“We had this guy come to our school, year eight, it was, and he did this whole speech on how it’s good to talk, especially boys, because apparently we’re really bad at it? He said we should share our concerns, anxieties and fears. So I told this other boy who was one of my friends that I was worried about the fact I hadn’t started puberty yet, you know, I thought we could have an adult conversation about it? Anyway, he nodded and listened, and then he went and told everyone and then at lunchtime I got gaffer taped to one of the goalposts on the playing field by some bigger, very definitely pubescent boys, with a sign around my neck, which read ‘I’ve got no pubes’. But that aside, yay for talking.”
I do actually laugh at this. “I’m sorry, Elliot. It’s not funny.”
“Yeah, I know,” he says. “It’s fine.”
I sigh again, as Olga works her thumb under my shoulder blade. It’s starting to feel nicer. There’s tension releasing. “It’s just Tariq,” I say. And then I explain the Top Five Day thing, just blurt it all out, because if I stop to think about it too much I’ll never say it.
No one says anything.
Nothing from Jack.
Elliot – totally silent.
So now I feel stupid. This is why I don’t talk. You just end up making a fool of yourself.
“At the time, did you feel it was?”
It’s Javier. I twist my head to the right. Brilliant. Now the spa staff are joining in with my tragic life.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“At the time, did you feel you might be having a best day ever?”
I sigh. “I guess. I mean, yes, from my point of view. I think, hope, maybe from his.”
“Then that’s all the matters,” Javier says. “No one can take that away from you. Not anyone. Everything else changes, but you’ll always have that.”
I mull over what he’s said.
“Mm, Javier, your advice is as good as your hands,” Jack says. “Which, just so you know, are those of an angel.”
“You’re very kind,” Javier says.
“Mmm.” Jack giggles. God, that boy.
“He is right!” Olga suddenly barks, simultaneously kneading her hands into my upper thigh, with makes me yelp with surprise.
“Yeah, but I don’t want it to change. I want to always be in his Top Five, because he’ll be in mine. I don’t want bloody Dylan to replace me.”
“You cannot control the feelings of others,” Maria says. “You cannot, and you should not try. That’s their life. And this is yours. You need your own best days.”
“I’ll tell you some of my best days,” Jack says.
I’m not sure I want to know. This will be about when he came out, how liberated he felt, his new mates in the LGBTQ+ club – and probably the boys he’s flirted with, kissed, and what have you.
“Jack and Nate’s Paranormal Investigations,” he continues.
I laugh. It’s a million miles from what I was expecting.
“What?” Elliot giggles. “You two were … ghost hunters?”
“Uh-huh!” Jack says.
“We were nine,” I add, just in case Elliot thought this was, like, last year, or something.
“Did you catch any?” Elliot asks.
“Well, Nate tried to exorcise the demon he was convinced resided inside Daisy McGuire.”
“And Jack wanted to drive a stake through the heart of the guy at the end of my road because he thought he was a vampire,” I say.
“I saw him drinking blood, Nate!”
“Nah, I still think it was more likely cranberry juice.”
“Daisy McGuire’s mum was livid we threw that bucket of holy water over her. So ungrateful,” Jack says.
I chuckle at the memory. “Serious, though? Those rank as some of your best days?”
“Hundred per cent,” Jack says, meeting my eyes across our massage tables. “That was a good summer, me and you, doing that.”
I smile, because, yeah, it was good, and I’d forgotten about it until Jack reminded me. We used to have fun. With him, I used to feel like nobody else mattered. We were invincible.
“What would be a best day for you, Elliot?” Jack asks.
Elliot blows out a breath. “Ohh, pretty much any day when I’m doing any of my favourite things. Watching anything set in the Marvel universe, Archie and Jughead, sleeping, cupcakes, bikes, food of any sort, Fortnite, ukulele practice, Cats – the original stage musical, not the weird movie – ham sandwiches, dew on the grass on an autumn morning, Pringles, and nachos with melted cheese, sour cream, salsa and guacamole.” He takes a thoughtful breath. “Even just one of those things equals a best day, really.”
“So every day is basically your best day?” Jack says.
“Basically! Ohh! And Christmas! I love Christmas! And hens.”
Well, lucky Elliot. I can’t imagine feeling like that. Things started turning sour the moment I turned thirteen, and only seem to have got worse. The only saving grace is you’re not sixteen for ever. Thank god for that. Imagine if you were, and you were just stuck in this permanent rut of stress, gloom, FOMO and social media shitstorms. Unless you’re Elliot.
“We need a photo!” Jack announces.
Maria does the honours, as we all crane our necks up from our massage tables. Jack’s giving it staring-into-the-middle-distance eyes, Elliot’s actually attempting to dab, and I was trying a smile before Olga gave me a very firm fist in my glute, and made me actually howl. I’m sure it’ll be an excellent photo. I tell Jack to caption it as One of the best days ever because despite everything with Tariq, one good thing that’s happened is that I’ve finally started to be honest with Jack, and he doesn’t hate me for it, and it feels like maybe we’re reconnecting a bit. And, you know what? Being friends again with Jack? Yeah, that would be one of the best days ever.
“You don’t know how much I envy you,” I tell Elliot, as we settle down again.
“Hey,” Elliot says. “You’ll get there. It might not seem it right now, but you’ll get there.” His
