS A CRAB. LOBSTERS DON'T MATE FOR LIFE. HAVE YOU DONE IT YET?

15

Sam

It's weird that your entire life can be decided at 8 a.m. Surely, if you're potentially about to discover you'll spend the next fifty years working in McDonald's, you could do with a bit of a lie-in to prepare.

Still, it was 8 a.m. and we were outside the school gates, waiting to be let in. Results day. It seemed like it would never arrive, but here it was.

Me and Chris were totally silent as we waited. Robin talked – to himself more than anyone else. He'd been saying all summer that he didn't care about getting into Loughborough but, as he stood there glancing at his watch and hopping up and down on one leg like he needed a wee, it was obvious that whatever was in that envelope would mean something to him.

‘This is bullshit,' he muttered, digging his hands even deeper into his pockets. ‘Getting up at the crack of dawn to trek all the way here just to open an envelope. You know Ben's school lets them check their results online? I'm going to lodge a formal complaint. I could be in bed with my laptop right now.'

It was raining – was that a bad omen? Or maybe a good omen? Sometimes the rain can indicate happiness and good things – like
at the end of
Four Weddings and a Funeral
, for example. I can't think of any other examples though, so that could just be a one-off.

I had been fully prepped on the morning by my mum. She'd given me a waterproof folder with all my UCAS details and pretty much every phone number in the whole of Cambridge University – plus thirty pounds fresh credit on my phone – in case I didn't get the grades I needed.
God
, I thought,
I hope it doesn't come to that
.

Mr Harris from Geography gave us a grim smile as he unlocked the gates and we trooped past him to the main hall to pick up our envelopes. Robin made jokes to try and ease the tension. It didn't work.

Once we'd picked up our envelopes, the three of us stood outside the hall, in the drizzle, holding them, not saying anything.

‘Who's going first, then?' asked Chris, finally.

None of us reacted. I let out a nervous laugh. I really didn't want to go first.

‘Fuck this,' said Robin, ripping open his envelope. Apparently, he was going first. He pulled his piece of paper out and studied it for a second or two. Chris and I kept quiet in case it was bad news.

A huge smile split his face in two.

‘Two B's and a C!' he beamed, holding the paper up to us.

We both gave him a big bear hug. He needed three C's at least to get into Loughborough after his ridiculous American summer camp adventures.

‘Thank fuck that's over,' he said, stuffing the paper and torn
envelope into his rucksack and sitting down on the steps, despite the rain.

‘It's not over yet,' said Chris irritably, as he ripped his envelope open. ‘We're all in this together.'

Slowly, Chris took in the contents of the letter. He needed at least three Bs for Warwick.

He exhaled loudly and craned his head skywards. ‘A and two Bs! I got in!'

Me and Robin jumped on him, screaming, ‘Yes!'

There was only me left now. I looked at the two of them. Robin was drumming his fingers on his rucksack and chewing his lower lip. He seemed more excited about my results than his.

‘I shouldn't have gone last,' I said. ‘There's more pressure.'

Chris groaned. ‘Just open it, dickhead.'

I stared at the envelope. If it contained anything less than three A's, my life was basically over. For some reason, Hannah popped into my head. I wondered if she had opened hers yet.

I offered the envelope to Chris. ‘I can't do it. You open it for me.'

‘Stop being such a fucking girl!' Robin leapt up to punch me on the arm. I flinched to avoid him and, in the process, dropped the envelope into a large – and extremely deep – puddle by my feet.

‘Fuck!'

Robin and Chris burst out laughing. I yanked the envelope out of the murky water, but it was too late – it was soaked through. I tried to open it, but it but just tore apart. My entire future was waterlogged.

‘You massive fucking twat!' I slapped Robin round the head as hard as I could. He was still cackling so hard he could hardly breathe.

‘It's all right,' he managed to gasp between laughs. ‘We'll just go and speak to the secretary – she'll have all the results on her computer.'

The three of us sprinted across to the secretary's office. Thankfully, by the time we arrived, Robin and Chris had regained their composure. Robin put a hand on my shoulder and looked me straight in the eye.

‘You'll be all right, Sam. Whatever happens.'

I smiled at them both. ‘Wait for me outside, yeah?'

‘Yeah.'

I walked into the school secretary's office. The school secretary is a large, bubbly lady who is usually speaking loudly on the phone or eating a muffin. At this moment, she was doing both.

She mouthed ‘Come in' as I popped my head round the door.

‘I'll have to call you back, Kathy,' she said, into the receiver. ‘I've got a wet, rather upset-looking boy at the door.' She put the phone down and gave her full attention to the muffin.

‘What can I do you for, dear?'

‘Hi, I'm Sam. I, er, dropped my envelope in a puddle. Can you tell me my results, please?'

She looked at me over her glasses. ‘In a puddle, you say, dear?'

‘Yes.'

‘Well, that's careless, isn't it?'

‘It wasn't entirely my fault.'

‘I mean, puddles are quite obvious things. You can spot them a mile off.'

