Six Steps to a Girl Read online

  My head reeled.

  “Are you OK?” Chloe stroked Ryan’s cheek. There was real concern in her eyes. I’d never seen her look like that at anyone.

  He nodded, turning his mouth so he could kiss her fingers.

  My temper rose. “Whoa,” I said fiercely. “Enough.” I turned to Chloe. I had to make her see Ryan was a total chancer. That he’d hit on anything that moved.

  “He goes after girls all the time, Chlo. Once I was at his house and he had someone up in his room that his mum didn’t even know about.”

  “That was me, you idiot. I spend loads of time at Ryan’s house. And I’ve met his mum. We get on really well.”

  I frowned. “But . . . but . . . he tells lies.” I remembered what Ryan had said to her that first evening. “Like about his stepdad being dead.”

  “I know,” Chloe said. “I know. He apologised for lying about it the second time we talked. He did it to make me notice him. I know what he’s like, Luke.”

  “No,” I said. “You don’t know what he’s like. I mean, he’s always horning after girls. Always. I’ve been to parties with him where he’s chatted up every girl in the room.”

  “But I never do anything,” Ryan protested. He turned towards Chloe and stroked her hair. “Of course I talk to girls. I love girls. They’re much more interesting than boys. But it’s just flirting.” He moved closer to Chloe. “I can’t wait to get back and see you.”

  Chloe was gazing at him with big, stupid eyes. I couldn’t believe it. She had totally fallen for Ryan’s act. And he was laughing at her, just like he’d been laughing at me all along.

  “No.” I leaned over him again and pushed him away from her. He scrambled back, getting to his feet, his hands in the air in front of him.

  I stood up, racking my brains for an example of Ryan going after some other girl. “What about that one at that party a few weeks ago?” I said. “She had long, dark hair, Chlo. And they were massively flirting and then he followed her out of the room.”

  Ryan laughed. “Only so I could walk straight out of the house. I knew you’d think I was going off with her. All I could think about that night was getting back to Chloe.”

  Jesus. My temper was rising again. Ryan had a bloody answer for everything. What really bugged me was that – when I thought about it – it was true. I’d never actually seen him getting off with anyone since our party. But, then, he wouldn’t have let me see, just in case I found out about Chloe. I gritted my teeth. Nothing was going to convince me that he hadn’t snogged that dark-haired girl – even if he’d left afterwards.

  “Luke,” Chloe pleaded. “Ryan’s your friend. He worked his arse off convincing people you hadn’t touched Eve.”

  “Only so’s he could touch you,” I snapped, suddenly realising at last why Ryan had stood up for me. “He didn’t do that for me. He did it to impress you.”

  I shoved Ryan in the chest. He stumbled backwards a couple of steps. I was itching for him to swing a punch at me, so I could hit him back.

  “Luke,” Chloe shouted.

  But Ryan just grinned. “I’m not going to hit you, Luke. You’re her brother.” He glanced at Chloe, then back at me. “But I’m not stopping going out with Chloe either.”

  My chest tightened. In that moment I hated Ryan.

  I hated the way Chloe was looking at him, like a bloody knight in shining armour. I hated the way he was smiling at me. And most of all, I hated the way he was so obviously convinced that, as usual, he could talk his way out of anything.

  Which was when I realised exactly how to make Chloe see just how cynical he was.

  I turned to her. “He’s got this stupid method, Chloe, that he boasts about. Six Steps that’ll get you any girl. And he’s got a load of photos of him with all the girls he’s been out with because of them. They’re just numbers to him.”

  I glared at her triumphantly, confident she would look appalled and turn accusingly on Ryan. But Chloe just shook her head sadly at me.

  I felt Ryan’s hand on my shoulder. “Those girls are just mates. And the Six Steps are bollocks, man. I told Chloe about them already. For a laugh.”

  I stared at him, bewildered.

  “It was Tones,” Ryan said. “He used to mope around all the time going on about Kirsty. I felt sorry for him, wanted to help – but you know, he’s not the sharpest knife in the drawer, so I thought if I gave him like a step-by-step guide to work on, it might make it easier.”

