I was buying it, but now it feels like this is heading somewhere. “Right.” I sniff and wipe my eyes with my hands. “Well, I’m not going on holiday, so.”
“Or, you are.”
I look at him. “No.”
“OK, so you remember my mate Clint?”
“The hippy?”
“He just doesn’t have the internet, Nate. That doesn’t make him a hippy.”
I shake my head. “He doesn’t have the internet.”
“Anyway, he’s got this old VW camper van, and he said I can borrow it over the summer.”
“Great. What are you planning on doing with it?” Because, no, I’m absolutely not doing this. Being in a camper van with my family for the summer was not in the plan. The plan was, I don’t know, skipping through meadows with Tariq, laughing, rolling in the hay and kissing. I won’t be doing that now, so maybe I’ll just paint my bedroom black and devote my summer to worshipping Satan instead.
“I’m just thinking, let’s keep it free and easy. Go some places, see some things, we’ll take tents to camp, maybe do a bit of Airbnb some nights, the odd hotel if we can afford it.” He lowers his voice to a whisper. “I mean, your mum is adamant there should be some structure to this – you know, she’s a teacher, she likes plans – so a trip to London’s on the list, plus some outward bound centre—”
“Well, that sounds horrible.”
“I know, mate, but it’s exercise, isn’t it? You do PE.”
“I really don’t, Dad. But sure.” I sniff again. “I’ll think about it.” The soft rejection. I can’t deal with this right now.
He squeezes my knee. “You do that. Might be just what you need to take your mind off things. Now, that big, gaping void you feel like you have inside of you?”
I let out a long sigh. “Yeah, I know. Say something about there being more fish in the sea. Dismiss my pain as teenage drama. Go ahead.”
“Yeah, I’m not gonna do that, but it’s also caused by not eating anything all day.”
“Ohhhh, funny, you are funny, Dad.”
“Deliveroo are bringing Japanese food in approximately T-minus twenty minutes.”
“Kat—”
“Katsu curry, yes, for you.” He smirks at me. “You smiled. Good.” He stands and walks to the door, then stops and turns back. “When did you last have a shower?”
“Oh, sorry, do I stink?”
Dad cocks his head and grins at me.
“I’ll sort it out.”
He nods and closes my bedroom door.
And then I spot the red rose that I was going to give Tariq after my announcement last night, and I start crying all over again.
When I finally feel ready to appear downstairs, I’m greeted by the sight of Mum hurriedly doing her make-up in the hall mirror.
I’m assuming this isn’t for the benefit of the Deliveroo guy. “What’s going on?” I ask her.
“How dare this Tariq boy treat you like this!” she says, aggressively applying lipstick.
So Dad has told her everything. I shrug. “Yeah, well.”
“Yeah, well, unacceptable!” Mum replies. “I’m going round to see his parents – see what they have to say for themselves and their badly behaved child!”
My eyes widen. “You don’t know where they live!”
“Fifteen, Willow Crescent. Linda at number fifty-five told me.”
I fling myself across the front door. “Mum! No!”
She throws the lipstick in her bag and turns to me. “I’m going to give that boy a piece of my mind!”
“No, no, no, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am,” Mum insists. “Who does he think he is? Cheating on you!”
“Mum, we’re sixteen, this is isn’t the sort of—”
“No one’s got any class nowadays. Know who I blame? The Kardashians.” She advances towards the front door and my flimsy teen boy barricade. “Shift.”
I brace myself against the edges of the door frame. “Mum, I beg you, just leave it, please.”
“I’m really angry, Nate!”
“I know, I know you are, so am I. We’re all angry, but this will only make things a thousand times worse for me. I can’t have my mum turning up at boys’ houses every time one upsets me. Besides, if you did, that would literally be your full-time job.”
She looks me in the eye and sighs. “You’re so much better than that little toad.”
“Thanks.”
She takes a deep breath, glances over her shoulder, then lowers her voice. “Nate? It’s totally fine, there’s no shame, and we can even go to one in another town, but do you think it might be an idea to visit the STI clinic? Just in case?”
I stare at her, eyes wide.
“We can’t be sure how many other boys he’s—”
I shake my head vigorously, trying to make some words come out. “We haven’t! I told you that last night! No. It’s fine. Really. There’s literally no chance.”
Mum nods. “So, there’s nothing—”
I say it quickly because it’s the best way to get it over with. “We never did anything that would risk me catching an STI. We literally only kissed and held hands, OK, god, I just want to die.”
“OK,” Mum says to her wholesome, pure, virgin son.
“So can we just leave it? Just stay here. I don’t want you talking to Tariq or his parents.”
Mum nods, smoothing a bit of my hair down. “Your phone’s been bleeping a lot.”
“Yeah.”
“It’s on the kitchen table.”
“I know.”
“And Rose wants to see you in the garden.”
“Why? What’s she doing?”
“Burying Tariq in a shallow grave.”
“Huh,” I say, shaking my head as I walk through to the kitchen. I pick my phone up and scroll through the barrage of messages. There are various ones of increasing concern and hysteria from Alfie, Connie and Luke, so I fire back a few quick texts saying I’m OK (which is a lie) and that I’ll “message them properly later” (which is also, probably, a lie). There’s a message from Jack too.
Hey. I’m sorry about everything. Hope you’re OK. Here if you
