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THE GIRLFRIEND WAGERPrologue - She Can’t Be Inflatable
FRIDAY 23 MAY, 1997
18.32
Jimesh Nayar, who was better known as Jim to his friends, sat in a corner of a local pub. College had officially finished for the year, but for him it was only until September. He had retaken his GCSEs, but for almost everyone else he knew this was the last day for them forever - other than for exams and the prom, neither of which anyone was looking forward to. He held a glass still half-full of lager in his hands, and his eyes glazed over from sheer boredom.
Kent Doyle, a kid from Jim’s form group, sat next to him, sadly bopping his head to an Aerosmith tune he’d selected from the juke box. His short cropped hair stayed suspiciously still as his head moved out of tune to the music, and his face began to glisten with sweat from the simple exertion of moving his head up and down. The two of them made for a depressing sight.
Hugh Delgado, who had been at both secondary school and college with Jim, staggered up to the two sad looking boys, taking a seat next to Jim. He brushed his dark unruly hair out of his eyes, a tuft of white falling back against his forehead.
“What’s up with you two?” he asked, “You look like somebody died – did somebody die?”
“I’m just a bit pissed off,” Kent sulked, “Aurora fancies Rob, not me.”
Kent was referring to their friend Rob McGarry. Jim had known Rob for nearly two years, ever since they started college and were assigned the same form class together. The girl in question was Aurora Smart, a pretty girl that Kent had fancied for quite a while; clearly the feeling was less than mutual if she fancied Rob.
“Oh, well that’s too bad. Now you know how the rest of us feel.” Hugh sneered, a sneer that mainly arose from his consumption of alcohol, “No one ever fancies me.”
“That’s because you’re a git,” Kent grumbled. He looked down at his half-empty glass, then over at a boy approaching them from the bar.
It was Adrian Devitt’s round, and he returned from the bar carrying a lager in one hand and a shandy in the other. Adrian had known Jim since secondary school, where they had both bunked off PE together with fake sick notes for three years. He set the two drinks down on the table before taking a seat himself.
“Thanks pal,” Hugh smiled, picking up the shandy.
“No problem,” Adrian said, putting his arm on Jim’s shoulder, “What’s up, man? You don’t look so good.”
“I don’t feel so good.” Jim complained without shifting his gaze.
“I’d better get you another drink then.” Adrian suggested, ignoring Jim’s half-full lager and returning to the bar.
“Please don’t,” Jim complained, “I don’t feel very well.”
“A drink will make you feel better,” Adrian insisted, heading to the bar.
Hugh looked with confusion at the window behind Kent and Jim, then asked, “Where is Rob anyway?”
“He’s probably off shagging Aurora or something.” Kent snapped bitterly, his words almost drowned out by the lager that was spilling passed his lips.
“They’re not even dating yet,” Hugh rolled his eyes.
“I think he’s with Miss Crawford,” Jim said, desperately trying to move his head without creating the pounding noise that was booming in his ears.
“What,” Hugh said, “the sexy English teacher?”
“Yep,” Jim sighed, “he’s probably trying to bone her as well as Aurora – setting the groundwork for a ménage a trois!”
“Ew,” Hugh sighed, wrinkling up his face, “That’s not right.”
“There’s a lot about Rob that isn’t right,” Kent said bitterly.
18.45
Rob sat in a corner with his ex-English teacher, Miss Crawford, guzzling down his seventh pint of the evening.
“Can I tell you something, Miss?” he asked, his head swaying a little as he spoke.
Miss Crawford, who was pretty drunk herself, just looked at him, “What is it?” she asked.
“You’re my most favouritest teacher in the whole wide world ever!” he smiled, “I think you’re great!”
Miss Crawford smiled, “Thanks, Rob. You’re great too.”
“Thanks.” he grinned. Then he spotted Jessamine at the bar with Diana and her other friend, Melanie. Rob had it bad for Jessamine, and his solemn wish was to take her to a remote and romantic cabin in the woods… and bang her.
“Excuse me,” he excused himself, then got shakily up from his seat and swayed to the bar.
“Hello ladies.” he said, approaching the three girls, “Might I interest you all in a drink?”
Jessamine smiled at Rob, “That would be lovely, Rob. Thank you.”
Rob beckoned the barwoman with a drunken click of his fingers. The barwoman approached the bar and stared at Rob, her arms crossed in front of her chest.
“What will it be sir?” she asked flatly, the sir being added in a sarcastic tone.
“I would like…” he began, then his face fell. He looked to Jessamine for assistance.
“Three vodka and oranges.” Jessamine said slowly, holding up her fingers to indicate the quantity required.
Rob turned back to the barwoman, “Three vodkas and orange please,” he said, holding up four fingers, “And a large pint.”
The barwoman walked off to get the drinks, clearly wondering what Rob thought constituted a large pint, and Rob turned to Jessamine, smiling. Her friends started to laugh at him, though he thought they were laughing at the barwoman.
“I showed her,” he smiled, pointing his thumb at the barwoman as she returned with the drinks, though what he showed her would remain a topic of much debate
“That’s nine seventy-five please,” the barwoman droned, placing the drinks on the counter.
