wrong.’
‘Naw I’ve no,’ she grins. ‘Cmon, why did youse wantay meet us here? Whit are yese eftir?’
She has the accuracy of an assassin.
‘I’ll tell ye why. Deep doon, right, aw I want. Aw I have ever wanted. Is just tay wake up in the mornin wi some really nice lassie, and hear her say those three special words.’
‘Which are?’
‘You’re so cool.’
‘Right.’ She presses the blade of her gaze further in. ‘I’ve got yese aw wrong, have I then?’
‘Listen,’ I say, sweating now, ‘this is whit lassies dinnay understand about guys, right. Other guys are mair important tay a guy than lassies. It’s no aw about the shaggin. We’re cultured. Me and Dolby have read Lord of the Rings. Aw three books.’
‘So?’ she says, ‘Whit makes you so special?’
Good question. Horribly good question. I’m on the verge of answering like Morrissey
I am huuuuuuuuuman and I need to be luh-ah-uved
just like everybody else does
but I don’t, cos that would make me a dick, so instead I say, ‘See for my Higher English personal study, I’m looking at Stephen King and Clive Barker, explorin these two masters ay Horror. I’m totally gonnay get an A.’
‘That’s whit makes you special?’ she says uncertainly, ‘Stephen King and …?’
‘Clive Barker. They’re easily the best authors in the world today, and no just Horror. Stephen King wrote Stand By Me and the Shawshank Redemption–’
‘Stephen King wrote the Shawshank Redemption?’
‘– but he’s scary tay. I mean, jesus, that scene in The Shining. Heeeeeere’s Johnny! Clive Barker has a better imagination, and he tackles more philosophical issues than King.’
‘Ye’re cute, Super Sub,’ Wendy smiles. ‘God knows ye cannay relate tay lassies, but ye’re cute.’
‘Weaveworld is probably Barker’s best book. Followed by Imajica, and then the Great and Secret Show.’
‘Take ma arm.’
‘I’d also recommend Stephen King’s novellas, especially the Different Seasons collection, which has both Stand By Me and the Shawshank Redemption in it.’
‘Take ma fuckin arm!’
‘Um, okay.’
The wind lifts leaves into the air and back down again. The winter sun brushes the trees with gold and at last I feel a calm, an optimism settling on me. The Lads and Lassies are still making woopee up ahead and I’m walking arm in arm with a girl, an actual girl , and U2 are touring this year, and everything feels vibrant and alive and young and exciting, and Wendy leans close in so the others can’t hear and says, ‘I bet you’ve got a tiny dick.’
Cherry Coke catches in my throat. ‘ Cough! Whit did you just say?’
She’s allowing the group to drift further away, her hand snaking round my waist. ‘Gon, let me see it.’
‘I will not!’
‘Why no?’ she smirks, ‘Must be tiny then.’
‘No it’s no.’
‘Well.’ Her hand reaches down, her breath on my cheek, and something stirs. ‘Let’s have a look then.’
‘In the middle ay Callendar Park?’
‘Nobody can see.’
I glance round. The Lads are oblivious. The space around us is filled with leaves, branches, empty cans of spray paint, and a squirrel which is surely not much bothered about seeing my willy. It’s suddenly a great idea.
‘Gon,’ she says, ‘I’ll show you if you show me.’
My gaze falls to her chest. I fumble with my zip, feel the cold air on my exposed knob and go, ‘There!’
She peers down. Nods approvingly. Then she gives a sharp whistle, and everyone turns to see me standing in the middle of Callendar Park, my willy hanging out like a tiddler. One of the girls puts her hand to her mouth and goes, ‘Oh my god,’ before Wendy triumphantly says, ‘As if that plays for Rangers.’
free periods this morning, rolled up in bed, the world the colour of slumber. Don’t have to be at school until assembly, just before lunch, don’t want to move from here ever, it’s so warm and lovely and Dark Side of the Moony and nothing can harm
‘Naw I’ve no,’ she grins. ‘Cmon, why did youse wantay meet us here? Whit are yese eftir?’
