Authors: Tony Bradman
How To Be a Boy (6 page)
Wow.
I wonder if that’s what happened with Charlie’s parents. Belch’s mum said they’re getting divorced.
— — —
Dear Tadpole,
Life sucks. Love sucks. Even if you get it together with someone – even if you have kids. Look at Mum & Dad, look at Charlie’s parents – look at Romeo & Juliet…
| Me: | This is depressing. |
| Mum: | It’s romantic – they die for their love! |
| Me: | Oh yeah? Romeo was in love with Rosaline five minutes ago. |
| Mandy: | That wasn’t love – that was lust. Big difference. |
| Mum: | Juliet was his true love. They didn’t care what anyone said – they risked everything to be together. Like Jack & Rose. |
| Mandy: | Sharon & Ozzy. |
| Mum: | Heathcliff & Cathy. They didn’t let anything come between them. |
Mum squeezes Mandy’s hand & they smile at each other.
And then I realize.
Like
them
.
I look at them, cuddling on the sofa & it hits me for the first time what they must’ve gone through. In a tiny village where same-sex marriage is unheard of, Mandy & Mum
are
Romeo & Juliet.
Or maybe Juliet & Juliet.
Later, I asked Mum’s advice:
| Me: | Mum, how do you attract women? |
| Mum: | Well, with Mandy it was that dress I wore to the Christmas party – you know, low-cut, long slit… |
Well, OK, not
exactly
Romeo & Juliet.
| Me: | I mean, how can I attract a girl? |
| Mandy: | Has anyone seen my Enya CD? |
| Mum: | You struggling to pull, Davey? |
| Mandy: | Oh, mate – that’s easy – just be yourself! |
Myself? Nerdy, weedy, socially retarded David Mitchell? I don’t think so.
| Mandy: | Be brave – tell her how you feel. |
| Mum: | Yes, “Faint heart never won fair lady.” Ooh – write her poetry! |
| Mandy: | But whatever you do, don’t use any naff chat-up lines – total turn-off. |
Right…
I called Belch for some last-minute male advice:
| Belch: | OK – you’ve gotta be cool, confident. Think movie star. |
| Me: | Like Leonardo DiCaprio? |
| Belch: | Exactly: Blood Diamond! |
| Me: | No – I meant Romeo and Juliet , Titanic … |
| Belch: | Dude, stop watching chick-flicks. |
| Me: | What about poetry…? |
| Belch: | Dude. You start writing poems, you’ll get beaten up. Seriously. |
He emailed me a checklist:
• Seize the day
• Show her who’s boss
•
DON’T
write poetry
• Be cool
• Use a good chat-up line eg:
“I have a water-bed”
“Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?”
And M&M’s advice:
• Be sensitive
•
DON’T
use chat-up lines
• Tell her how you feel
• Write her poetry
• Be yourself
Seriously, could this
be
any more confusing?
— — —
Dear Tadpole,
Today was the worst day of my life.
I woke to find Mandy had washed all my shirts with her Liverpool top & – guess what – they’re now pink.
She claims it was an accident, but I reckon it’s payback for Enya.
“Don’t worry,” she smiled. “Chicks dig pink.”
Yeah, right.
I covered it up with my blazer – then it only turned out to be the hottest day of the year.
Brilliant.
There I was, sweating my kecks off, while everyone else bared all… Blazers got ditched, skirts hitched up, tights came off… And then, there she was, walking home.
Kelly McHenry. With Gazza.
Ug
.
His Coke can hit me square on the chest.
| Gazza: | Sorry, Billy Elliot – thought you needed cooling down. |
| Kelly: | Gaz! You’re so clumsy! |
Yeah. Clumsy
.
| Kelly: | David, I’m so sorry. Here, let me wash it off – my house is just there. |
Kelly McHenry is inviting me to her
house
?
| Me: | Thanks! |
The shirt! The pink shirt!
| Me: | But. Um. Actually, no, it’s OK. |
| Kelly: | Don’t be silly – you’re drenched! |
Kelly McHenry is touching me…
The shirt!
| Me: | No – wait! |
Too late. Kelly McHenry, school goddess, removed my blazer.
Gaz & his mates pissed themselves. My face went bright pink (matching the shirt) & everyone stared.
But Kelly just took my hand & led me into her house.
My head went crazy:
This is it – my big chance. Carpe diem!
“Did it hurt when you –” what was it?
Say something!
Seriously – anything
.
Anything at all!
| Kelly: | ( Dabbing my shirt ) So, Davey… |
| | |
| Blank . | |
| | |
| Kelly: | I saw your picture in the paper. |
| | |
| Oh crap . | |
| | |
| Kelly: | I think you’re really cool. |
| | |
| Huh?! | |
| | |
| Kelly: | You’re not afraid to be different & I respect that. You’re sweet. And brave. And buff! Have you been working out? |
| | |
| Um… | |
| | |
| Kelly: | And it takes a real man to wear pink. |
| | |
| No. Way . | |
| | |
| Kelly: | Listen, I’m really sorry about the gay mix-up – I didn’t mean to embarrass you… |
| Me: | It’s OK. |
| | |
| Kelly: | (Moving closer) Good. |
Oh My God – Oh My God – she’s gonna kiss me!
