Chapter Six
Zander
Fuck! I stare at the crumpled permission slip in my hands, searching it from top to bottom for the signature I need.
I reminded dad last night I needed to hand it in this morning; otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to go on the trip with the rest of my class.
But these are the kind of games he’s been playing for the last few years now.
I don’t like to complain, it’s definitely an improvement on the way things used to be.
Jules: Where R U?
Me: Runnin’ late, on my way now
Jules: We’re loading onto the coach now… Hurry up
Me: Yes boss
I scribble something resembling his name on the dotted line and stuff the paper into my bag, along with a packet of crisps and a bottle of water. Looks like we’re eating light today.
I make sure the phone is on silent before pocketing that, too. Theresa had slipped it into my coat when I was eleven, the day the police returned me home following my extended stay at their house.
“One call, and I’ll be there,” she had said as she pulled me in close.
They had spoken with my dad, who denied any wrongdoing.
He told them that I was a ‘clumsy child’ with too much imagination.
The week that I stayed with Jules was the best and worst of my life.
I was free for a little while, able to just behave like any regular eleven-year-old.
There was no worrying about having clean clothes to wear, when my next meal would be, or waking up with bruised ribs or a black eye.
It was just me, my best friend, and his loving Mom.
The downside to staying there, however, was the tension I had brought along with me.
I could see that the smiles that usually reached their eyes were restricted, and that every conversation seemed carefully thought out.
The worst part, though, was the overwhelming look of sadness that took over Jules’ face when he thought I wasn’t looking.
When the police returned at the end of the week to collect my recorded statement, I told them he was right.
I sat in the kitchen whilst they lectured me about how wasting police time was an offence, and that my stories could have potentially ruined someone’s life.
Theresa had tried to interject; she had tried to use the evident injuries marking my body to prove that I didn’t sustain them by accident.
Ultimately, it came down to me and my cooperation.
I had considered being selfish and telling them the truth once again.
But one glance at Jules from across the kitchen flooded my mind with all the times I would see his eyes lingering on the bruising of my cheek, or the way he stumbled over his words, worried he might say the wrong thing.
They knew I was lying, but they were powerless to stop me from leaving.
As I said before, I would lie for Jules, over and over.
I reached the school gates just in time; the coach is fully loaded with wild teenagers, and the teachers are about to board when I jog over. “Sorry I’m late, Miss Patrick,” I say between gasps for air.
“Well, you’re here now. Do you have your permission slip?
” She asks irritably. I rummage in the front pocket of my bag for the crumpled piece of paper and hope that she doesn’t study it too hard.
She glances at it quickly, seemingly relieved to see a scribble on the dotted line, before ushering me onto the coach.
I scan the aisles of seats, looking for Jules and the spare one he usually keeps beside him, when I feel something tapping against my leg.
“This seat’s free, if you want it?” A high-pitched voice says to my right.
Layla looks up at me through her lashes, a shy smile playing at her overly glossed lips.
I do a quick sweep for Jules again, noticing he’s deep in conversation with a girl named Holly, who happens to be sitting beside him. In my seat, I can’t help but think.
“Sure, thanks.” I offer Layla a friendly smile in return as I slide my bag into the carriage above and take my seat beside her. I fumble with the belt for a while, trying to adjust it to fit around my waist; the last user was clearly an infant.
“Here, let me…” Layla says, reaching across and working the belt with her small hands.
The scrap of fabric extends as she pulls it across my lap, her arm brushing against the bump that my zipper has created.
She lets out a small gasp, followed by a giggle as she sits back in her own seat. Does she think–
“That’s not my umm…” I can see her cheeks turning pink from the laughter she’s trying to hold back.
“It’s okay…”
“No, no, it was just my zipper, see–” I tilt my hips towards her, angling my body to better explain the hard lump she felt, just as Miss Patrick walks by.
“Alexander! If your bum isn’t firmly on that seat for the rest of the journey, you will find yourself sitting next to me,” she scalds, as my lower half hovers mid-thrust, fucking hell.
The trip was less eventful than the coach ride there, thankfully.
We wandered around castle ruins for what seemed like forever before being told to do it all over again, but this time, wearing headphones that would narrate the history of our surroundings.
I sent my eternal thanks silently to Theresa for the phone when I realised I could disconnect the soundbox and plug the headphones into my mobile, instead.
Jules knew I was up to no good. He said he knew the moment I was doing something I shouldn’t be when he looked my way during a graphic retelling of multiple beheadings, only to see my face grinning and head bopping away.
I think that was around the time ‘Stacey’s Mom’ came on.
We loaded back onto the coach just before the school day ended. I made sure not to miss my chance to sit next to Jules this time, as Layla and Holly took the two seats in front of us.
“What are you two up to this weekend?” Layla asks, spinning in her seat and peering at us through the gap.
Her blonde hair is sleek and straight, hanging down either side of her face, making her blue eyes look bright and icy.
I feel Jules fidgeting next to me. I know he doesn’t speak to girls often, actually, he only really speaks to me.
