Authors: Sue Brown
“D
ANNY
?”
A hesitant voice disturbs me from my doze. It’s warm and I had nothing better to do.
“Danny? Are you there?”
I hear the bush rustling, and tension floods through me. “Yeah?”
“It’s Harry. You know, from before. I brought you a Big Mac.”
A broad smile spreads across my face. The kid came back, and he brought me lunch.
“Aren’t you supposed to be at school?
“It’s an inset day.”
Inset? Oh yeah, teacher-training day. It’s amazing how quickly you forget about things like that.
“How did you get the McDonald’s?” The nearest McDonald’s is in Guildford, about five miles away.
Color stains Harry’s cheeks. “My mum drove me. It’s probably cold by now,” he says, holding out the familiar brown paper bag.
“I don’t care.” I can’t remember the last time I ate McDonald’s. Probably before I left Beckenham. My mouth is actually watering to taste the junk food again.
He’s right, the burger’s nearly cold, but it doesn’t stop me devouring every last mouthful. I am touched at the effort he made. To my surprise, he doesn’t leave immediately, instead sitting down next to me on the ground. I feel uncomfortable at this schoolkid sitting so close to me, but he looks just as awkward. I shift up and wave at the cardboard. “You’ll get your arse wet if you sit on the dirt.” It rained overnight and the ground is damp.
“Won’t be the first time you’ve seen me with a wet bum,” he comments.
I choke on a fry, taken aback by his bluntness.
Harry laughs softly. “Gotcha.”
I look at him, chewing thoughtfully. “Tell me why you’re here.”
He shrugs. “I told my mum what you did to help me.”
“Your mum?” I was surprised. I would never have told my ma about something so embarrassing. “What did she say?”
“That I owed you a Big Mac.”
“Does she know you’re gay?”
“She does now.”
“You told her that too?”
“She wanted to know why I’m being bullied. I told her the truth.”
“That was brave,” I say before I stuff the remaining fries into my mouth. I mean it. After my experience, I wouldn’t tell any kid to come out.
“My mum’s cool. Her brother’s gay, so she doesn’t care. She’s been dropping hints for a while about me telling her.”
“She already knew.”
He chuckles again. “Mums always know.”
No, they don’t
, I think, but I’m not going to say anything to scare the kid. He’s had a traumatic enough time as it is. “So she drove you to buy a McDonald’s for me. How did you know I’d be here?”
“I didn’t. Except it’s about the same time as the end of school and I took a guess you might follow the same routine.”
“I should have offered to share.”
He waves that away. “I had mine. Judging by the way you stuffed that down your throat, I should have brought double.”
“Next time,” I say.
“You think there’s going to be a next time?”
“Isn’t there?” I counter.
“You don’t seem bothered that I’m… gay.” Harry stumbles over the word, and I get the feeling he’s not said it out loud too many times.
“You don’t seem bothered I’m homeless.”
He looks disappointed at my reply. I know what he was fishing for, but he doesn’t need to know about me. He doesn’t need to know that not all mums are so accepting of their son’s sexuality.
“How old are you?” he asks suddenly.
“Eighteen.”
He looks shocked. “Is that all? You look older.”
“Thanks,” I say drily.
“Um, I didn’t mean—”
“I know what you mean. I look like shit.”
“Yeah,” he says promptly and then flushes even harder. “Oh fuck, I’ve said it again. I don’t mean that.”
“How do I look, then?” I ask, arching an eyebrow.
“Like someone who didn’t have the luck I did.”
His blunt honesty takes me by surprise again, and I have to swallow really hard against the lump in my throat.
“Yeah, well, my parents weren’t so happy to find out their son was a homo.”
He stares at me with wide eyes. “What did you do?”
“Do? I did nothing. They threw me out.”
“But why?”
“I just told you.”
“Because you were gay?”
“Yep.”
“But—”
“Listen, kid, I don’t want to talk about it, okay?”
He looks offended. “I’m not a kid. I’m only two years younger than you, and I’m taking my GCSEs.”
Sixteen? Jesus, he looks about twelve.
“Oh yeah? What did you take?” I wasn’t that interested, but if it kept him from asking questions about me, that would be cool.
“Geography, German, French, and Sociology.”
