Boys for Beginners (8 page)

Charlie says, ‘Gwynnie's not shy around me, are you, Gwynnie?'

‘Hsma, waa, ngag,' I say, coherently.

‘Besides,' he says, ‘she has nothing to be shy about. She looks good.'

Charlie Notts said that I look
good
! I don't give a damn if this heart attack kills me, my life is complete. It couldn't get better unless I was signed for Tottenham.

‘She
does
look good, Charlie, you are right,' says Jenny. ‘And I don't care what anyone says, but over-applying the make-up is brave, and some people can even pull it off.'

I was worried about the make-up, but Jenny is making this out to be a good thing.

‘The critics might disagree, but size zero is still so in right now,' she continues as if evaluating some piece of modern art. Wasn't there an artist who tried to pass off elephant dung as a masterpiece? That's what I feel like right now.

‘Well,' she says, ‘Gwynnie is more like a double zero, which is even better. Most guys say they want girls with a bit more meat on them. What do you think, Charlie?'

Whatever Charlie says now is going to be the most important thing he ever says ever. He will either finish me off, or make me float.

‘I couldn't possibly comment on what
most guys
want, but I think Gwynnie looks very nice today.' He looks at me and says, ‘Not that you don't look nice every day, Gwynnie. I'm just saying, make-up suits you.'

That's it, I'm airborne.

‘Are you going to talk to Paul?' he asks. ‘I want to see if I can borrow one of his games.'

I didn't see Paul arriving at the bus stop. I am worried what he'll say about how I look, but I also want to spend every second with Charlie, so if Charlie is going to talk to Paul then I am too. ‘Yeah, of course—'

‘Er, no!' Jenny cuts in. ‘Gwynnie is coming to talk to my friends over here. Gwynnie and Paul are not joined at the hip, you know!'

‘Yeah, Charlie,' I say. ‘Me and Paul are not joined at the hip, you know!'

Jenny drags me away and we leave Charlie stranded.

‘You're welcome,' says Jenny, and I don't know what I'm welcome to. ‘I purposefully steered you towards Charlie so that he could see how nice you look. But top tip, sweetie: always leave them wanting more. If they want to spend time with you, that's when you leave.'

Jenny is going to teach me so much about being a girl.

We get to where the BB Club are standing and I feel almost as nervous as I did when I was approaching Charlie Notts. Jenny takes the lead. ‘Heya, ladies, how's it going?'

They are dumbstruck.

‘Don't stand with your mouths open, you might catch flies,' she says. ‘Gwynnie wants to be in the BB Club and I think we should let her.'

Kimba pulls her bitchy face, which she does so often it's become her normal face. She looks me up and down and says, ‘She doesn't have her belly-button pierced, so she can't. Sorry, Gwynnie.' She doesn't look sorry at all.

‘But,' Elizabeth Phillip says really quietly, ‘Tanya doesn't have hers done and neither do I.'

‘Yes, thanks for that, Elizabeth,' says Jenny,
frowning at her as if she's interrupted an adult conversation. ‘Kimba, the BB Club has always been about a shared ideal.'

‘But,' says Melissa, ‘as Gwynnie herself once said, we don't want to include even more members that haven't got their belly-buttons pierced. People might start thinking we're idiots.'

I have to fight back the urge to say what needs to be said. Yesterday's Gwynnie wants to kick Today's Gwynnie's in the bum. But Yesterday's Gwynnie wasn't called
really nice-looking
by Charlie Notts, so who gives a flan about Yesterday's Gwynnie?

‘Actually, Gwynnie was quite rude about the whole thing,' says Melissa.

‘What's with the long memories, girls?' asks Jenny. ‘How about this? How about we give her, like, a bronze membership, like not a full membership, until she's proved herself?'

‘Gwynnie?'

It's Paul. If anyone is going to full-on laugh at me without even trying to hide it, it's him. When he sees my face he literally does a double take. ‘What the . . . ? What's going on, Gwynnie? Are you in a play or something?'

He's with Ranjit and Charlie, and Ranj is
equally shocked. ‘Is this for a joke or a bet?' asks Ranj.