“Thank you my good woman,” Rob bowed slightly, almost falling over. He took a ten pound note out of his pocket and handed it to the barwoman, “And keep the change.”
“Thank you,” she uttered monotonously, taking the tenner from Rob and walking off with it to the cash register.
Rob picked up his pint and took a slurp from it, spilling some down his shirt. He laughed drunkenly and wiped at the developing stain, looking up at Jessamine and the others.
“How are your drinks?” he asked.
“We’ll let you know when we’ve drunk them,” Jessamine smiled, walking off with her two friends.
Rob’s brow furrowed into a frown, “Where are you going?” he asked almost inaudibly, and clearly far out of Jessamine’s hearing capability. Realising that she couldn’t hear him, or more likely was choosing not to hear him, he took his pint and went to join Jim and the others.
“There he is,” Jim pointed labouringly as Rob approached them.
“Hello, everyone.” Rob managed before collapsing into the seat next to Jim, almost spilling his pint.
“Are you okay, mate?” Adrian asked, having already returned with Jim’s extra lager and another for himself.
“It’s Jessamine.” Rob whined, “She’ll barely talk to me at the moment. And I just wasted a tenner on the cow. What am I gonna do, Adey?”
“I don’t know,” Adrian said, “Why are you asking me?”
“I don’t know,” Rob mumbled, “I just don’t know anything anymore.”
“Stop moaning,” Kent sighed, “At least you’ve got someone after you.”
Rob lifted his head slightly, a confused look on his face, “Who’s after me?” he groaned, “I didn’t know anyone was after me.”
Kent folded his arms defiantly and jutted out his bottom lip, “It doesn’t matter.” he sulked.
“He’s talking about Aurora,” Hugh revealed, “apparently she thinks you’re cute for some reason.”
“Aurora?” Rob widened his eyes, “Big-tits Aurora?” he mulled the idea over in his head, “I suppose I could do worse.”
Jim sighed an extremely long sigh, “Does anyone want to go outside and get some air?” he asked, “This pub’s got a lovely little garden area out the back.”
“Why not,” Hugh smiled, picking up his shandy, “I’m bored of sitting here.”
“Let’s go then.” Kent groaned, lifting himself from his seat, leaving Rob on his own to think about Aurora.
19.22
Kent sat quietly in the garden area of the pub, sipping absently at his cider. He gulped down what he’d collected in his mouth and sighed;
“It’s not fair,” he grumbled, “It’s just not bloody fair.”
“Life isn’t fair.” Adrian concluded, not caring what Kent was talking about, and finished off his pint, “I’m off to the bar.”
Adrian wandered through the crowds of students, pushing many aside in an attempt to reach the bar quicker. He was within feet of the bar when he was stopped by an extremely drunk Rob.
“Alright Adey?” he slurred, gripping a hand onto Adrian’s head, “How are fings going?”
“Get off!” Adrian shooed with his hands, “How much have you had to drink?”
Rob looked up at the ceiling, deep in thought, then returned his look to Adrian, “I dunno,” he concluded.
Rob stumbled backwards into the crowd - the only thing keeping him upright being the crowd itself. Adrian rolled his eyes and walked off to the bar.
19.45
“Cheer up, Kent,” Adrian smiled, slamming a pint of Kronenburg in front of his friend, “It might never happen.”
“That’s what worries me.” Kent sighed, “Where are Jim and Hugh?”
“They’re just over there,” Adrian pointed, “With Maria and, er, I dunno who the other girl is.”
“Should we go over and have a chat?” Kent suggested, “I’m bored over here on my own.”
“Alright then,” Adrian agreed, picking his glass up as Kent rose from his seat.
The two sauntered over to where Jim and Hugh were and waved slightly.
“What are you guys up to?” Kent asked.
“We’re just mingling,” Jim shrugged an eyebrow, then gestured to the girl that Adrian and Kent didn’t know, “This is Lou - you know her from RE, right Ade?”
Adrian attempted to disguise a look of total confusion as he replied, “Oh yeah, of course. Alright Lou?”
“Hi Ade,” Lou smiled in greeting then fell silent again.
“So,” Jim sunk his hands into his pockets, “What’s been happening?”
“Not a lot,” Adrian sighed, taking a gulp from his pint, “Rob’s pissed already!”
“Already?” Jim shook his head, then almost lost his balance, “What is with some people?”
Adrian smiled slightly, “Yeah, I know what you mean.”
Jim reached for his almost empty drink which he’d placed on the table behind him, accidentally knocking it over.
“Bugger!” he cursed, “I’d better go and get another one.”
“We’ll be waiting out here for you.” Kent called after Jim as he waddled back inside.
THE GIRLFRIEND WAGERPrologue - She Can’t Be Inflatable (cont...)
19.52
Jim found himself at the bar - though not too sure of how he had got there - and looked up sleepily. He was standing next to a girl from his Law class called Annabel. He smiled at her;
“Alright, Annabel?” he saluted sloppily, looking at her drink, “What’s that you’re drinking?”
