The local one was at a park just outside the city centre so imagine open green spaces and cycle trails and footpaths and woods and a surging river. The entrance was marked by a large iron gate and when Dad dropped me off, the air smelt of freedom. Okay and also hot dogs and smoke and candy-floss if you want me to be accurate about it, but freedom more than anything else.
The fire burned in the middle of the park, orange and red and shimmering yellow. Crowds migrated towards it, moths to a flame, and I was one of them, stretching my wings for the first time in weeks. Lauren was sitting on a bench and I did that thing of sneaking up behind her, jabbing her sides and shouting boo as she swore FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF! just like that at the top of her voice. The word echoed in all the empty space because there was so much of it, a whole universe in fact, ready to be explored. I plonked down next to her and we chatted for ages, eating candyfloss as the fire turned the night golden.
All the sugar made me thirsty so I left Lauren guarding the bench and went in search of water. Women selling t-shirts and others selling jewellery and men flogging toys spread out in stalls on the bank of the river. Water gushed and smoke swirled and vendors called out as I looked for a drinks stand. A man with a beard held out a model of a red Ferrari, aka Dad’s dream car, so I stopped and bought it because he’d been worried about Grandpa.
Handing over some money, I saw The Boy with the Brown Eyes by the glowing edge of the fire. By the way I know full well I could have built up the tension here, especially as we’ve learned how to do that in English using short sentences and pauses and hints to create suspense. The problem is Mr Harris this is real life not fiction so I wanted to reflect how it actually happened. In real life things don’t build up nicely to a climax, in actual fact moments occur out of the blue and there’s no warning, like the time Dad hit a dog.
In a book, no doubt there would have been a couple of near misses to foreshadow the event, and maybe even a bark as Dad sped round the corner to hint to the reader that something bad was about to take place. In real life, Dad was driving back from the supermarket and the sun was shining and Dancing Queen came on the radio as he went over a speed bump that turned out to be an Alsatian. And that’s how it happened at the bonfire. No build up. No warning. One second I was turning away from the stall and the next I was facing him, The Boy with the Brown Eyes. Just like that.
‘Your car.’
‘What?’
The man held out the Ferrari. ‘Your car.’
I shoved it in my front pocket, never taking my eyes off the boy. He was wearing a t-shirt with white writing on the front, staring into the flames and daydreaming about something no doubt important. I pictured a thought-cloud above his brain and me diving headfirst into the middle of it. I forgot about being thirsty. I forgot about Lauren. Pulse racing, I hurried towards the fire, pushing right to the front, squeezing past a dad with a little girl on his shoulders and a woman with a poodle in one of those tartan overcoats.
Sparks flew, burning bits of amber turning black above the flames.
‘Shall I throw him in?’ someone shouted. The crowd cheered. A man held up a model of Guy Fawkes wearing a Halloween mask. His legs were stuffed in black trousers and his arms jutted out of a cardigan. ‘Shall I throw him in?’ the man shouted more loudly. The little girl clapped her hands. Even the poodle wagged its tail.
The Boy with the Brown Eyes yawned and looked away. I shuffled forward to make my presence more obvious as the man grabbed Guy Fawkes by an arm and a leg. He swung the dummy towards the fire. The head skimmed the flames and I winced as the crowd roared.
‘One . . .’ Necks strained to get a better look. ‘Two . . .’ Everyone joined in the count. ‘Three!’ The fire spat. Guy Fawkes flew. And just as the dummy disappeared into the blaze, the boy turned away from the crowd, and looked straight at me.
The words on his t-shirt said Save Guy Fawkes. For five seconds, we stared at each other, and then the boy smiled.
‘Hi.’ That one word sent me soaring. The bonfire vanished. The people too. There was just me and the boy and our eyes shining at the centre of the universe.
‘Nice top,’ I said at last. ‘I feel sorry for Guy Fawkes.’
‘Even though he’s a villain?’
‘Guy Fawkes had his reasons. Maybe they were good ones.’
The boy’s eyes twinkled. ‘Good reasons to do bad things . . . Interesting.’
‘Very interesting.’ That cable between our brains burned red. I blushed and looked away. Somewhere a million miles away, the dummy’s mask melted.
