The Art of Being Normal (11 page)

‘What you doing, Leo?’

I turn round. Tia is standing in the doorway to the bathroom wearing the Hello Kitty pyjamas she’s been in all day.

It’s Saturday night. Becky’s party starts in just over two hours.

‘What does it look like? I’m doing my hair.’

‘But you never do your hair.’

I ignore her and pick up a tub of Spike’s hair stuff. I take a sniff before scooping some out with my finger and running it through my hair.

Tia sits on the edge of the bath, her toes not quite reaching the floor.

‘Where are you going?’

‘A party.’

‘Can I come?’

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because it’s a grown-up party,’

‘But you’re not a grown-up. You’re only fifteen.’

‘Fine, it’s a teenage party then, just for teenagers.’

‘Oh. Will there be pass the parcel?’

‘No.’

‘Will there be jelly and ice cream?’

‘I doubt it.’

‘How can it be a party without jelly and ice cream?’

I ignore her. Spike’s hair gunk has made the front of my hair look all greasy. I dunk my head under the taps and try to wash it out.

‘Leo?’ Tia says, pulling at my sleeve.

‘What?’ I yell over the running tap.

‘If it turns out there is jelly and ice cream, will you save some and bring it back for me?’

I turn off the taps and straighten up, water dripping down my forehead, and look at her hopeful little face.

‘Sure.’

On the way out of the bathroom I bump into Mam on the landing. She’s just got in from her shift at the launderette and looks red-faced and tired.

‘What’s got into you?’ she says accusingly.

‘What do you mean?’ I ask.

‘Acting all chirpy,’ she says, narrowing her eyes, like acting chirpy is the sin to end all sins.

‘Dunno what you mean,’ I say, breezing past her.

She’s right though, I’ve been in a good mood all week. Things that usually annoy me – Amber using up all the hot water in the morning, Tia leaving her cereal bowl in the sink, Spike’s singing, pretty much everything Mam does – all this stuff washes over me.

As I pull on my hoodie and check my reflection one last time, the
familiar little voice pops into my head, warning me not to get carried away. I ignore it. Because Alicia is different, I’m convinced. She’s not like the girls at Cloverdale School, made bitter and mean by the things they’ve seen. No, Alicia is fresh and hopeful. And tonight I get to spend the entire evening with her.

Alicia’s house sits off the main road behind a pair of massive gates. It’s big and symmetrical, with a huge front door twice the width of ours and loads of windows. As I walk up the driveway it seems to get even bigger, looming over me. I reach to press the doorbell and realise my hand is trembling slightly. I shake it hard. Now is not the time for nerves. Tonight is all about being calm, cool, tough.

A tall black man, who I assume must be Alicia’s dad, answers the door. His skin is glossy and smooth and his teeth gleaming white, like Alicia’s. Just like the house, he towers over me.

‘Can I help you?’ he asks, his voice deep and velvety.

I clear my throat but my voice still comes out sounding all weird. ‘I’m here to pick up Alicia?’

‘I’m sorry, young man, but you must be mistaken, my daughter is forbidden to date boys until she is at least twenty-one. On your way now, please,’ he says, shooing me away and making to shut the door.

‘Oh, right, sorry,’ I stammer, confused.

‘Dad!’ Alicia screeches. I look over his shoulder and there she is, standing on the staircase behind him with her hands on her hips, wearing dark blue jeans and a gold top.

‘Don’t listen to a single word he says!’ she calls.

Her dad breaks into a wide grin. ‘Only joshing with you, Leo!’ he laughs, punching me on the arm. ‘Come in, come in!’

I’m ushered into the hallway. It’s huge. We don’t even have a proper hallway at home, just a space at the bottom of the stairs that’s forever littered with shoes and bits of unopened post. But Alicia’s hall is as big as our lounge, if not bigger. I wipe my feet hard on the doormat, not wanting to dirty the cream carpet. Alicia’s mother appears from the kitchen, wearing a striped apron. She looks like a mum from a TV advert – all glowing and perfect. She takes hold of my shoulders and kisses me on each cheek, telling me how nice it is to meet me.

I’m struck that both Alicia’s parents know my name, meaning Alicia must have spoken about me at least a bit.

‘Leo, please excuse my super-embarrassing parents. They mistakenly think they’re hilarious,’ Alicia says as she pulls on her coat, ushering me out of the front door.

‘Back by midnight, please,’ her dad says, tapping his watch.

‘Yes, Dad,’ Alicia says, rolling her eyes.

