Lobsters (29 page)

Sam

This. Is. Fucking. Brilliant. It's not so painful and tight after a while and it just feels amazing. Hannah's making some slightly strange noises but I don't think she
totally
hates it. At least, I hope she doesn't. It's hard to tell, to be honest.

*

Hannah

Afterwards, we lay there side by side in his single bed and I rested my head on his chest. I don't know if he's my lobster, but he definitely feels more right for me than anyone else ever has.

The muffled squeals and screeches of violin practice were still coming through the wall.

‘I think he's actually getting worse,' I said. ‘If that's even possible.'

Sam laughed. ‘If only he knew that he's been serenading a momentous moment.'

He lifted my head gently, and got out of bed.

‘I'll just be a second,' he said. ‘I've remembered something.'

He pulled his pyjama bottoms on and traipsed down the stairs. I could hear him banging about in the kitchen. I slid out of bed, got dressed in my T-shirt and pants, and went over to the mirror.

I looked the same. This weird part of me had thought I might look different, more adult, more complete than half an hour ago.
I remember watching
Shakespeare in Love
when I was twelve and being totally freaked out about how Judi Dench could tell that Gwyneth Paltrow had lost her virginity just by looking at her. Like being old and wise meant that you could just see someone and
know
. I imagined walking into the kitchen at home later, and Nan giving me a knowing, Judi Dench-type look and announcing to my mum that I'd been ‘plucked'. Maybe if we shoved Tilly in front of her too it would solve the whole hymen limbo thing once and for all.

I bunched up my hair and tucked it under itself, making a bob. I pictured myself in York, wearing chic autumnal clothes, wandering through the cobbled streets with Sam. I didn't feel any more complete than I had done this morning. But maybe I never will. Maybe I'm just not that sort of person.

I heard Sam's footsteps as he clumped back up the stairs and appeared in the doorway, grinning. He was holding two mugs, wisps of steam rising from the top of them.

‘That's what you remembered?' I said. ‘That you had to make a cup of tea?'

He shook his head and put the mugs on his bedside table.

‘Hot Ribena,' he said. ‘Seemed appropriate, seeing as this is, y'know, an important occasion.'

I laughed. ‘Well, you know what we do on important occasions …'

Our hands smacked together in a perfect high ten.

Acknowledgements

Firstly, and most importantly, to Polly, Rosaline, Juliette, Rain, Sarah J, Sarah M, Megan, Flavia, Shanice, Kate, Hannah, Alex/Laura and all the other Green School Dream Teams. Your stories are the best stories.

And a massive thank you also to Anna McCleery, Celia Rees, Nick Sayers, Astrid Holm, the real Robin and all our other Latymer mates; Barry, Rachel L, Rachel H, Tina, Elinor and all at Chicken House; Trevor and all at Runcible Spoon; Jo Wyton, Ersi Sotiropoulos, Ben Illis, Vicky Clarfelt, Eleanor Malcolmson, Gemma Cooper and John Bardsley.

Text © Tom Ellen and Lucy Ivison 2014

First paperback edition published in Great Britain in 2014
This electronic edition published in 2014
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Produced in the UK by Great Britain by CPI Group (UK) Ltd, Croydon, CR0 4YY

Cover and interior design by Helen Crawford-White
Cover photographs: polaroid © Paul Bradbury/Getty Images; lobster 1 ©Alex Staroseltsev/Shutterstock; lobster 2 © aquariagirl1970/Shutterstock; sky © Andrekart Photography/Shutterstock; daisy © 4clover/Shutterstock

British Library Cataloguing in Publication data available.

PB ISBN 978-1-909489-33-2
eISBN 978-1-909489-57-8