You Can Call Me Paddy Spice Hugh
YOU CAN CALL ME PADDY SPICE
Hugh
OCTOBER 31, 1998
“T HIS IS BEYOND DEGRADING ,” F EELY DECLARED, APPEARING FROM MY DOWNSTAIRS bathroom dressed in a pair of shiny blue tracksuit bottoms, an orange belly top, a ponytail wig, and a full face of makeup. “I feel like a tool.”
“You look like one, too,” I choked out through fits of laughter.
“Says the fella head to toe in leopard print,” he shot back. “Nice wig, Hughie. You’re certainly living up to the label, ya scary bastard.”
“People in glass houses, Feely,” I shot back. “And give it a rest with the moaning.” Grimacing, I glanced down at the skintight, leopard-print catsuit I had been forcefully wedged into and then to the horrific platform boots that were cutting off all circulation in my feet. I could hardly stand in them, so I wasn’t holding out much hope for walking. “At least you get to wear trackies and runners.”
“And toilet-roll tits,” he reminded me, gesturing to his padded chest. “Don’t forget the toilet-roll tits, Hugh.”
“What do you call these?” I demanded, grabbing my own pair. “And mine are bigger than yours!”
“Don’t touch your boobs, Hughie,” my sister cried, rushing toward me. “You’ll ruin the shape.”
“At least you fuckers get to wear pants,” Gibs huffed, wobbling into the living room in knee-high, red-leather platform boots and a ginger wig. “And if you think toilet-roll tits are bad, try having balloon tits!”
“Because Ginger Spice has the biggest boobs,” my sister called over her shoulder as she readjusted my tits. “And I already explained the dress situation. Hugh’s and Patrick’s legs are too hairy.”
“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or an insult,” Gibs mused, scratching his chin.
“It’s a compliment,” she assured him, turning her attention to Feely’s chesticles. “You have the best legs, Gerard.”
“No, she has the best legs,” Feely whispered in my ear.
Following his line of sight, I locked eyes on the lanky blond on the other side of the room, attempting to hide her long hair beneath a dark wig.
Feeling irrationally irritated by Feely’s observation, I strived for calm when all I wanted to do was take off this shitty platformed boot and clatter him with it.
Liz had on the tiniest black dress I’d ever seen. The fabric was so tight, it was practically sewn to her milky cream skin. Her legs looked long on a normal day, but when she wore those sky-high stilettos, they looked like ladders .
Knowing that my friend was looking at her the way I looked at her made me want to break up the band before we even started.
“No, no, no!” my sister screamed then, claiming everyone’s immediate attention. “You are supposed to be wearing red, white, and blue, Gerard,” she wailed in dismay as she circled Gibs. “Not green, white, and gold!”
“Not too shabby, huh?” Twirling around to show off his makeshift mini-dress, which clearly consisted of a couple tricolor flags hastily sewn together, Gibs draped an arm around my sister’s shoulders and winked. “You can call me Paddy Spice.”
“The lads are going to give us hell for this when they get here,” Feely announced, looking thoroughly disgusted with himself. “I can hear Danny’s smart-ass remarks already.”
“Danny’s a dick,” Liz chimed in, moving to stand beside me. “And if he gives you guys shit for this, I’ll take off my shoe and stab him with it.” She looked at me and winked. “Especially you, birthday boy.”
Oh fuck .
My poor, poor heart .
My birthday party went ahead without a hitch. As Feely predicted, Danny Call went to town on our costumes the moment he arrived but quickly shut his mouth when Posh Spice threatened to relocate the hole he pissed from. After that, he was exceptionally quiet.
Overall, it was a good party, but I’d be a liar if I said I wasn’t counting down the minutes until my school friends went home. Because I wanted to be with my gang, the people who knew me better than everyone else. The friends I could be myself with and not have to worry about being perfectly polished or diplomatic because they accepted the raw, uncensored version of me in the same way I wholly accepted them.
