Just a dumb fuck

Just a commodity

When we got back to Nathan’s bedroom he just slipped on his jeans and T shirt. It took me a little longer to dry off and dress but after a few minutes I was ready.

“I’ve got a better idea than playing Grand Theft Auto on the console, you can have a go in Lemon Steroids instead.”

“Nat? I don’t have a licence. I’m not old enough.”

“You don’t need one, Boots. We’ll just stay on the property. You can drive down to the gates and back a few times, get a feel for a real car. You’ve driven a Hummer, now you can try a Mustang. We’ll only go slowly. Come on.”

Nathan led the way downstairs and out to the front of the house where Lemon Steroids was still sprawled across the turning circle where Nathan had left her a few hours before. Cars are female, like ships, aren’t they? They have to be, they’re high maintenance, very temperamental and cost a fortune to run.

Nathan threw me the keys as I walked towards the driver’s door, then I realised my mistake and walked further round to the real driver’s door on the other side and climbed into the seat. It’s got those big, wrap-around seats in black and red leather that are meant to hold you in position as you pull 3g in a handbrake turn. Not that I am going to be doing a handbrake turn. I’m going to be nursing this thing. I don’t want to do any damage to Nat’s car. I know he lets Kyle drive it, and I think even Will and Travis have had a go with it in the car lot at college, but this is my first time in a powerful road car.

“Start her up, Boots,” said Nathan as he buckled in. “Keep the shift in ‘Park’ and your foot on the brake, then press ‘Start’. Got that?”

“Got that, Nathan.”

I checked the gear selector. It said ‘Park.’ I pressed the brake in. It’s a huge pedal. That could come in useful. Easy to find in an emergency. The screen on the dash is changing from ‘Press Brake’ to ‘Start’. I pressed ‘Start.’

The engine roared into life and then I can hear the sound of giggling. It took me a moment to realise that I was the one giggling. Nathan was smiling. I think he must have seen that reaction before. “Okay, Boots, keep your foot on the brake and then gently select ‘Drive’ on the gear selector. It’s just like the Hummer.”

I’m concentrating hard. This is an expensive car. Very powerful too. I don’t want to lurch off and smash it straight into the house. Just gently into ‘Drive’. There, that’s done it.

“Okay, now just gently ease off the brake and swap to the accelerator. A tiny bit of power and off we go.”

I let the brake pedal up, ever so gently, and just touched, oh so lightly, the accelerator. The engine purred just a fraction louder and we began to move off. Nice and slowly. I’m sure I can feel sweat starting to form on my brow. I started to turn the wheel a little, piloting that vast expanse of bonnet round the turning circle, swinging us round back to face the driveway down to the gates. Nathan is smirking at me. What the fuck am I doing wrong? Do I need to hit the brakes again? Am I about to crash?

“You’ve got another nine gears on top of that one, Boots. Try using a few of them.”

Smart arse! I’m just taking this gently. I don’t want to crash it. It’s easier in Grand Theft Auto. After crashing you just re-set and get another car. I’ve done it loads of times.

“Just gently on the accelerator Boots, we’ll go faster…”

Nathan’s not helping here. I know we’ll go faster if I accelerate. That’s what I’m scared of! What if I get it wrong and spin the wheels? Throw up loads of gravel and break every window in the house? Then launch Lemon Steroids into the river when the wheels grab and throw us forward.

I gently pressed the accelerator. There was a barely perceptible twitch in the car, a slight change of engine note. I think we’ve just moved up to second gear. Nearly three miles per hour. I’ve got this.

“Another gear, perhaps?”

I accelerated a little more. The engine got louder. The rev counter flickered. We’re easing out of the turning circle onto the driveway. Leaving the gravel, catching tarmac. Gently does it. Phew, no grab. A bit more power. Another gear change. A bit more power. The car’s going faster now. Almost ten miles an hour. The screen says we’re in fourth gear. At least, I think it does. Assuming that’s what those little symbols mean. We’re cruising down to the gatehouse at ten miles per hour.  

“More power, Igor!” laughed Nathan, “There’s another four hundred fifty-nine horses under that lid you can harness up alongside the one you’re using.”

I pressed the accelerator, a bit more vigorously this time, and we surged forward. Not stupidly fast, and quite smooth to be fair. It’s got a good gearbox. We’re now just over thirty miles an hour. I lifted my foot off the accelerator, let the car coast a moment, gently swapped my foot across to the brake pedal and slowed us down as we reached the gatehouse, eased the car around to face back up the drive. I put it in ‘Park’ and smiled.

“Wow, Nat, she’s good.”