No one's speaking and I realize that it's up to me to save my own neck. ‘Oh, Ranjit, you're too immature to understand the mind of a woman, and I haven't got time to explain it to you.'

Everyone laughs and Ranjit looks a bit sheepish. I feel bad for making him look stupid, but it seems to have done the trick and the BB girls are smiling at me. I am going to have to be careful that I don't turn out like Kimba. I will never be mean again.

‘Paul, dollface,' says Jenny (
dollface?
), ‘can us girls just have a teensy minute to ourselves?'

‘No probs. Come on, Gwynnie.'

So Paul doesn't think I'm a girl either.

‘I'm going to stay and chat with them.'

‘Er, OK. See you in a bit.' He looks confused.

As soon as the boys are out of earshot Jenny starts whispering to the BB Club. ‘See, Gwynnie is what this club needs. She knows all the guys and they just come up and talk to her. They never just come up and talk to us.'

‘But she's so sad-looking. She's missing half her eyelashes!'

It appears they might have noticed the
eyelashes. This is getting really embarrassing, but I want to be Charlie's girlfriend so much that I would take a thousand insults and pull out all my eyelashes to have him.

‘Look at that shirt,' says Melissa.

‘And no one wears Levi's any more,' Kimba helpfully points out.

‘And there is something weird going on with her ponytail,' says Tanya, perhaps noticing the crazy frizzy burnt section of hair that's only half hidden by the straight section.

‘Face it, she's not cool enough.' Kimba's made up her mind.

Jenny steps in. ‘I'm going to help her work on that,' she says. ‘And she's already come so far.'

If only they would be nice enough to talk about me behind my back. I pretend I'm not there and run through my make-up routine as if it was a football set piece.
Powder to cover face. Eyeshadow marks eyelids. Eyeshadow to eyeliner. Eyeliner to mascara
—

‘OK then,' says Melissa.

‘OK then, what?' Pretending I'm not here means that I haven't a clue what they're talking about.

‘OK then, we'll allow you into the club.'

‘Only on a bronze membership though,' Kimba says, clearly not convinced.

‘That's great! Thanks so much!' Suddenly I realize that sounds a bit desperate. ‘I mean, yeah, OK, whatever.'

Paul shouts over to me from where he's standing with the other boys. ‘Gwynnie, we can't be bothered to wait for the bus. We're going to jog up to school and get in a game of footy. You coming?'

All eyes are on me. What do I say? ‘Errrr.' Then I put on this girlie sort of pout and say, ‘
Footy? Jog?
No, thank you! I might break a nail.'

The BB girls smile. I've done well.

‘Er, OK. Catch you later, yeah?'

‘I'll pencil it in to my calendar.'

The BB girls are now beaming at me. I roll my eyes at them as if to say that Paul is such a muppet sometimes. I'm becoming a mean girl and I hate myself a little bit. I won't do it again and I make a promise to apologize to him later.

But now I'm a BB girl. Next stop: Charlie Notts's girlfriend!

My dad comes in the front door whistling a Spurs tune and carrying a takeaway pizza. We haven't had pizza in ages because Dad says we can't afford luxuries these days. Doesn't he understand that pizza isn't a luxury, it's an absolute necessity.

We're eating in silence, which is OK by me, until my dad makes a noise that sounds like he's just stubbed his toe, but with his mouth full of pizza. He has dropped a pepperoni slice on to his chin. It looks like a nasty scab. I can't help but laugh. He brushes it off his chin and there is a big red greasy patch underneath. I laugh even more.

Dad goes, ‘Bmdompn't flaughfff.' He's still got a mouthful of pizza.

‘Sorry, Dad, I can't understand you with your mouth full.'

He swallows his food and he's laughing too.
‘I said, don't laugh! That burnt my chin.' He's smiling at me. It's been a long time since my dad's been happy, so I'm happy too. ‘Imagine that, a father who has burnt his chin off.'

‘I'd still be seen with you, Dad . . . I'd just make you wear a bag over your head.'

‘Thanks a lot.' He knows I'm joking.

He lets the silence fall again and I know what's about to happen. The fun and games were just to ease me into a false sense of security before he starts . . .
talking
.

‘So . . .' he says, ‘I hear you've made some new friends.' How does he know that? Has he been spying on me?

