Six Steps to a Girl (2 page)

The house was virtually empty now. A couple of Mum’s friends were still there, collecting up empty bottles and sweeping plastic cups and bits of sandwich crust into black bin bags. They told me Mum was upstairs, lying down.

But it wasn’t Mum I wanted to see. While I’d been out walking I couldn’t stop thinking about the girl from the funeral. I kept looking out, hoping I’d bump into her. But, of course, I didn’t.

I had to know who she was. I went upstairs and knocked on Chloe’s bedroom door – she’s liable to go mental if you don’t knock and wait for a reply.

“Go away,” said a teary voice.

I pushed the door open a fraction. Chloe was sitting on her bed, surrounded by photographs. She looked up at me, wiping her face and scowling. “What d’you want?”

I hesitated. In this mood, Chloe was unlikely to tell me anything. I’d probably be better off waiting until later.

“Just wanted to see if you were OK,” I lied.

Chloe narrowed her eyes. “Yeah, right,” she said. “By the way, thanks for pissing off earlier and leaving me to cope with Mum on my own.”

It was clearly hopeless. I closed the door and turned away, but to my surprise Chloe called after me. “Hey, Luke, come back.”

I opened the door again. Chloe stared at me for a second, then beckoned me over to the bed.

“D’you wanna look at these old photos of Dad?” She pointed to the snaps spread out on the duvet in front of her.

Not for the first time I marvelled at how quickly her moods could change. I tried not to step on any of the clothes and magazines littering Chloe’s carpet as I crossed the room. I knelt down beside the bed and bent over the pictures.

Most were of Dad on his own, but there were some with Chloe in as well. She pointed to one where Dad was giving her a piggyback ride. She looked about six or seven. They were both laughing.

“So how was it for you?” I said. “The funeral and stuff?”

Chloe made a face. “Gross.”

“At least all your friends turned up,” I said, hoping my attempt to edge the conversation to the girl wouldn’t look too obvious.

“Yeah but half of them were only there ’cause they got the morning off school,” Chloe said. She picked up the picture of her and Dad and stared at it.

I seized my opportunity.

“Yeah, like, there was one girl I’ve never even seen before,” I said. “Blonde. Wearing this outsize overcoat?”

Chloe put down the photo. “You mean Eve? She’s OK, actually. Only started this term.”

“In your class?” I said, casually.

Chloe nodded.

That meant Eve must be sixteen, or nearly sixteen. Whichever – she was a whole school year above me.

“She was dead sweet when she found out about Dad,” Chloe went on, “though I wouldn’t have asked her to the funeral if I’d known she was going to bring her boyfriend.”

“Oh?” I said innocently. “She’s got a boyfriend already?”

“Only the hottest guy in his year. Ben – he plays for City Juniors.”

“Oh.”

There was a knock at the door. Without waiting for Chloe to reply, Mum walked in, carrying a cardboard box. A large, bulky envelope was balanced on top of the box.

“Oh good, you’re both here,” Mum said, sitting down on the end of the bed.

I glanced at Chloe, wondering if she was going to flip into a mood at Mum for barging in like that. But Chloe was staring at the box and the envelope. “What are they?” she said.

Mum pressed her lips together. Long pause. I started thinking about the girl again. Eve. It was the perfect name for her. Simple and sexy. The overcoat she’d been wearing kept pushing its way into my mind’s eye. Her supposedly “hot” boyfriend’s coat. How come he got to have her? Sometimes life really sucked.

“Luke?”

I focused on Mum. She was frowning gently at me.

I felt myself going red. “Sorry,” I muttered. “What did you say?”

Mum sighed. I was suddenly aware of how tired she looked. “Dad left this for you.” She pushed the cardboard box she’d been holding across the bed to me. I stared down at it, blinking hard.

“For me?” I said.

“Yeah, doof brain. For you.” Chloe was next to me, the bulky envelope that Mum had been carrying in her lap. She pointed to it. “I got a letter.”

“Dad started trying to write to you too, Luke,” Mum said quickly. She tapped the lid of the box. “But in the end he thought what’s in there might be more meaningful right now.” She paused. “Everything you need for them is up in the loft. If you can’t set it up, Uncle Matt said he’d do it for you.”

