is serious,’ Marky observes. ‘He’s managed to make his own eyes water.’
Beansy lets himself fall back on to the bed, the laughter tightening his guts and making him cough with it now. It’s not so much the carry-on in here, as this coming on the back of what just happened along the hall, which gets funnier every time he pictures the moment again. He and Deso clocked that Liam and Jase had nabbed this big four-bedded room to themselves, so the pair of them wandered in to claim the spare berths just to see the disgusted and disbelieving looks on their coupons.
‘Yeah, right,’ Liam said, once he had got over the initial horror and slipped his fanny-pad back in or whatever.
‘Whit?’ Deso asked, face like butter wouldnae, actually starting to take stuff out his bag, the mental bastard.
‘No fucking way,’ Jason gives it. ‘Find somewhere else. Now.’
‘There’s nowhere else,’ Deso told him. ‘It’s a full hoose. If you wanted a room to yourselves so’s you’ve got peace to poof each other, you should have taken thon two-bed effort up the hall next to the swing doors.’
‘Handy for the lassies’ toilets as well,’ Beansy added. ‘Case you need spare tampons or that.’
‘The male section isn’t full,’ Liam replied, arms folded so he looks even more like a lassie in the cream puff. ‘There’s more girls than guys on this trip, or can you retards not count?’
‘That why you two have overspilled into the boys’ corridor.’
Jase just sighed at this point and looked at the ceiling, like this was just boring the lacy pink panties off him now. The game was a bogey, as he’d finally sussed that they were only doing it to take the rise.
‘Come on,’ Deso urged, packing his stuff back into his bag and lifting it again.
‘Aye,’ Beansy agreed, then turned to Liam on his way out the door. ‘As if me and Deso actually wanted to share with you two up-yourselves boring bastards anyway. We’d get better conversation oot the lassies - and less of it about clothes and make-up.’
Liam closed the door behind them with a highly satisfying slam, which is when the giggles started to set in.
Lying on his bed, Beansy’s still coughing and wiping his eyes when big Kirk fills the door frame, Rocks and Dazza at his back. He’s got that game face on, serious as fuck, which kills the laughter. Beansy recognises it as the put-on game face, as opposed to the genuinely-on-the-brink-of-bleaching-some-cunt game face. This is potentially more dangerous, because in the case of the latter, you’re probably all right as long as you’re not the one who’s pissed him off. When it’s put on, it’s because he’s about to lay down the law, and any challenge to his authority must be met with full force, or else every fucker would be taking liberties.
‘Right,’ Kirk says. ‘Get yourselves tae fuck.’
‘Aw, come on, gie’s a break, big man,’ Deso appeals. ‘There’s four of us, and we were here first,’ he adds, looking to Rocks and Dazza, who can occasionally be appealed to when they know the big man is out of order. Dazza is glancing to the ceiling, looking fed up. He’s not exactly ready to die for the guy right now, but doesn’t look like he can be arsed arguing either.
Kirk responds by simply staring at Deso, nary a word spoken. Deso stares back, not feeling defiant, simply unable to restrain himself from conveying his anger at this moment. Kirk is a cunt for doing this: not just for muscling them out, but for bringing the threat of violence into their midst after what happened to Dunnsy.
He remembers a fight on the beach on a school trip to Girvan in second year: him and Beansy, a square go. Cannae mind what it was about, just shite that had been building up for weeks. Shook hands a wee bit later, mates again for the trip home: back when a fight ended in a burst nose and a squiggly walk from getting a boot in the sack. Violence is something else now, not wee boys incompetently trying
Beansy lets himself fall back on to the bed, the laughter tightening his guts and making him cough with it now. It’s not so much the carry-on in here, as this coming on the back of what just happened along the hall, which gets funnier every time he pictures the moment again. He and Deso clocked that Liam and Jase had nabbed this big four-bedded room to themselves, so the pair of them wandered in to claim the spare berths just to see the disgusted and disbelieving looks on their coupons.
‘Yeah, right,’ Liam said, once he had got over the initial horror and slipped his fanny-pad back in or whatever.
‘Whit?’ Deso asked, face like butter wouldnae, actually starting to take stuff out his bag, the mental bastard.
‘No fucking way,’ Jason gives it. ‘Find somewhere else. Now.’
‘There’s nowhere else,’ Deso told him. ‘It’s a full hoose. If you wanted a room to yourselves so’s you’ve got peace to poof each other, you should have taken thon two-bed effort up the hall next to the swing doors.’
‘Handy for the lassies’ toilets as well,’ Beansy added. ‘Case you need spare tampons or that.’
‘The male section isn’t full,’ Liam replied, arms folded so he looks even more like a lassie in the cream puff. ‘There’s more girls than guys on this trip, or can you retards not count?’
‘That why you two have overspilled into the boys’ corridor.’
Jase just sighed at this point and looked at the ceiling, like this was just boring the lacy pink panties off him now. The game was a bogey, as he’d finally sussed that they were only doing it to take the rise.
‘Come on,’ Deso urged, packing his stuff back into his bag and lifting it again.
‘Aye,’ Beansy agreed, then turned to Liam on his way out the door. ‘As if me and Deso actually wanted to share with you two up-yourselves boring bastards anyway. We’d get better conversation oot the lassies - and less of it about clothes and make-up.’
Liam closed the door behind them with a highly satisfying slam, which is when the giggles started to set in.
Lying on his bed, Beansy’s still coughing and wiping his eyes when big Kirk fills the door frame, Rocks and Dazza at his back. He’s got that game face on, serious as fuck, which kills the laughter. Beansy recognises it as the put-on game face, as opposed to the genuinely-on-the-brink-of-bleaching-some-cunt game face. This is potentially more dangerous, because in the case of the latter, you’re probably all right as long as you’re not the one who’s pissed him off. When it’s put on, it’s because he’s about to lay down the law, and any challenge to his authority must be met with full force, or else every fucker would be taking liberties.
‘Right,’ Kirk says. ‘Get yourselves tae fuck.’
‘Aw, come on, gie’s a break, big man,’ Deso appeals. ‘There’s four of us, and we were here first,’ he adds, looking to Rocks and Dazza, who can occasionally be appealed to when they know the big man is out of order. Dazza is glancing to the ceiling, looking fed up. He’s not exactly ready to die for the guy right now, but doesn’t look like he can be arsed arguing either.
Kirk responds by simply staring at Deso, nary a word spoken. Deso stares back, not feeling defiant, simply unable to restrain himself from conveying his anger at this moment. Kirk is a cunt for doing this: not just for muscling them out, but for bringing the threat of violence into their midst after what happened to Dunnsy.
He remembers a fight on the beach on a school trip to Girvan in second year: him and Beansy, a square go. Cannae mind what it was about, just shite that had been building up for weeks. Shook hands a wee bit later, mates again for the trip home: back when a fight ended in a burst nose and a squiggly walk from getting a boot in the sack. Violence is something else now, not wee boys incompetently trying
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