Annabel looked at Jim, realising he didn’t know what the hell was going on in the real world, and smiled, “It’s water,” she lied. To be fair, she was more than a little drunk herself, and part of her thought telling Jim that her glass of straight vodka was actually water might be quite funny. Ordinarily she’d have just tried to grab Jim’s arse. She had something of a major crush on him.
Jim’s face almost lit up, “Water?” he grinned, “Great! Can I have some?”
“Help yourself,” Annabel smiled as Jim picked up the glass, then looked a little concerned as he gulped down its entire contents. Jim’s expression changed dramatically as he rolled his tongue out of his mouth in disgust, attempting to rid himself of the taste of the drink.
“That wasn’t water, was it?” Jim coughed.
Annabel looked innocently to the ceiling, “Did I say it was?” she asked vaguely, pursing her lips in a whistling mime.
“Yes!” Jim retorted, “Yes, you did. You said that it was water!”
“Oh,” Annabel shrugged, “Sorry.”
“Sorry?” Jim pushed himself away from the bar, deftly managing to keep his balance despite being as drunk as the proverbial lord, “Sorry? I’ll give you…”
Jim’s attempts to have a go at Annabel ended in futility as he collapsed to the floor unconscious.
19.58
Jim’s eyes snapped open and he looked up at the ceiling. It was spinning slightly, but when it formed properly he smiled.
He felt good.
“Are you okay?” Annabel asked, leaning over him. Jim blinked rapidly, taking in the sight of the girl bending over, her top hanging slightly away from her body so he could see her bra underneath, “You’ve been out for more than five minutes.”
Jim dragged himself to his feet and steadied himself on the nearby bar. Rubbing his temples, he chuckled;
He felt really good.
“I’m fine,” he said, leaning in closely to the girl, “I’ve never felt better.”
Jim’s eyes spun rapidly, trying to take in his surroundings. Everything seemed somehow different to him; the pub, the people, everything. He blinked violently, rubbing his eyes with the knuckles of his right hand. No, no, everything was the same.
“What was in that drink?” he asked Annabel, shaking his head to try and clear his drunken stupor.
“Well, it wasn’t water,” Annabel told him.
“Well, I feel pretty good,” Jim smiled at her.
“You look pretty good, too,” Annabel smiled back, “I was almost tempted to take advantage of you while you lay there.”
Jim gave Annabel a funny look, not sure what to make of her comment, then staggered back out into the garden, leaving Annabel to her own devices.
As he ventured outside, gulping in the fresh air, he spotted Rob coming towards him. Jim smiled;
“Hey, man,” he greeted, his arms outstretched, “How’s it going?”
“Great man,” Rob returned, smiling also, “I love you man.”
“I love you too, man,” Jim grinned as the two hugged drunkenly. Kent shook his head as he watched the two drunks;
What does Aurora see in him? he asked himself, grinding his teeth with intent.
Rob and Jim turned to Kent, hearing him grind his teeth, and grinned;
“We love you too, man.” they chorused, grabbing a hold of him.
“Oh god,” Kent groaned as the two sloppily embraced him.
Hugh, who had been sitting next to Kent, cocked an eyebrow and finished off his shandy. Placing his glass back down on the table he was sat next to, he began to look around the pub. He noticed that Lola was standing not too far away, chatting with Sheila. He’d fancied Lola since he first laid eyes on her, at the age of eleven on his first day at secondary school, and ever since he had watched her with longing as she’d grown into the beautiful woman he now saw standing before him. He smiled dreamily and, with determination, he got up from his seat and strolled over to her. As he approached, Adrian ran up to him;
“What are you doing, man?” he asked, having noticed the gleam in Hugh’s eye.
“I’m going to ask her,” he answered cryptically, “I’ve waited seven years, and now I’m going to ask her.”
“Ask her what?” Adrian said, “If she thinks you’re an idiot? I can tell you now, the answer is yes.”
Hugh glared at Adrian, “I’m going to ask her out.”
“You’re going to ask Lola out?” Adrian rolled his eyes, “Are you kidding me?”
“I kid you not,” Hugh swayed his head.
“But she’s way out of your league,” Adrian shook his head, “I mean, if she’s Premier Division, you’re somewhere in the Vauxhall Conference.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Hugh wiped his mouth and took a step forward. Adrian stopped him again.
“I’m not being cruel,” Adrian admitted, “I just don’t want what happened to me to happen to you.”
A few weeks back, Adrian’s Media Studies class had been playing a game of Truth Or Dare. Adrian had been dared to say who he fancied the most in the college, and rather than going for something obvious like saying one of the teachers, he’d told the truth and said he fancied a girl called Sandra. Things had gone badly after that, and his hopes for any sort of relationship with her seemed about as likely as life being discovered on Pluto.
“Well, I have to try,” Hugh smiled crookedly, “and if I don’t ask now, I may never know if she loves me or not.”
Adrian rolled his eyes, letting go of Hugh’s arm and letting him go to make a fool of himself.
20.23
Jim staggered back in from the bar and toddled over to Kent and Adrian, “I think I’d better go home now,” he croaked, “I told my mum that I’d be back by half-six, and you know what she’s like.”