“She’s better still if you give her a bit more throttle. But for a first go, that was good. Nice and safe. Let’s go back up, but this time keep your foot on the power and gradually increase it as we get moving. Don’t ease off until we’re about two hundred yards from the house. I’ll call out when to brake if you like.”

I nodded. Started through my checklist. Foot on the brake, gently into ‘Drive’, start to apply the throttle, keep on going, keep on, don’t worry about the speed, just keep on accelerating. I watched as the screen began to flick through the gears, the rev counter flickering at every change, the speedometer climbing. We’re accelerating forward, quite smoothly, accelerating up the slight incline towards the house. The steering is very light and precise. We’re almost at sixty miles per hour and it took no effort to get here.

“Very gently, Boots, Brake,” called out Nathan.

I’m going to do this right. Not slam the brakes on and catapult us out of the windscreen. Just ease off the accelerator, switch my foot to the brake pedal, gently press. That’s good. The revs are falling away. The engine is quietening down. Speed is dropping. We’re onto the gravel circle now. No flying stones. Creeping to a halt. Into ‘Park’. Handbrake on.

“That was good, Boots, really good. You’ll be out-driving my gran in an hour or two.”

I burst out laughing, and Nathan joined in.

“At least your car is still in one piece and rubber side down, Nat.”

Nathan got me to drive up and down loads more times, each time a little faster. I was never in any danger of going supersonic, or testing the nought to sixty speed of three and half seconds, but I can say I have driven a Mustang. For real. That’s going to be worth mega bragging rights back home. When we had done, maybe after an hour of driving, I parked it neatly outside the house, facing the driveway, and handed the keys back to Nat. Yes, that’s an awesome car.

We made our way back upstairs and Nathan followed me to the end of the corridor, in to my room. As we chatted, I took a clean white shirt from my bag and then remembered I’d left my jacket in Nathan’s room and asked if I could go and get it.

“Sure,” he said, “Follow me.” Then, after a pause, “Let me check something.” He guided me back to his bedroom and then vanished off out into the corridor from where I heard him going down the big ornate staircase as I made my way back to my room with my jacket. He re-appeared in my doorway about ten minutes later as I was sat on the bed polishing my shoes before getting changed.

“Change of plan, Boots. We’re going formal. I’m guessing you didn’t bring your tuxedo?”

Tuxedo? Does he mean dinner jacket? Whatever he means, I didn’t bring it. I don’t have one. What would I need a dinner jacket for? He didn’t wait for an answer.

“Back with me, Boots, come on, keep up.”

I followed him back to his bedroom. Nathan walked to one of the built-in wardrobes and opened it, searched through several racks of clothes hanging in it and then pulled out three different dinner jackets. “Here, try this one, Boots. You’re about the same size as me, it should fit. It’s my lighter weight tux for Florida, but it’ll be okay here, we’re not into winter yet.”

I took the dinner jacket - tuxedo - from him and held it up, looking at it. He has three tuxedos? I don’t have even one.

“Come on, try it on, make sure it fits. I’ll look stupid if it doesn’t, given that I’ve just persuaded mom we should go formal. And try this shirt as well to go with it, it’s got silk trim.”

I’d just taken off my shirt and trousers to try on the tuxedo and so was standing there just wearing my black trunks when the door opened and Elizabeth wandered in. Hasn’t she heard of knocking?

“Not disturbing anything, am I, darling brother? Or are you two about to take your dick waving contest to a whole new level?”

Nathan didn’t seem the least bit bothered. She’s bloody disturbing me though. I grabbed the trousers from the hanger and started to put them on, struggling not to overbalance and fall flat on my face, as she sat down on the sofa beside Nathan like she’s at some fashion show.

“Nearly as hot as your friend Kyle, and nice muscles. You certainly know how to select the best eye candy, little brother. Dressing him up too. So adorable, your little games. Shall I go and get my make-up and we can paint him together?”

Nathan’s just smirking at her. “Haven’t you got something else to do, big sister? Potions to stir, or children to bake?”

“Oh, I’m fresh out of kittens to drown, little brother, and this is so much more entertaining. Still, you may have made a mistake with this one. He seems to prefer girls, and plenty of them at that. Isn’t that so, Craig?”

I had been trying to ignore her. She’s a girl, and older than me.  Maybe even twenty, she’s at university isn’t she? Bloody beautiful. Nathan’s sister. And I’m a guest here. So, I shouldn’t be saying what’s on my mind. I can’t ignore her now she’s talking directly to me. I haven’t got a clue what to say though. Not politely. Lots of my friends have big sisters, and they all seem to be a complete pain in the arse. It must be part of the job specification for being a big sister. Elizabeth really does take it to extremes though. Was that dig aimed at Kyle? What the fuck am I going to say?

