Pumping Up Napoleon (3 page)

One day, feeling sorry for him, I said, ‘All right?' when our paths crossed. Amazing how easy it was.

If only his hair had not grown back.

By the time we did our mock GCSEs Carole had progressed to a 36 double D and tried out three boyfriends. They had all proved disappointing. Their interest was entirely focused on her anatomy. They had nothing to say and neither did she. Each encounter was made up of long, awkward silences followed by a pounce, which found her in no mood to surrender. For a time she embraced the idea of being single and independent. I was pretty good at that myself.

Daniel and I were on nodding terms. We rarely spoke but saw each other often. Tired of our long-distance nearly-romance (glances meeting across the crowded playground, or sliding together from opposite sides of the classroom) I worked out his timetable of movements and knew exactly when I might bump into him. On Mondays I'd be walking up the science wing corridor to my locker, with Carole in tow, before lunch, and he'd go by in the opposite direction towards the canteen, with a group of his mates. I could see them walking towards us through the glass panels of the swing doors which sectioned off the science wing. One day we all arrived there at the same time and Daniel, like a perfect gentleman, held the door open for us; only his mates barged through and we had to move out of the way. I knew their tricks. ‘Bouncing off Carole' was a recognised and hilarious team sport among the boys that year. She stuck out her elbows like I had taught her, while I ‘accidentally' did a bit of shoving back. Daniel just stood there, holding the door open until we were ready to go through. He smiled at me. He didn't look at Carole. He didn't stare at her tits. I smiled back at him.

Carole and I walked on a bit.

‘He's nice, isn't he?' said Carole.

‘That Daniel's a snob,' said Carole a week later. We were in my bedroom; my mum and hers were drinking coffee downstairs. My cousin had burst in on me and caught me looking at a website dedicated to cosmetic surgery. I was thinking of asking my mum for a boob job for Christmas, but figured she'd probably make me wait until I was at least sixteen.

I clicked on the link for ‘breast reduction' and said, ‘Hey, Carole. Maybe this is what you need.'

Daniel wasn't taking any notice of her and she didn't know what to do about it. I smirked. Carole had been trying to catch his eye all week but each time we passed him it was me he looked at. He even went a bit pink himself. ‘Maybe you're just not his type,' I said.

Carole thought about that for a bit. Then she said, ‘What do you think of this?' Lifting her T-shirt she showed me her new bra. It was purple, covered in lace and made her boobs look like two large cushions. They were pushed up so high she could have rested her chin on them.

‘Not so much upholstery, more a piece of furniture,' I said.

She pulled her T-shirt down again and lay back on the bed and sighed. ‘Do you think I can get Daniel to notice me?'

‘I thought you said you weren't interested in boys.'

‘This is different. I really like him.'

‘Oh. Well, you know, don't be too disappointed. Like I said, maybe you're not his type. Physically, I mean. Not everyone likes big boobs.'

‘No?' Carole sounded doubtful.

‘Are you two behaving yourselves?' my aunt shouted up the stairs.

‘Yes, we're talking about sex,' I shouted back.

From then on Carole did all she could to get Daniel to notice her, aiming her tits at him like twin torpedoes. I was glad to see that he managed to evade them every time.

Not long before Christmas something marvellous happened. Daniel started walking me home from school.

He lived not that far from me but his quickest way was by a different route. So I knew something was up when I saw him ahead of me. I didn't know whether to catch him up or slow down. I decided to just go on as normal as if he wasn't there. But how hard that was.

He was there nearly every day. Sometimes he was ahead of me and sometimes behind. If Carole wanted to come back to mine I had to make some excuse. I didn't want her to know or she'd insist on walking home with me every night. (I thought she was getting quite selfish, only thinking about what
she
wanted. She never stopped to think that I might like someone or that someone might like me.)

It was nearly the last week of term before Daniel got up the courage to speak to me. I'd been disappointed to see that he wasn't around when I left school that day and I'd been looking out for him all the way. Someone came running up behind me. Another jogger? They could be scary with their sudden panting in your ear. So I turned just to check and it was Daniel. I turned away again. He slowed down. Oh no. Would he think I didn't want to speak to him? He must have been running to catch me up. I looked back again. He was stopping, out of breath.

‘Hi,' I said and smiled.

‘Hi,' he said, blowing air out when he should have been taking it in. We stood there. ‘You know you shouldn't be walking home on your own in the dark,' he said.

‘Oh, that's OK,' I said. ‘I'm a big girl.' Wrong. In so many ways. Quick, say something else. ‘But if you're going this way, we could walk together.' Too eager?

‘OK.'

Easy. It felt natural, as if we knew each other. And we started regularly walking home from school together after that. We didn't start off together from school of course; the others would have made fun of us; besides there was usually Carole to get rid of. That wasn't too hard because she lived just close to the gate but in the opposite direction. And Daniel had to lose his friends too of course. But every evening, somewhere along the way, when we got to the quieter streets we naturally fell into step together. It felt right. Sometimes there were silences and I felt he would have liked to say more, but I knew it didn't matter. Things could happen slowly between us because they were going to go on happening. We had our whole lives.

Usually he said goodbye to me at the end of my road, under the streetlight. It was an orange light, unflattering, but never mind. If he could like me in that glare then how much might he love me by candlelight, or by moonlight? How he would gaze at me as we danced under the stars on our balcony in Tuscany, or on the deck of our sailing boat in the Caribbean or…

‘Bye then,' he said.

‘Oh. Bye.'

I went down the road to my house.

‘Hi, Mum,' I shouted.

‘Hi,' said my mum, coming out of the kitchen. ‘Isn't your cousin with you?'

‘No,' I said, taking off my coat.