And she did.
(On the cheek.)
| Then: | |
| | |
| Gazza: | (Walking in) What the fuck? |
| Kelly: | Gaz! |
| Gazza: | What d’you think you’re doing, gay-boy? |
| Kelly: | No, Gaz – wait! |
| Gazza: | (Pushing me outside) Trying to pull my girl? |
| Me: | Don’t push me! |
| Gazza: | No? Why not? Whatcha gonna do about it? |
What
was
I gonna do? Belch & Mum battled in my head.
| Belch: | This is your chance – you can take him! |
| Mum: | Don’t do it, Davey – violence doesn’t solve anything . |
| | |
| Gazza: | You really think she’d be interested in you, gay-boy? |
| | |
| Belch: | He’s a moron, Davey – shut him up! |
| Mum: | He’s a moron, Davey – walk away . |
| | |
| Gazza: | You think she’d look at you when she’s got me? You’re nothing like me! |
I looked at him.
| | |
| Me: | You’re right – I’m not. |
| | |
| Mum: | Go, Davey! |
| | |
| Gazza: | That’s it – run away! You’re a freak, Mitchell. |
| | |
| Mum: | Just keep walking. It’s over . |
| | |
| Gazza: | Just like your mum! |
| | |
| Me: | What? |
| | |
| Belch: | Uh-oh . |
| | |
| Gazza: | She’s a freak, gay-boy. You’re all freaks – especially that mutant she’s carrying – who knows if it’ll even be human? |
| | |
| Me: | That’s it. |
| | |
| Belch: | That’s it, Davey – get him! |
| | |
| Gazza: | Come on, then! |
| | |
| Mum: | Davey, don’t – |
| | |
| Kelly: | Davey, don’t! |
| | |
| Me: | (Turning) Huh? |
| | |
| Thunk! | |
He knocked me out cold.
Bastard.
— — —
I blew it, Tadpole.
Gazza won. He seized the day & won Kelly like a man.
While I lay sprawled in the road outside her house.
Unconscious.
Wearing a pink shirt.
I’ll never live this down.
Save yourself, Tadpole. Change your name first chance you get. In fact, I should move out.
Leave town.
Leave the country.
Leave—
Hang on – doorbell.
— — —
Dear Tadpole – you’re almost here!
Wow! I can’t believe it! Mum’s waters broke in Sainsbury’s & now we’re at the hospital – I’m nearly a brother!
OK, I have to pull it together now – you’re depending on me. To teach you how to be a boy.
Here, for what they’re worth, are my pearls of wisdom – learned the hard way:
1) Violence doesn’t pay. Plus, it hurts. A lot. And even if you live, Mum’ll kill you.
2) Don’t have sex till you’re forty. Or married. Or protected. Or actually want a baby.
Preferably all the above.
3) Don’t worry about what others think, as long as the people you care about are happy. The world is full of morons – don’t join them.
4) Not everything is as it seems. Nothing much is. You never really know what’s going on in someone else’s life – they can seem like the perfect family, or the toughest bloke, but in reality? Everyone’s got weaknesses. Some people are just better at hiding them.
5) And the most important thing of all? As impossible & ridiculous & cheesy as it sounds? Be yourself.
It’s a crazy world out here & if there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s that nothing is set in stone – rules change, parents break up, lesbians have babies – & just when you think you’ve got everything sussed, something completely unexpected will blow your mind…
Like when a goddess asks you out.
So, remember—
Wow – I just heard you cry. You’re here.
Welcome to my world, little man.
It’s insane.
You’re gonna love it.
Bali Rai
“THE OTHER NINETY I CALL
them,” Mr Ross told me during one morning break, in his office.
“Other ninety what?” I asked.
“Per cent,” he said. “The pupils who don’t get kicked out of school or involved with crime; the ones who don’t make it into the newspapers.”
I nodded. I knew what he was banging on about. I was one of the ten per cent that
did
get into trouble. Rushey Meadows was my fourth school since the age of eleven and it was only March in Year Nine. My latest Year Head was trying to make me see things straight. See that I was on my last chance.
Thing is, I already knew that. See, I don’t like getting into shit and mostly I don’t go searching for it. Some of the dickheads who’ve dealt with me think that I’m a troublemaker, but they’re wrong. Most of the times I’ve been in trouble it’s because someone else has started it – like the twat at my last school who called me “Paki” all the time. He did say it a few times before I reacted. He pulled this little blade on me and I knocked him out. But no one listened to me; no one backed me up. They just thought, There goes Jamie Khan again – never gonna change.