My Secret Rockstar Boyfriend (14 page)

‘Of course, you’re both well aware that your exams start very soon,’ Elaine goes on. ‘Seymour, I know your first sociology paper is on Tuesday morning. Chew, I’m
not sure if the same support is available to you at home, but Michael and I are very serious about making sure that Seymour does the absolute best he can in these exams. A levels are so important;
they can really alter the whole course of one’s life. I don’t know what your plans are, Chew – if you’ll be going on to higher education – but of course Seymour will
be going on to university’

I open my mouth to chip in, but she actually holds up a hand to stop me. I didn’t know people even did that in real life – not ones that claim to be so hot on bloody manners anyway.
But I know when I’m beaten, so I keep my mouth shut.

So I don’t get to say that – actually – I work harder than pretty much anyone else in our year, certainly harder than Seymour. I’ve already put in the groundwork –
and if Seymour hasn’t, which I suspect might be the case, then there’s not much hope left for him at this point. I get better results than him in every subject. I got the highest mock
result in our whole year for English literature, and my teacher said that he has never had the pleasure of teaching someone with such an ‘enquiring literary mind’ before. Yeah, I know
it’s not nice to boast, but how often do I get to do it? Besides, this is all news to me, as Seymour has been saying lately that he isn’t planning on going to university, because he
wants to ‘concentrate on his band’.

I got offers from all five of my uni choices and (fingers crossed) I’ll be going to London to study English when the results come in. Nishi – that Asian lesbian whom Elaine pretends
not to disapprove of – is even on track to go to Oxford.

Oh, and by the way, my mum has a really good job at a marketing agency, thank you very much – as opposed to Seymour’s mum, who seems to think it’s a virtue that she has
‘never had to work’. Apparently it’s still the 1950s in this house. I should probably have worn a girdle, whatever that actually is.

Elaine smiles at me in what she obviously thinks is a very kind fashion, taking my shocked silence for acquiescence. She probably doesn’t even know what acquiescence means, I find myself
thinking meanly.

‘I know that you two have grown very fond of each other. Of course, we’re all very fond of you, Chew. But Seymour has his whole life in front of him and he mustn’t have any
distractions at such a crucial time. I’m sure you’ll understand we just want the best for him.’

She looks over at Michael, as if willing her husband to chip in and say something, not leave it all to her. The atmosphere is getting palpably more awkward by the second.

‘Of course, it won’t be forever,’ he mumbles. ‘You can always see each other again in the summer, after the exams are over. Then again, I know how quickly these teenage
fancies can blow over – who knows what will happen, eh?’

‘Exactly.’ Elaine claps her hands and smiles around the table as if we should all be glad that this messy little matter is all settled.

Her eyes lock on me for a second to make sure that I’m not going to argue. On principle I know I ought to: challenge her perceptions, make a point, battle in the name of fairness. She
doesn’t realize that she is actually doing me the biggest favour imaginable. I feel awful for using this to my advantage, but Elaine has just made my life so much easier. Much as he likes to
think he’s a bit of a badass, Seymour never, ever stands up to his mother. He does exactly what she says, all the time – then complains about it behind her back.

This way I can play along and do what he always does – complain about it loudly – but admit that (sigh) she’s probably right and we should just stop seeing each other. I doubt
he’ll be heartbroken, and this way it’s nobody’s fault and we can just be friends – which is probably what we should have stayed all along, I realize. It’s funny, but
it’s only since meeting someone who I really, madly fancy that I’ve realized that things between Seymour and me have never really been right.

Things have worked out so perfectly that I’ve already got one foot half out the door. All I can think about is Jackson. I can’t wait to talk to him when I get home. Once the exams
are over, who knows what might happen between us? This seems like a genuine possibility, and now that things are going to be over with Seymour and me – and so amicably – there’s
not going to be anything to make me feel bad about the best thing that has ever happened to me.

Then I look over at Seymour. He has gone deathly pale, a muscle clenching in his cheek.

‘No!’ he shouts suddenly, his voice thundering from nowhere and startling all of us – most of all Seymour himself by the look of it. ‘I’m so sick of this.
I’ve had enough; I’m not putting up with it any more.’