“Why do you always tell her that you’re going to be home at a ridiculously early hour, when you know bloody well you won’t be?” Kent asked Jim.
“I dunno,” Jim shrugged, “It shuts her up if she think I’m going to be home early - you know how she can be,” He looked at his watch, holding it close to his face until his vision cleared, “Anyway, I’m only an hour or so late, so she shouldn’t be too bad.”
“You’re two hours late,” Adrian corrected, “she’s bound to have called my mum by now.”
“Well,” Jim said, not moving, “I’d better be off then.”
Kent smiled at Jim, “Okay then,” he waved slightly, “We’ll see you soon.”
Jim remained standing where he was, staggering slightly to one side and smiling at Kent and Adrian.
“You want us to walk you home, don’t you,” Adrian groaned. Kent sighed along with him.
“We might as well,” he said, rising from his seat, “It is getting a bit dry here.”
“Come on then,” Adrian moaned as he and Kent helped Jim stay upright, “Let’s go home.”
As the three of them moved to leave the bar, Hugh tagged along behind, sporting a nasty looking black eye, “Where are you guys off to?” he asked, rubbing his swollen black eye gently as he spoke.
“We’re going to get Jim safely home,” Kent said, “he only lives just down the road.”
“I might as well join you,” Hugh said, “Turns out Lola has a boyfriend, and I think I just saw her talking to him…”
“Did he give you that black eye?” Jim asked.
Hugh frowned, “No,” he said, “Lola did.”
“Say no more,” Adrian nodded, continuing towards the exit.
As they walked through the main doors to the pub, the four friends could see Rob sitting on the steps, a pool of what they could only assume was his sick congealing by his feet.
“Hey, Rob,” Kent said quietly, “are you okay?”
“No,” Rob wiped his nose with the back of his sleeve, “I’m never gone find anyone. I’m so lonely.”
It was clear from Kent’s expression that he was enjoying this moment of weakness for Rob, but nobody commented.
“Don’t be silly,” Jim said, still a little shaky on his feet but managing to sit down in a dry spot next to Rob, “you’ll find someone.”
Rob shrugged, “I just don’t have the motivation to look around, and the girls I’ve already set my sights on are a waste of time.”
“Don’t say that,” Hugh shook his head, clearly empathizing with Rob’s situation, “Don’t ever say that.”
“But what am I gonna do?” Rob asked, “I need to find someone.”
“Don’t we all?” Hugh chuckled.
Adrian stroked his chin, “If you need motivation,” he said, “why don’t we make a bet?”
“A bet? Kent shook his head, “I don’t gamble. Count me out.”
“What kind of bet?” Rob asked, perking up a little.
“Well, more like a wager,” Adrian amended, “we give ourselves one year to find a girlfriend.”
“A girlfriend?” Hugh smiled, “I like the sound of that.”
Rob chuckled, “That doesn’t sound so bad. What’s the catch?”
“There need to be rules,” Jim stated, joining in, “To count as a girlfriend, you need to date her for at least three months. One-night stands don’t count.”
“Easy enough,” Rob said, “maybe too easy.”
“And she can’t be inflatable,” Hugh added, staring at Kent.
“That was one time!” Kent growled.
“Then how about one more condition?” Adrian grinned, “You have to have sex with her.”
Rob’s eyes widened. He’d been out with a fair few girls, but he’d never been able to convince any of them to give up their V card. He looked around the group, then smiled to himself – he suspected that none of the others would do any better than he would.
“You’re on,” Rob smiled, spitting a pukey bit of phlegm onto the palm of his hand, “Shake on it?”
“We’ll take your word for it,” Jim grimaced, “I’m in too.”
“And me,” Hugh beamed. The others stared at him, thinking about how easy it would be to take Hugh’s money, “How much is it for?”
“One night of drinks,” Adrian shrugged. “The winner doesn’t have to buy a round.”
“I like the sound of that.” Rob grinned, mirroring Hugh’s words as he picked himself up off the ground.
“And we have the drinks here,” Jim suggested, “On this date in one year’s time.”
“You’re on,” Adrian smiled as the gang started to walk down the road, taking Jim home.
I've just put some of my entries on this website:-http://www.inkitt.com/mutant_toe
If anyone gets a chance, go there and vote for me, and maybe even copy your reviews from the weeklies. :-)
Or you can put your own stories on there too!
Here's my cover sketch to The Girlfriend Wager!
Edward, there's a glaring red X on the top left corner of your picture. Uh-oh!
I know. Frigging thing!Here's the link.
https://www.goodreads.com/photo/autho...
Is it possible to link to am image that's on Goodreads that isn't a book cover?
Yes, I think that is possible.The picture looks like a graphic novel slash vintage photograph. Two genres of art in one picture. Nice! :)
Cheers. Not sure how it will work as part of the main cover. I don't have professional colouring programs, which would have been awesome!
