Spud (39 page)

They laugh – she more than him.

Silence. Then a frantic rustle in the trees above as roosting birds are disturbed by the happy couple. Suddenly the atmosphere is different. She looks at him. Like a moth to the flame he raises his head and stares into her beautiful face.

SPUD (breathless) Wha… what?

SPUD (cue snare drum in chest) But why?

He watches her go, his mouth agape, searching to say something. Nothing. She disappears into the darkness.

I wander around the school like the nowhere man, hardly even noticing the well-wishers. I fall asleep in the afternoon but my dreams are tortured. Last night has flattened me, made me want to stop and rewind the tape a couple of days and then press pause forever. The weather is grey and cold. I wrap my scarf around my neck and try and hide from this cruel, unfriendly world.

20:00   My performance tonight was as bland as a bowl
of Jungle Oats porridge without salt, sugar, milk and butter. My voice was hollow and my singing sounded flat. It was like eating cardboard for two hours. The laughter, applause and endless hugs bounced off me like black magic. Amanda was smiling but distant. Nothing can be as bitter as watching the most beautiful girl in the world slip through your fingers.

07:00   I rise like a phoenix from the ashes. (Not sure what a phoenix is but it sounds impressive.) I’ll be damned if a girl (admittedly a gorgeous, clever, perfect girl) is going to ruin my week of fame! I’ll be damned if my last performance of Oliver is going to be anything but brilliant. Besides, tonight my parents will be in the audience and I’m going to blow their socks off.

17:00   I spent the afternoon watching the inter-house athletics day, which I’ve somehow avoided being involved in. It seems that over the last week of school I’ve lost touch with all its characters and their dealings. Wherever I go, I seem to be followed by a group of new friends and other hangers-on. This feeling of popularity is remarkably easy to live with. After the 100 metres final Gecko pulled me aside and asked me if it would hurt my feelings if he tried to score Christine. I thumped him on the back and said that it would be a favour to have her off my hands. He looked mightily relieved and then confessed to grabbing her last night! I thought about telling him about Amanda but didn’t feel like dredging it all up in case the phoenix grovelled back into the fireplace or wherever phoenixes hang out. I slapped him on the back again and congratulated him on his first kiss. He looked wickedly proud and we started back towards the house, only to see Christine and Greg Anderson holding hands and walking towards
the swimming pool. Gecko looked the other way and pretended not to see them.

20:00   The final performance of Oliver roared into life. Everybody was giving their 100 per cent and whatever was left after that. As soon as I hit the stage I scanned the audience for my parents (who booked their tickets in March). I nearly shouted in fright when I saw them sitting in the front row. I completely lost my words when I saw who was sitting next to them. There she was, blonde hair, blue eyes – as gorgeous as ever. The Mermaid! She smiled her beautiful smile. God almighty

I caught up with the song. Luckily, it was sung with the entire chorus so I was saved from a major catastrophe. I focused my mind and lost myself in old London Town and gave my best performance. Predictably, my parents made their mark. Dad either sneezed or blew his nose loudly during all the quiet bits and they both stood up for a resounding ovation and loud calls for more at what they thought was the end but turned out to be midway through Act Two. But tonight I was bulletproof. Nothing could stop me, nothing could make me feel shame, embarrassment or anything other than absolute pride and sheer joy.

Mom, Dad and the Mermaid were all in tears when I finally got to see them. They all hugged and kissed me so many times that I was soon covered in lipstick. The Mermaid held onto me for so long I thought she might have to be prised away with a chisel. She was back (and I don’t just mean from England). Her sparkle, her eyes, her energy, and her beauty.

My folks had to tear her away. (No doubt she was dreading the long drive home in the station wagon.) Once more the snare drum was thumping away in my chest. How much more complicated can the life of a fourteen-year-old boy get?

‘Who was that?’

I turned around to find Amanda looking like a black cloud. What should I say? My girlfriend? My friend? My sister… My ex…

‘My ex-girlfriend.’ (Coward!)

Amanda strolled up to me and then said, ‘I don’t want to hang around the cast party. Will you spend the night with me?’

And so the dream continued.

The noise of people stops. Amanda takes his hand and leads Spud through the excited groups of people chatting and laughing. They watch them go and whisper to each other. Amanda and Spud walk out of the theatre, down the steps, past the sanatorium and onto the rugby field. The night is clear – full moon.

Spud   Follow me – I know where to go.

He leads her by the hand, past the dam. If it were summer he would have suggested a night swim. Over a gate, through two barbed wire fences and up a steep hill.

Amanda (puffing) What’s this – a cross-country course?

He leads her up to a large flat rock. He then stops and looks out over the valley. She looks around and gasps slightly.