“I’m not so sure now. I’m starting to see advantages in turning gay. I’d get less hassle from Kyle than I do from you for a start.”

I know I just said that. I heard myself say it. It’s probably even true. But it just kind of made its way from my brain to my tongue and escaped into the wild without checking in with me first.

Nathan burst out laughing, poked his sister on the end of her nose, gave her his cat face. “You deserved that, darling sister.” Elizabeth’s laughing with him. Started singing. That bloody song again. They’re both at it. Both on their feet now, prowling round each other again.

“We should have each other to dinner, We should have each other with cream...”

“How could we miss, Someone as dumb as this?”

I just stood there feeling like a lemon as they prowled and sang until Elizabeth straightened up, smiled at me and said, “Well, I’d better go and get changed too. I’ll see you later, gayboy.”

As she left the room Nathan was still laughing. “Don’t take her to heart, Boots, she’s just trying to wind you up.”

“She’s bloody well succeeding, Nat. I know she’s your sister, but there are limits…”

“I know, Boots. Still, you hit upon the solution. Turn gay. She’ll stop flirting with you then, she did with Kyle. I’d probably start instead though.”

I burst out laughing. Like as if Nat is going to start flirting with me. He’s the straightest guy I know. He has to be, the way him and Riley shave each other down. It’s not as if I’d mind if he was gay. It would actually be hot if there was a chance I could get him as a boyfriend. He’s just like his sister, winding me up. Two can play at that game.

“Yeah, don’t let that kiss in the gym get to your head Nat, it meant nothing.”

I turned to face the mirror as Nathan carried on chuckling and grabbed his own tuxedo to change into. The tuxedo looks good on me. It doesn’t quite fit, I’m a touch more muscled than Nat because of all my boxing and weight training, so it’s tight in places. The right places. Just like it should be if it was expensively tailored to hug my physique. I can see why James Bond always wears one. They do look good.

Now dressed too, Nathan was rummaging around in one of the drawers in his sideboard. He pulled out two bow ties. The proper sort, that you have to tie yourself. I haven’t a clue how to do one of those. It’s not like tying a normal tie, I do know that much. I’ve seen my dad tie his when he has a formal mess dinner. It’s definitely frowned on at those to wear a clip-on bow tie. I’ve always meant to ask him to teach me how to tie one, but I’ve never actually had reason to. I bloody well wish I had now.

I watched as Nathan expertly tied his tie, way too fast for me to take in and copy.

“Nat…?”

“No problem, Boots. Just stand still in front of the mirror.”

Nat stepped behind me, the tie in his hands, flipped my collar up and placed it around my neck. He took the ends of the tie and folded them over, lapped one end around, twisted it, pulled it out a little and then looped it before threading the loose end through the loop he’d just made. I could feel his breath on the back of my neck, his chest against my back. Just like when he was showing me how to adjust my stance to play golf this morning. How to ‘address the ball’ as he called it. Freakin’ hell, my balls need addressing now. Nathan pulled the ends of the tie and suddenly it was done. All neat and Bristol.

“Thanks, Nat,” I said. “Obviously, I know how to tie a tie myself, but it’s just a ploy, you know, the only way a gay boy like me can get a straight boy like you to put his arms around me like that.”

“Obviously…” chuckled Nat. “Come on, let’s go see if my Evil Sister and the Wicked Witch are ready yet.”

* * *

We all gathered in the reception area at the foot of the ornate staircase as the limousine swept up the drive from the gatehouse to collect us. Me and Nathan were in tuxedos and Elizabeth and Mrs Bauer were in very elegant, long evening gowns. We walked down the steps outside the house to the turning circle as the car drew to a halt. It was a big limousine, the sort where there is a glass privacy screen behind the driver and two sets of seats in the rear, facing each other. Mrs Bauer and Elizabeth sat in the forward-facing seats and me and Nathan had the jump seats. It had proper suicide doors too.

The journey to the gallery took about forty–five minutes and on the way I learned a little about the pre-Raphaelite exhibition from Mrs Bauer. She’s a trustee of the gallery and had actually sponsored the opening night personally. She’s going to make a short speech to welcome everybody and declare the exhibition open, then there’s going to be a few other speeches after which the invited guests can wander round the gallery and see everything before it opens to the public tomorrow. There will be music and some food of course. Apparently, everyone who is anyone this end of Pennsylvania will be attending.

