Boys for Beginners (9 page)

It's Saturday morning and all I have done this week is speak to girlie girls on Instant Messenger or Facebook or both at the same time. We
can have, like, a two-hour conversation about rubbish, but mostly we seem to talk about Charlie Notts, which is a subject that never bores me.

Elizabeth P says < wot do u think he wears in bed? >

Tanya D says < definitely plum burgundy silk pjs that his dad bought him when he was on a diplomatic trip to japan >

Melissa R says < no way! he wears boxer shorts 2 bed and the tight ones 2 so u can c the outline of all his bits >

Elizabeth P says < lol >

Tanya D says < lol >

So I quickly write < lol > too.

Jenny G says < u lot r obsessed! itsa bit sad really >

Elizabeth P says < imagine pulling them off. like unwrapping a present 2 c the ‘package' inside >

Jenny G says < lol >

Kimba O says < lol >

Tanya D says < lol >

So I write < lol > too.

So far with the BB Club I have bided my time. I don't say too much in case I get anything
wrong. But I can't keep quiet while they talk any more – especially as they talk so much!

Gwynnie L says < i bet he sleeps naked! lets just spend a moment thinking about that . . . >

Kimba O says < yum yum >

Elizabeth P says < mmmmmmm! >

Tanya D says < he definitely sleeps naked >

Elizabeth P says < hey gwynnie, we r meetin at s bucks to talk more charlie. u wanna come? >

Paul S says < hi. wanna play g of w l8r? >

I'm about to answer his message when Jenny pings in with. < we cd go shopping and get G some new clothes! that wd be awesome! >

Elizabeth P says < cool. makeover! >

Kimba O says < i spose that might be ok >

Tanya D says < primark here we come! >

Melissa R says < usual time usual place? >

I have no idea what the usual time or place is. I'll have to call Jenny. Everyone agrees. Then Melissa goes:

Melissa R says < wot were we talking about? o yeah. charlie notts naked . . . >

‘Gwynnie?'

So there I am, I've basically created an online forum about naked men, and my dad has sneaked up behind me.

‘What are you doing?' he asks.

‘Nothing. Just talking to my friends.'

‘Why has someone just written the words “takin off ur bra”?'

‘It's just my friends being stupid.' They must be running through the
how far would you go with Charlie Notts
conversation.

‘These friends are not older men, are they? You haven't arranged to meet any strangers, have you?'

‘No, Dad.' Parents always think their children are so stupid. I cover the screen with my hand. ‘Do you want something?'

‘We're going to get your football boots, aren't we? I'm ready when you are.'

Errr
.

‘We can get some lunch too, if you like.'

My dad is being so nice and it's making me want to be nice back. But I don't need boots any more, and I
do
need clothes.

‘Actually, Dad . . . I don't think I want those Nike Mercurial Vapor VFGs made from Teijin synthetic leather that adjusts to the contours of your foot.'

Dad looks really confused. ‘What do you mean, Gwynnie?'

I stare at the floor and mumble, ‘I want to spend the money on something else.'

‘What do you want to spend the money on, Gwyndoe?' My dad looks really worried, and for a second I think it would be funny to say,
A boob job
. Which actually might be an idea.

‘Um, I think I want to buy some new clothes.' I don't know why I feel bad when I say this, but I do.

‘What do you need?'

‘Umm . . .' I don't know how to tell him.

‘Do you want to buy a – erm – bra thing?' My poor dad. If we have to have another embarrassing girl conversation I think he might combust. ‘I've heard that Marks & Spencer is a good place—'

‘No!' I've got to stop him before he says the words
cup size
. For both our sakes. ‘No. I want to spend it on clothes . . . at Primark . . . with my friends.'

‘Oh, OK. No problem.' Dad looks crushed. He takes out his wallet and hands me a wodge of notes that is more money than I have ever held in my entire life. ‘Of course you don't want to go shopping with your old dad.' He is trying to not sound sad, but he's not doing a very good job.

‘Sorry, Dad.'

‘No, no. You go and meet your friends and have fun. It's your birthday treat. I've got things I need to get done today anyway.'

‘Thanks so much, Dad.' My dad is officially the best dad ever.

So I am about to go shopping with girlie girls. I have no idea what to expect.

Shopping is the most exhausting sport in the world. It tests strength, stamina, endurance and even mental agility as some of the clothes require a PhD in mechanics to work out how to do them up.

‘Gwynnie, you just have to try this.'

‘Gee, you'll look so good in this.'

‘Try this one on in a 10 and an 8 and see which is better.'

‘This would
so
go with that goooorgeous little thing over there. You just have to try them together.'

They pile stuff into my arms and it's heavier than a thirteen-year-old boy. I know that because we once did an experiment to see if I could pick up Paul. This hurts worse than that as I have to hold the clothes as we do multiple circuits round the shop.

‘Try this.' Jenny puts a flowery shirt on top of the pile. ‘The pattern's not very nice, but just try it.'

‘Errr, why am I trying it if it's not very nice?'

They stop in their tracks and look at me like I'm insane.

‘Because things sometimes look different once they're on,' Melissa tells me. ‘Haven't you ever been shopping before?'

Thinking about it, I'd have to say,
Not really
. Whenever I've needed a new T-shirt, or tracksuit bottoms, or socks, I ask my dad for the money, he gives it to me, I walk into the shop, pick up the thing in the right size, pay for it and leave. I've never done
this
before.

I'm in a cubicle trying to work out whether the long tube is supposed to be for my arm or my leg. I look on the tag for clues. Fortunately it helps me out; it says ‘Off-the-shoulder top'. OK, that's a good start, but why, if this tube is for my arm, is there only one of them? Primark must make tops for people who have had an arm amputated in an accident or something. I shout over the wall, ‘Do they make clothes for people with disabilities?'