Here's the first chapter of my new untitled novel. hope you enjoy:-UPDATED 24/02/2016 - Now titled SCISSORS, PIPER, STONE
Chapter One
Up until my family decided to move to the small village of Graves Hollow, I’d had extraordinarily long hair. I don’t just mean pretty long, I’m talking if I sat down I had to sweep it out of the way.
I’d been a pretty well behaved daughter for my mum and dad up until that point, interested in school and obsessed with books, but as soon as they announced that, at the tender age of seventeen, they were going to uproot me from all my friends and move to a little village in the middle of nowhere, I decided it was time for a change.
A change that could also act as a sort of punishment for them.
Taking a pair of kitchen scissors into the bathroom with me, I’d decided to go crazy and chop off my proud mane in a scene reminiscent of Empire Records, except with me as the star instead of that chick who used to be in The Mentalist.
But that wasn’t where I stopped. No, far from it. I’d also purchased enough mascara and eyeliner to sink a battleship, and two bottles of hair dye to finish the job.
The hair dyes were jet black and an azure shade of blue. Quite the contrast with my natural strawberry blonde.
Okay, so I’m a natural ginger. It’s allowed if you’re a girl. Both the girls that played Victoria in Twilight were ginger, and they were both awesomely pretty.
Anyway, once I’d finished creating my new look, I was barely recognisable. My once chestnut red hair was now a deep dark black with a solid streak of blue, and my eyes were now so hollow thanks to my makeup that I looked like I’d been hooked on heroin since I was conceived.
It goes without saying that my parents were not pleased with my makeover.
“What were you thinking?” my mum said when she got home from work, “You know we’re starting new jobs in a new town, and you make yourself up to look like Alice Cooper?”
I know what you’re expecting – I’m seventeen years old, so I won’t know who Alice Cooper is. That’s what always happens in scenarios like this; an adult references someone from days gone by, and the kids ignorantly says, “Who?” Well, I know who Alice Cooper is; I’ve seen Wayne’s World.
“Well, I had to do something to let you know how I feel about us moving,” I told her. It’s funny; adults rarely hear kids, but they always see them. My mum had seen my new look, and now she wanted to start a conversation. Like I hadn’t tried to do just this when dad got offered that library job four months ago.
“There’s nothing we can do about this now, Helen,” my mum told me, “your dad has been offered a lot of money to take this librarian job, and I’ve already accepted a job with the local police, so I’m afraid the decision is permanent.”
“Well, so is my hair!” I said childishly and stormed off to my room.
I threw myself onto my bed, furious with my parents. How dare they treat me this way, like a child, when everything they did would affect the rest of my life? They didn’t seem to realise that moving me to a new sixth form college instead of allowing me to continue in the one at my old secondary school might damage my chances of getting good A Level results. Then I wouldn’t get into the University of my choice and I’d end up doing the kind of course that will never get you a job in real life, like Film Studies, Sociology, or Law.
I looked around my room, my things already grudgingly put into boxes ready for the big move over the weekend. We’d be driving the rental truck from the middle of West London to the outskirts of the City, to the little suburban village of Graves Hollow where I’d be spending at least the next two years trying to fit in with all the slack-jawed yokels that peopled the place. Well, I didn’t want to fit in; that’s why I cut off my hair and dyed it black and blue, like a follicular bruise. Conformity has been my byword for most of my life, and it’s got me nowhere now that my parents were moving house, so why should I bother anymore to even try to conform?
It was a little after six in the evening, and my dad was due home from work, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t exactly hungry, even though it was almost time for dinner, and I knew that he’d have the same reaction as mum when he saw my new hair and makeup.
But I just didn’t care.
I don’t remember falling asleep, but I must have because when I looked at the time it was just after nine. I sat up on my bed and saw a plate sitting near my bedroom door, piled high with food. I picked up the fork and took a bite; it was cold, but it was pasta so that was okay. It still tasted good.
After a few mouthfuls I opened my bedroom door and crept down the stairs. My mum and dad were still in the living room, watching some documentary on the television, probably about arguing neighbours or dead animals, which seemed to be tied for first place amongst their favourites. They looked around when they saw me walk into the room, my mum folding her arms in disapproval; I can only imagine my eye makeup had streaked more while I’d been asleep, so the earlier comparison to Alice Cooper was probably by this point a pretty appropriate one.
“So you decided to come down and say hello?” my dad smiled weakly. Clearly he didn’t like my new look either, but he must have gotten a preview while I was sleeping so his reaction wasn’t as explosive as mum’s had been, “Are you feeling any better after arguing with your mum?”
“We weren’t arguing,” I corrected him, “we were... disagreeing.”
“That’s pretty much the same thing,” my brother Ladon said, shovelling a forkful of food into his mouth.
“I can go back to my room, you know,” I said, moving back to the doorway.
“No-no,” my dad said quickly, standing up from his chair, “come on, take a seat. We need to talk to you.”
I reluctantly sat down on the sofa, curling my legs up until my knees touched my chin. A defensive position if ever there was one.
“Now Helen,” my dad said calmly, “we realise you’re not happy about this move.”
“What gave it away?” I said sarcastically. Ah sarcasm, the fall back choice of the feeble minded teenager.