For once even Elaine is silent. My heart sinks so fast that it makes me feel sick. My exit window is starting to look a little bit smaller; I can see it shrinking before my eyes. All I can think
is, Please shut up, Seymour; don’t say anything. Please.

‘Mum, I’m sick of you slagging off Chew and calling her a chav. You keep saying she’s going to drag me down and stop me going to university – but I don’t even
want
to go to university. I can do that any time in the future, but for now I want to concentrate on my band. It’s important to me. And actually – you’ve made me realize
it today – so is Chew. Chew is important to me. You’re going to have to deal with it.’

Elaine and Michael look so mortified at being called out on saying I’m a chav, they don’t even argue. In fact, the expression on their faces almost distracts me from the fact that,
in his little speech, Seymour didn’t manage to say a single nice thing about me to redress the balance – it was all about him.

Seymour stands up and holds a hand out to me.

‘Come on, Chew. We’re going. If you’re not welcome here, I don’t want to hang around.’

For a moment I am frozen. I look at Seymour’s parents and an apologetic smile automatically forms on my face. Ironically, my mum has always drummed such good manners into me that I’m
tempted to apologize for the disturbance and thank them for the lovely lunch.

I’m actually embarrassed that they might think Seymour’s outburst is anything to do with me, when in reality I don’t even agree with him. I’d like to tell them that, nice
as he is, my A levels and my future are way more important to me than their precious son is.

All I can do is give them a sympathetic look, which I hope they interpret the right way, and follow Seymour out of the room. I have to stop and pull on my shoes in the hallway, so it’s not
quite the dramatic exit he hoped for.

By the time I get outside, he is already halfway down their long driveway. I have to trot to catch up with him. He doesn’t turn around to look at me; he just keeps walking. All I can see
of him is his set, white profile, that same muscle still clenching in his cheek.

I see in a flash that this is nothing to do with me at all. Seymour should have stood up to his parents long ago; this has been brewing for some time. This is about principles, his band, an
overdue rebellion against his mother. I am just a convenient excuse. Seymour might have to keep this up to prove a point, but it’s certainly not because he’s so madly in love with me
that he can’t bear the idea of not seeing me for a while.

The most treacherous thought ever sneaks into my head before I can stop it: it’s not like Seymour’s ever even written a song about me . . .

But now this has all gone too far, and him standing up to his mum like that is a very big deal. I know I am going to have to go along with this and be on his side. Whether I really agree with
him or not. He doesn’t know it, but Seymour has completely derailed my big plan in one fell swoop. There is no way I can have The Talk with him now. It wouldn’t be right. I know I have
to do it sometime, but the right moment keeps being pushed back further and further. The excitement about today being the day, about being able to go home to tell Jackson and see what happens, has
drained away and might as well have never existed. I feel even more weighed down than I did this morning.

When we reach the end of his road, Seymour automatically crosses and turns the corner towards my house and I follow at his heels. At the corner he comes to a sudden stop and swings around to
face me. After all the silence and clipped pace, it gives me a bit of a fright. His face is still a set mask, a bit like something you might do in papier-mâché around a balloon in
junior school.

‘Look, Chew.’ His voice comes out louder and more strident than usual, and I’m worried he might start having a go at me – probably my own guilty conscience on overdrive.
‘I’m really sorry you had to hear all that. I’m sorry about my parents. I meant what I said. I did. I do.’

He sounds as though he’s trying to convince both of us. I have an uncomfortable feeling that he’s pulling me on to the wrong train, one it’s going to be very hard to get
off.

‘I mean, I know it’s a difficult position for you to be in,’ I start in my most diplomatic tone, improvising on the spot, clumsily trying to force that emergency exit back
open. ‘Your mum may not always put things in the nicest way, but maybe—’

I’m about to argue that Elaine might have a point and we Have To Be Mature About This and Think About Our Future. I’m building up to a rousing speech, but Seymour interrupts me.

‘Too right she doesn’t. Like I said, I’m not having it any more. I can’t keep on putting up with her bullying me like this. I’m eighteen years old; my band is
really important to me; most of all, I won’t let her talk about my girlfriend like that any more.’