  I frowned. But the Six Steps had worked. What was he talking about?

  “Tones told Numbers about it and Numbers started pestering me for what I’d said, so I told him too. Not that he ever bothered to act on very much of it. And he wildly exaggerates the numbers of girls he gets off with. But that’s all it was. Just a few ideas to help Tones get Kirsty to go out with him.”

  I swallowed. The sun had completely gone in now and a chill breeze rippled across the small pond.

  Ryan smiled. “There is no masterplan for getting a girl. I wish there was. I mean there are things you can do or not do that may make a difference. But sometimes you can try and try and they never notice you exist and sometimes you meet someone and you both just know you’re meant to be together.”

  He took Chloe’s hand.

  I watched them lean against each other. And I realised it wasn’t really Ryan I was angry with. It was Eve.

  Eve.

  Why was everything, always, all about Eve?

  There was a long pause.

  “Having said all that . . .” Ryan grinned. “. . . I am considering setting up a dating consultancy when I leave school.” He started to back away, pulling Chloe with him along the gravel path. His grin broadened. “I think I’d make a million, helping sad cases like you.”

  I stared at him, my anger flaring again. And then, suddenly, it hit me how funny it was. All my efforts to get Eve to notice me. And all the time Ryan was doing the same thing, getting Chloe to notice him.

  “Watch who you’re calling sad, pissbrain,” I growled. “You’re stuck with her.”

  “Hey.” Chloe’s voice rose, querulously.

  I could see the relief on Ryan’s face. He was still backing away up the gravel path, holding Chloe’s hand. Our eyes met.

  Oh well, I thought. She could have a worse boyfriend.

  I grinned, and followed them up the path.

  21

  Home

  And you’re standing here beside me

  And I love the passing of time

  Never for money

  Always for love

  ‘This Must be the Place’

  Talking Heads

  Home was transformed now that Mum and everyone at school knew Chloe was going out with Ryan. Don’t get me wrong, Chloe was still moody and rude. And she still went out all the time, which Mum got well strung-out over, as she was supposed to be revising for her GCSEs.

  But she was calmer too. And there were fewer rows.

  Ryan came round most nights now after school – either to see her or to pick her up to go out. That first day after I’d found them together he just marched in, went up to Mum and announced he was Chloe’s boyfriend. I think Mum was a bit stunned – though flattered when he started in on how nice her hair looked and how pretty her cardigan was.

  The next day he turned up on the doorstep when Mum was making beans on toast. Matt was taking her to some show with a really late dinner afterwards and she wanted a snack before they went out.

  She’d made loads as both Chloe and I said we were starving.

  I let Ryan in and walked back into the kitchen with him. As soon as Chloe saw him, she stood up.

  “I’m off out,” she said.

  Mum, who was dishing up the food on the counter, turned round. “Chloe,” she sighed. “What about your food?”

  “Changed my mind.”

  I could see Mum was upset. I glanced at Ryan.

  He was frowning at Chloe. “We’ve got time to eat, Chlo,” he said.

  �
�Not hungry,” she said, swooping towards the door.

  Ryan stuck out his arm to stop her leaving. He stared at her. “If you asked for the food you should eat it.”

  There was a deathly silence. Mum and I looked at each other. I knew we were both waiting for the explosion from Chloe. If either of us had said that to her, she would have gone mental.

  But instead she turned and went back to the table. “OK,” she said. “Thanks, Mum. Maybe I will have some.”

  Mum nearly dropped the saucepan.

  When Chloe had finished, Ryan took the plate up to the counter.

  On his way out of the kitchen, he bent over and whispered something in Mum’s ear. After the front door had shut behind them, I turned to her.

  “What did he say?”

  Mum grinned at me. “He said: ‘I know she’s a handful. I’m working on it.’”

  I nearly went to the after-school Art Club on Thursday. Even got as far as the door. But then I pictured Eve’s face on the other side of it. Eve, sitting there, laughing and beautiful. Working on her project. Sending me sexy glances. Waiting for the end of the class so we could put on the radio and dance . . . and kiss . . . and . . .