‘As I say, it wasn't my fault. Could you please just tell me my results?'

‘Yes, all right, dear. No need to snap. I'll just call up the website.'

She clicked her mouse. Her eyes widened as she stared at the computer screen. She slapped a hand to her forehead in dismay.

‘Oh no,' she said, shaking her head. ‘Oh dear, dear, dear. That is
awful
.'

I slumped into the nearest chair with my head in my hands.

‘Oh shit,' I groaned. ‘What is it? It's a D in French, isn't it? I
knew
I screwed up French.'

She glanced up at as if she'd forgotten I was there.

‘Hm? Oh, no, sorry, dear. It's just Facebook. My friend's posted pictures of her new baby. Awfully ugly little thing. Looks like that bald one out of
Little Britain
.'

‘Right, fine. Can you
please
tell me my results?'

‘Your results? Oh, yes. That's what we were doing, wasn't it? Right.'

She clicked her mouse a couple more times.

‘Right, here we go,' she said, squinting at the screen. ‘C?'

My heart stopped.

‘C?' I yelled, panicked. ‘C in what? French?'

‘No, dear, I mean your surname – it starts with C, doesn't it?'

My heart started again.

‘No, M! Moran. Sam Moran.'

‘Oh, sorry. I know there's a Sam Cassidy in your year. I
thought it might be you.'

‘Well, it's not – it's Moran! Sam Moran!'

She clicked her mouse a few more times.

‘OK, Moran, Moran, Moran …' She squinted as she scrolled down the screen. My grip tightened on the arms of the chair.

‘Can I just come round and see for myself?'

‘No, dear, you stay over there. Ah, here we are. Sam Moran.'

Sweat prickled on my forehead. She cleared her throat.

‘English – A.'

My shoulders relaxed a little.

‘Geography – A.'

My shoulders relaxed a little more. Please, please,
please
let me not have screwed up French.

‘And the last one … French – B.'

My hands gave up their grip on the chair, and dropped limply to my side. French. I
knew
I'd screwed up French.

Outside, I could hear the faint screams and cheers of people opening envelopes that contained the results they wanted. I wished so much that I was one of them.

The secretary tipped her head to the side and gave me a sad, comforting smile.

‘I'm so sorry, Sam.'

I thanked her, stood up and walked out; I was on autopilot. But there was still hope. I scrambled around in my waterproof folder and found the number I needed for Pembroke College. I phoned it. I told the lady my name, my UCAS number and my results. She listened patiently and said she'd call me back in fifteen minutes to let me know if I still had a place next year.

I walked outside. It had stopped raining. Robin and Chris ran over to me. I told them what had happened. We all sat quietly on the steps outside the secretary's office until, fifteen minutes later, my phone rang.

The lady at Pembroke told me that unfortunately they wouldn't be able to accept me as a student next year. Robin and Chris wrapped their arms around me.

‘Fuck man, I'm sorry,' Robin said.

‘Yeah, that's so shit,' Chris said.

I didn't say a thing. My whole future was dissolving in front of me.

All I could think was, ‘Fuck. I'm going to York.'

Hannah

I woke up at 5 a.m. and checked the UCAS website for the millionth time, even though I knew it wouldn't say anything. I padded around the house and then just sat on the floor leaning against the fridge. I kept thinking my mum or my nan would come downstairs, sensing I was awake. That they'd make me tea and I'd be unresponsive. But they didn't.

I sat and got angry that the only person who gave a shit about my A level results in the house was me. On my mum's family organizer on the fridge it said ‘
Han Results'
in blue pen next to today's date, and then in another colour, ‘
call tree man'
and then underneath ‘
Linda
?' Like it's just part of the list, not the fucking rest of my life at stake.

But then when I crept out of the house at 7 a.m. and opened the gate, I heard a tap and turned around. They were all at the upstairs window. Mum, Dad, Nan and Joe. They all held their hands up and crossed their fingers. They are so random, but so sweet. And probably scared of saying the wrong thing and making me even more mental.

I walked to Stella's house and called her. She opened the door fully made-up, hair straightened and off we went. We got off the tube at Ravenscourt Park.

‘OK, so
this
is the last time,' she said. ‘Thank fucking god.'

I couldn't speak. I felt like I wasn't even in my own body.

‘Ergh, there's Carmen.' Even now Stella's priority wasn't the fate of the rest of our lives. ‘She's dyed her hair red. Typical.'

By the time we were at the gates we were just part of the crowd. Waiting for the doors to be opened felt like an age. I could hear Stella rabbiting on about Kavos and her shoes. Then Grace and Tilly arrived. I could see Grace felt the same way I did. Neither of us spoke.

‘Why won't they just fucking let us in?' said Grace between clenched teeth.

And then, as if they had heard her Head Girl command, the doors opened. I felt Stella's hand find mine and squeeze it. And we walked in together. The hall smelt the same. The teachers looked the same. I found my envelope on the table and picked it up.