“Don’t start, Helen,” my mum said, somehow managing to fold her arms even more tightly. It was like a magic trick.
“Now,” my dad continued, clearly trying to regain his train of thought, “we know this move is going to be hard for you, but you have to understand that it’s hard for all of us.”
I tutted.
“This wasn’t an easy decision to make,” my mum continued, “but the money they were offering your father to work in the local library... well, we couldn’t turn it down.”
“You could have,” I disagreed.
“No, we couldn’t have,” my dad said, “we were falling behind on our mortgage repayments as it is. This way we get a house thrown in with the job, and we can sell this house and use the money for you and your brother’s university funds.”
I pursed my lips together. It’s hard to be angry with your parents when they’ve just told you that they’ve uprooted their entire lives just to ensure you get some sort of an academic future. I was more than a little annoyed that I couldn’t actually continue to be angry about this. So I took a different tack.
“Fine!” I said loudly, “But my dying my hair had nothing to do with me being angry about moving.”
“That’s not what you said earlier,” my mum pointed out. She was right, but I couldn’t acknowledge that and still keep the moral high ground.
“You probably weren’t listening properly, as usual,” I ventured, “I like my new look, and I think I’ll keep it for a while.”
“Fine,” my mum said. I could tell she knew that I wasn’t entirely happy with the new look and that I’d never admit it, but I wasn’t about to let her win by thanking her, and she wasn’t about to give me the opportunity to keep dressing like a Goth, “but you aren’t to wear all that make-up when you’re going to class. Understood?”
I glared at my mum. The twinkle in her eye told me that she knew that she was doing me a favour. But I still rolled my eyes.
“Fine,” I agreed, and then I headed back to my room.
“Well, that went well,” I heard my dad whisper to my mum as I headed up the stairs and got myself ready for bed.
The next morning I woke up bright and early at six. My mum had suggested that we leave early to avoid traffic, but we were going to be travelling through the middle of London, so traffic would be heavy no matter what time of day we left. I knew my dad wouldn’t be happy about having to get up early; he did enjoy his sleep, but when mum made a decision it usually meant it was final. That’s probably why she was such a good police officer.
I’d just finished in the shower, watching the water turning black as some of my hair dye washed out, when I heard my mum’s voice coming from the kitchen. She was speaking to someone, but it wasn’t my dad. I heard another female voice, and smiled as I realised who it was.
My best friend, Carmen, had come to see me off.
Not that I ever called her Carmen. We had silly nicknames for each other, based on our surnames. My nickname was Jazz, because my surname was Singer, and hers was Eva, because her surname was Mendes. We though it was clever, but generally it just confused other people when we started calling each other by the wrong name.
“Hey Jazz,” Carmen smiled weakly when I walked in on her and my mum, “you all set for the big move?”
“I guess, Eva,” I said flatly, then added, “I’m gonna miss you, though.”
Carmen tried to smile, but I could see her eyes welling up. I wish they hadn’t; I was close to tears myself without having to see her trying not to cry. We’d been best friends since primary school, and this was the first time we weren’t going to be going to the same school together in almost twelve years. I sniffed in defeat and threw my arms around my best friend’s shoulders.
“We can still visit,” Carmen sobbed, “my mum said I can come and see you at Christmas if that’s okay.”
That was three months away, but I put on a brave face, “That’ll be awesome,” I said, “we can build a snowman together.”
“Like it’ll snow!” Carmen chuckled as we released from our hug.
My mum, who had been standing by watching, finally interrupted, “Are you ready to start loading your boxes into the van?” she asked quietly.
I wiped my sleeve across my nose, “I guess,” I said, then turned back to Carmen, “Do you wanna help me with the boxes, Eva?”
“Sure,” Carmen nodded, sniffing herself, and we headed up to my room.
“I’m going to miss coming round here,” Carmen noted as she lifted one of my boxes and headed to the stairs, “remember last year when we were practising for Karaoke on your webcam and accidentally uploaded it to YouTube?”
I chuckled. It had taken us ages to figure out how to get the video down, by which time we’d already received a couple of thousand hits. It’s worrying how many people are interested in watching two seventeen year old girls sing badly in their night wear.
(cont...)
UNTITLED HELEN SINGER NOVELChapter One (cont)
“What about my thirteenth birthday when you made me play seven minutes in heaven with Troy Michaels?” I groaned.
“I said I was sorry,” Carmen shrugged, stopping at the top of the stairs, “I know he was cute, but how was I to know he was such a bad kisser.”
“He was the worst, Eva,” I shook my head as I lifted another box and followed Carmen to the stairs, “but I’m kind of glad you did it. I’d never have gone for it myself, and at least now I know how terrible he was. Otherwise I’d have probably still liked him to this day.”
“That’s what friends are for,” Carmen giggled, “getting each other into awkward sexual situations when you’re young so that you don’t make awkward sexual mistakes when you’re older.”
“Too true,” I nodded as we both cautiously descended the stairs.
“Speaking of mistakes,” Carmen said, sounding like she hadn’t wanted to bring it up, “what were you thinking with that hair colour?”