  But none of that was going to happen. So I left and walked home.

  Why did I still miss her so badly?

  I called Ella and Sinitta. I went out with both of them on different days. Just to the pictures. I liked them. I did.

  But when I closed my eyes and kissed them, I wanted it to be Eve.

  It was another two weeks before I saw her properly. She was right across the playground from me, chatting to her friends. I stared at her. I know it wasn’t cool. But I couldn’t help myself.

  She was just so beautiful. So effortlessly, sexily beautiful.

  She must have felt me staring because she looked up. She smiled at me, but I couldn’t smile back. Then she started walking towards me. I kept looking at her all the time, watching her glide closer and closer. Then she stopped.

  “You don’t come to the after-school Art Club anymore,” she said. “I thought maybe you’d come back, finish your project?”

  I said nothing.

  I’d like to tell you I was being aloof. In fact, I didn’t have a clue what to say. Why was she banging on about that stupid button thing again?

  “Maybe I’ll see you there?” Eve said.

  And then I got it. She was happy with how things had turned out. She wanted to be friends.

  “I doubt it,” I said. And I strode off, leaving her standing there.

  The next day was Saturday, the beginning of April. The school term ended next week and Mum had chosen today to scatter Dad’s ashes. She’d decided to take them up to this old woodland near where Dad grew up. Unlike the funeral, she wanted to keep it as just us. Of course Matt was included, as he was Dad’s best friend, so, naturally, Chloe wanted to bring Ryan. Mum put up a token fuss for about five minutes but, to be honest, I think she likes it better when Ry’s around. He’s certainly the only person I know who can even begin to handle Chloe.

  Nobody thought to ask me whether I was going to feel like a spare part being the only one without a partner. Still, I didn’t care all that much. It was just a trip in the car to some woods. A chance to think about Eve. I couldn’t see why everyone thought it was so important. I mean, Dad died months ago. I hadn’t thought about him an awful lot since then, and I hadn’t felt much at his funeral. I couldn’t see that today would be very different.

  When we got there, Mum took the wooden box full of Dad’s ashes and we walked through some trees. It was a dull day, quite cloudy, but warm. The trees were all covered in green leaves and bursting buds and the trunks were sticky with sap.

  We came to this little clearing surrounded by beautiful trees with white and silver trunks. Mum stopped and we huddled in a little circle. “I don’t know what to say . . .” Mum hesitated. “But today feels like we’re really saying goodbye.” She squeezed my hand and tipped some of the ashes out of the box. Then she handed it to Matt. He did the same thing and passed the box to Chloe.

  Clinging to Ryan and weeping, Chloe took the box and shook it gently. Ashes floated to the ground.

  “Bye Dad,” she whispered. “I love you.”

  And then she passed the box to me. I took it, my heart suddenly beating fast. There were only a few ashes still inside the box. Was that all that was left? Of a man? Of his life?

  No. He was coming back. He’d always been coming back before.

  I stood rigid. Completely still. But inside I was wild with panic. There had to be a mistake. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. I tried to remember Dad’s face but it kept slipping away, like I was seeing it through a fog. I closed my eyes, concentrating harder, willing him into my head.

  And then I saw him. How he used to look when we played football and he scored a goal – running around, grinning, with his arms in the air. How he sat in his chair when he was ill, his eyes empty and sad, staring at the TV.

  How he’d listened to music. All the time. God. How he’d tried to get me to listen with him before he died.

  I opened my eyes and stared at the handful of ashes in the box, not wanting to let them go. I tipped the box. Not much. Just a little. But enough for the wind to whip inside and whirl the ashes up and out into the air.

  They floated to the ground.

  This wave of loss welled up through my gut. I bent over, trying to hold it in. But it pushed up and up, through my chest and into my throat. I had to let it out. It was too big, too powerful to hold inside me any longer.