Because Feely and I were both eleven this Halloween, we were allowed to head out trick-or-treating without a grown-up. Of course, Mam and Sadhbh had given us the speech about being responsible and looking out for the younger ones in our group. What they really meant to say was Gibs and Claire are liabilities and, if at all possible, could we please prevent the two eejits from getting knocked down by a car or taken away in the back of a stranger’s van .
They didn’t need to worry; I’d been keeping them alive for as long as I’d been here. Yeah, they were an absolute headache for me at times, but I knew I’d miss them if a stranger lured them away with sweets.
Toward the end of the night, when we were laden down with enough sweets to stack the shelves in the local shop, I purposefully fell back. Slowing my pace until my friends were a few houses ahead, I used my shoes as my excuse, but I had an ulterior motive.
I wanted to be alone with her .
“Can I talk to you about something, Liz?”
“Of course,” she replied, automatically falling back to walk with me. “What’s up?”
I didn’t know how to phrase the thoughts that had been plaguing me all day, so I just blurted it right out. “He likes you.”
“Who?”
Feeling another surge of intense jealousy, I pointed up the street to where Feely was wrestling with Gibs.
Liz looked to where I was pointing and nodded. “Yeah.” She sighed heavily. “I know.”
“You do?”
She sighed again. “He told me.”
Okay, this was new information to me.
New information that I didn’t like.
Nope, I didn’t like it one fucking bit.
“You never said anything.”
She shrugged. “I totally forgot about it until you brought it up.”
“Oh.” Trying to steady my emotions, I looked at her when I asked, “When did he tell you?”
“A while back,” came her quiet response.
Another wave of jealousy surged through me, and this time it was more intense.
Feely liked Liz.
And Liz knew Feely liked her because he told her.
A while ago .
What the actual fuck?
When was anyone planning on telling me ?
Jesus Christ, I wanted to kill him.
I’d never felt such an irrational surge of fury.
I wanted to ask her a dozen more questions, but I didn’t.
Because I had no right to.
I didn’t own her.
She was my best friend.
That’s it .
I didn’t have the right to interrogate her.
What the hell, though?
Seriously.
What the actual fuck!
“I didn’t say it back, Hugh.” Grabbing my hand, Liz pulled me to an abrupt stop on the middle of the footpath. “It was back in the summer when we all went bowling for his birthday. We were getting slushies at the counter, and he just blurted it out.”
“What did he say exactly?” I managed to ask, sounding surprisingly calm given the fact that my entire world was crashing down around me. “Did Feely say he had a crush on you?”
“Patrick just told me that he liked me before asking if I wanted to go out with him.” Her eyes were full of sincerity when she looked up at me. “I said no, Hugh. When he asked me to be his girlfriend, I said no.”
She said no .
She turned him down .
Breathe, Hugh, breathe .
My chest rose and fell rapidly, and I exhaled a ragged breath, desperately trying to manage the emotions battering through my heart. She continued to hold my hand with both of hers and the way my pulse skyrocketed from the contact made it hard to form a coherent sentence.
Dread.
Fury.
Panic.
Hope.
I was drowning in all of them.
“You, ah…” My voice cracked and I roughly cleared my throat before casting a glance at her. Liz looked so composed, while I was losing my shit on the inside. Because the prospect of her being with someone else had suddenly hit me like a fucking wrecking ball.
My breathing was hard and uneven when I finally asked, “You really turned him down?”
I needed her to tell me one more time.
I needed the reassurance, dammit.
I needed a lifeline.
When Liz nodded in confirmation, the panic and dread that was suffocating me was purged from my lungs in an audible whoosh.
Jesus Christ .
“What did you say?” I managed to get out relatively unjumbled. “When he, uh, when Feely asked you?”
“I told him that I really liked him, too.” Still gripping my hand with both of hers, she added, “But I couldn’t be his girlfriend.”
“Did he ask you why not?”
“Yeah, he did.”
“What did you say?”
“I told him the same thing I tell any boy who asks.”
So there were other lads.
What was I thinking; of course there were others.
Fuck .
“Which is?”
“That there’s only one boy I want as my boyfriend.” She kept her eyes on mine when she stepped closer, so close that I could feel her heart thundering in her chest. “And he’s the only boy I’ll ever say yes to.”