“I took History, Business Studies, Music, and Drama.” I laugh at his surprised expression. “What? You think I’m too stupid to take my exams?”
“What? No! What did you get?”
“As, Bs, and Cs. Enough to start my A levels.”
“Is that when you got thrown out?”
I nod. “What are you going to do about the morons that were having a go at you?”
Harry shrugs. “Nothing I can do, except avoid them. I think you scared them, because they went in the opposite direction the last couple of days.”
“You be careful of George,” I say.
“You mean Joe.”
“No, I mean George. Joe is just a loudmouth, but George had the knife and he was going to use it on you.”
“I always thought of him as a cling-on, like Goyle and Crabbe.”
I stare at him blankly. “What?”
“You know. Malfoy’s hangers-on.”
“Who’s Malfoy?”
He gives me that wide-eyed, bemused expression again. “Harry Potter?”
“Harry Potter is a Klingon?”
“No, he’s not a Klingon! Harry Potter is a wizard!” Harry bursts out, clearly exasperated. “Don’t you know anything?”
I raise my eyebrow. “Obviously not.”
He catches the edge in my voice and blushes. “God, sorry. I forgot. You’ve probably not read
Harry Potter
, have you?”
“No. Heard of it, but I didn’t read much. More into sport than books.”
Harry nodded. “I hate sport. Well, football. That, and rugby. My school believes contact sport makes a man. I can’t wait until I’m in the sixth form and don’t have to do PE ever again.” He shudders. “I hate school. Can’t wait to finish and get away to uni.”
A pang shoots through me and I have to look away, not wanting him to see how envious I am. Then he touches my arm. I jump, not used to someone touching me voluntarily.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
I press my lips together, nodding to show I accept his apology.
“I’ve got to go soon. My mum wants to go to my gran’s for tea.”
I’m disappointed, but it was fun while it lasted. “Thanks for the burger.”
“No worries. Thanks for your help with those morons.”
“You be careful around them, okay? Don’t let them get you on your own. I’ll look out for you here.” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I regret them. His eyes light up, and I know he’s looking forward to seeing me—
me
—again. Now I have a commitment to protecting the kid. Jesus, why couldn’t I have kept my mouth shut?
“I’ll be careful,” he promises, and he awkwardly backs out of the bush. I don’t follow him. There are too many people about. I settle back down to sleep away the afternoon until it’s time to go to the shelter. My belly is full of burger and fries, and for some stupid reason, I feel happy. Fucking pathetic.
I
DON
’
T
get why Harry keeps coming back after school. He misses odd days when he sees other friends, but he’s always there the next day. George and Joe stop hassling Harry in the park once they see me watching, although he admits that out of my sight, they aren’t always so pleasant. I promise to be more visible, although I’m wary of going too near the school. Kids are shits to bums like me.
Harry does more than just bother me every afternoon. Most days he brings food. Not McDonald’s, but the local burgers or southern fried chicken. I tell him to stop spending money on me, but he doesn’t take any notice. It’s all junk food, and I notice I’m putting on weight.
The day he brings a new jumper and a pair of gloves, I protest.
Harry dumps the usual bag of food next to me, together with another carrier bag.
I scowl as I poke the carrier bag. “What’s this?”
He flops down beside me. “Just something I spotted in a charity shop.”
“You’ve been looking in charity shops?” I ask skeptically, opening the bag reluctantly to find a blue V-neck jumper and a pair of gray gloves. “I don’t need these.”
He waves his hand, saying, “Winter is coming, and you’ll need all the clothes you can get.”
I give him a cool look. “It’s June. Summertime.”
“And the temperature really dropped last night.” The little shit won’t back down.
Unfortunately he’s right. It’s warm during the day, but last night was chilly.
“I can’t store anything extra. I haven’t got a rucksack.”
I shouldn’t have been surprised when he brings a rucksack along with the food the next day. I hold up the label from TK Maxx, still attached to the bag.
He flushes. “It’s an old one my granny bought me.”
“Yeah, right. Don’t treat me like I’m stupid, Harry.”
Harry shifts around to face me. “I don’t think you’re stupid at all. But I want to give you stuff I don’t need.”
