Super Dark (Super Dark Trilogy) (20 page)

“Thanks Greg, this is lovely,” I beamed.

Mum dove into her bag and pulled out an identical handbag. Then setting it on the table, she reached in again and took out a little black
jewelry
box. Carefully, she flipped it open. Nestled inside was a pair of gorgeous pearl stud earrings that matched the necklace she wore.

“Oh Greg, you shouldn’t have!” she gasped. “These are simply divine.”

He didn’t say anything, just continued grinning that half-grin of his. For a second, they gazed into each others’ eyes like two lovebirds. I decided to cut in before it got too intense. “Who’s up for a game of Monopoly?”

“Me!” Greg said.

I went to the cupboard and brought back my tattered old box of Monopoly. Then for the next hour or so, the three of us sat around the table acting like excited children. It had been so long since I’d had fun like this, and it brought back all my good childhood memories – from a time before the dark shadows descended.

We played three games, and Mum thrashed us in all of them. Greg consoled himself by admitting this was the first time he’d played Monopoly in twenty years.

“I just need some practice,” he said with a wink. “Next time, I’ll be a force to reckon with!”

Just before ten, I turned in for the evening. I kissed Mum goodnight, said goodbye to Greg, and went to my bedroom. It was long while before I slept, though. Mum’s shrill giggles and the sound of the TV kept me awake until sleep and I found each other.

It was nearly twelve when I awoke the next day. I showered and then went to make something to eat. When I got to the kitchen, I found Mum sipping a cup of black coffee at the breakfast bar, looking slightly hung over.

“How was last night?” I asked, refilling the kettle at the sink. “You look pretty rough.”

She smiled mysteriously. “Oh last night was very interesting. Let’s just say I had an amazing time.”

Resisting the urge to interrogate her further, I took a mug down from the shelf and spooned in some instant coffee. “What time did Greg go home?”

She was silent.

“Must have been late,” I continued. “He was still here when I finally fell asleep.”

“All right ladies, I’m off,” said a voice from the doorway.

We both turned and saw Greg standing there, adjusting his cufflinks, his coat folded over one arm like he was ready to go.

“All right, darling,” Mum trilled, getting up and kissing him on his cheek.

“Good morning, Sam,” he smiled. “Did you have a good sleep?”

“Um, yeah,” I replied uncertainly.

He turned to Mum. “I’ll call you later, my dear. I had a wonderful night.” They hugged and she saw him off into the hallway. There was a lot of giggling and whispering, and then I heard the front door slam.

She came back to the kitchen with a dreamy expression on her face. “Isn’t he just the best?” she gushed.

I didn’t answer. The kettle had finished boiling and I poured myself a coffee. After a couple of sips, I turned to face her, my eyes flashing. The two of us had some serious talking to do.

“So is this going to become a regular thing?” I asked darkly.

“What do you mean?” Her face was the picture of innocence.

“Greg sleeping over.”

She colored up. “Of course not! I didn’t plan this, you know. It just sort of happened. We had a few drinks, it got late, and he wasn’t in a fit state to drive. It made sense for him to stay over.”

“You don’t have to justify it, Mum. I’m concerned, that’s all. I mean, aren’t we moving a bit fast here?”

“Whoa! So now I’m getting relationship advice from a seventeen-year-old? Who’s never even dated before?”

“I might be in a better position than you. At least I can still see straight.” I tucked a damp hair behind my ear. “I mean, I really like Greg and everything, but you know how men are—even the nice ones.”

“Actually I don’t. Perhaps you’d enlighten me?”

I shifted awkwardly. “Most guys don’t like women who give it up too easily. They want us to play hard to get. Or so I’m told,” I added hastily. “Look, bottom line is, you’re my mother and I love you to bits and I just think that maybe you should take things a bit slower, that’s all.”

“This is surreal. I feel like I’m the child and you’re the parent.”

“And I hope you’re being careful,” I added sternly. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

She almost spat out her coffee. “Oh no, now you’re going too far. I’m not going to discuss my contraceptive arrangements with you.”

“Well, if my boyfriend slept over, I’m sure you’d be asking me the same thing.”

“Some chance of that,” she muttered. “Darling, you do
like
boys, don’t you?”

“What do you mean?”

“There isn’t anything you want to tell me, is there?”

“What the heck are you talking about?”

“Because I want you to know that I’ll love and support you no matter what sexuality you are.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Mum, I’m not a lesbian, okay? Get that idea out of your head right now. Just because I don’t going around hurling myself at every boy, that doesn’t mean I’m gay. Jeez.”

“Just checking,” she said, grinning. “But even if you were, I wouldn’t mind. You know how open-minded …”

“Leave it. You’re only digging a deeper hole for yourself.”

There was a moment of charged silence. I sipped my coffee and suddenly noticed how bitter it tasted. I realized I’d forgotten to add sugar.

“How much do you really know about Greg?” I resumed.

“Well, let’s see: I know that he’s funny and smart and one heck of a kisser.”

I made a barfing gesture. “Urgh! Way too much information.”

She cackled wickedly. “What else do you want to know?”

“How old is he?”

“Old enough.”

“Does he have any kids?”

“He’s never been married.”

“That’s not the same thing. Not being married doesn’t mean he doesn’t have kids.”

“Well he never mentioned any to me,” she sighed. “Although, he did say he’d like some. Look darling, I know this can’t be easy for you. I know how much you miss your father, and it’s obviously going to be difficult to adjust to idea of me having someone new in my life. But please, give Greg a chance. For my sake.”

“You really like him, don’t you?” I said.