She has the accuracy of an assassin.
‘I’ll tell ye why. Deep doon, right, aw I want. Aw I have ever wanted. Is just tay wake up in the mornin wi some really nice lassie, and hear her say those three special words.’
‘Which are?’
‘You’re so cool.’
‘Right.’ She presses the blade of her gaze further in. ‘I’ve got yese aw wrong, have I then?’
‘Listen,’ I say, sweating now, ‘this is whit lassies dinnay understand about guys, right. Other guys are mair important tay a guy than lassies. It’s no aw about the shaggin. We’re cultured. Me and Dolby have read Lord of the Rings. Aw three books.’
‘So?’ she says, ‘Whit makes you so special?’
Good question. Horribly good question. I’m on the verge of answering like Morrissey
I am huuuuuuuuuman and I need to be luh-ah-uved
just like everybody else does
but I don’t, cos that would make me a dick, so instead I say, ‘See for my Higher English personal study, I’m looking at Stephen King and Clive Barker, explorin these two masters ay Horror. I’m totally gonnay get an A.’
‘That’s whit makes you special?’ she says uncertainly, ‘Stephen King and …?’
‘Clive Barker. They’re easily the best authors in the world today, and no just Horror. Stephen King wrote Stand By Me and the Shawshank Redemption–’
‘Stephen King wrote the Shawshank Redemption?’
‘– but he’s scary tay. I mean, jesus, that scene in The Shining. Heeeeeere’s Johnny! Clive Barker has a better imagination, and he tackles more philosophical issues than King.’
‘Ye’re cute, Super Sub,’ Wendy smiles. ‘God knows ye cannay relate tay lassies, but ye’re cute.’
‘Weaveworld is probably Barker’s best book. Followed by Imajica, and then the Great and Secret Show.’
‘Take ma arm.’
‘I’d also recommend Stephen King’s novellas, especially the Different Seasons collection, which has both Stand By Me and the Shawshank Redemption in it.’
‘Take ma fuckin arm!’
‘Um, okay.’
The wind lifts leaves into the air and back down again. The winter sun brushes the trees with gold and at last I feel a calm, an optimism settling on me. The Lads and Lassies are still making woopee up ahead and I’m walking arm in arm with a girl, an actual girl , and U2 are touring this year, and everything feels vibrant and alive and young and exciting, and Wendy leans close in so the others can’t hear and says, ‘I bet you’ve got a tiny dick.’
Cherry Coke catches in my throat. ‘ Cough! Whit did you just say?’
She’s allowing the group to drift further away, her hand snaking round my waist. ‘Gon, let me see it.’
‘I will not!’
‘Why no?’ she smirks, ‘Must be tiny then.’
‘No it’s no.’
‘Well.’ Her hand reaches down, her breath on my cheek, and something stirs. ‘Let’s have a look then.’
‘In the middle ay Callendar Park?’
‘Nobody can see.’
I glance round. The Lads are oblivious. The space around us is filled with leaves, branches, empty cans of spray paint, and a squirrel which is surely not much bothered about seeing my willy. It’s suddenly a great idea.
‘Gon,’ she says, ‘I’ll show you if you show me.’
My gaze falls to her chest. I fumble with my zip, feel the cold air on my exposed knob and go, ‘There!’
She peers down. Nods approvingly. Then she gives a sharp whistle, and everyone turns to see me standing in the middle of Callendar Park, my willy hanging out like a tiddler. One of the girls puts her hand to her mouth and goes, ‘Oh my god,’ before Wendy triumphantly says, ‘As if that plays for Rangers.’
free periods this morning, rolled up in bed, the world the colour of slumber. Don’t have to be at school until assembly, just before lunch, don’t want to move from here ever, it’s so warm and lovely and Dark Side of the Moony and nothing can harm
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