‘Oh, Gwynnie, you have issues, sure,' Jenny
shouts back, ‘but I wouldn't say you had a disability.'

‘I don't know, does lack of dress sense count as a disability?' I can tell that's Kimba being mean, but I ignore it.

Maybe this isn't an armhole at all. Maybe it's supposed to be one of those
accessories
I have heard so much about. The top goes off-the-shoulder, so I put it round me under my armpits and across my chest. But where does the long tube thing go? It must be at the back, like a tail. It wouldn't be at the front like an elephant's trunk;
that
would be stupid!

I quite like having a tail to swoosh.

‘I think I am going to get this one,' I say.

‘Let'sseelet'sseelet'ssee!'

I pull back the curtain, proudly showing off how good I look in my new top.

They all stick their heads out and crack up laughing.

‘Oh, Gwynnie! You are hilarious!' Tanya says.

‘Don't you like my tail?' I ask, feeling confused.

‘A tail!' Jenny says through tears of laughter. ‘Good one, Gee.'

I pretend it was a joke and laugh my head off
too but I have no idea why. I stand in my cubicle for a moment and feel confused. A moment later there's a patting against the curtain and I realize that it's someone trying to knock.

‘Gwynnie?' It's Elizabeth. She's whispering. ‘Can I come in?'

‘Yeah,' I whisper back.

She sticks her head through the curtain and looks at me in my top. ‘That top is really nice and the colour is nice too, but it comes in another colour that I think might work better for you. I got you one in your size.' She hands me the same top but this time in a dark grey. ‘And, um, that's not how you wear it.'

I feel really stupid and try to shrug it off like I knew that all along. The shrugging makes the top fall down from under my armpits and I have to catch it before I expose my M&M boobs.

‘You put one arm in the tube,' says Elizabeth, still whispering so the others can't hear, ‘and the other side leaves your shoulder bare.'

‘Oh.'

She must have seen the look on my face as she says, ‘Don't worry, it confused me the first time I tried it.' Then she smiles and retracts her head back behind the curtain.

I reshuffle the top like she says, and I suppose it makes more sense. I show the other girls.

‘I told you to try that one,' says Kimba. ‘It was a good choice of mine.'

‘You look fully awesome,' says Melissa.

‘You're so lucky, Gee,' says Elizabeth. ‘You have such a nice flat stomach.'

‘That colour is exactly the same as your eyes and it really brings out their beautiful shade,' says Tanya.

‘Thanks, Tanya.' Wow, I feel so good about myself.

‘And doesn't Gwynnie have divine hair,' says Jenny. ‘It's so long and lovely.'

They all nod in agreement.

This is such a surprise. They are being so nice it makes me want to be nice to them too.

So when Tanya shows us what she's tried on I say, ‘Ooooh, that skirt has so many flowers on it!' I'm not sure if that's a good enough compliment, but Tanya seems to like it.

Then Kimba comes out in a dress she's tried on. ‘That dress is completely pink. It really brings out the beautiful colour of your eyes.'

Kimba looks at me like I'm insane.

And to Elizabeth, who has only tried on
some bangles and a scarf, ‘Your hair is really clean.'

She says, ‘Thanks, Gwynnie,' with a big smile. And we all feel like proper friends.

Then I spot the tag. ‘This must be a mistake.' I turn to the rest of the girls and show them. ‘It says it's only three pounds.'

‘That's Primani for you,' says Jenny.

When she says
Primani
they all laugh.

‘Pradamark,' says Elizabeth, and they all laugh again.

‘Primada,' Melissa says and they laugh more. I laugh at these nonsense words too, but I have no idea why.

Primark is, without doubt, the best shop in the world! With my £110 I have bought the whole place twice over. I buy jeans, leggings, jeggings, loads of tops and dresses to go over trousers and tons of accessories. I buy the off-the-shoulder top. Even if I did prefer it when it had a tail.

I now have a wardrobe full of clothes and shoes and jewellery.

And I am now a fully fledged girlie girl.

‘Gwynnie! Phone!' Dad shouts up from the hallway.

‘Who is it?' I shout back, already running down the stairs, hoping it's Charlie calling to declare his undying love.

‘I don't know. Didn't ask. But weirdly enough, she sounds like a girl.'

I grab the phone out of his hands. ‘Very funny.'

‘I know!' he says, and walks off like a grinning loon.

‘Heya, Gwynnie. It's Elizabeth.'

‘Hi, Elizabeth, how are you? Did you need some help with the geography homework? Because I'm telling you—'

‘No. Just calling to say hello really.'

This is weird. No one has ever called me to
say hello
before. ‘Oh . . . hello.' What do you say after you've said hello?

‘What are you up to?' she asks.

‘Ummm. Not much. The phone rang, my dad made a rubbish joke, and now I'm talking to you.'

Elizabeth laughs. ‘I'm bored. Want to come over? I've lost a few pounds this week and it might be fun to see if I could squeeze into something of yours,' she says. ‘Fat chance – literally.'

‘You wouldn't want to get into my stuff. I'm an extra small.'

‘And I'm an extra large,' she says, sounding quite pleased about it. ‘There must be a happy medium!'

We both laugh for ages about that and I think it might be fun to hang out with Elizabeth. But then I remember that I have plans with Jenny this afternoon.

‘Actually, I'm going over to Jenny's. She says she's going to fix my hair.' I'd been thinking it will be a bit weird to go over to Jenny's just me and Jenny. It would be easier to have Elizabeth along too so all the girlie focus isn't on me. ‘Want to come?'

‘Do you think she'd mind?' Elizabeth asks.

‘No, why would she?' Would she? ‘I'll meet you there at twelve.'