‘S'pose.' I am desperately hoping that something will happen to stop this conversation before it starts. Like maybe the phone will ring, or the house will fall down.

He sort of clears his throat and continues, but in a serious way. ‘Now listen, Gwynnie, it's only natural for your taste in friends to change at this time in your life because there are a lot of other – erm – changes going on for you at the moment.'

Oh God, please don't let him say the word that every girl hates to hear. He actually mouths the
sentence to himself before he can bear to speak it out loud.

‘Ahem. You are going through – erm . . .' even with practice he can't do it without stuttering, ‘
puberty
.'

That's it! That's the word. It's not so much the word itself but the way adults say it. They either sort of whisper it like it's a secret word that only teenagers and embarrassing parents know, or they say it like it's just a normal word and not the most embarrassing thing ever.

‘You will start – er – periods, and – er – boys.' He's having just as much trouble getting this out as I am hearing it. ‘When a man and a woman are in love, often they want to – erm – do things together—'

‘We don't need to talk about this,' I say, throwing him a lifeline.

‘You might not want to talk about this now, but some day you might have some questions you need answering.'

What does he think the Internet is for?

Dad's mumbling his way through his speech, emphasizing the important words: ‘. . . Pregnant . . . Wear A Condom . . . Diseases . . . Sexual Intercourse . . .' He's making the same face
as when I've seen him clean dog poo off his trainers. But trying to do it with a smile, which is so much worse.

‘Dad, I know it all already.'

He looks horrified. ‘You know it
all
already!?'

Oh God, now he thinks I am the most experienced girl this side of White Hart Lane.

‘What I mean is, we have education classes at school.' I leave out the word
sex
as I can't say
sex
in front of my dad. I realize that
education classes
doesn't really make sense, but it's the best I can do.

‘I know, Gwynnie, but—'

‘It's cool, honestly.'

‘It's just that, with your mother gone . . .' He hesitates for a sec, as he always does when he mentions Mum, and I hate it. I hate it that he misses her as much as I do. ‘You might think you have no one to talk to. I want you to know that you can always talk to me – about anything—'

‘That's great, Dad, thanks.' Quick, change the subject. ‘Is there any football on tonight?' But he's stuck on
puberty
like Claudio Gentile marking Diego Maradona.

‘I've spoken to Angela and she said that you're welcome to talk to her if you'd like.'

‘You've been speaking to Angela about me?' So that's how he knows about my
new friends
. Angela must have told him about Charlie and Jenny.

‘I speak to Angela about lots of things.'

I imagine this Gwynnie convention with charts and pictures of me while they all discuss what's going on with Dad's weirdo daughter.

‘I'd better go, Dad. I've got homework.'

‘Well . . . But . . . OK.' He admits defeat. ‘Take more pizza if you want.'

‘Thanks, Dad,' I say, and grab three slices out of the box.

I am just about to escape, opening the door with my elbow as my hands are full, when he captures me again. ‘Gwynnie, just a sec . . .'

Not more puberty talk, please.

‘I've got a job,' he says.

This is brilliant news. ‘Dad! That's so cool!' I beam at him. It
is
really cool. ‘Now we can have pizza every day!'

He laughs. ‘Well, perhaps not every day. It's not a great job. I'm only working in a sports shop in the centre, but at least now we'll have a bit of money coming in.'

I'm so happy that I put my pizza down for
a second and go over and give Dad a big hug. ‘Well done, Dad.'

He gives me a big hug right back. I love my dad sometimes.

‘The best thing about the job is that I get a staff discount.'

Why is that the best thing about his job? Oh no, I can see where this is going.

‘On Saturday we could go and get those football boots you wanted.'

Wanted. Past tense. I don't know how to tell him I'm not playing football any more. I say, ‘We could wait a bit, Dad. Or we could not get them at all. You probably have other things you need to buy first, don't you?'

‘There is nothing more important than getting my little girl her birthday present.'

I don't know how to tell him that I am not into football any more. Maybe I won't have to. Maybe the shop will burn down before then. Maybe they'll put a nationwide ban on football. Maybe, if I'm really lucky, my feet will fall off.