‘Nothing like a good burning to bring people closer together,’ the boy grinned. ‘Maybe we should chuck the poodle in next.’ I laughed as the dog barked, all fierce fluff in tartan. The boy shook his head. ‘Maybe it’s Scottish. If it’s Scottish, I’ll let the owners off. What’s your name?’ he asked suddenly. This time I told him. The two syllables felt new and shiny on my lips. ‘Better than Bird Girl,’ the boy said, ‘which is what I’ve been calling you in my head since the party. Well, that or Mouse Trap.’ My heart skipped a beat. It skipped a thousand beats. He’d been thinking of me too.
‘I’m guessing you’re not The Boy with the Brown Eyes, either.’
‘That’s just my middle name. First name’s Aaron.’
Before I could say anything else, a hand appeared on Aaron’s arm.
‘Hi!’ a girl said. That one word sent me crashing back down to earth. She had long red hair the colour of fire. A black coat the colour of coal. A smile for Aaron that burned in my brain long after it had disappeared.
‘You’re here!’ he said, pulling the girl into a hug. She peered over his shoulder – pale skin with the perfect amount of freckles and a straight nose a plastic surgeon would have been proud of.
‘I really need to talk to you,’ she whispered in his ear, her fingers on the back of his neck.
‘Sure,’ he said, which was the exact opposite of the response I wanted him to give, but I tried my best to smile with that French word nonchalance as he apologised to me and stepped closer to the heat for a private conversation.
I glanced at my watch. Quarter past nine. Forty-five minutes until Mum picked me up.
Forty-four minutes.
Forty-three minu . . .
‘There you are! I thought you’d been murdered or something.’ Lauren appeared at my side, looking grumpy. ‘Where’ve you been?’
Holding out my hands to the fire, I pretended to shiver. ‘Just cold.’
‘You could’ve told me. I’m bloody freezing. And about to die of thirst so I had to give up the bench. I put my bag on it but this old guy hobbled up to me and was like ‘You can’t reserve this seat’ and started going on about his wife needing to rest.’
‘That’s quite sweet.’
‘That’s quite mental. He was on his own so I reckon he’s one of those people who see things that aren’t there. You know like necrophilia or whatever.’
I hid a smile. ‘You mean schizophrenia.’
‘What?’
‘Schizophrenia. Necrophilia is, well, you don’t want to know.’
I stared at Aaron’s back. Forty-one minutes until Mum arrived.
Lauren shook my arm.
‘Come on, then.’
‘Come on what?’
She jiggled on the spot. ‘I’m thirsty.’ Aaron was holding the girl’s hands between his and his eyes were glued to her face.
‘Yeah, okay,’ I said, turning away from the fire, feeling cold in a way that had nothing to do with the disappearing flames.
In the queue Lauren was talking nineteen to the dozen and I’m not entirely sure what that means but Mr Harris if you imagine she had nineteen tongues in her mouth then you’ll sort of get the picture. On and on she went about this boy in the year above, one she kissed at Max’s party, and I was doing my best to concentrate but it was difficult when Aaron was putting his arm round the girl in the distance.
Lauren paid for a bottle of water as a firework zoomed into the
sky. Ooohs from the crowd. Aaahs. Without even thinking about it, I grabbed her arm and we dropped to the ground right there and then to watch the display lying on the grass as the night exploded all around us. I pointed at some blue sparks.
‘They look like tadpoles.’
‘More like sperm,’ Lauren said. We both laughed because it was true, the sparks wiggling through the sky as if they were in a race to fertilise the moon. Lauren mimicked the movement with her hand. ‘Swim spermies.’
A face leaned over us. ‘Nice.’
Blond hair. Brown eyes. Fireworks burst behind his head as my heart erupted in a great flash of red. Aaron.
Lauren put her hand over her eyes. I blinked and looked closer. The boy in the year above held out his hand and pulled Lauren to her feet. I heaved myself off the ground, disappointed.
‘I’ve been looking for you,’ he said. ‘Let’s go for a walk by the river.’
Lauren linked my arm. ‘Only if Zoe can come too.’