The main problem is that me and Nathan are in the wrong seats for when we arrive. I’m sat facing Mrs Bauer, and he’s sat facing Elizabeth. When we arrive it’s going to be awkward. Nathan should be on this side of the car so, as we draw up, they can step out together and he can escort her inside. Obviously, I’ll be at the other side of the car to escort Elizabeth. That’s the proper protocol when her husband is absent. Eldest son deputises. Everybody knows that, even in America. We can swap over before we get there, even without stopping. It’s a huge car, me and Nathan can swap positions easily.

“Nathan, we need to swap places. Get in the right order for when we arrive.”

“Why, Boots?”

What does he mean, “Why?” He bloody well knows why. He must do. He’s got a dinner jacket. Three of them. He can tie a bow tie. He must know about formal stuff. He’s the Governor’s son. He must have been to events like this loads of times.

“So you can escort your mom inside, and I can escort Elizabeth in.”

All three of them are looking at me. Smiling at each other.

“You’re my escort tonight, Craig,” said Mrs Bauer. “You’ll do perfectly well at it, far better than Nathan in fact. It’s just a shame you’re not wearing your Royal Marines Cadet uniform. You do look extremely smart in that.”

I know I’ll do well, but that’s not the point, is it? It’s Nathan’s duty to escort his mom when his dad isn’t around. It’s not a question of who’s best, just what’s right. That’s what protocol is all about. I don’t actually have any objection to escorting Mrs Bauer, in fact it might be nicer than escorting Elizabeth given how mean she’s being to me, but that isn’t what it’s all about.

“But Mrs Bauer, er, Angela, it should be Nathan who escorts you.”

She smiled. “We’re not so formal over here in America, Craig, and besides, just think of the scandal. All those newspaper pictures in the Pittsburgh Press in the morning showing me arriving on the arm of a hunky teenage boxer. People will be talking about it for days. It could double the attendance at the exhibition.”

I could feel my face glowing bright red. Newspaper pictures? Scandal? She’s just joking, right? I’m meant to be keeping a low profile.

“That’s the first time I’ve seen you lost for words, Boots,” laughed Nathan.

* * *

It looked as if all the other invitees had arrived and were waiting when our car swept up Forbes Avenue and turned in towards the gallery’s main entrance. A small crowd was gathered outside and a red carpet led in through the foyer to where a welcoming committee was assembled.  As our car slowed to a halt I glanced across the grass lawn at the centre of the turning circle. There was stack of chromed tubes and pipes and cables. It had to be modern art. If it was just scaffolding somebody would have taken it down and hidden it away for tonight.

I had my door open the instant the car halted, slipped out and was opening the rear door long before the chauffeur even had his seat belt unbuckled. I held out my arm to Mrs Bauer and she swung out of the car very gracefully and stood up beside me. Nathan and Elizabeth were just opening their doors, Nathan very properly offering his arm to Elizabeth. Not bad, but a bit slow there, baby big cheese.

Mrs Bauer and I turned and made our way towards the entrance, passing between the people lining the sides of the red carpet nice and slowly so Nathan and Elizabeth could fall in easily behind us. It also allowed the photographers to get plenty of pictures of Mrs Bauer and Elizabeth smiling and nodding to people in the line-up. I don’t think they knew all of them, but it looked as if they did.

The doors were opened automatically as we approached and several important looking people were waiting just inside to greet us. There was even a tv camera crew off to one side, but being fairly discreet. I led Mrs Bauer up to the welcoming committee – she clearly knew every one of them – and stayed by her side as she shook hands and chatted briefly with each before we reached the Gallery Director (he had a badge on, presumably in case anyone thought he was the janitor) at the end of the welcoming line. He should actually have been the first person we met. Behind us, Nathan and Elizabeth were making their way down the same line, with all the attention being on Elizabeth of course. She looked stunning. Nathan was trying not to look bored I think, but smiling and nodding and shaking a few hands. As we followed the Director through to some kind of big auditorium where lots of people were seated at tables in front of a raised stage, a bit like at the Oscar ceremonies I’ve seen on tv, I couldn’t help but quietly hum the ‘James Bond’ theme tune to myself.

We were guided to the main table right at the front and I quickly pulled back a chair for Mrs Bauer, then eased it in for her before sitting down myself just after Elizabeth sat down in the chair Nathan held for her. They are behaving impeccably here. No cutting remarks, no scathing comments, just smiles and wholesome family love all round. Is this the act, or was it all an act back at their house? Why? I could do without those photographers that keep popping up and zapping away with their ten zillion lumen flashguns. Okay, so I know it’s not me they’re interested in, the lenses are definitely pointed at Mrs Bauer and Elizabeth, but I’m going to be in the edge of the picture too.