“I do,” she admitted. “And I want to do everything in my power to make this work. So if you don’t want him staying round again—fine. He won’t. Want me to take things a little slower? I will. I’ll give you all the time you need, darling. We can take things one step at a time. Agreed?”

“Agreed. And Mum?”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

We hugged and I felt unaccountably teary-eyed. She quickly pulled away from me and took her empty mug to the sink.

“What are your plans for today?” she asked with her back to me.

“Nothing much. I’ve got some History course work to finish but nothing too major.”

“And how’s the lovely Frasier?”

“Oh, he’s fine.”

“You really should invite him round again. Maybe we could make it a foursome. You, me, Frasier, Greg.”

“Hello? I thought we were supposed to be taking things slowly?”

“Oh yes, I forgot.”

“Plus,” I said, emphasizing the word, “for the umpteenth time, Frasier is
not
my boyfriend. Never was, never will be. He’s just a friend.”

“So you keep saying,” she replied, grinning. “So what about the other boy?”

“What other boy?”

“The mystery boy who took you to lunch at the Winchester. What was his name again? Lee? You’ve been very, very secretive about him.”

I shrugged. “There’s nothing to tell. We just went out a couple of times as friends, that’s all. Nothing more. Anyway, I don’t think I’ll be seeing him any more.”

“Why not? Did he do something to upset you?”

“You could say that.”

“What happened exactly?”

I clutched the back of my head, feeling a migraine coming. “Do we have to talk about this?”

“Not if you don’t want to.”

I sighed. “Basically, he said he Googled me and he started asking me loads of questions about Elliot and stuff. Poking his nose in where it didn’t belong.”

“Ah. Gotcha.”

That was the last we said on the subject.

***

“Does anyone know the meaning of the word irony?” Mr. Maine pressed his spidery fingertips together and surveyed the class. “Becky, any ideas?”

Becky glanced up from her notepad and gave him a goofy smile. “Um, is it when you say one thing but you mean something else?”

“Yes. But there’s so much more to it than that. Frasier, what do you think? Can you give us a meatier definition?”

Frasier didn’t miss a beat. “It’s when you do or say something that has the opposite effect from what you intended.”

“Better,” Mr. Maine enthused. “Doesn’t completely sum it up, but you’re getting close.” He pointed to a red-haired girl at the back. “Lucy, give us an example of irony.”

“I go shopping, forget to carry my umbrella, and it rains.”

Mr. Maine cocked a brow. “Well everybody, is that ironic or not?”

There was a long pause before someone answered, “Yes, definitely.”

“Why?”

“Because she thought it wouldn’t rain, and it did.”

Mr. Maine’s expression remained ambiguous. “We’ll come back to that in a minute. Okay, someone else give me some irony. Sam? You got one for me?”

I bit my lip, trying hard to think. To be honest, I hadn’t really been listening, as I assumed I already knew what irony was. Now I’d been put on the spot, my mind had gone totally blank. “Um, I really enjoy answering questions about irony—not!”

“Nope. That’s sarcasm,” he snapped. “Not the same thing. Sorry.”

“Now I’m totally confused,” Becky muttered. “Sam said one thing but meant something else. I thought that was irony?”

“No, and I’ll tell you why in a moment.” Mr. Maine marched up to Becky’s desk, palms outstretched as if waiting for something. Reluctantly, she took the ball of gum out her mouth and handed it to him. He walked back to the front of the class and tossed it in the bin. “Believe me,” he continued, “if you can grasp the concept of irony and learn how to apply it properly, you’ll all be infinitely better writers. I promise you.”

“Ironically, he’s giving me a bloody headache,” somebody whispered.

I held my breath to stop myself from laughing. Frasier turned around in his seat and stared at me, making my smile drop. Discreetly, he slid a piece of paper under my desk.

It read:
Are you avoiding me?

I shook my head and mouthed, “No.”

“Just checking,” he whispered, turning back to the whiteboard.

Somebody else put their hand up. “Is irony like that episode of
The Simpsons
where Homer crashes Bart’s skateboard off a cliff, gets picked up by a helicopter, slams his head against a rock, and then his ambulance crashes into a tree on the way to the hospital?”

“Mmm, could be,” Mr. Maine teased. “But is that irony, or just adding insult to injury? You decide. Still, that’s a very good example, James. There’s a hell of a lot of irony in
The Simpsons.
You folks should check out some re-runs.”

He wiped down the board and started rambling about other examples of irony in pop culture, and I sort of zoned out.

I studied the back of Frasier’s head, knowing I’d have to face him and Becky sooner or later. The two of them had spent the whole morning exchanging conspiratorial glances, which I could only guess had something to do with me. To be fair, I
had
been avoiding them—but now that Lee was out of the picture, my self-imposed exile could finally come to an end.

The rest of English class passed quickly enough, and before I knew it, the bell rang for first break. Becky hovered by my desk as I packed up my things.

“Sam, are you okay?” she asked tentatively. “Have I done anything to upset you? You’ve seemed awfully quiet lately.”

“No, no, I’m fine. Just had a lot going on, that’s all,” I smiled. “I’ve been bogged down all weekend with History coursework. By the way, how was the party on Friday?”

“Oh, that.” She wrinkled her nose. “It wasn’t great. There were hardly any boys and far too many girls. We spent the whole time standing by the wall swapping notes about how bad it was. Plus, they were playing bloody ABBA all night. Really kind of dull. But any who, enough of that. What happened to you? I ran all over school on Friday trying to find you. You really pulled a disappearing act on me.”

“I had to leave early,” I said, slinging my bag over my shoulder. “Had to do something for my mum. Sorry, I just haven’t been with it lately.”

“Oh that’s fine,” she said. “Just as long as you’re okay, that’s all I care about.”