An English Boy in New York by T. S. Easton Page B

it’s that great fat bird,’ Gex said. ‘She looks like a Heidi.’
    â€˜Or maybe the one with the zits,’ Keith suggested.
    â€˜Sit down,’ I hissed. ‘Be cool.’
    â€˜Are you gonna call?’ Gex asked, sitting down finally.
    â€˜No of course not!’ I said. ‘I have a girlfriend.’
    Gex rolled his eyes. ‘It doesn’t count when you’re overseas.’
    â€˜It doesn’t,’ Keith confirmed. ‘I went to Bermuda once to pick up a package, obviously I couldn’t take my girl. Oh my God, I got up to some stuff there.’
    â€˜What stuff?’ Gex asked, eyes wide.
    â€˜We don’t need to hear about the stuff,’ I said.
    â€˜Anyways, the point is, why take sand to the beach?’ Keith said.
    â€˜Damn,’ I said, suddenly remembering something. ‘We’ve got to find an internet café.’
    â€˜What for?’ Keith asked.
    â€˜I have to call my probation officer.’
    He sat back as if stung. ‘You’re on probation? What for, man?’ he asked. ‘What did you do?’
    â€˜He capped a guy,’ Gex said.
    â€˜No shit?’ Keith said, now looking slightly alarmed.
    I shook my head. ‘I did not. I injured a lollipop lady, OK?’
    There was a short silence, in which Gex looked at the floor and Keith picked his teeth with a cocktail stick, looking utterly bemused.
    â€˜Is that, like, code for something, huh?’ he whispered.
    â€˜No. A lollipop lady is a woman who helps small children cross the road,’ I said. ‘It’s a British tradition. A man can do it too. Whoever does it wears a white coat and is generally close to drawing their pension.’
    â€˜Whoah,’ said Keith, as though I had just spoken Martian. ‘That’s  …  well, that’s  … ’
    â€˜Pathetic?’ suggested Gex.
    â€˜It didn’t seem pathetic to the magistrate,’ I told Keith. I finished my drink. ‘Now if we’re done discussing petty crime, I have some skyping that needs doing.’
    â€˜Good Lord, Ben. Are you trying to get me fired or something?’
    â€˜Sorry, Ms Gunter,’ I said quietly. I didn’t want Keith to hear me grovelling. They were over on the other side of the café, checking their Minecraft worlds.
    â€˜Do you know what time it is here?’ she asked.
    â€˜Eveningish?’ I suggested.
    â€˜It’s 8.34pm,’ she said.
    â€˜You’re not in your nightie yet, at least,’ I pointed out.
    â€˜I was having dinner,’ she snapped.
    â€˜Yes. In fact, you have a little bit of spinach between your teeth,’ I said, trying to be helpful.
    â€˜You promised,’ she said. ‘You promised me you wouldn’t do this again.’
    â€˜I’m sorry. It’s just that I still don’t have my phone and it’s been a really crazy day.’
    She just glared.
    â€˜Tomorrow,’ I said. ‘I’ll call you just after breakfast.’
    â€˜Good,’ she said.
    â€˜If there’s time.’
    â€˜Ben!’
    â€˜Brandi comes for me really early,’ I explained. ‘We have more interviews tomorrow.’
    â€˜Call me!’ she said.
    â€˜That’s what all the girls say,’ I said, trying to make a joke out of it.
    The screen went blank. She’d hung up.
    I still had some time, so I called Megan. I wasn’t expecting her to answer, but then the screen flickered and the connecting icon came up.
    â€˜Hey, gorgeous,’ I said as the screen flicked into life.
    A dishevelled-looking kid wearing a
Despicable Me
T-shirt loomed into view.
    It was Marcus, Megan’s little brother.
    â€˜Oh, hi, Marcus. Is Megan around?’
    â€˜No, she left a while ago,’ he said. I like Marcus, he’s not a sneak, and doesn’t call me Bellend and try to trip me up outside Boots, like others of his age and gender are prone to doing.
    â€˜On