‘Don’t worry about me,’ I said, suddenly needing to be alone. More people had joined the fire, but Aaron and the girl had disappeared from view. Lauren examined my expression closely. I made my eyes really big and insistent. ‘Honestly. I’ll be fine. My mum’s coming in ten minutes anyway.’ The boy tugged Lauren’s hand and she kissed my cheek making a squeaking noise in my ear.
The flames were roaring now. Smoke made my eyes water and heat stung my skin. I ended up back at the bench to see the old man talking to thin air. That was sad but only from the outside, I mean he looked happy enough, telling his invisible wife how fireworks are made, going into great detail about how they’re put together to get the different colours, and Mr Harris I wonder if you ever talk to Alice and what you say to her if she does appear in your cell, wafting through the bars and hovering near the light bulb. Maybe you apologise and I hope she says okay because after all it was sort of her fault in the first place.
Families were leaving together and couples were cuddling up by the fire and even the old man had someone to talk to and who cared if it was in his head rather than real. Trudging to the car park, I slumped onto a wall. A clock glowed on a church in the distance and I sighed. After feeling as though I was running out of it, there was now too much time left. Twenty minutes with nothing to do excep—
Voices!
A boy’s. And a girl’s.
Shifting along the wall until I was hidden behind a bush, I watched Aaron walk into the car park followed by the girl with long red hair. My stomach twisted. They were leaving together, walking easily with their arms round each other’s waists. An old blue car with three wheels, a dinted roof and a number plate that said DOR1S was parked underneath a streetlight. I peeped through the leaves. Aaron opened the passenger door and kissed the top of the girl’s head before she climbed in. My stomach twisted tighter, draining any hope right out of it.
Now Mr Harris you’re probably expecting me to kick the bush or burst into tears or run into the car park and cause a scene. Well sorry to disappoint you and all that but my face was completely calm and my body was completely still. The only thing I did was tear a spider web, swiping it in two with the side of my hand. Half of it was left on the wall and half of it dangled from a branch and that was the only evidence in the whole world that something inside me felt broken.
The car windows were steaming up. I didn’t want to think about what was going on inside, I mean we’ve all seen Titanic or maybe you haven’t, so imagine a hand slapping against some glass dripping with breath and sweat and passion. Taking care not to be seen, I climbed off the wall, my back stiff and my legs sore. Everything hurt and the world was cold and even the stars seemed spiteful, sharp bits of white poking out of all the black. As I wandered back to the stalls, my foot rolled on a stone and I went over on my ankle. The noise I made surprised me because my ankle wasn’t even painful.
‘Zoe?’ A figure was moving towards me, away from the fire, a black silhouette against orange. I squinted. Max came into view, a can of beer in his hand. He’d tried to catch my eye a few times since the day of the photo, but I’d ignored him. No chance of that now though. He was standing directly in front of me. ‘You okay?’
‘Yeah. You?’
‘Cold.’
Silence.
I flexed my foot even though there was no pain then racked my brain for something to say.
‘It’s always colder when there are no clouds. Less insulation. Reminds me of sheep.’
Max took a sip from the can. ‘What?’
‘Sheep. You know. When there are clouds it’s like the world’s got fur. It’s warmer and all that. But when the night’s clear it’s like the planet’s been shaved . . .’ I caught sight of Max’s confused expression and shook my head. ‘It’s stupid.’
He took another swig. ‘No, it’s not.’
Silence again. A firework burst into stars above our heads. We both stared at them for too long, and then at each other, and then at the ground. Max cleared his throat.
‘I am sorry, you know,’ he said, kicking a stone between his feet. The sincerity in his voice surprised me. ‘It was totally out of order.’
‘Yeah, it was.’
He booted the stone away and crossed his arms. ‘I deleted the picture. Wasn’t easy though . . .’
‘Forget the buttons?’
That made him smile. Crooked. Off kilter. ‘No, actually. It wasn’t easy because you looked good.’
‘Really?’ I replied, doing my best to sound indifferent. ‘That’s not what you said before.’
‘The Mighty Max Morgan lied before.’ I grinned reluctantly as his eyes flicked to my chest. ‘Honestly, you looked . . .’
‘Drunk,’ I finished, my heart beating faster. ‘Really drunk. I was almost sick on your carpet.’
‘I was sick on my carpet,’ Max said. ‘When you left, I threw up near the rug. Unless it was yours . . .’