“Not if you’re buying them for me,” I say stubbornly.
His bottom lip wobbles, and then he glares at me just as stubbornly. “You need them.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Yes, you do!”
“I don’t need your charity.” I push the bag away and get to my feet.
Harry looks up at me. “What
do
you need, Danny?”
“Nothing. I don’t need you, I don’t need you to buy things for me, and I don’t need you to feed me. I managed without you so far. I don’t need you,” I repeat. I nearly cave at the hurt in his eyes, but it has to be said. “Take the rucksack and I’ll get you the clothes. Don’t come back.”
Harry jumps to his feet. “What are you so fucking scared of?”
“I’m not scared.”
“Yeah?” He folds his arms. “Keep telling yourself that. One day you might convince yourself.” For a kid who was pissing in his pants a few weeks ago, he’s right in my face.
“Fuck off, Harry. I’m not in the mood to play your games.”
“I’m going. Keep the bag. You can stick it over your head and ignore the rest of the world.”
He walks off again. I’m getting sick of watching him walk away. Stupid kid.
“Harry, don’t. I’m sorry.” For some stupid reason I can’t just let him go.
Fucking idiot keeps walking, dodging around a mum with a double pushchair and a scruffy black dog. Taken by surprise, the dog bares its teeth at Harry. I push between Harry and the dog, worried the dog is going to take a snap at Harry.
“Watch it!” The mother glares at us both, and then looks at me a little more closely. I see the expression of disgust and fear cross her face. Perhaps she thinks I’m going to mug her, or kidnap her children.
I notice the moment Harry clocks her expression. Anger crosses his face and he opens his mouth to say something. I don’t give him the chance, hauling him off to the side and out of her way with a muttered apology. She looks at us again. We must look incongruous; the nerdy clean kid and the bum. I steer him away from her and toward my bush.
“What the fuck?” Harry tries to pull away from me but I’ve got a firm grip around his bicep.
“I don’t need anyone paying attention to me,” I say. “The fewer people who see me, the better.”
“Perhaps you ought to stay under the bush, then, instead of out in the open,” he says snarkily.
“You can be invisible in a crowd,” I point out.
He drops his gaze. “Yeah, I know.” Harry has spent his entire school years trying to be invisible. I feel sorry for him. I had Steve. We didn’t give a shit who saw us. I was luckier than Harry, in a way.
“I’m sorry for being a dick,” I say.
He nods. “Sorry for walking off like that. It was either that or punch you. I was worried you’d hit back.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Have you ever hit anyone?” I ask.
Harry shakes his head. “No. Instinctive reaction, I guess. Too much time being around morons like Joe and George.”
“Yeah. We had them at my school.”
“I’m sorry if I made you feel like a charity case. I didn’t mean to.” He looks at me earnestly, and those green eyes… my stomach flip-flops as I stare into his eyes. I haven’t felt like that since forever. Since Steve. It makes him even more dangerous, and I want to run away and never be found again.
He’s breaking down the barriers I’ve carefully erected against the world since leaving Hopeless House. I am screwed.
Chapter Four
September 2002
H
ARRY
’
S
quiet as he flops down next to me after school. He throws a can of Coke onto my stomach. I grunt, because it’s bloody cold, and put it next to me to give it a chance to settle. Harry’s in the sixth form now, and I see him whenever his lessons are over. It’s warm during the day and I’m sprawled out, enjoying the sunshine. Thanks to the newish clothes Harry’s got for me—he says they are cast-offs from his aunt—I don’t get so many disapproving looks from the mums with their toddlers, and they leave me alone as I bask on the grass.
Normally Harry starts talking as soon as he sits down, but this time he’s quiet, and I’m not sure what’s wrong.
I crank open an eye to look at him. “What’s up with you?”
“Nothing,” he says.
Yeah, right. I sigh and sit up, rubbing my eyes against the brightness of the afternoon sunshine.
“Talk to me, Cooper. You’ve normally told me about your entire day by now.”
“Some of the guys were talking….” He pauses, and I look at him curiously.
“Yeah?”
“About their girlfriends.”
I can see where this is heading. “Yeah?”
“And what they do?”
“They’re talking about fucking, you mean?”
It’s his turn to mutter. “Yeah.”