  It ripped itself out of me in this awful, tearing wail. My legs buckled. I dropped the empty box and fell forwards onto my knees. My hands clawed at ash and earth. Dust trickled through my fingers.

  I curled over on the ground and howled. Tears and snot and spit and rage spilled out of me.

  I pressed my face into the earth, surrendering to the pain of it.

  My dad was dead.

  He was never coming back.

  I don’t know how long I lay there. But when I finally looked up, the clearing was empty. No. Not quite empty. Mum was sitting on the ground a couple of metres away, her legs curled up underneath her, her back against one of the silver trees.

  She smiled, her eyes full of tears. “Luke?”

  I brushed the dirt from my face and sat up, my face burning. How could I have completely lost it like that? In front of everyone. I stared at the earth.

  “Are you all right?” Mum’s voice was sad, hesitant. “Do you want to talk?”

  I shook my head. We sat in silence for a moment. A soft breeze rustled through the trees, cool against my face. I felt lighter, somehow. And yet . . . less empty.

  “Where did everyone go?”

  “Back to the car,” Mum said. “I thought you’d rather be on your own, but . . . but I . . .” Her voice cracked.

  I looked up. A tear was trickling down her face. Her mouth trembled. “Oh, Luke.”

  I got up and walked over to her. I sat down beside her and hugged her. And maybe . . . you know, maybe I did cry a little more. I mean, I’m sorry if you think that’s lame, but he was my dad.

  After a while Mum pulled back and blew her nose. “I’m sorry I didn’t realise how hard all this was for you. I’ve been so worried about Chloe that I didn’t . . . I mean, I know she’s better now . . . now that Ryan’s around, but still . . .”

  Ryan.

  My face flushed. How embarrassing, wailing like that in front of Ryan.

  Mum seemed to read my mind. “Ryan’ll understand.” She blew her nose again. “He’s your friend. It’s you I’m worried about.”

  “I’m fine, Mum.” I stood up and held out my hand to help her up. Maybe she was right. Ryan was pretty cool about emotional stuff.

  Mum reached out her own hand to take mine and I suddenly remembered doing the same thing with Dad, just before he went into hospital the last time. He’d been sitting in his armchair and was trying to get up. And he was too weak, so I’d gone
over and held out my hand to help him. And he’d let me pull him up and then he’d hugged me. He didn’t say anything, just held me really tightly. And I’d been all embarrassed, because Dad and I didn’t do that kind of stuff. Hugging and that.

  Funny how I’d forgotten it and now it was such a strong memory I could almost feel his body, all weak and wasted, under my arms.

  Dad hadn’t wanted to go away. He hadn’t wanted to leave me. He just hadn’t known what to say.

  And I hadn’t known what to say to him.

  And now it was too late.

  “Luke?” Mum brushed the hair off my forehead.

  “Really, I’m fine, Mum.” I leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. “Er . . . thanks.”

  She frowned. “Thanks for what?”

  I shrugged. “Dunno,” I said. “Just ‘thanks’.”

  Mum’s frown smoothed out into a smile.

  “Come on,” she said. “Let’s go back to the car.”

  And together we strolled through the trees, the wind pushing at the branches, waving us towards the path.

  22

  Free

  What set you free

  And brought you to me, babe

  What set you free

  I need you here by me

  ‘Rebel Yell’

  Billy Idol

  We got home at about four. The sun had finally managed to burn through the clouds and the house felt stuffy.

  I went upstairs and played all Dad’s records, one by one. For the first time, I listened properly. To the music. To the words. Some of them I liked. Some of them I didn’t. But that didn’t matter. They were his. And he’d wanted to share them with me.

  I was still upstairs when the doorbell rang. My door was open and I could hear Mum talking to whoever it was, asking them if they wanted to come in.

  Then the door shut and Mum yelled up to me. “Luke, something here for you.”

  I sauntered downstairs. Mum was holding out a small envelope. My name was printed on it in bold, black capitals. “Chloe’s friend, Eve, was just here,” she said. “But not to see Chloe. She didn’t want to come in. Just said she was dropping off something of yours, something to do with an art project?”