“I’m sure I’ll be able to manage.” I stood up. I had no idea what was inside the box, but the last thing I wanted was Uncle Matt muscling in with his
now, son, do it like this
routine.

I carried the box back to my bedroom and pushed open the door with my feet.

I sat down on the bed, the cardboard box on my lap. What on earth was inside that Dad thought was so meaningful?

I lifted the lid. Inside the box was a row of twenty or so paper envelopes with black discs inside. I pulled one out. Then another. They were vinyl records. Old ones. The paper sleeves were all scuffed and dirty. I recognised less than half of the bands. Not surprising. The tracks were all dated from ages ago – the late Seventies and early Eighties.

These were Dad’s old singles. Records from when he was a teenager. My heart beat faster, and for the first time that day a huge sob rose up in my throat.

Was that all he thought of me?

Chloe gets a massive letter and I get palmed off with a bunch of ancient, crappy records. I pushed down the sob. Dad wasn’t worth crying over. I just had to accept it. He had no idea about my life.

No idea about me.

I put the box down on the floor and walked over to my window.

I wondered where Eve was. And what she was doing.

I couldn’t wait to get back to school.

The funeral was on a Thursday, and Mum’d said Chloe and I could both have the next day at home if we wanted. She was surprised when I told her I’d rather be at school. Normally I’m up for any chance to get a day off.

It wasn’t that I was hoping to see Eve. Well. Only a bit. Being at home was just too depressing. Mum cried all the time. Not loudly. Never even openly, but she wandered around looking so sad it made me feel terrible. I tried to give her a hug a couple of times. But that just made her cry more. She always ended up pushing me away, saying something like: “I won’t lay all this on you, Luke, it’s not fair.”

I wanted to say none of it was frigging fair. But I didn’t know how to say it. And I felt guilty that she was so unhappy and I hardly thought about Dad at all.

I hadn’t played any of his old records. Mum had given me Dad’s old-style record player out of the loft. I don’t know why she’d thought I might need Uncle Matt’s help to set it up. The thing was out of the dark ages, technology-wise – a switch for the record setting (45, 33 or 78), an on/off button and a volume knob.

I plugged it into the socket in the corner of my room, then covered it over with a towel. When Mum asked if I’d listened to any of Dad’s records yet, I just said I wasn’t ready and she let me alone.

In the end, being back at school wasn’t much better than being at home. My friends were all dead weird with me. It was like they didn’t know what to say to me about Dad, so they’d decided it was easier not to say anything. It’s hard to explain. They talked and joked like always and we played football just as before, but there was this way they had of looking at me, like I came from another planet and might mutate into a bloodsucking alien at any minute.

I wasn’t Luke anymore. I was the bloke with the Dead Dad.

And then there was Eve. Or, rather, there wasn’t. That first day I looked out for her all the way to school, then again when I was leaving. No sign. I even walked past Chloe’s classroom once – but it was empty.

That was Friday. The weekend passed slowly. By Monday I’d almost convinced myself I’d imagined her. Certainly I must have imagined how beautiful her face was. And I hadn’t even seen the rest of her.

Chloe and I hardly ever walked to school together, but we sometimes met up to come home. That Monday afternoon I was hanging about by the wall near the entrance gates, half waiting for her. It was in the back of my mind that when Chloe came out with the rest of her class, Eve might be there too. But I wasn’t really thinking about it.

I looked up. There was Chloe, surrounded by her friends as usual. They were giggling. Looking at their mobiles. A few of them wandered off. The rest shuffled round.

And I saw her.

She was smiling, listening to someone. My mouth fell open. She was even hotter than I’d remembered. I stared, trying to take all of her in at once. Long, slim legs. Curves everywhere. Sleek blonde hair falling dead straight onto her shoulders. And that face.
Jesus.
Even the way she stood was sexy. Her head to one side. Her hand, pushing back her jacket, resting on her hip.

The other girls drifted away. It was just her and Chloe now. Then they started walking across the tarmac. Except Eve didn’t walk. The way she moved was more like gliding. Like a cat – smooth and fluid and unbelievably sure of herself.

Oh crap.
They were coming towards me. They were wrapped up in their conversation, not looking at me, but they were definitely heading in my direction. Getting closer and closer. In a minute she was going to be standing right next to me. My heart pummelled against my ribs.

