S H I N E

September

Its Monday morning, 7:00AM. As I lay in my bed, I stare at the ceiling and the ceiling stares back. It’s staring at me with an expression that reads; ‘How did I get stuck housing a boring weirdo like you?’ The answer is: I don’t know. I must find out. Off the top of my head I could think of five reasons.

5 Reasons Why My Life Is Boring

1. My friends are very boring. Their idea of fun would be to mix Coke with Coke Zero (Which in my opinion tastes the same anyway.)

2. I live far away (30 minutes) from all my friends, so I hardly go out. I could ride my bike down to see them but my body wasn’t built to handle the strain of a bike (I’m lazy.)

3. Nothing interesting has happened to me so far in my 15 years of life. My theory is that we all have one major event that happens in our lives that we will remember long after it has happened, like your favourite song on a particular album. This may happen to you when you’re young or old or, unfortunately, it may never happen.

4. There is nothing to do where I live.

5. I’ll think of a fifth reason later.

I glance at my clock. The time is 7:10AM. The ceiling wins this round, I give up staring. I pull myself out of bed and change into my school uniform. Movies always capture the exciting part of someone’s life, but what happens when the credits roll and the screen fades to black? Does the person go back to a now uneventful and unremarkable life? I don’t want my life to be a one off; I want it to be a trilogy, or even a continuing series. I’d be happy with just a supporting role. It’s Monday morning and I have school.

You often hear people say things like; ‘I wish I was younger’, or they often seem to tell you what things were like when they were young, how much happier they were “back then”. Personally I don’t share this idea, mainly because I’m only 15 but also because so far, being a teenager hasn’t been all its hyped up to be. It seems that Peter Pan is wrong. I want to grow up now, as quickly as possible. I should sue the makers of every teenage rebel film out there. Where are all the parties, the fun, the relationships? This is probably the worst part of being a teenager. The opposite sex. You spend your first 15 years of life being completely neutral with them, then one day you wake up and you want to get in their pants.

I once told my therapist that I was in love, and she told me: ‘Love is the answer to all the problems in the world, but then after it’s all over you realise that Love was the one causing the problems in the first place’. Although she had just broken up with her boyfriend. I could tell because her engagement ring was missing and the picture of them together was missing from her desk. I’ve stopped seeing her now. It was her third boyfriend in 5 weeks, we sometimes used to swap roles and I would ask her how she is. She convinces herself that it ‘creates a better bond between us’, but honestly I think she just needed someone to talk to. Some people never find love.

As I walked down the long road that led to my school, I couldn’t help but feel optimistic. I watched my Mother drive past me and race down the road, like a Formula One car racing to beat the red light. She does take me to school, but I tend to just have her drop me off near it, that way I can independently make my own way plus walking is good for you.

Last week I bought myself a new coat, and after much consideration and decision making decided to wear it to school. Why the complicated thought process? Because at school you can’t go one minute without someone throwing something. In the classroom it might be a pen that has leaked or a glue stick that’s missing a lid. But the worse weaponry is used on the battlefield, the courtyard. From all directions yoghurt pots, drinks with no lids and sandwiches come flying at you, left, right and centre. It started off with basic objects, like an orange or a mini cheddar but since then the lower class morons in my school have ascended to more advanced weaponry. Only last week did one unfortunate victim get a whole chocolate milkshake in the face. The whole courtyard descended into silence then we all burst into laughter as the poor boy slowly walked into the office and waited to be picked up by his Mum. I would have felt sorry for him but it’s hard to take someone serious when they are covered in chocolate. I’m sure he’ll see the funny side in a few years.

I reached the top of the road and turned left and walked further down that street. I had reached Brads house. Brad was my best friend, but furthermore the complete opposite of me. Whereas I was socially awkward and couldn’t start a conversation with someone even if they had provided me with a checklist of all their interests and hobbies, he was charming and cool. He could talk a vegetarian into eating a cow. Because he was all these things he was very popular with the girls, he could have anyone he wanted. Brad had the belief that at our age we should ‘try and experience as much sex as possible’, because ‘in the end we all end up looking like wet sponges’, apart from Madonna, he added, because she ‘seems to get fitter every year’. As Brad seemed to always get everyone’s attention I felt that it was now my time to get every girls eyes fixed on me. I bought a new coat. That way it could show off my sense of style but also show how mature and sophisticated I am for my age, girls like that. So as I knocked on his door I couldn’t help but feel that it was my time to shine.