I sat and smiled politely as waiters swarmed over us, bringing champagne and hors d’oevres to our table. I’m sticking with orange juice. Nathan has orange juice. It wouldn’t do to push our luck tonight. Elizabeth is having a glass of champagne but then maybe she is old enough to drink. Everyone else had got plenty already, presumably served earlier to keep them occupied until Mrs Bauer’s arrival. It makes the place have the feel of an airliner. Keep the plebian hordes busy with panem et cirences? If it was the Queen here, nobody would get a thing until she was seated. They just aren’t important enough to matter. Protocol demands the plebs starve until the Queen is present, and if any of them whine about it well, that’s what the Tower of London and that big chopping axe are for isn’t it? Bread roll or head roll.

Nathan’s nodding to me, trying to direct my attention to a table towards the edge of the room. The Commandant’s there, along with Jackson. Quite a few of the other Cadet Officers too. All in suits. Lounge suits, not dinner suits, but bloody smart all the same. I guess this is one of the social events of the year here in Pittsburgh. The place to be seen. Kyle’s not there, which he ought to have been, but then I realised that with Nathan away for the weekend, he’d stayed back in the dorm to keep the rats under control. Actually, they’ll be having it easy tonight with Nathan away. They probably had a good time this morning on military training, then working on Kyle’s truck in Car Club this afternoon might have given them an excuse to pop into town to collect a new nut and bolt or something from Mr Miller’s store. Right now they’ll be going to dinner and the preparing for some time gaming or watching a film. Wait up! That looks like the back of Noah’s head, sandwiched there at the end of the table between Cole and, er, maybe Connor? Noah wouldn’t be here, would he? Not with the Cadet Officers. Everybody else on the table is an Officer. Turn around, numbnuts, so I can see your face…

After a minute or two, the Gallery Director appeared on stage and the room fell quiet as he welcomed everyone and then made a very effusive speech inviting Mrs Bauer up on to the podium to officially open the exhibition. I glared across at Nathan but he was smirking and just silently mouthed the words “Your job” to me. I stood up, eased back Mrs Bauer’s chair and gave her my arm. She smiled sweetly and allowed me to lead her up onto the stage and over to the microphone. As she began to speak, I took a few steps backwards and tried to blend into the background, tried to ignore the photographers’ flashguns and the little flashes on everyone else’s phone cameras. Fat chance of that.

I was vaguely aware that behind me, on a large, very large, screen, was being presented a montage of images, paintings mainly, which I assumed were by the pre-Raphaelites. I should have googled some of them in case anyone asks me questions later on. Maybe I can get by with my ninja turtle joke.

It turns out that as well sponsoring this evening, Mrs Bauer has also made a hefty donation to the gallery to pay for free admission to the exhibition by schoolchildren in Pittsburgh, “our artists of the future” as she called them, “represented here on this opening night by students from some of our most prestigious schools”. As she called out the names of a few of the schools there erupted from some of the tables, presumably those of the named schools, a series of ‘whoops and hollers.’ Why do Americans do that?

I was scanning round the room, trying to look suave and sophisticated, or at least interested, when Mrs Bauer said, “and of course, perhaps the most prestigious of Pittsburgh’s schools, Oakdale High.” There was a chorus of noise from two tables near the back where lots of students were sat alongside a couple of adults, teachers I guess. Oakdale High. The school I got kicked out of. Just my bloody luck. Surely nobody there will recognise me. Mrs Bauer’s getting to the end of her speech, you can tell from the intonation. It seems to be going down well.

“Well, I won’t take up any more of your time, I’m sure that you all wish to circulate and admire the exhibits.” She paused for effect. “Especially as I am sure the ladies here can’t have failed to notice that we do have in the room tonight some of the most eligible young gentlemen in the state from Allegheny Military College.” A ripple of laughter, then applause ran around the room. The Commandant is smiling. Jackson and the other cadets are smiling. At least they have a bit of decorum and aren’t whooping and hollering.

What the bloody hell is Elizabeth chuckling at? Nathan too? All the bloody audience?  As I stepped forward to offer Mrs Bauer my arm and escort her back to our table I caught a glimpse of the screen behind me. Took a second, longer look. An image of the college has just faded into a painting of a similar looking Italian style building, then into a painting of two mediaeval looking youths in a town square, and then… into a bloody black and white freakin’ photo of me and Jackson fighting in the ring at our exhibition match! As I watched, stunned, the photo faded and dissolved, was replaced by a black and white pencil drawing. Noah’s picture of me. Projected for everybody to see. Thirty feet across. The image slowly faded out. The applause is getting louder. Some people are on their feet.

