I roll my eyes. Holy fuck, I’ve turned into such a sap for that boy.
I just…like him, that’s all. And I suspect (more than suspect maybe?) that he likes me, but there’s so many bloody roadblocks I don’t know how to get over. Roadblocks like him hugging me but then backing off half a mile after we race across that “this is definitely far more than a friendly hug” line…roadblocks like him saying I should come to the prom, because it’ll be so much more fun if I’m there, and then him asking a girl he’s hardly ever spoken to to be his date at the last minute…
Why the fuck am I doing this to myself?
Yeah, alright, I know why. It’s not bloody rocket science, is it?
I turn and stare down the drive as the minibus chugs past again, back the way it came… And, as if he always knows where I am in space, Tommy in his perfect electric-blue suit turns and stares right back at me.
Before he even lifts his hand and waves, I’m jogging towards him. I’m not even thinking about it. The setting sun makes his light brown hair look honey blond, the strands shot with gold. Mum called him a stocky, square-jawed white boy the one time I showed her a picture on my phone. She said he looked like a jock and I should be careful around boys like that. And I don’t disagree, I should be careful, but I wanted her to see past the way he looks. I wanted her to see he’s so much more than that. He’s kind and easy to tease but hard to piss off, and he always seems so very pleased to see me. Maybe that’s the most important thing. I don’t know.
“Wow,” Tommy mouths as I slow to a walk.
Still catching my breath, I raise an eyebrow. “Wow because my suit matches my hair? Or wow because it’s the first time you’ve seen me running?” I flash him my biggest grin.
Tommy laughs softly and looks down.
If he was like this with anyone else, it’d be far easier to dismiss my bloody conviction that he likes me. But he’s not. Not that I’ve noticed anyway. And believe me, I notice a lot. Too much probably.
I step closer, reach out to rub the silky fabric of his lapel between my fingertips. “I didn’t even know that bright a blue was even possible. You look like you’re wearing a bit of tropical sky or something. It suits you, you know. Matches your eyes. Makes you look brighter than anything else around.”
His blue eyes meet mine, his expression full of that funny hopeful earnestness he gets sometimes. “Does it?”
My stomach tightens. He’s close enough to kiss me, but of course he doesn’t. And there’s no way I’m going to be the one to kiss him. Tommy needs to make the first move, since he’s the one so full of uncertainty.
Gravel crunches, and, sensing someone else approaching, I quickly step back.
Javid comes to stand beside Tommy, rocking back and forth on his heels.
“Kim Soon!” he says loudly. It makes me smile the way he says my name with such enthusiasm. “You get dropped off at the end of the drive too? Reg almost dropped us off back there, didn’t he, Tommy? But we convinced him it’d mess up our suits.”
I just nod. It’s easier than explaining. I mean, what can I say? Who the fuck is around to drop me off anywhere? Since they took Mum into hospital, it’s not like there’s anyone at home to give a fuck about me anymore. And, last time I checked, buses don’t have stops at posh golf clubs. Not that I have any money for the bus. Charity shop suits aren’t free, even the ones that should be because they smell funny, like they went off years ago.
Tommy glances at my soaked, grass-covered Converse, the hard-to-miss mud that’s dirtying the hem of my trousers, clues that I might have tramped across a field or two, but he doesn’t say anything. Sometimes I pretend he knows everything about me, like he can just work it out. But to be honest that would make him cruel, and he’s not. Not a single bone in his damn perfect body.
We smile at one another, Tommy and I—the sort of smile I don’t need to remind my face how to do. The sort of smile I can’t help. Then Javid tips his head back at the sky and laughs at nothing in particular, and I smile at him too. I like Javid—he’s sweet and full of nervous energy, and cuter than most people seem to recognise with his spiky black hair and dimples. Tommy acts like his protective older brother even though Javid’s nearly nineteen and Tommy’s not even eighteen yet. Sometimes I tell myself that’s all Tommy’s doing with me too, being brotherly. But I don’t think he breathes in Javid’s hair when he’s hugging him. I don’t think he gets a hard-on when they’re leaning against one another watching some stupid film. Well, I kind of hope he doesn’t. Those are the small things that make my days worth struggling through. I don’t want to share them.
An elbow jabs into my ribs, and I stumble forwards. Great, here we go.
“Bad pink hair, bad pink suit—didn’t know it was fancy dress, Kim-ball,” a voice hisses in my ear. Ged.
I spin out of his reach, then turn, grinning and making a show of looking him up and down. “No? But your dick egg costume is superb! You’re definitely onto a winner with that one. Or maybe you’ll get the ‘looks most like a cock’ award.”
Before he can reply, or hit me, I grab both Tommy’s and Javid’s arms and pull them towards the entrance, mainly because Tommy had a look on his face that said he was about to step in to stick up for me. And although that sort of protectiveness sparks a fire inside me, I can handle Ged Free any day of the week. Besides, Ged would probably punch Tommy and, despite being slow to anger, Tommy would probably punch him back and then the lot of us would be sent home, and I really do want a drink right now.
We stumble into the golf club’s posh foyer, all decked out in tasteful silvers and greens like a snowy winter forest, and packed wall to wall with kids looking completely different now they’ve dressed up. Everyone looks happy for once, and I can’t help laughing. I’ve no idea exactly why I’m laughing, but joy is always a welcome feeling, and it feels far too good to stop. I glance over at Javid and Tommy and, because laughter is a contagious disease, they start laughing too.
Mr Decker narrows his eyes and sighs tensely as we queue up to sign in at the desk. “Any trouble and your night is over. Understand?” He looks pointedly at me, then Tommy and Javid.
Everyone knows he thinks kids who get free tickets to stuff are the ones who cause the most trouble. He thinks we’re free riders, taking advantage of the system or something ridiculous. I fucking wish.
Tommy stops laughing and nods. “We understand.” He knows Decker can cause trouble for kids like us.
“Both of you are going to light up the fucking room in those suits,” I say as we walk over to the double doors after scribbling our signatures next to our names. Heavy bass vibrates through the soles of my shoes, and I let the feeling light me up. Dancing is one of the few things that makes me feel free. That and being down at the skatepark watching all the boys and girls exploring the limits of their bodies, wondering what it’d be like if I could ever afford a bike or a board of my own.
Watching Tommy fly down the ramps on his bike, like the thing is somehow a part of him, makes me think he’s tapping into some elemental force, some onward current, something I want to show him dancing can feel like too, if he lets it.