I knocked two times on his door (Three times is too rude and one time too lazy.) Immediately I heard his dog unleash it’s loud, screeching barks at me from the kitchen and almost in unison, Brad then reacted by unleashing his own unique form of swearing upon the poor pet. He opened the door and greeted me.

‘Alright knob neck’.

I have known Brad for so long I have become immune to his unique way of greeting me. ‘Knob neck’. It doesn’t even make sense.

‘Hey, you ready to go?’ I say.

‘Yeah, sure. Did you know that Mouse sex lasts for only five seconds?’

This is my best friend. As we walk down the final road to school our conversation switches from sex, to girls, sex with girls and then to how unsatisfied female mice must be. We approach the side of the school and go around the front; James explained that this way, not only do we get to see ‘fit girls’ but also their ‘fit mums’. I hope he just means their general well being.

At the front of the school, waiting for us is Simon. He isn’t my best friend but he would make it to my top ten list of people to save if the school was on fire. He has a habit of putting his hand on top of his hair and pressing down when it’s windy, so that his hair doesn’t ‘go spastic’. Today it was windy. As we approach him I prepare myself for conversation, should I say something witty to start the day off? Or perhaps greet him with a compliment? I decide on a compliment.

‘Good morning, Simon. Your hair is looking lovely as always’.

‘Fuck off’.

It seems I picked the wrong option. As we pass him, he starts to walk with us. We are the three Musketeers, striding past the school. People look at us and gasp in awe at our image. Brad; good looking and charming. Simon; tall and strong. And me. Wearing that coat. We are the definition of cool. All we need now is some accompanying background music. If only my life had a soundtrack.

As we approached the doors that took me and Brad to our tutor, Simon broke off from us and turned left. Before he left he turned around and shouted to me and Simon; ‘It’s my birthday Saturday, I’m having a party. You two are invited. Come round mine at about five O’clock.’ Then he left.
Tutor was long and boring, mornings always drag on. Our Teacher attempted to tell the class about an upcoming football tournament that was being held, but I wasn’t paying attention, I was too busy daydreaming about mice. Brad kept mentioning a girl he liked, Zooey, but he soon gave up, once he had realised my attention was elsewhere. I was lost in my thoughts and then the bell snapped me out of it.

I had double Maths first. My teacher, Mr Freeman was sweating as usual. He was like a bath that was overflowing. The sweat was pouring out of his armpits and down the sleeves of his blue shirt. Blue was defiantly not his colour. He sat at his desk, inspecting us all, while the waterfalls under his arms continued to flood the fabric on his shirt. If someone doesn’t open the window, there’s a possibility we may all drown. I decide to take it upon myself to do this. I get up and make my way to the windows the other side of the room.

‘What are you doing, James?’ Mr Freeman asks me.

‘I was just going to open the window, Sir. It’s a bit stuffy in here.’ I reply.

He smiles at me. ‘Go back to your cage, James’.

Is that a threat?

‘But it’s hot.’

He motions towards the window. ‘James it is very cold outside, if you open the window you will then complain it’s too cold. Either way no one will be satisfied. Besides, I’m sure everyone would rather be too hot then too cold.’ He smiles again and then returns to his paperwork.

I would rather be too cold. I hate hot weather.

‘Ok’ I reply as I return to my seat. He wins.

The rest of the day carried on harmlessly. At break we all stood in a circle like some secretive cult and discussed several topics. We blocked out the rest of the school. Apparently someone threw a pencil case at this boy called John, and it had hit him right in the eye. I hadn’t seen it but I was told it was very funny.

In Science we were given a Cows eye to dissect. Simon refused to touch it and Brad spent the whole lesson gagging at the smell of it. It was up to me to cut it open. It looked like a tiny pebble but smelt like gone off milk. I washed my hands twice afterwards.

At lunch we played football on the field and tried to keep it away from the other boys in our year, who I’m sure were going to try and continue their success of stealing the ball off us.

Finally, the last lesson was Business Studies. It was Friday today, which meant that Simons party was tomorrow. Better late than never. Throughout the day, no one mentioned my coat.

On Saturday morning I woke up and proceeded to do my usual routine. Nothing. Time couldn’t go any slower, as I sat waiting for it to even get gradually close to five O’clock I decided to get dressed and ready. As I entered the living room wearing my favourite T-shirt and skinny jeans, I found my Mum already in there. She noticed me and gave me an odd look.

‘I thought the party wasn’t until five?’ she said.

‘It isn’t’ I replied.

‘So why are you already dressed?’

‘I need to be prepared’.

‘James, its three O’clock!’

‘I don’t want to be late.’

Her eyes flicked to my feet. ‘You even have your shoes on!’