Mrs Bauer gave a very gentle nudge at my arm, brought me back to my senses. We walked slowly across the stage to the steps, Mrs Bauer waving and smiling to people on the front tables, gradually made our way to our table. You can hear the clang of pennies dropping as people realise the image that was projected was me. Lots of smiles. People nudging each other. Lots more flashguns.

As we sat down I can hear people talking to Mrs Bauer, congratulating her on the speech, on her generosity, on her choice of imagery, both in word and picture, how her “juxtaposition of images of contemporary youth and photography with the classical paintings had brought the relevance of creativity and the core essence of the pre-Raphaelite ethos alive to the very young people she was reaching out to…”

What the fuck?

I mean, the slideshow was good. Technically brilliant. The way the images faded and blended. Complemented and complimented each other. Whoever did it was good. And Noah’s picture, to finish it off, well, he deserves to have his drawing recognised. He really is good. That actually is him over on the Commandant’s table. But one thing is for sure, low profile this certainly is not.

Mrs Bauer turned aside from the mass of people gathering around her for a moment and leaned over to me.

“Thank you, Craig, that was very nicely done. Why don’t you, Nathan and Elizabeth have a wander around, talk to some do the other young people?”

Talking to the ‘other young people’ is most definitely something I am going to avoid. Especially the Oakdale contingent. Nothing good will come of that. I’m quite happy to just sit here and try and blend in. Or maybe I can slip over to Noah’s table and find out what he knew about all this. People seem to tell him stuff in advance so nothing comes as an unexpected surprise to him. Like Kyle and Nathan told him about Nathan taking over in the dorm before anyone else knew. Why the bloody hell don’t people tell me stuff?

“Come on, Boots, you can dance with me,” said Elizabeth, grabbing hold of my arm and almost dragging me out of my seat and towards the dance floor. There’s a small jazz band just starting to play some smoochy background music. “Don’t worry, it won’t be for long, I’ll throw you back into the pool when a better catch comes along.”

“Attaboy, Boots!” said Nathan, “Go parade my sister round the dance floor, you’ll be the envy of every guy here.”

It wasn’t like I had much choice! Elizabeth was smiling sweetly and, yes, everyone was looking at us, but her hand on my arm was like a vice. I couldn’t have run away if I had wanted to. Which I kind of half did. We were the first couple onto the dance floor. Nobody likes to be the first. Except Elizabeth did. I could see it in her eyes. She wasn’t just playing the part of the dutiful hostess leading the way, she wanted to be seen. To be seen with me. Parading me. Just like Mackenzie had done. How the fuck do I get into situations like this?

Elizabeth has her arms around me, drawing me in close, smiling sweetly at everyone over my shoulder as she twirls me around, glides up and down the dancefloor, showing me off. People are smiling and nodding. Older people looking at us as if they think we are sweethearts, reminiscing about their own first dance perhaps. People our age smirking and making remarks that it’s probably best I can’t hear.

“Relax, Boots,” whispered Elizabeth in my ear, “Not so stiff.”

‘Not so stiff?’ That’s bloody easy enough for her to say! Yes, I know that’s not precisely what she means, but I’m not in control here. The best-looking girl in the place snuggling up to me, her hand straying down on to my arse? And Nathan sat over there, looking like James Bond. Grinning. He’s enjoying this. If I was Kyle and he was Lee, I’d just go over there and drag him on to the dance floor.

A few more people are stepping on the dance floor now. Elizabeth is steering me over to the side, near where the tables are. To where the guys from college are. All of them staring at me and Elizabeth. Jackson is on his feet, easing his way forward, leaving Connor trailing in his wake. Connor’s looking miffed.

Jackson stepped right up to us, put his arm between me and Elizabeth, took her hand and smiled sweetly at her.

“May I?”

It’s not like it’s a question. He just bloody has. Stole her right from me. Thank fuck for that. As Jackson swept her away to the centre of the dance floor, very clearly wanting to demonstrate his conquest, Elizabeth smiled and whispered quietly, “There you go Boots, told you I’d set you free. Don’t stay out of your depth, you can swim back to the shallow end now.”

I turned around and headed back across the dance floor towards Nathan who was still sat at our table, clearly amused at all the things going on around him. I deliberately avoided eye contact with everyone, the last thing I wanted was you get grabbed for a dance by anyone else.

“It won’t work, Boots,” said Nathan as I slumped down into the chair beside him. “That mean, sulky look just makes you seem even more appealing to the girls. They all like a bad boy.”

“Get stuffed, Nathan.  You’re just as bad. Why is it that everyone just seems to want to use me? The Oakdale girls. Your mom. Your sister. What am I, Nat, just some commodity to be used and then discarded? Why doesn’t anyone seem to care what I want?”