Seconds pulsed by. I stared down at the ground. And then she was here. Close enough to touch.

“Luke?” Chloe sounded impatient.

I looked up at my sister, catching Eve out of the corner of my eye. My throat was dry. Lust rocketed through me. There was nothing about her that wasn’t perfect. The way her upper lip dipped into a V in the middle. The way her jumper clung to her . . .

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Chloe said.

I shook my head. “Nothing,” I blurted out.

Stop. You’re behaving like a total nutter. Calm down.

I looked down at the tarmac again. There was this tightness in my chest. It crossed my mind that I might be having a heart attack. I stood there, concentrating on breathing. Eve dragged one of her feet seductively across the tarmac. She was wearing black shoes with thin, pointy heels.

Chloe had clearly decided to ignore my peculiar behaviour. “So where’re you meeting Ben?” she said to Eve.

“The Bell.”

Oh God.
Even her voice was sexy – all low and raspy.

“Ben’s done me this new, totally brilliant fake I.D.,” Eve said. “We’re meeting for cocktails at happy hour.”

Chloe giggled. “Oooh. Cocktails,” she said.

“Yeah.” I could hear the grin in Eve’s voice. “Guess what his favourite is?” She leaned over and whispered something in Chloe’s ear.

Chloe squealed. “No
way.
I can’t believe they’re even allowed to print that on a menu.”

“They’re not – but Ben knows the barman. They make it up for him specially.”

I decided that I hated Ben.

“Anyway, I’d better go home and get ready,” Eve said. “Bye, Chloe.” She turned slightly sideways. I could tell she was looking at me. “Bye,” she said.

I had to say something. I might not get this close to her again for days. I looked up. Eve was smiling at me, her lips slightly parted.

I stared at her mouth, feeling my face redden. “Bye,” I squeaked.

For God’s sake, look at her properly.

I forced myself to look her straight in the eyes. They were almond-shaped, the palest blue I’d ever seen. But I could tell she wasn’t really seeing me. Like, she was right there, looking in my direction, but not . . . not noticing me.

And then she was gone. As she glided through the school gates, Chloe swung her bag over her shoulder.

“Did you have to behave like that?” she snapped.

I swallowed. How much had she noticed? “What d’you mean?”

“Hardly looking up at Eve, like that. Not saying anything. It was really rude.”

My mouth fell open, but Chloe had already stomped off towards the gates.

Over the next few days I seemed to see Eve everywhere – wandering down the corridor, chatting with her friends in the cafeteria, smiling mysteriously on her mobile.

I dreamed of going up to her, but I didn’t have the nerve. Even if Eve didn’t think I was rude – or a complete retard – I had no idea what to say to her. So I watched her from a distance.

If you’re thinking that seeing her must have got easier, let me tell you – it didn’t. Every time was like the first time.

A slap in the face. A punch in the stomach. A kick in the head.

She was the hottest person I’d ever met. But she had a boyfriend. And, even if she didn’t, what chance would I have had with her? No girl I knew had ever gone out with a boy in a lower year.

I talked to other girls. I did my homework. I played football. I even spent a couple of hours looking through Dad’s singles collection, though I didn’t actually play any of the records. Part of me wanted to, but it was like, if I listened to them, I’d be saying everything between me and Dad was OK. That I forgave him for leaving me such a useless, heartless pile of crap.

Nothing took my mind off Eve.

February began. It was a cold day – exactly a month since Dad died, or so Mum said. Still dark when I got home from school. I’d been in my room. Then I got hungry and came down to the kitchen. As I reached the door, I overheard Mum on the phone.

“It’s just so hard to tell,” she was saying. “He’s so withdrawn, just stays in his room all the time. Only comes out for meals.”

Was she talking about me?

“OK, OK, I’ll ask them,” Mum said. “I’ll let you know.”

She hung up the phone, then called me and Chloe into the kitchen.

We sat down at the table. Chloe’s face was covered in green gunk – some kind of face mask. A few weeks ago I would have made some jokey comment about how hideous she looked – or at least tried to make her laugh so that the dried mask cracked. But now, I couldn’t be bothered. My head was too full of Eve.