She stared at me curiously. ‘Will there be any’... She whispers the last word... ‘alcohol?’

I stare at her for a few seconds. Not this, anything but this. Parents on their own are bad enough, but paranoid parents are the worst kind.

I take a deep breath. ‘No, Mum, there won’t be’

‘Are you sure? I can write a note saying that I allow you to drink?’

‘That won’t be necessary, I’m sure the only thing I’ll be drinking is orange juice’.

‘Ok, just don’t get too drunk please.’

I swear they never listen.

4:30 finally arrives and that’s good enough for me. I shout for my Dad and we both leave the house. He drives me Simon’s house, who lives around twenty, twenty five minutes from me. As he pulls up outside the house, he asks me to have a quick talk with him. My Dad looks at me the way a proud artist might look at its masterpiece.

‘So what’s this I hear from your Mother about this being a special party?’ He asks me.

A special party? What is this, some kind of code?

‘What do you mean by special?’

He looks at me intently. ‘You know, alcohol...people...girls’

Please don’t do this.

He continues. ‘All I’m going to say is; just have fun and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’ He gives me a wink.

I don’t know his limits.

I get out of the car and just stare directly at the house. Just keep moving, that’s all that matters. Soon you’ll be safe inside. As I near the door, I turn to see my Dad unroll the window. He looks at me and smiles before shouting; ‘Give them one for me son’, and then drives off.

I’m not entirely sure what he means.

I approach his house and knock on the door. It opens suddenly and Simon is standing before me, he grins and welcomes me in. I follow him into his living room: It’s spacious and comfortable. There is a large sofa pushed at the back of the room, which is occupied by Brad and another boy whose name I don’t know. On the floor is sat a red haired girl and another one of my friends, Connor. There is also a chair in the corner of the room which I assume was occupied by Simon. I hand Simon his 99p birthday card with a ten pound note inside and lower myself into the sofa. I feel myself sink into it.

The boy introduces himself as Alex. He is funny and quick witted, no wonder him and Brad appear to be getting on so well. Simon appears from the kitchen.

‘By the way, I have some drinks if anyone wants some’.

I quickly look at him. Unbelievable, it seems this may turn into a special party after all.

‘You have alcohol?’ I ask him hopefully.

‘No, he laughs at me, but we do have orange juice’.

I accept it.

It is now 5:30. We are all huddled round the sofa; Simon, Brad and I are sitting on it, and Alex, Connor and the girl, Maria, are sitting on the floor in front of it. We are all watching some vague horror film, the best kill has already happened, a girl got cut in half by a razor blade. It took a while. I can only hope that a serial killer would knock down the door right now and kill me before I watch anymore of this crap. The serial killer just told the surviving teenager that he is actually her brother. I feel numb. Then the door bell rings. Maybe my prayers have been answered? No, serial killers don’t ring the door bell. Unless their polite. Simon pauses the film and gets up to answer it, everyone complains, I’m relieved. I hear the door open and Simon talking to someone, he sounds happy. He walks into the living room.

‘Hey guys, this is Summer, my friend’.

We all turn our heads to see a girl walk through the door. She’s small and timid looking but at the same time confident and beautiful. She slowly makes her way over to Maria and sits next to her, apologising to everyone. I can’t take my eyes off her. Unexpectedly a loud scream fills the room and makes me jump. Simon had started the film? How long had it been playing for? It didn’t matter; I wasn’t interested in serial killers and disgusting kills anymore. It seems that the horror film had turned into a love story.

The film has nearly ended. Summer is sitting in front of me; the back of her head is lovely. The film finally ends and Simon jumps up to turn the lights back on. The lights hurt my eyes but I don’t care. She is talking to Alex and laughing at something he just said. What did he say that was so funny? I’m sure it wasn’t even amusing at all, but because she’s so kind she laughed anyway to save him from further embarrassment. She has calm green eyes, they shine when in the light. She glances at me for a second and I freeze. She looked at me. I’m beyond words how, I can’t even think properly. I notice someone sit next to me. It’s Simon.

‘Hey, you ok James, you look... weird’.

‘Huh’ is all I can reply.

‘What’s wrong with you?’

Focus. She’s just a girl, a girl who is incredibly attractive and in the same room as you.

I clear my throat. ‘Who’s that girl over there?’ I pretend to forget her name.

‘Who Summer?’

‘Oh is that her name, I didn’t realise. What’s she like, as a person?’ Be casual. You’re not interested, just curious.

‘James, she’s single.’