In all the commotion I haven’t had a chance to look at her properly. It’s only now, standing on the front doorstep as she wraps a long pink scarf round her neck, I get the opportunity. She has her hair fastened up with a few curls pulled loose so they frame her face and she’s wearing make-up. She looks amazing.

‘You look really nice,’ I say.

She smiles, ‘And so do you, Leo Denton.’

My stomach does a flip-flop.

Shit.

There is no question which of the houses in Becky’s street is having the party. At number twenty-six, the music is already pumping and I can make out the shadowy forms of party-goers through the
curtains. We arrive to find Becky in the hallway greeting each of her guests with a high-pitched squeal and/or perfumed hug. She’s wearing a glittery pink dress that makes her look like a fairy on top of a Christmas tree. When we walk in she shrieks especially loud.

‘OMG, I’m so beyond excited you’re here!’ she cries in this bizarre American accent, a bit like the one Tia speaks in when she’s watched too much Nickelodeon. Becky’s greeting to me is a casual, ‘Hi, Leo,’ and a slow look up and down, a hint of a smile on her lips.

‘Here, let me take your coats,’ she says, holding out her arms.

Even though it’s sweltering, I keep my hoodie on. Alicia takes off her scarf and coat and gives it to Becky.

‘God, I love your top,’ Becky says. ‘Let me see the back.’

Alicia does a little twirl. Her top ties round her neck and reveals her smooth brown back. From what I can tell, I don’t think she’s wearing a bra. I swallow.

‘Go through to the kitchen,’ Becky says, waving us through. ‘My mum’s ordered like twenty pizzas.’

Becky’s mother is the spit of Becky, with the same moon-face and drawn-on eyebrows. The kitchen tops are piled high with pizza boxes. I help Alicia find a vegetarian slice before finding some ham and mushroom for me.

‘Now, make sure you get a drink from Becky’s dad!’ Becky’s mum says. ‘We’ve got beer, wine, alcopops, whatever you want. I’m not one of those strict mums. I was young once, believe it or not!’

Becky appears in the doorway.

‘Mum!’ she says through gritted teeth. ‘Aren’t you and Dad meant to be leaving?’

‘Calm down, darling, I’m just making sure everyone’s fed and watered.’

‘Well hurry up!’

Alicia and I grin at each other.

Becky’s dad is behind the breakfast bar, playing barman. Bottles of spirits and mixers crowd the work surface and a load of cans of beer and bottles of WKD and Smirnoff Ice sit in a plastic bowl full of ice in the sink.

‘What can I get you?’ he says, ignoring me and looking straight at Alicia. She leans forward to inspect the drinks selection and I swear Becky’s dad glances at her boobs.

‘A Smirnoff Ice, please,’ Alicia says brightly.

‘Can of Foster’s,’ I chip in.

‘Coming right up,’ Becky’s dad says, winking at Alicia. He makes a big show of tossing the bottle in the air and catching it, like he’s a cocktail waiter or something. He even takes the top off with his teeth and spits it out into the bin, pausing like he expects us to applaud him. The whole time he keeps his eyes on Alicia.

‘Enjoy, darling,’ he says, handing the bottle over to her. Almost as an afterthought, he pushes a can of beer towards me, his gaze still lingering on Alicia.

We make our way out of the kitchen with our drinks, balancing our pizza on flimsy paper plates. The living room is packed with kids. The iPod deck is blasting Kanye West. It’s weird seeing everyone from school out of uniform. This is the first time I’ve moved amongst them in this way, body parts brushing as Alicia and I make our way through the living room. Some openly stare at us, whispering as we pass.

Alicia heads for the conservatory where it’s a bit quieter. We set
our drinks down on a plastic picnic table in the corner, but remain standing up, Alicia swaying in time to the music. As I take my first bite of pizza, tomato sauce oozes over the side of my slice and lands on my hoodie.

‘Leo!’ Alicia cries out.

I swear under my breath as Alicia gropes about in her bag for a tissue. She manages to scoop up most of the sauce, gently dabbing at the rest. When she’s finished she steps back, satisfied, and smiles at me, this gentler version of her usual megawatt grin. And for a moment it’s like we’re the only two people at the party. But then we’re interrupted by some of Alicia’s mates, chucking their arms around her, complimenting her on her top, the way she’s done her hair, and they are just the first of a steady stream of visitors.

As Alicia receives her subjects, I sit down in one of the picnic chairs and just watch her – the way she laughs at jokes that aren’t funny, how she leans in and listens intently as secrets are shared, nodding thoughtfully, saying all the right things. At one point she catches my eye and gives me this reluctant little shrug as if to say sorry.