I tutted silently to myself. Trust Carmen to mention the elephant in the room, “I did it to get my mum and dad’s attention,” I admitted quietly, “it was the only thing I could think off to notice that I’m not happy.”
“It’s kind of extreme, when you compare it to your natural colouring,” Carmen admitted, “but it does kind of suit you.”
“Do you think?” I asked, “I was considering dying it back soon.”
“I’d try it out for a while,” Carmen advised, “see how people react to it in your new school.”
I chuckled as we walked through the front door, “They’ll probably burn me as a witch, knowing what small minded village folk are like.”
Carmen laughed too, “So long as you don’t coat your face in mascara and black lipstick, you should still look your gorgeous self.”
Good old Carmen. She really knows how to make me feel better.
Then I remembered that I was moving away, and I wouldn’t have her there to make me feel better any more.
This move was not going to do my ego any good.
And here's Chapter TwoI sat in the truck, me and Ladon between my mum and dad, thinking back on my life in the city and the friends I was leaving behind. It wasn’t just Carmen I was going to miss; it was everyone at my old school, even those people I didn’t really get on with or wasn’t even really friends with. I just knew that the major lifestyle change of moving from the City to the Suburbs was going to take some getting used to, but I didn’t really have a choice in the matter. Not now that we were actually on our way.
It had taken a few hours to get all the remaining furniture on board the moving truck; the furniture my dad hadn’t moved himself during the week, just the remaining beds and the TVs and things, and now we were finally on our way I could feel my stomach twisting and turning. I hadn’t even seen the house we’d be living in, though my dad insisted that I’d be sure to love it. Apparently it’s connected to the library he’ll be working in, so I can check out whatever books I like and keep them for as long as I liked, within reason. Granted that did sound pretty cool, but with college approaching I’d probably only have time to read set texts and important revision books, so I wouldn’t get to enjoy having carte blanche access to the library’s books for my personal pleasure until at least the Christmas holidays. And it didn’t really appeal to Ladon, whose idea of relaxation usually involved the latest video games.
My mum was going to have even less fun when she arrived in town. She’d be working for the local constabulary, which consisted of less than a dozen officers from what she’d told us. She’d be helping run the department, which I’m sure would go down like a lead balloon in that particular type of old boys club. If there was another woman other than my mum working for the police station in Graves Hollow I’d happily sit down and eat my hat.
Metaphorically speaking. I love my hat. It covers my ginger hair. Well, it used to when I was still ginger.
I dozed a little on the drive across the City, waking once or twice to see the buildings that seemed to become smaller and fewer, and eventually after a couple of hours we reached our new home.
Parked outside out new home was a car that looked like it belonged to an estate agent. An average looking black woman who clearly made a lot of effort to look better than average stood next to the car, a huge smile on her face. He bleached teeth sparkled as my dad pulled the truck into the driveway, parking a short distance from her car.
“Mr Singer, Mrs Singer,” she said enthusiastically, “welcome to your new home.”
“Hello Esme,” my mum said politely as she climbed down from the cab of the truck. I got the impression she didn’t like this woman very much. Maybe it was the fake smile.
“I just wanted to make sure you got here safely,” Esme continued, “and I needed to give you this extra set of keys. I didn’t want to leave them in the letterbox in case someone took them. They’re for the shed and the garage.”
“Thank you, Esme,” my dad said, taking the keys as he too climbed down from the truck cab, “you didn’t have to do that.”
“It’s no trouble, really,” Esme beamed, “it isn’t often that a property in this area comes up for sale. The people in Grave’s Hollow are usually so reluctant to leave.”
“The previous owner didn’t leave,” my dad pointed out, “she died.”
“That’s right,” Esme nodded, still not letting go of that smile of hers, “poor thing.”
“Well, if that’s everything,” my mum tilted her head in the direction of the road, clearly wanting Esme to leave.
“I’ll leave you to unpack your things,” Esme said, climbing into the driver’s seat of her car, then holding something out the open window for my mum and dad to take, “here’s my card again. In case you need to get in touch.”
My mum took the card, smiling a fake smile that almost put this Esme woman to shame. She and my dad waved half-heartedly as Esme pulled out of the driveway and took off down the road.
“Who was she?” Ladon asked, finally venturing out of the truck once Esme had gone.
“That was Esme Dusa,” my dad frowned, “she organised the sale of the house. She means well, but she is a little--”
“Annoying,” my mum finished for him.
“I was going to say intense,” my dad chuckled, “but annoying works just as well.”
I climbed out of the truck cab, joining the rest of my family in the driveway. Before we even started to unpack the truck, me and my mum headed into the new house to take a look around. It was much bigger than our place in the city, and we were amazed that it had been thrown in as part of the package to get dad to take the librarian job. My room was huge and, aside from my bed, all my furniture was already set out, along with a brand new bookcase that my dad must have organised for me to have. Most of my books had been kept in piles on the floor in our old place, so now I actually had somewhere to put them. I’d probably move some of the furniture around at a later stage, but for now I think dad had done a pretty decent job, especially with getting me that bookcase.
“So what do you think?” my mum asked me, clearly seeing that I was trying not to smile.