Below are the twinkling lights of the school. Above the great African sky.

A great cheer from the direction of the theatre.

A long silence. Spud sees a falling star. Amanda doesn’t look up in time. More silence.

Spud (voice shaking) Why can we never be together?

They sit and watch as the night rolls on. Very slowly the lights of the school flicker out before them. The night is cold but the moment is strong. They doze. When Spud awakes, Amanda is watching the dawn. Around them is the sound of birdlife. In the distance a dog barks. They
hold hands and watch the orange sun creep over the hills and light up the valley.

I seem to have skipped yesterday. Despite eighteen hours of sleep I still feel like I’ve been run over by a combine harvester. My energy reserves are nil and I can’t wait for 21:00 and another trip to dreamland.

The girls are gone, the great London set has been dismantled, and the theatre is now just a dark empty space where something wonderful once happened. My curly blond locks lie in a pile on the bathroom floor. (Julian volunteered to give them the chop.) I now look like a weedy leopard with pale spots all over my head. All talk of the play and girls and dangerous love triangles has dried up. I’m now just another first year with as much status as a crusty old dog turd.

Friday is the start of the holidays. I plan to sleep for ten days.

Earthworm has flown to Johannesburg to represent the school at the Maths Olympiad. (He’s only elected to take fifteen pencils with him, which he sees as a dangerous and potentially fatal gamble.)

Gecko’s back in the sanatorium with food poisoning. When I arrived in the san he shouted, ‘Well, it’s about bloody time!’ and then gave me a cracking high five which seemed to rupture the muscles in his side. I apologised for my absence and explained my version of Saturday night. Gecko’s eyes were alive with excitement as he explained his ‘night of passion’ with Christine. He drew me closer and whispered into my ear:

‘We were snogging behind your cricket pavilion but then we got cold so we snuck into the changeroom and
there was Rambo and Eve… doing it. Well, at least it looked like they were doing it – her legs seemed to be wrapped around Rambo’s neck. We escaped before they saw us and went to the cricket nets instead.’

Gecko swore me to secrecy before adding that some dodgy sausage rolls that had been passed around at the cast party caused his food poisoning. Apparently, The Guv got so drunk that he stripped down to his undies and played a rhythm and blues version of Amazing Grace on the tuba.

We arranged to spend some time together over the holidays and to discuss things further. Gecko’s spending the holidays with his aunt and uncle so that he can see his new love. I didn’t have the heart to tell him his new love also has a new love in first team rugby player Greg Anderson.

Lunch with The Guv. We watched a rough uncut video of the final night of the play and laughed ourselves sick at how silly we all looked. The Guv reckons I looked like a budgie and I said that he looked like a cross between a blue fly and a scarecrow. When I saw Amanda (who looked gorgeous) I couldn’t help but feel a sharp pang. It was the first time that I’d really thought of her since Saturday, but seeing her again brought everything back. The Guv noticed my change and sighed.

‘Oh, to be young and in love.’

He’s given me Charles Dickens’s Oliver Twist to read for the holidays.

There’s nothing quite like the last two days before the holidays at boarding school. Everybody’s wrapped up in their own plans. Violence and bullying are minimal and
boys are packing their trunks and bags and discussing their holidays. This is as close to harmony as things will ever get.

20:00   Our first hailstorm!

While watching The Bold and The Beautiful, a massive storm blew in from the west. There was this weird whirring sound from the sky like a giant tornado or a supersonic aircraft. Then the electricity failed so we all went and stood in the cloisters waiting for something big to happen. We weren’t disappointed.

As the thunder and lightning drew closer, large spots of rain thundered against the cloisters’ tin roof. Suddenly there were great white stones bouncing around the quad. It was hailing. The stones belted down and bounced high into the air. Boys were shouting and whooping but their calls were muffled by the huge din of God’s rocks crashing down to earth. Mad Dog sprinted out to grab some stones, and almost instantly screamed in pain as he was pelted on the head by stones the size of pigeon eggs. He hurled a handful at Vern, who ran into our prep classroom and locked the door.

Now the entire quad was carpeted in white hailstones; only the fountain was recognisable (Pissing Pete was looking more than a little sorry for himself). And then, as quickly as it arrived, the storm disappeared. The sun broke through and boys swarmed into the quad for a monumental hailstone fight. I nailed Boggo on the back with a handful of hailstones, and he let out a blood-curdling scream. Suddenly my mouth was open and I was also screaming – just because the hail looked like snow didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. I bolted for the house door as a hail of ice smashed around me. And then the window of the common room exploded. Boys scattered everywhere, people were yelling and Sparerib dashed into the quad shouting hysterically. Mad Dog was collared by Mongrel who dragged him off to his
office for a nasty thrashing.