Nathan looked up at me, almost as if he were the one hurt, then said, “Come on Boots, let’s go find somewhere quiet. Get you a break. Events like this can be a bit overwhelming if you aren’t used to it.”

Nathan stood up and took a couple of steps away from the table. “Come on, Boots.”

I got up and followed him, out of the auditorium and back down the big glass-fronted entranceway of the building, then out through a smaller side door to an enclosed courtyard. It was quieter there, with some trees and ornamental shrubs. I guess it was kind of like a private garden, off limits to the general public. Nathan leaned against a big planter and reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a silver hip flask.

“Here Boots, have a sip of this.”

I looked at him dubiously, not just because we were at a public event and too young to be drinking, but because I remembered the last time I had tried the contents of his hip flask. Rocket fuel tastes better. Nathan smiled, waved the flask at me.

“Go on Boots, it’s the last of the bottle of whisky we had last night, not my usual rubbish.”

I relented, took the flask, had a small sip. He was right, it was the good stuff. I handed it back to him without taking any more. Nathan screwed the top on, slipped it back into his pocket. He was just about to say something when he looked up. The door into the courtyard had just opened.

“Well, well, look who we have here, boys.”

It’s Justin. The guy who beat me up at Oakdale. And he’s not alone. Several more guys are piling in through the door. Three of them. All bigger than me and Nathan. Four seniors, all of them from the Oakdale football team.

“Looks like a couple of penguins to me,” laughed one of them.

“Original,” said Nathan, sarcastically.

Justin is walking closer, glaring at me. I stood my ground. Well, it’s not like there is anywhere to go. They are between us and the only door I can see. I’m not scared of him. Scared of all four of them, perhaps, but not of Justin on his own. He’s the ringleader. This time, I’ve not had my head smashed against a plate glass door. If it’s just between me and Justin, we’re okay. And Nathan can’t get involved in this. He can’t afford to be. Not with his mom being here. Not with him being who he is.

“We’re not looking for trouble, Justin. We’re just minding our own business. Why don’t you do the same?”

“Sounds like good advice, I’d take it if I were you, boy.” Nathan is just nonchalantly leaning back against that planter still. He might sound cool, but it’s not helped.

“Who do you think you’re talking to, penguin?” snarled one of the guys lining up alongside Justin.

“I don’t know,” said Nathan, “You haven’t had the manners to introduce yourself. Or do you usually have a carer to look after that side of things for you?”

I tried hard not to laugh. That was a bloody cool line. I wish I’d thought of it. It’s not actually what we need at the moment, but it was funny.

“Justin, it’s all over. Done with, weeks ago. I got a kicking from you, then got kicked out of school. Just go home.”

We’re squared off, just a few yards apart. That’s all the space I need. If trouble starts, they’ll wait for Justin to start it. He’s definitely the leader. If he wants to fight, he has to come to me, cover those two yards. He won’t make it. If I hit him, hard, he will go down. He’s not like Jackson or any of the other boxers. Sure, he’s big and muscled, but he’s got no resilience. He’ll go down. And once he goes down, his friends will think twice. Our only danger is if they all rush us at once, turn it into a melee where I can’t get clear punches at them in turn. I need to keep this just between me and Justin.

Justin’s glaring at me. Good. Let him glare. The longer this goes on the better. The longer we posture, the more time they have to cool down.  They came in here on an adrenalin rush. The thrill of the chase. Hunting me down. Time works in our favour. I just need to defuse things, let them come to their senses.

The door opened again. Two more Oakdale guys came through it. Fresh to the chase and eager.

“Well, seems you got the little shit cornered, Justin,” said one of the new arrivals, “You gonna whack him again?”

“Zulus, Boots. Thousands of ‘em.”

Nathan is smirking. He’s just quoted from my favourite film. I didn’t realise he’d been paying so much attention when we all watched it back in the dorm. He’s right though, the odds are really not in our favour. Worse than that, this new guy is a gobby twat. Likely to rile all the others up, provoke them into rushing us. My idea of keeping this just between me and Justin doesn’t look as though it’s going to work out. We might have stood a chance that way, but not against a headlong rush of all of them.

The door’s opening again. Let it be an adult. Just let it be an adult.

It isn’t an adult.

It’s the cavalry.

Jayden stepped through the door, followed by Connor.

They are the cavalry, aren’t they? Or…?

“Having a private party, Nathan? Doing your bit to support your mom’s crusade to educate the plebs?”

Nathan smiled. “Got it in one, Jayden.”

“We saw these guys follow you in here, Nat, thought we ought to come and say ‘hello’ too.”

“Mighty fine sentiment, Connor.”