I don’t even reply. My face is frozen, how can she be single? Are the boys at her school blind? That’s a good thing, actually, that way they don’t know what walks among them. The odds are favoured towards me.

Simon stands up and looks down on me. ‘Just talk to her’ he says before walking off.

I will. I’ll sneak over there, swiftly dodging everyone and approach her. Like a ninja. I will talk to her.

It is now 9:00. We both haven’t moved from our respective places. I’m still on the sofa and she’s still across the room, talking to Alex. She never looked at me again. I focused my eyes on her. She had small hands and slender arms that were hanging loosely by her side, but every now and then she would uncomfortably fiddle with her dress, or put her hands together. Her pale skin illuminated under Simons bright living room lights.

I forced my eyes away. I only had an hour left, I had ruined it and it was too late now. I’ll just sit here and sink deeper into the sofa. I have become one of the furniture. I felt someone sit down next to me, probably Simon to harass me for ruining my chances with her.

‘Hi’.

The voice was quiet and innocent, not Simons voice. I turned my head round and saw Summer sitting next to me. Shit. She looked amused at the sight of me. She was staring straight at me and her eyes looked even more magnificent close up. I felt like melting.

‘Hi’ I replied, an awkward start.

‘You’re Simon’s friend aren’t you, he’s told me a bit about you’.

‘Nothing too embarrassing I hope’

She smiles. I feel happy. ‘That would be telling’.

‘Why were you late?’

‘Oh, I had an argument with my Mum. It set me back a bit.’ She looks down after saying this. She’s embarrassed.

‘Did you win?’ I ask.

She faces me again. ‘Obviously’ she says with a smile escaping her lips.

I smile too. I glance at the clock; I have forty five minutes left. I look through the back door, there’s a goal and a football in the garden. I could ask her if she wants to go outside or play football. No that’s stupid, I can’t even play it myself and why would she even want to...

‘Do you want to go outside?’ She asks me, interrupting my thoughts.

I try to hide the happiness. ‘Yes, of course’ I reply.

We both get up and make our way outside. She notices the football and starts to mess with it, kicking it all over the place, in every direction. I immediately run after it and take the ball off her. She laughs and picks it up. ‘That’s cheating’ I yell at her as I chase her around the garden. I catch up and knock the ball out of her hands. She laughs in childish delight and reaches for it. But I am too quick; it’s already in my possession.

She stops for breathe. ‘You’re James, right?’

‘Yes’ I reply.

‘I’m Summer’.

‘I know’ I say.

Her warm smile appears again. ‘I’m tired’ she complains, as she lowers herself onto the floor. She lies there, looking up at the stars. I drop the ball and lay down next to her.

‘What type of music are you into?’ she asks me.

‘Any I guess but not dance music. I can’t dance anyway so I guess that’s good. I’d be too dangerous, probably end up injuring someone.’ I’m really selling myself.

She chuckles. ‘That’s ok, I’m no good ether. I just swing my arms like a mad person’.

I face her. ‘Who said you could steal my dance moves?’

Her laugh rings out around the garden. She’s so close I feel her body shake next to me. We are lying side by side and her hand is hanging limply next to mine. I could hold it.

‘What do you think of the party?’ She asks me.

‘Well I wouldn’t call it a party; it’s more like a get together, orange juice and a film, how exciting!’

‘I don’t know. The film was pretty interesting’.

I nudge her. ‘That’s because you only watched the credits, they were the best bit’.

‘I have to admit I couldn’t look away from the screen’ she says.

I can’t look away from her.

‘It’s so cold’. She moves around and her hand casually brushes up against mine. ‘I think the party’s been interesting. I’ve made some new friends at least.’

Friends.

‘I’ve been thinking and we are friends now, aren’t we?’ I ask her.

‘Yes’.

‘Well how about I have your number, so that I can text you in a friend way? You know for when you’re bored and have no one to talk to...’ I trail off; I can’t even finish the sentence.

She stares at me. ‘Just as friends?’

‘Yes, of course'.

She hesitates for a second. ‘Sure, we can get to know each other’.

I close my eyes, remembering the moment. I succeeded, I have her number.

‘What are you doing?’

I open my eyes to find Summer standing over me, I didn’t hear her get up.

‘Nothing, I just had something in my eye, just needed to close them for a moment’.

She starts to walk towards the house but turns and looks back at me.

‘Come on. Let’s go back indoors, before you fall asleep’.

And then she was gone.

I pull myself up and make my way to the house. Tonight had been a victory, now I just had to turn this into a winning streak. I pass the football and kick it back into the goal; it hits the back of the net.

Score.