“It’s okay,” I said, underplaying my thoughts entirely. I wasn’t about to admit that our new house was awesome, not when I’d just spent the last twenty-four hours chopping off my hair and dying it black and blue in protest against the move. I knew she knew I liked the place anyway, so why shouldn’t I give her a different answer to the one she was expecting? If she wanted the answer she expected, then she shouldn’t have asked the question.
“High praise,” my mum said simply, smiling knowingly before heading back down to the truck.
Ladon walked into the room that had been chosen as mine, a scowl appearing on his face.
“Why can’t I have the bigger room?” he asked, even though neither of our parents, the decision makers, were present, “just because I’m younger.”
“You’re twelve,” I said to him, “you get what you’re given.”
“But I’ve got so much more stuff than you,” he complained, as if having more possessions than me was actually something to complain about, “so I should get the bigger room.”
“Just be grateful that mum and dad buy you all those games that you’re not even old enough to play,” I told him, “I wouldn’t rock the boat if I were you, so just keep quiet and you might carry on getting everything you want.”
Ladon tutted before heading across the hallway to his room. To be fair, his room wasn’t that much smaller than mine, and it had a fitted wardrobe which meant he had extra space added on. I looked at my room, smiling to myself.
I was happy enough with it. Let’s just hope school met with my expectations and wasn’t full of hillbillies.
Once I’d checked that all of my boxes were present and accounted for, I headed back to the truck to help mum dad with the rest of the furniture. We soon managed to get the beds into our rooms, which took a lot longer than we anticipated, and with the truck now empty I was left to go through the rest of my boxes and unpack. It was a boring job, but in many ways it was a cathartic one, too. There were things I’d quickly packed into boxes that I now decided that I didn’t need, and other things I’d forgotten about were now going to take pride of place in my new, much larger bedroom.
I looked through a box of books and smiled. I loved books; I must have received that particular gene from my dad, with a particular fondness for books of myths and legends, and I happily lined my books up on my brand new bookcase in what I deemed their correct order. Once this was done, I walked over to my dressing table and looked at myself, wondering what I should do about my hair.
It didn’t look that bad, considering how pale my strawberry blonde skin was, and I guessed I’d be able to pull it off if I didn’t come across too sternly when school started up in a week or so. Hopefully the kids at my new sixth form would just think I had dark hair, and not that I was some sort of Goth or, worse still, an Emo. Emo kids are the worst.
I quickly looked through my remaining box of clothes and found my slouchy hat, crocheted, woollen, and green, and pulled it over my short hair. It was funny not seeing long red locks flowing out from underneath, but it gave me a little bit of colour and made me look less dark and depressing.
This done, I trudged down stairs to see my mum and dad. And I guess, to some extent, my little brother
“Can we look around the library?” I asked, desperately wanting to see what sort of a catalogue they had there. Hopefully they had some decent books that I could actually enjoy, and not the usual dross that nobody in their right mind would ever want to read. We had to study Wuthering Heights when I was in year ten, and even my teacher admitted it was a boring book.
“You and your brother can come across with me now, if you like,” my dad offered, “I’m going to open it up this afternoon. It’s been closed for a few weeks now, so I’m sure it’s high time that the people of Grave’s Hollow finally got the opportunity to borrow some books out again.”
“Or more likely just use the free internet access,” my brother grinned.
I frowned at my dad, “Why did they close up a library?” I asked, “Surely there was somebody who could have continued to run it.”
My dad shrugged, “Nobody wanted to be left in there alone after what happened to the last head librarian,” he told me.
“What happened to them?” I asked, suddenly interested. I loved mystery stories, and this sounded to me like it might involve a death of some nature, whether natural or murderous.
“Well,” my dad began, leaning forward as if this story was going to be a good one, “late last year the librarian apparently died under very mysterious circumstances.”
“Mysterious?” I repeated, intrigued, “Mysterious how?”
“Well, she was found on the steps of the library, every bone in her body shattered as if she’d been dropped from a great height,” he paused for effect, “only the library building is a measly two stories, and the damage she suffered was far more than could be expected from such a small fall.”
“How big a fall did they think?” I asked, fascinated by the story.
“Possibly as much as twenty stories,” my dad told me, “your mother heard about the accident when she was being interviewed for her post here on the police force. Apparently Mrs Griffin was very popular round these parts.”
“Mrs Griffin?” I smiled. Like I said, mythology was a passion of mine, “As in the Greek myth? That’s funny.”
My dad frowned, “How so?”
I shrugged, realising maybe it wasn’t that funny, “You know. The griffin? Half lion half eagle. Maybe she was flying around when she had her accident.”
“That would have been awesome!” Ladon grinned widely.
My dad rolled his eyes at the pair of us, “Don’t be ridiculous, you two.”
I shrugged, “I’m just saying,” I said, “it’s kind of a funny coincidence, don’t you think?”
He tutted, “Just come on,” he groaned, “let’s go take a look at this library and see what we’ve got to work with.”
And so me, my dad, and my little brother Ladon headed next door to take a look at the local library.
That’s where the trouble started.
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