Jayden turned to face Justin. He’s no fool, he can read their body language, figure out who’s top dog. He knows where the real threats lie. He didn’t say anything to Justin, just looked, then pushed past him, came and stood a yard or so from me. Connor followed, but went and leaned against the same big planter as Nathan.

“Nathan,” said Jayden. “I think it’s time you left. We have a little unfinished business to take care of here. Best done without your presence.”

Nathan glanced at me. “I’m good Jayden, I’ll stay.”

Connor took hold of Nat’s shoulder, gave him a shove towards the door.  “Keep walking, Sergeant, that was an order, not a request. Get out of here.”

The Oakdale guys all looked at each other and smirked. The gobby twat couldn’t resist. “An order? What are you guys on? Is that all you do all day, play soldiers? March up and down like a bunch of faggots?”

Nathan has recovered from the shove, come to a stop right in the middle of the Oakdale guys. He’s turning around to come back. I can tell from his face he’s not going to go. He should go. Jayden is right, he needs to get out of here.

“Leave, Sergeant.”

“Go, Nathan.”

Reluctantly, Nathan turned, slowly walked towards the door. Very slowly. Looking back over his shoulder at me.

“Go,” I mouthed to him. “Find Jackson.”

As Nathan left through the door, Jayden turned to face Justin. Kept a couple of yards between the two of them.

“Ordinarily, I’d have left Boots with you. Let you sort things out between yourselves. I still might, if you’re willing to apologise for your flea’s comments.”

The Oakdale guys all looked at each other, then at us, then at Justin. Connor’s just leaning back like he hasn’t got a care in the world.  Justin’s weighing it up. Six of them, three of us. All of them are equal in size and build to Jayden and Connor. A bit bigger than me. They think it’s a foregone conclusion. Justin looks a little more thoughtful. He’s happy to have a go at me, especially when he has plenty of back up. With odds now at six to three, he reckons they will still win, but knows that it won’t be a walkover. At least one person will get hurt, and it might be him. He knows I’ll definitely go for him. Might Jayden or Connor too? Is he brave enough to push it?

Justin’s smirking. “Apologise for my flea?” he said, incredulously. Buying time. Still weighing the odds.

“Sure,” said Connor from behind me. “You’re top dog, you got a flea. Get him to apologise and we can all go home happy. Might even leave you the bone to play with.”

The flea is pissed off. Stepping closer to Jayden. He’s the one that could spark it off. Short on temper as well as brains. Jayden’s got an eye on him. Won’t let him invade his space.

“Simple choice,” said Jayden. The odds aren’t good, are they? Six against three. You can either quit now, or you can go and find reinforcements.”  

“Are you fucking stupid, soldier boy?” The flea is getting really agitated. Stepping closer to Jayden. His mates are beginning to crowd in behind him, looking to Justin for a signal. “In case you haven’t noticed, faggot, we’re the six, and you’re the three.”

“Like I said, flea, best go for reinforcements.” The flea turned and looked at Justin, at his mates, drew himself up, tensed his muscles, started to smirk, began to twist back around. More than enough signs to telegraph what he was planning, Especially to someone as good as Jayden. I knew what was going to happen. Connor knew what was going to happen. The flea hadn’t got a scooby.

Jayden stayed rooted to the spot. His right arm flashed out from the hip: a short, sharp, upward angled jab, right into the flea’s lower abdomen. The flea made a weird, wheezing sound, seemed to lift off his feet, then sagged at the knees, crumpled to the ground. He looked around in amazement, gasped for air. Found some, sucked it in desperately with a kind of whistle. For a moment he seemed to contend with conflicting urges, then threw up, hurling a stream of vomit over Justin’s legs.

“He should have kept away from those prawn vol-au-vents, Jayden, I told you they looked volatile,” sniggered Connor.

Justin was standing there, looking down at his trousers as the flea continued to gasp and wheeze, then threw up some more. Justin is out of this fight. It’s difficult to look menacing when your hatchet man is turning himself inside out over your shoes.

As the Oakdale guys tried to take in what had just happened, the door behind them opened again. Nathan hurried back in, followed at a more leisurely pace by Jackson. Jackson paused in the doorway, looked around. Down at the flea. At Justin’s trousers. At us.

“Oh, seems like Nathan was wrong. He said you might appreciate a hand, Jayden. Looks like you have it sorted though.”

Connor and Jayden pushed through the Oakdale seniors, followed Jackson and Nathan out of the courtyard, carefully stepping around the flea and his dinner. Connor cast them a backward glance.

“It’s a shame you guys have no manners. This way you don’t even get left the bone. Come on, Boots, watch where you step.”