‘No, but maybe . . .’

‘No, Chew. I’m sorry – it’s made me realize I’ve been really crappy to you lately. All that stuff with your website, and Nishi and me having a go at you . . . It
wasn’t fair. You were right. You’ve even stopped doing your blog because of me, so the least I can do is stick up for you against my snobby mum. I’m going to start being a much
better boyfriend. You’ll see. I promise.’

It’s the second time today that a member of the Brown family has taken my silence for acquiescence. In fact, I have a horrible feeling that Seymour thinks I may be overcome with emotion at
his little monologue.

He grabs my hand and squeezes it, and we keep walking towards my house. He doesn’t even notice that he’s kind of dragging me along.

‘Do you want to come in?’ I ask half-heartedly, cursing my own good manners the second the words exit my mouth.

‘Yeah, why not? It’s probably better than going home right now. At least
your
mum likes me!’

To my slight mortification, Mum is still in her dressing gown, drinking coffee, eating a bacon sandwich and watching
Here Comes Honey Boo Boo
. Way to prove Elaine right, Mum –
thanks a lot. Then I feel ashamed of myself for caring what anyone else might think. Mum and I absolutely love Honey Boo Boo.

‘Hi, you two,’ she greets us cheerfully and styles it out, even though I know she would really rather Seymour not see her in her dressing gown. ‘Did you have a lovely Sunday
lunch?’

I’m all set to lie. I have the fake smile already on my face and I’m about to say that yes, it was lovely. I don’t want to risk hurting her feelings by revealing the
Browns’ real view of my family. But, yet again, Seymour interrupts me before I can even get started.

‘No, Carrie, we did not,’ he says gravely. ‘It was awful.’

‘It wasn’t that bad,’ I chip in helpfully.

‘Yes, it was,’ Seymour ploughs on. ‘My parents don’t want Chew and I to see each other any more. And they want me to give up my band.’

‘Well, A levels
are
starting really soon now . . .’ I counter slightly lamely, hoping I might get her on my side.

Then I realize that there is no point. Usually my mum is quite a sensible woman. Obviously she wants me to do well in my exams, just like I do. However, one look at her face right now is enough
to confirm that – from my point of view, at least – the timing of this sucks. It’s a combination of hangover and new boyfriend that’s making her all weird and
sentimental
.

Honestly her eyes actually well up.

‘But that’s
terrible
, she wails. ‘Just terrible. It’s so
unfair
.’

‘I know,’ Seymour agrees a bit too quickly, clearly enjoying this.

‘I mean, obviously A levels are important, but you’re both sensible kids. She shouldn’t underestimate you like that. Relationships are so important too. You two are wonderful
together; surely she can see that. We should all be encouraging you, and feeling proud of you, not creating arbitrary rules and holding you back. Well, Seymour – you’re always welcome
around here, whatever your mum says.’

She’s clearly got romance on the brain – herself and Richard Jenkins, rather than me and Seymour. We’ve caught her in a
Romeo and Juliet
mood.

‘Well, thanks, Mum,’ I say awkwardly. ‘I don’t want to prove Seymour’s parents right, so I really ought to get on with some revision now. I’ve got a lot to
do.’

‘And I suppose I ought to get dressed – can’t hang around in my dressing gown all day.’ It’s already four o’clock. ‘I wouldn’t want you to think
I’m always this sluttish, Seymour!’

I cringe and try to usher Seymour in the direction of the front door as my mum drifts upstairs.

‘Good luck with your parents,’ I say. ‘Don’t be too hard on them – they just want what’s best for you.’

‘You’re lucky – your mum’s so cool.’

Very uncharacteristically, as my mum is only just upstairs even though she is well out of sight, Seymour kisses me thoroughly there on the doorstep. Full-on tongue. He sneaks it right in there
before I have a chance to stop him. It feels like cheating, only I’m not even sure who I’m cheating on.

As I wave him off and close the door behind him, all I can think is that – only a few weeks ago – all of this would have made me really happy.

To: Tuesday Cooper

From: jackson evan griffith

Ruby Tuesday . . .