C.J. Skuse - The Deviants

‘I figured you’d be on low cal till breakfast. There’s no orange or lemon, don’t worry.’

I smiled, but my heart sank. My summer training plan meant I was on a strict low-carb low-fat diet. ‘Oh, goodie.’ It was sweet that he’d remembered to leave out the citrus, though. Only Max would know to do that.

‘Happy anniversary, Ella Bella Boodles,’ he said, leaning across to kiss me.

‘Happy anniversary, Max,’ I said.

We tucked in by the light of a salted caramel Yankee Candle. The fruit was freezing, and burst against my sensitive teeth like I was crushing gemstones. It was weird, being there when no one else was around. Normally when me and Max met for lunch there’d be loads of shuffling grannies with walking sticks, or kids on the next table having food fights or pasting stickers all over the undersides of their chairs. Tonight, but for the trickle of a water feature somewhere, the place was silent.

Outside, the night had coloured everything dangerous. Through the large glass windows, the looming mass of Brynstan Hill was just visible. They called our town Volcano Town. Apparently, in Old English, Brynstan meant ‘brimstone’ – that biblical ‘hell hath no fury’ stuff. That was the only exciting thing about this little place – the fact that the huge green hill we lived around could spew out molten lava any old time, and blow all the sheep and Iron Age remains to bits. At Easter they put three crosses on it. In November, they held a huge bonfire on the top with fireworks – from afar, it looked like an eruption. I liked the night. It was the only time of day I didn’t have to stare at the bloody thing.

‘Did I tell you Dad’s bought a new car?’ said Max, around a gobful of teacake.

I winced as I bit down on a freezing chunk of melon. ‘Another one?’

‘Limited edition Porsche 911 Turbo S. Over a hundred and forty grand. Grey leather seats.’

‘Grim.’

‘No, it’s sweet. The ride on it is unbelievable. Top speed’s, like, two hundred miles an hour. Nought to sixty in three seconds. It’s, like, one of the fastest cars in the world.’

‘ Like one of the fastest or actually one of the fastest?’

‘One of the fastest,’ he said, his face alive with joy.

I chomped down on an apple chunk. ‘Don’t say “like” then. If it’s one of the fastest, say it’s one of the fastest.’

‘All right, all right, easy, Tiger.’

‘What’s the point of a car that fast anyway? Can’t drive it anywhere at that speed. It’s ridic.’

‘Why are you so snippy?’

‘I’m not snippy. It winds me up, that’s all. Your dad spends money like it’s going out of fashion, and my dad reuses tin foil.’

I hadn’t realised how much my anger levels had risen in the last five minutes. Max was always the one who pointed out my potential bitchplosions; like a scientist keeping an eye on the heat levels inside the crater. But Neil – his dad – always had that effect on me. Everywhere he went in the town he was treated like royalty, all blinding smiles and two-handed handshakes, but to me he was a show-off who stank of aftershave and wore too much gold.

‘Dad’s earned it, Ells. You can’t say he hasn’t.’

‘How many new cars is that this year?’

‘Only three,’ he said. ‘It’s being delivered from Germany in a couple of weeks. Oh yeah, Mum asked me to ask you to come over for lunch tomorrow.’

‘Bit late notice, isn’t it?’

‘You haven’t got anything on, have you?’

‘Yes, I have. Training.’

‘You don’t train at weekends.’

‘Summer regime.’

‘What about next Sunday then?’

‘I can’t, Max. I can’t mess Pete about.’

He closed up. I could tell he was pissed.

‘Maybe the weekend after next?’ I suggested, more to cheer him up than anything.

‘Yeah, yeah. I won’t hold my breath. It’s not haunted, you know. I know you said it freaks you out, but Jess isn’t there, I promise.’

‘I know. I’m sorry.’ I felt bad about lying to him about that.

‘I wish she did haunt it,’ he said, a pink line of milkshake framing his top lip.

‘Funny thing to wish,’ I said, still feeling awful. I reached out to thumb away the mark from his mouth.

‘I know. Sometimes you just need someone to talk to who’s not your parents, don’t you? Like a big sister.’

I reached out to him and pulled his hand towards me. I held it between both mine. ‘You can always talk to me.’

‘Yeah, I know,’ he said, with a smile. ‘So, you’ll come for lunch next Sunday then?’

I sank back in my chair. ‘Your mum always cooks everything in tons of lard.’

‘You can just have the veg, can’t you?’

‘Oh, cheers. I’d rather just be with you anyway, not all your family.’

‘It’s not all my family. It’s just my aunts and uncles. And we don’t have to stay with the olds all afternoon, do we? We can go into town, or across to the island, or something?’

That gave me actual chills, despite the warmth of the restaurant. ‘No, not the island.’

‘We could hire a boat like we used to.’

‘I don’t want to hire a boat like we used to.’

‘All right, all right.’ He threw down his half-eaten teacake and sat back.

‘There’s just no point, is there? There’s nothing to see. Just trees and a few old rocks.’

‘It doesn’t matter, does it? We can just go there for some alone time. We used to spend whole days there when we were kids.’

‘Yeah, well. We’re not kids any more, are we?’ Max’s face was still doing that scrunched-up thing. ‘I’ll come over for lunch soon, I promise.’

‘How about when the new car’s there? That weekend, yeah? Please? I’ll tell Mum to do your potatoes in Fry Light. She won’t mind.’

‘OK. I’ll change my training schedule that weekend.’

His face lightened at once, but I could feel my forearms heating up – my rash was coming on. It was always worse in summer. He reached across the table for my hand and just held on to it for the longest time. As my stress levels dropped, my body cooled, with a comforting sweep of goosebumps.

‘Anyway,’ he said, fiddling with something under the table and pulling out a small turquoise box and a large white envelope. ‘This is for you. Just to say I love you to Pluto and back.’ He handed them to me.

I couldn’t hold back my smile. ‘Not the Moon?’

‘Pluto’s further away, innit?’ He stuffed the second half of his teacake in his mouth and grinned crumbily at me.

I set down the envelope and opened the box. Inside, on a crushed velvet bed, was a silver chain with a solid silver teddy pendant in the middle. ‘Oh, it’s gorgeous.’

‘Cos I gave you a teddy bear on our first date.’ He took the necklace from the box, coming round to my side of the table. The original bear was still on the shelf above my bed – a little koala he’d brought back from Australia after one of his many holidays.

I felt the cold chain graze my neck, and the even colder metal of the teddy bear slide and come to rest at the base of my throat. Max did up the clasp. I looked down to see it and moved the teddy’s little arms and legs. The box said ‘Tiffany’.

‘This looks expensive, Max.’

‘It’s fine.’

‘Your dad gave you a loan, didn’t he?’ I said, unable to mask my disappointment.

‘Well, yeah – but when I start here next month, I can pay him back. It’s cool.’

Max was such a sponger where Neil was concerned. He never had to work for anything. He’d coasted through his GCSEs because Neil said he could just work for him at the garden centre. He was only doing A levels because I nagged him to. My dad said he could be so much more if he ‘applied himself’. The thing was, even when Max didn’t apply himself he got grades most kids would kill for. It was so annoying.