‘Only your aunt rang and said she isn't home yet.'

‘Oh.' In fact, I hadn't seen her after school that day.

There was a knock at the door. It was Carole. She was looking at me and her bottom lip was trembling.

‘Come on in,' said my mum. ‘Your mum's worried about you.'

Carole said nothing; she went straight upstairs to my room.

‘I'll ring home for you then, shall I?' my mum shouted up the stairs. She shook her head.

I took my time before going up. Carole must have seen me talking to Daniel. I didn't know what I was going to say.

‘I hate you,' she said.

‘Carole, love,' I said, sounding like my mother. ‘It's not what you think. We're just walking home together.' But even as I said it I couldn't stop a grin spreading over my face.

The last day of term. In my bag, three things I might give Daniel: a red heart powdered with snow; a football card game, which was also a quiz; and a humorous Christmas card. I didn't know if I would give him all three or just the card. Or, if he gave me a present, I could give him the card game. Or, if he gave me a definitely romantic present, if he said he wanted to see me over Christmas, I could give him the heart. My own heart thumped in my throat when I thought about that.

He was waiting for me after school, which pleased me except that Carole was still there. We stood there awkwardly for a minute, the three of us, then Carole said, ‘Shall I come round to yours? Mum's probably there.'

‘Thing is,' I said, ‘I've got stuff to do when I get in. And I think mum's gone Christmas shopping. See you tomorrow, I expect.' I gave her a smile and set off. I heard Daniel say goodbye to Carole. I didn't look back.

Daniel and I didn't say much on the way home. It was cold and I could see my breath and his. I changed my breathing so that we exhaled together, twin plumes. I wondered if Daniel was trying to decide, as I was, which present to give. Should I give them all? I wanted to speak but it wasn't the time to say anything ordinary. Anything ordinary would have been wrong.

We went on like this with the silence thickening, until we reached the end of my street where we stopped, as usual, under the glare of the street lamp. Lights like these, all over town, covered the stars with orange fuzz. This was it. I turned to Daniel and unclenched my teeth. ‘I got you something,' I said.

‘Oh,' he said. He looked startled.

‘It's just a card,' I added hastily.

‘I didn't get you anything.'

‘That's OK,' I said, reaching into my bag.

‘I mean, I haven't written my cards yet.'

‘Oh.' I nodded, looking down at the ground.

‘Sorry,' he said.

‘That's OK.' I looked up and smiled brightly to show him everything was all right.

‘Right.' He shifted from foot to foot.

He looked so uncomfortable I began to feel sorry for him.

And then he said, ‘Umm, what do you think your cousin would like?'

‘Pardon?' I said, blinking.

‘Umm, your cousin Carole. What do you think I could get her for a present?'

I would have taken a step back but my heart, my real heart not the one wrapped up in my bag, had turned to stone, broken in two and sunk. I couldn't move.

‘Yeah. Well, you know….' The words stumbled out of his mouth. ‘If I get you something, I ought to… you know.'

‘Know what?' My voice sounded sharp.

‘Don't want her to feel left out,' he mumbled.

I took a breath. Then I smiled. ‘Of course,' I said. ‘Poor old Carole; she needs cheering up.'

‘Does she?' He looked anxious.

‘Well, you can imagine,' I said.

‘Yeah?'

‘Well, it's not easy for her, is it? People don't take her seriously. Most boys are only after one thing. You know.'

‘Umm…'

‘Your friends, they're just as bad.'

‘Are they?'

‘Yeah, always sniggering. You know it's got so bad she's….'

‘What?'

‘No, I shouldn't say.'

‘OK then.' He looked relieved. He cleared his throat. He opened his mouth.

‘Breast reduction,' I said. ‘She's that fed up.'

‘No!' He went pale.

‘Oh yes,' I said, hitching up my school bag, turning my feet towards home. ‘She's talked about it.'

He swallowed.

‘It's not a good idea.' I turned back, leaning towards him. He leaned forward too. In a low voice I said, ‘There'll be scars.'

‘Oh.' He straightened up. ‘Right,' he said, stepping back. ‘Well….' He hesitated. ‘You'll be all right now, won't you? Getting home?'

‘Oh yes,' I said brightly. ‘I live just down there on the left.'

And then he was gone, leaving me standing there, alone in that ugly light.

Stroking the Dog

‘Dog massage?' said Jim. ‘It's just a fancy word for stroking.'

‘Well, I think it's a lot more than that and so do several other people whose opinion I admire,' said Betsy. ‘Why don't you ever support what I do? I'm trying to do something good here.' She waved a handbill at Jim; he read it, to show how seriously he took her. There was a lot of stuff about health benefits, to the strokers as well as the dog.

‘It's symbiotic,' said Betsy.

‘You're turning this into a science? How much are they charging?'

Betsy shrugged.

‘Why can't you do something normal?' he said.

‘I miss Bruno,' said Betsy.

‘He was just a mutt,' said Jim. Damn dog used to leave hairs everywhere, especially on the bed where he slept between them like a hot and heavy bolster. Betsy had cried an ocean when he died but Jim had just been glad he could go out at last without having to brush himself all over like he was leaving a shift in a gold mine. ‘No one,' said Jim, ‘should keep a dog in Manhattan.' After all, he was the one who went up and down in the elevator three or four times a day, who had to read all those signs shrieking: ‘Curb your dog!'

It had been embarrassing when Bruno could no longer make it to the park; he started doing his business just anywhere. Jim had to look the other way while the poor mutt tried to cock his leg and not fall over. And picking up dog dirt under the eyes of passers-by! Betsy wouldn't do it. All Betsy had ever done for the dog was pet him and feed him from the table and let him climb on the bed.