things up—imagining this, imagining that, balancing out the complications.
“I don’t want to get you into any trouble or anything,” I said. “If you can’t come—”
She shut me up with a sudden kiss that was almost painful in its passion. I thought I was going to fall over fora moment, but then she broke off, and I managed to steady myself, and she looked into my eyes and said, “I’ll be there—OK?”
“Right…”
She moved closer, bringing her face up to mine, until I could feel her whispered breath on my lips. “I’ll be there.”
Then her phone rang.
“Shit!” she said angrily, reaching into her bag and pulling out her cell phone. She checked the caller ID, swore again, then moved away to one side.
“Sorry,” she said to me. “I won’t be a minute.”
She put the phone to her ear and kept on moving away. I heard her say, “No—I told you…” then, “I know, but you said…” and then she was too far away for me to hear anything. I could still see her, though, and although she was standing with her back to me, I could tell she wasn’t happy. Her whole body had tensed up, giving her a strangely retracted appearance. The way she was moving—nodding her head and gripping her fists—reminded me of the hunched and withered gestures of an angry old woman.
It wasn’t nice to see.
I turned away.
Burying my head in the sand.
When she came back, she didn’t tell me what the phone call was about and I didn’t ask. All she said was, “I’m sorry, Joe, I have to go.”
I just nodded.
She smiled and said, “Next time…”
We kissed again, and she whispered things that mademe smile, and then we walked through the evening to the end of our day.
And that was it, a day at the zoo. One of the best—and weirdest—days of my life. I’m still living it now, every day, living it out in my mind—following the ups and downs, walking the pathways, reliving the moments of our Moonlight World…
It’s a day that never dies.
chapter seven
“ Y ou’re wasting your life, Joe,” Dad said sternly. “You know that, don’t you? You’re wasting your life. If you keep on like this—”
“Keep on like what?”
“You know what I mean—all this pop music and everything—you and your Skaties…”
“Katies.”
“What?”
“It’s Katies —not Skaties.”
“I don’t care what it is. You’ve got exams this year. You should be studying—”
“I am studying—”
“When?”
“All the time.”
“You weren’t studying today, were you? You weren’t even at school.”
“Yeah, but—”
“You lied to your teachers, you abused my trust…”
It was eight-thirty in the evening. I’d been in Dad’s study for the last half hour. I hadn’t meant to get back so late from the zoo, but I’d kind of lost track of the time…and then the trains had been delayed, and I couldn’t ring Dad to let him know, because I wasn’t supposed to be on the train. So when I got back and he called me into his study, I guessed straight away that Gina had told him the truth—or what she thought was the truth—and I knew I was in for some serious talking. And when Dad gets serious, he really gets serious.
“…I know it’s been tough over the last few years,” he was saying, “but that’s no excuse for wasting your time on things that don’t matter—”
“I’m not,” I said.
“No? You could have fooled me. How are you going to get the grades you need if you spend all your time playing at being a pop star?”
“I’m not playing at anything. I just enjoy it—it’s good fun. And, anyway, it’s only one evening a week—”
“And weekends.”
“Not every weekend.”
“And days out in London when you should be at school.”
“I’ve already explained that,” I sighed. “It was just a one-off thing. It won’t happen again—”
“No, it won’t,” he said coldly.
“You don’t have to—”
“What?”
“Nothing.” I hung my head in shame and stared
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