Boy Trouble (10 page)

Clover makes a miffed horsey “humph” noise. “I do not snore, Beanie.” She thumps me on the shoulder.

Later
that afternoon I go for a walk on Killiney Beach. Clover’s snoozing on the sofa in her office and Gramps is busy in the garden. Much as I’d love to help him deadhead the roses, I decide I need some time to think. I can’t get Mum out of my head, her face mushed up with sadness. Does she still love Dad, is that it? But what about Dave?

I walk over the old iron pedestrian bridge beside the train station, sand shuffling under my runners. As soon as I see the water, I start to feel a little better. I’m wearing the Gucci sunglasses with the rose-coloured lenses that Clover gave me and they’re turning everything pink. The sea is magenta, the sky is lilac, the sand is the colour of candyfloss. I turn left and start walking towards Bray, away from the busy part of the beach, the part nearest the car parks. People are so lazy, I think as I kick some smooth sea-washed pebbles with my toe and make my way towards the water’s edge.

I scowl at an old crumbling lump of dog poo and jump over it. Then I push my hands down into the pockets of my jeans and walk faster, the damp, compact sand squeaking a little under my feet.

A black and white collie dashes out of the surf in front of me and shakes itself, showering my jeans with salt water. I yelp and step back but it’s too late, I’m soaked.

I look crossly at the boy who’s pulling his dog away by the collar.

“Bad dog, Billy,” he says. Yikes, it’s Seth Stone, from art class. He hasn’t recognized me, thank goodness.

But then he looks up at me and says, “Sorry.” And then, “Amy, hi. How weird.”

You’re the weirdo, I think, but instead I say, “Hi. Nice dog.” Great, Amy. What an intelligent thing to say.

“Thanks. This delinquent is Billy.” Seth squats down and gives the dog a hug round the neck, leaving a wet patch on his white T-shirt. I try not to stare. He’s got a really muscular chest. Who would have thought? He has no time for sport at school: he always bunks off PE and hides behind the art prefab, listening to his iPod. Everyone knows he’s there, even the teachers. I was sent to get him once, but they’ve pretty much given up on him at this stage.

“I’ve never seen you down here before,” he says, standing up.

I shrug. “My Gramps, sorry, Grampa lives up the road. I come here the odd time. When I want to get away from things, clear my head.”

Seth nods. “Yeah, I know what you mean.” He lets go of Billy’s collar and the dog powers off down the beach towards Dalkey. “Which way are you going?” Seth asks.

I point towards Bray.

“Can we tag along?”

I can hardly say no. “Sure.”

Billy is heading the wrong way, so Seth gives a strong, ear-piercing whistle, making me jump and my eardrums ring. Billy stops mid-gallop and does a high speed turn, legs splayed out like a cartoon dog. He sprints back towards us.

“Sorry,” Seth says. “Should have warned you. Polly says I’ll deafen someone one day.”

Who’s Polly? I wonder. There’s no Polly in school, maybe he has a girlfriend in another school. For some reason this interests me, but I’m too shy to ask.

“I’d love to be able to do that,” I say. “I can’t whistle.”

Seth grins at me. “Course you can. Everyone can.” Billy runs past us, chasing a seagull into the sea.

“I can’t. Look.” I purse my lips and blow through them. All that comes out is a thin reedy noise, like wind gusting in though the edge of a window. “See?”

“Are you using your tongue
and
your cheeks?” Seth asks.

“I don’t know.” I purse my lips again and concentrate on what I’m doing.

“You have to use your cheeks like a muscle. Don’t leave them all flabby. Tighten them up.”

I give it a go. I must look mental.

“Now get some tongue action going.”

I laugh and raise my eyebrows. I can’t help it. Tongue action?

He smiles and his face lights up. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile, not properly. He always looks so sullen, as if he’s in pain. Then he looks at me. And I look at him. And there’s something there, something I can’t explain. A tiny spark. Electricity. Suddenly I notice things I’ve never noticed before. The way his hair falls over his sky-blue eyes, the smattering of sun freckles over his nose, his high, angular cheekbones…

Seth interrupts my thoughts. “Amy? Are you all right?”

I’m mortified. How long have I been staring at him?

“Sorry,” I say. “I was miles away. Trying to concentrate on the whistling.” Thank God for Clover’s sunglasses. At least he can’t see my eyes properly.

“Ah, right. Try again. Tighten up those cheeks, roll the air along your tongue and out your lips.”

I try it, really concentrating this time. And there it is. A whistle! Tiny and bird-like, but a whistle all the same. I grin, delighted with myself. “Ha! I did it!”

Seth grins at me. “Yep. See, told you. Everyone can whistle.” His face lights up again. Like Clover, he has a tiny gap between his two front teeth. It’s cute. I drag my eyes away and stare at the sea. I really must stop this. It’s only Seth Stone. But when he looks at me I’m starting to get a deliciously warm feeling in the pit of my stomach.

“Race you to the Martello Tower,” he says.

“You’re on.”

Half an hour later we’re still sitting on the beach in front of the round stone tower. Billy is lolling beside us, snoozing. His fur is matted and he pongs a little. But he’s still adorable. I’m wiggling my toes in the warm sand and Seth is throwing stones into the sea. He’s got an amazing pitching arm.

“You should join the cricket team,” I say after a particularly good throw.

“With that pack of losers? No thanks.” He puts his arms behind him and lies back on them, his back straight. He looks like a set square.

“You might enjoy it. You’d be a great bowler.”

He says nothing for a moment, staring out to sea. “Actually, I tried out for the team.”

“When?”

“Ages ago.”

“And?”

He shrugs. “Got picked. Never played a game.”

“Why not?”

Something flickers over his face. He sits up and begins to rub Billy’s tummy. “Family stuff.”

