Slam by Nick Hornby Page B

if I kicked Alicia, but there was nothing there, so I opened my eyes. The first thing I saw was the animal alphabet poster on the wall, and then I looked down the bed and saw the empty cot. I was still in Alicia’s bedroom.
    I got out of bed and put on the pair of trousers I saw draped over Alicia’s armchair. They were mine, I recognized them, but the shirt underneath them was new. It looked like a Christmas present from somebody, because I couldn’t imagine I’d have bought it. I never wear proper shirts with buttons, because buttons are boring.
    I went to the kitchen, just to see if anybody else was around, and they were all in there—Alicia, her mum and dad, Rich. The baby was in there too, of course. He was sprawled out in Alicia’s lap, holding a small plastic spoon in his fist and looking at the lights in the ceiling.
    â€œOh, good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” said Alicia’s mum.
    â€œHello,” I said. I was going to say “Hello, Mrs. Burns,” but I didn’t know whether I called her that anymore, and I didn’t want to start the day with that whole Alzheimer’s thing.
    â€œYou were so weird in the night, I let you sleep in,” said Alicia. “You feeling better?”
    â€œI don’t know,” I said. “What time is it?”
    â€œNearly eight ,” she said, as if eight o’clock in the morning was like lunchtime. “Roof did well, though.”
    I had no idea what this meant.
    â€œYeah?” “Yeah” seemed like a safe thing to say.
    â€œYeah. Seven-fifteen. You’re a good boy, Roof, aren’t you? Yes you are.” And she lifted the baby up and blew a raspberry on his tummy.
    This baby—my baby, Alicia’s baby, our baby—was called Roof. Whose idea was that? What did it mean? Maybe I hadn’t heard right. Maybe it was a boy called Ruth. I think on balance I’d rather he was called Ruth than Roof. At least Ruth was a name.
    â€œWhat’s happening today?” said Alicia’s dad.
    â€œI’m going to college this afternoon, and Sam’s looking after Ruth,” said Alicia. To be honest, she said Roof again, but I was going to stick with Ruth for the time being. Being called Ruth wouldn’t cause him any trouble until he started school, and then he’d get the shit kicked out of him.
    â€œHave you got college this morning, Sam?”
    â€œI think so,” I said. I wasn’t sure, though, because I didn’t even know I went to college, or where that college might be, or what I studied there.
    â€œYour mum’s helping you this afternoon, isn’t she?”
    â€œIs she?”
    â€œYeah. You told me she’s taken the afternoon off.”
    â€œOh. Right. Is she coming round here or am I going round there?”
    â€œYou made the arrangement. You’d better call her.”
    â€œYeah. I’ll do that.”
    Alicia’s mum handed me a cup of tea.
    â€œYou’d better get your breakfast if you’re going to get to college on time,” she said.
    There were bowls and milk and cereal on the table, so I helped myself, and no one said anything. At least I’d done something normal. It felt like I was playing some sort of game that everyone else knew the rules for except me. I could do or say anything at any moment, and it would be wrong, and I’d be out. I tried to think. College probably started at nine, and it probably took me half an hour to get there. Most places take you half an hour to get to in London. I decided to walk out of the door at half past eight. Until then, I’d just try and keep out of the way.
    Even though I didn’t need to go, I went to the downstairs toilet, locked myself in and stayed there for longer than anyone usually stays in a toilet.
    â€œAre you OK?” Alicia said when I finally came out.
    â€œBit of a weird stomach.”
    â€œYou OK to go to college?”
    â€œYeah,