Around nine o’clock, Becky’s parents finally leave, making a big show of saying goodbye.

‘We’re just over the road if you need us! Back at midnight!’ Becky’s mum calls as Becky practically shoves her out of the door.

‘Becky’s so lucky,’ Alicia says when we’re finally alone again. ‘My parents wouldn’t let me have a party without them being there in a million years. And they definitely wouldn’t let me have all that booze.’

‘Nah, my mam wouldn’t either,’ I say.

‘Becky’s dad was a bit weird, wasn’t he?’ Alicia says, screwing up her face.

‘Yeah, I didn’t like him. He was well pervy.’

‘You reckon? I thought he was a bit dodgy but I wasn’t sure.’

‘Nah, it wasn’t right,’ I say. ‘The way he was looking at you. He must know you’re only fifteen.’

Alicia leans forward, so that her breath tickles my ear.

‘Nearly sixteen,’ she whispers.

I swallow and I think Alicia must notice because she breaks into a giggle and punches me on the arm.

‘You’re a proper gentleman, you know that, Leo Denton?’

I’m about to answer her when a Rihanna song comes on and Alicia lets out this excited little scream and jumps up, grabbing me by the hand. I’ve drunk two cans of Foster’s by now and as I stand up I feel a bit woozy. Alicia seems fine though, swigging from her third Smirnoff Ice as she tugs me towards the music.

‘I don’t really dance,’ I’m saying, but Alicia either can’t hear, or she’s choosing to ignore me. We’re in the centre of the lounge now, sweaty bodies surrounding us. Someone has turned the music up and the house feels like it’s bulging, fit to burst from the booming bass line. Alicia is jumping up and down, more strands of hair falling free, flying around her face.

‘C’mon, Leo!’ she yells over the music. ‘Dance with me!’

I look around. Everyone is moving, flinging their arms around and laughing. I don’t even know where to start.

‘Just do what I do!’ Alicia says, grabbing hold of my hands. And maybe it’s the beer, or maybe it’s the fact it’s with her, but I start to dance. And it’s not so bad. I’m not so bad at it. I’m just about getting into it when a new song comes on. It’s another R&B number,
but slower this time, sexy, and immediately Alicia starts grinding up against me, her bum rubbing against my crotch. I back away a few steps and she turns round in surprise, frowning slightly. Quickly I mime, ‘do you want a drink?’ and she relaxes into a smile and nods, before continuing to dance.

I go to the toilet first, relieved to find it free. Next to the toilet itself there’s a full-length mirror. What’s that all about, I wonder. What kind of weirdo wants to watch themselves take a dump? Becky’s pervy dad, I bet. I wash my hands. My face is very pink. I splash cold water over it, try to cool down.

When I return to the lounge, fresh drinks in hand, Becky has turned the music down and is in the centre of the room, wobbling about on her glittery pink heels.

‘Games time!’ she calls, trying to usher everyone into a circle. Alicia is already sitting cross-legged on the floor. She pats the spot next to her, but before I can make a move towards it, her mate Ruby plonks herself in the space. Alicia offers an apologetic shrug. I sit down where I am, between Matt and some girl with curly brown hair I recognise from school, but whose name I don’t know. Out of what seems like nowhere, Becky produces an empty wine bottle and everyone goes ‘ooooohhhhh!’ like we’re at a pantomime.

‘This game needs no introduction,’ Becky crows. ‘It’s that retro party classic, Spin the Bottle, people!’

There’s lots of whooping.

‘You know the rules, if the bottle points to you it’s time to get down and dirty!’

Yet more whooping.

‘As the birthday girl, I get to spin first.’

Becky crawls into the centre of the room, flashing her knickers
to the crowd. I take a nervous sip of beer and go to stand up.

‘Where do you think you’re going, Denton?’ Becky barks.

‘I was gonna sit this one out,’ I say.

‘Oh no you don’t,’ she says. ‘Joining in is compulsory, right, Alicia?’

Alicia blushes.

Reluctantly I sit down. Across the circle Alicia smiles at me. I fake a smile back.

Becky spins. As the bottle turns people clap and yell. I hold my breath, willing it to spin past me. It rests on a kid from my form called Liam. He shuffles on his bum into the centre of the circle. Becky grabs hold of his face with both hands and shoves her tongue down his throat. Everyone screams. I try to catch Alicia’s eye across the circle but she is too busy screaming herself, fingers over her eyes. Becky eventually lets go of Liam. Their mouths are all pink and clown-like from friction and smudged lipstick.