“You can tell me. I won’t say anything. I’m not a gossip.”

“I know
you’re
not—” he tails off.

“What are you saying?” I ask, offended. “That my friends are gossips? You mean Sophie and Mills, don’t you?”

“Don’t get all angsty.”

“Hey, you’ve just insulted my best friends.”

He just goes on rubbing Billy, his eyes fixed on the dog’s tummy.

“Sophie and Mills are really loyal, you know,” I continue. “Mills is anyway. And they never gossip about things that matter.”

Seth snorts. “Things that matter? What like people’s feelings? So it’s cool for them to slag off Emos then? That’s OK?”

“No! You’re twisting my words. I just mean—”

“Tell me exactly what you mean then. Go on. You think I don’t know what you lot say about me behind my back? That I’m a weirdo? That my shirts look like I’ve slept in them? That I look like a vampire? I’m not deaf, Amy. Things at home have been rough, which is why I’m not exactly a ray of sunshine in school. But you and your buddies don’t care about things like that, do you? Because it
doesn’t matter
.” He uses a girlie, singsong voice to say the last two words and it really gets to me.

I ball my hands into fists. “How dare you?” I’m so annoyed I could hit him. “My life’s not exactly brilliant either. My dad’s having a baby with his secretary. Who I can’t stand. And they got married in secret. My mum’s in bits about it.”

“But she’s not dying.” As soon as he says the words the whole world stops.

“What?” I say in a low voice. “Is your mum dying?”

His eyes are still glued to Billy’s stomach. “No. She was sick but she’s fine now. I don’t know why I said that.”

I twist round so I’m kneeling in the sand, facing him. “Are you sure? Do you want to talk about it?”

He looks out to sea again. His mouth is slightly twisted and I can tell he’s upset. He blinks quickly several times. My heart lurches. He looks so sad, his eyes are all stormy and I have to admit it’s very attractive. The tortured artist. Get a grip, Amy, I tell myself.

“No, not really,” he says. “She had a really bad virus but they caught it early. She’s going to be fine.” He pauses and then says, “Look, it’s no big deal. Please don’t tell anyone in school.”

“Do you really think that little of me?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know you, Amy. Not really. I like you in art class. But when you’re with Mills and Sophie you’re a different person.”

“I’ve been friends with Mills all my life. She lives three doors down from me. We grew up together.”

“And Sophie?”

I sigh. “Mills thinks Sophie’s great. So I have to hang out with her.”

“No you don’t. You have a choice.”

“But I’ll lose Mills.”

“You think she’d pick Sophie over you?”

I nod.

“Not much of a friend then, is she?” He rubs Billy’s belly and combs his curling fur out with his fingers.

“You don’t understand.”

“No, you’re right, I don’t.” He pauses then says, “Better get this guy back. Polly will be wondering where we’ve got to.” He stands up and hits the back of his black jeans to get rid of the sand. “She worries a bit.”

There it is again: Polly. This time I ask, “Who’s Polly?”

“My mum.”

I stand up and look at him.

“You call her Polly?”

He shrugs. “Sure, it’s her name. There’s just the two of us; we’re pretty tight.”

I want to say something, but I’m lost for words. It’s clear he worries about her too.

Billy barks, as if telling us to get a move on. He’s halfway to the train station by this stage. We start walking towards him.

“Listen, I’m sorry about your family stuff,” he says. “It sounds messy.”

I smile at him. “I’ll live.” Then I realize what I’ve just said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean… Your mum and everything… I wasn’t thinking…” My words are getting all tangled, like a broken piece of fishing net washed up on the shore.

He gives me a gentle smile. “Hey, it’s fine. You’re right, you’ll live.”

I bend down, pick up a smooth, flat shell and turn it over in my hands. “Clover says once the baby’s here things will settle down. She’s my aunt. I just hate it when they yell at each other, you know?”

“They yell in front of you?”

“Sometimes. They used to do it all the time but they don’t live together any more. Mum lives with Dave now. And Dad lives with his secretary. She’s much younger than Mum and it’s kinda gross. Mum calls her Little Miss Perky.”

Seth smiles. “What age is she?”

“Twenty-nine. Dad’s forty-three.”

Seth whistles. “Parents are strange all right.” He crosses his eyes and I laugh.

Just as we reach the bridge Seth says, “Hey, forgot to say, I like your Bebo site. Cool skin.”

“You’ve seen it?”

He looks away. The tips of his ears have gone crimson.

“Sure,” he says. “I’ll leave you a message. Hey, you can put me in your top sixteen.”

Sophie and Mills will have a fit if I list him as one of my top sixteen friends, but they can just deal with it. Seth’s cool. And he likes my site. I start to feel slightly floaty and I can’t stop smiling.

“OK, I will,” I say through my smile.

As I walk back towards Gramps’s house I think about Seth and wonder what he really thinks of me. My phone beeps. It’s Mills. W
HAT’S UP
? I
N
D
UNDRUM WITH
S
OPH AND THE GIRLS
. G
OT COOL WEDGES IN
P
ENNY’S
. S
EE YOU IN SCHOOL
. X
XX

My face drops and I’m glad Seth isn’t with me. Mills went to Dundrum with Sophie and the D4s without telling me, let alone asking me. Did Mills text me just to rub it in? Maybe Seth’s right. Some friend! But am I strong enough to do anything about it? If I do make her choose between me and Sophie, and she picks Sophie, where does that leave me? Alone. At least this way I have a friend.

When
I get home that night I expect to find Mum weeping on Dave’s shoulder or sitting at the kitchen table shovelling Ben & Jerry’s chocolate ice cream into her mouth with a wooden spoon. But instead she’s in the sitting room watching
Trinny & Susannah,
a notebook on her knees.