Jenny Downham - You Against Me

‘You tell me a secret now,’ he said.

‘OK.’ She leaned in close. ‘Here’s my secret. I’m hopeless at cooking, I can’t even make cakes from packets, or follow recipes or anything, but’ – and here she moved closer, her breath hot in his ear – ‘I think boys who cook are very sexy, and, one day, I’d like you to show me how you do it.’

He laughed out loud. ‘That’s a promise.’

It was weird. At the pub she’d seemed frightened, as if she was worried he hadn’t wanted to see her. But out here, it was like she was running the show. She was totally flirting with him, it was great. It was obvious she wanted something to happen between them. It gave him confidence.

‘So what else do you find sexy, then?’

‘Easy.’ She held out a hand to count on her fingers. ‘Boys who play guitar, boys who make me laugh, boys who have a nice smile and boys who never lie.’

Shit! That was a lot to live up to, especially the no-lying bit.

‘Can you play guitar?’ she said.

‘No, but I had a drumming lesson once.’

She rolled her eyes as if that was a total let-down. Well, maybe he should try and be funny then.

‘I’ll tell you my little sister’s favourite joke,’ he said.

‘Go on then.’

‘OK, what do you call a sheep with no legs?’

She wrinkled her nose to think about it. He liked that. She had a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose that he’d never noticed before.

‘I give up.’

‘A cloud.’

She groaned, rather than laughed. But she leaned in to him to do it, and her hair brushed his face. He kissed the top of her head, suddenly, out of the blue. He hadn’t meant to, it just happened – right there on a bench outside the pub. And although a faraway part of him knew it was a bad idea, there was a much closer, bigger part of him that wasn’t going to stop. Not while she didn’t move away, not while his kisses climbed down her hair to her neck and one of his hands crept inside her coat to pull her closer.

‘You’re beautiful,’ he whispered.

She went very still, then slowly pulled away. She looked startled. He felt a bit surprised too – as if he’d said he loved her, which he never had to any girl. It was one of his rules.

Her eyes flickered. ‘Beautiful?’

‘Totally.’

‘What about my scar?’

‘I like it.’

She looked down at herself. ‘What about my legs? I’ve got horrible legs.’

‘No, you’ve got beautiful legs.’ To prove it he got off the bench and inspected both ankles, cupping each foot in turn.

‘My shoes might be dirty.’

She was wearing her school skirt and tights, like before. It filled him with longing and fear to be down there, close to her feet, close to her ankles, her knees, her thighs.

She took a handful of his jacket and pulled it gently, so he had to look up.

‘Maybe you should come and sit back down?’

But he couldn’t move. He was an animal, wild and hungry. He let his tongue hang out, did that panting thing dogs did, hoping for a smile. He rubbed his head against her thigh like he wanted stroking.

But she didn’t stroke him. In fact, she went a bit quiet and moved along the bench and looked at her mobile.

‘Don’t you need to go soon?’ she said. ‘Won’t you get sacked or something?’

It was very complicated, the way she went from flirting to cool, but he knew she liked him, however much she was avoiding it now.

‘I want to see you again,’ he said. ‘Will you meet me after my shift? I finish at ten.’

‘I’m busy tonight.’

Of course, she was only sixteen and it was a weekday evening – what was he thinking?

‘I get a half-day on Saturday,’ he said. ‘I’ll meet you in the afternoon, we’ll do something.’

She stood up, made a big show of adjusting her bag on her shoulder, then folded her arms at him. ‘What will we do?’

He should’ve thought before he opened his big mouth. It had to be quality with a girl like her. Not a pub or a club, but somewhere amazing – hot-air ballooning, or a trip in a space ship. It also had to be somewhere far away from everywhere.

‘I know. I’ll borrow my mate’s car and we’ll do that wild swim thing. You remember telling me about some place where the waves are really massive?’

She frowned at him, like that was the worst idea in the world. But he was burning with it. It was what he wanted to do more than anything else. Just for a bit. For a day. A half-day. An hour. To be alone with her.

Seconds went past. Ellie chewed her lip and stared down at the beach. The bloke with the dog was still there and the dog was yapping because the bloke was holding a ball a fraction out of its reach. Ellie watched them. Out of the corner of his eye, Mikey watched her.

This was deep for her. She was only in Year Eleven and he was two years older and knew stuff about the world. It was his job to make her feel OK.

‘Nothing can happen unless you want it to,’ he said.

Which wasn’t strictly true – just look at Karyn. But it would be true for Ellie. Eventually she’d give stuff away about her brother, and he wasn’t going to hurt her while he looked for it. They’d hang out, kiss some more. No harm done.

‘Ellie, come out with me, come on. What are you scared of?’

‘Not of you.’ She whipped round, her eyes shining. ‘All right, let’s do it then.’

It was like she was accepting a dare.

All sensible websites suggest that you meet a potentially dangerous stranger in a crowded place, and that you tell a family member or a friend what you are doing. And here Ellie was, Saturday lunchtime, about to break the rules. In less than two hours, Mikey McKenzie would arrive at her house, and no one knew he was coming and no one but her would be in.

RSN, he texted.

He was right, it was going to be real soon now .

Ellie threw the phone onto her bed as if it was hot, then opened her bedroom window and looked out at the storm, at the dark clouds and fat splashing rain. She leaned on her elbows and watched. A cat dived for cover, cracks in the lawn sucked water into their grooves and all the trees sighed.

She gave revising a try, lay on her bed with geography books and tried to care about the movement of people from rural to urban areas following the industrial revolution. But thinking of big stuff made her feel small, and when she felt small, she stopped caring about revising and GCSEs and what happened next. It was easy to break any taboo when nothing mattered, so she picked up her phone and texted, TAU . It was true, she was thinking about him. He was pretty much all she’d been thinking about since Monday at the harbour.

His text came whizzing back: XOXOXO.

A series of hugs and kisses.

She needed food. Diets didn’t count in a crisis.

Her parents were sitting holding hands at the kitchen table. Cups of coffee and empty plates in front of them. They looked up and smiled as she walked in. It was lovely, like a normal family again.

‘Hungry?’ Mum said, pushing her chair back. ‘I’ve just made your dad a bacon butty. Want me to make you something?’

‘No thanks.’

Ellie knew what she wanted – one of Tom’s double chocolate muffins, kept in the bread bin and not to be eaten by anyone but him.

She ignored her mum’s frown as she helped herself and sat down to unwrap it. ‘You guys still going out?’

Her father nodded absently. ‘As soon as this rain eases up.’

They all looked out of the window, at the garden sinking under the weight of water. And that was it. Extent of conversation. Ellie’s journey down the stairs and into the kitchen had lightened the mood for a nanosecond. It was weird how there was nothing left to say or do that didn’t relate to Tom. They fell back into grief so easily.