‘No chance!’ I exclaimed.
Max waggled his finger in my face. ‘I think you’re lying.’
‘Think what you like,’ I replied, and it was remarkable, I mean who knew that vomit could be flirtatious.
The stars seemed kinder. Softer. More golden than white and the black sky sort of blue. Max took one last drink then threw the beer can into a bin. He leaned against it, his legs outstretched and crossed at the ankles. The laces of his trainers trailed in the mud.
‘So, are you still in a mood with me?’ he asked after a pause. A rocket shot into the sky. We both glanced at the silver sparks. And then at each other. And this time we didn’t look away.
‘Of course,’ I said. ‘You were an idiot.’
‘An idiot who you kissed first.’
‘An idiot who took advantage of me when I was drunk,’ I replied, but I took a step forward.
Max put his hand on his heart. ‘It won’t happen again. Honest. Next time you’re topless I swear I won’t—’
‘Next time?!’ I exclaimed, moving even closer. ‘How do you know there’ll be a next time?’
‘Just a feeling,’ Max whispered, and he pulled me between his legs and kissed me hard.
Not hard enough. I put my hand on the back of his head and forced our mouths closer, and I thought for some unknown reason of glass dripping with breath and sweat and passion. Max pushed his hands inside my top, over my hips and onto my back, his fingers cold against my spine. I flicked my tongue against his, pushing myself closer, his leg disappearing between both of mine. The friction there felt good and my back arched in a way it never had before, sort of like a cat’s. A mouth moved from my lips to my cheek to my neck, and fingers crept up my ribs to the bottom of my bra. Inside my bra. I gasped as strong hands squeezed, my head falling back and my eyes opening to see a firework explode in the sky. My body was tingling and my blood was throbbing but Mum was on her way so I forced myself to twist free.
‘Not here.’ It came out in a pant. Max dragged me towards an empty children’s play area. I dug my heels into the grass. ‘Not tonight. My
mum’s probably waiting in the car park.’
‘Tomorrow then?’ he asked. I hesitated because I knew I’d never be allowed. ‘Or the next day?’ He actually sounded nervous. Max Morgan. Nervous because of me. Lauren would never believe it.
I lifted one shoulder, unable to resist. ‘Yeah, why not?’ He kissed me again, softer this time, but I pulled away. ‘I’m going to be late.’ Max groaned but took my hand. An image of Mum behind the steering wheel flashed into my mind. ‘Don’t worry about walking me to the car park or anything. Honestly.’
‘It’s okay. I’m leaving anyway.’
I dropped his hand. ‘You go first, then. My mum’s a bit—’
‘Moody? Must run in the family.’ Max smirked as I elbowed him in the ribs. We walked part of the way then stopped behind a tree. Max glanced into the car park. ‘If you don’t hear from me tomorrow, call an ambulance. My brother’s giving me a lift home. Only passed his test a couple of weeks ago. First time, obviously. Don’t think he’s ever failed anything in his life. Doesn’t mean he’s a good driver though. Seriously, tell your mum to be careful.’
I smiled as he ran off, jogging past Mum’s mini, ignoring a jeep, and hurrying straight to the car parked underneath the streetlight.
An old blue car with steamy windows.
I leaned closer, my heart stopping as Max pulled open the back door and climbed into the seat behind Aaron.
Now Mr Harris there is this word called flabbergasted and it’s the only way to describe how I felt as I hurried to Mum’s car. My flabber was still pretty much gasted when I got home and made a cup of tea far too strong because I kept dunking the bag and dunking the bag, trying to get my head round it all. Brothers. Brothers. Maybe I should have seen it coming. There were slight similarities between them and Aaron had been at Max’s party even though he was a couple of years older than the rest of us. But still. It wasn’t a lot to go on.
Steam rose from my cup as I sat on the lounge carpet and sipped tea, wondering if the brothers were close and if they were chatting in the kitchen right at that moment, making a sandwich or something. I tried to work out if they’d have the same filling or different ones, like would Max choose ham and would Aaron opt for cheese and would the girl with long red hair go for tuna that would made her breath stink of fish. I’d have given a lot to be a fly on the wall to find out the answer.