Maybe that would explain the weird sensation I felt when I saw him with Holly this morning.
“Nothing, just hangin’,” I reply, spreading my legs out in the space in front. I knock my knee with Jules, who gives me a knock back, laughing as he does. Layla’s eyes flit to our legs and back, before flicking her hair over her shoulder and continuing–
“Well, I’m staying with Holly this weekend, maybe we could all meet up and go somewhere?” I glance over at Jules to see if his face gives away his thoughts, but as usual, he’s sitting there with a dopey grin and tight lip.
“Yeah, sounds good. What d’ya wanna do?”
“What about the cinema?” Jules sits upright beside me, his excitement barely contained.
“Yeah! There’s this new mov– Oww!” I slap my hand down onto his thigh and dig my fingers in, before he can tell the girls all about the new anime adaptation that we’ve been dying to see.
“Cinema sounds good, anything in particular you want to see?” I give Jules another squeeze, reminding him to keep his suggestion to himself. Holly pops her head around the other side of the seat, her honey blonde hair just a few inches from scraping the floor.
“There’s a new anime out that I’ve been wanting to see for a while, if you guys want to, of course… I know it’s a bit–” Jules bats my hand away, he’s going rogue, and I’m powerless to stop him.
“Midnight curse and shadows?! I loved the series, but I wonder if the movie will do it justice. Zander doesn’t think so, but I’ve been looking at the producers and directors, and not to mention the budget they had!
” I don’t think I’ve ever heard Jules speak so many words to someone who isn’t me before.
I can’t help the pride that warms my chest, or the unease that swarms my stomach. Layla glances at me, and I just shrug–
“Well, sorted then. Saturday late showing?” I suggest breaking up the animated conversation that Jules and Holly are having over me.
“It’s a date, well, double date,” she says with a giggle and mischievous look on her face, before spinning back around and whispering with Holly.
“Jules? What’s taking so long?” I wait a couple of seconds before knocking on the bathroom door again, “Jules?!”
“Just… Give me a minute, okay?” His voice is muffled by the slab of wood separating us, but I don’t miss the slight hesitation in his tone. Deciding whatever is happening in there needs further investigation, I brace my shoulder against the door and turn the handle–
“I’m coming in, you better be decent.” With a quick shove, the door opens. The lingering humidity from our earlier showers clings to my skin as I take a cautious step inside, unsure of what will greet me once the fog clears.
“Zander! I said one minute!” His rapid, panicked movements cause the air around him to clear. He’s standing with nothing more than a towel wrapped around his waist, and each hand placed over his chest covering his nipples.
“Jules, is that a–” My eyes fix on the rectangular strip between his pecs.
He takes two quick strides towards me, placing one hand over my mouth and holding his towel with the other.
I can feel the warmth from his shower radiating from his proximity, as the heat from his skin rises in swirls of steam from his shoulders.
“Shh! Yes, it’s exactly what it looks like.
And no, I can’t get it off,” he says between clenched teeth.
It’s obvious now that the beads of moisture lining his forehead are droplets of panic-induced sweat, rather than evidence of his shower.
I try to reply, but it comes out as muffled nonsense against his soft, clammy hand.
Jules narrows his eyes and stares straight into mine– “If I move my hand, are you gonna keep the noise down?” I nod frantically, relieved he can’t see the smirk growing beneath. “Okay…”
“JULES, WHAT THE FUCK HAVE YOU DONE?!” It’s not a shout, more like a high-volume whisper.
“I just wanted to get rid of the few hairs that have started growing, and I thought I’d do it all in one go, y’know?
But now the strip is stuck on there, and I daren’t pull it off.
” I reach forward and tug the corner of the wax strip.
Yep, it’s definitely doing what it says on the packet. “Oww! Don’t pull it!”
“Well, how else do you expect to get it off?” He doesn’t answer, he just drops his gaze to the freshly ironed t-shirt hung on the door. “You were just gonna leave it?!”
“Well… Yeah, kinda,” he shrugs.
“Not a chance. Here… Let me just…” I reach for the strip again, but Jules backs away.
“No, stay away…”
“Jules, I’m just trying to help–”
“No, you want to flay me alive, that’s what you wanna do!” His hysterical voice and reddening face threaten to free the laughter I’m working so hard to keep in, as he backs himself into the tiny space between the sink and bathtub.
“Well, looks like you’re out of options, buddy,” I tease.
“Zander, I mean it…” I reach forward, placing one hand on his chest, the other gripping the edge of the wax strip, as he braces both his hands against my shoulders.
I almost feel bad for what I’m about to do.
The look in his eyes as he steals the moment to stare straight into me is full of something I can’t place.
I find myself staring back, if anything, to figure out what’s going through his mind as he stands there, almost naked and fully trusting.
I give my head a quick shake, but the weight of his gaze lingers.
“Ready?”
“No! Wait, I–”
I pull my arm back in one, strong and swift motion. The sound of tearing cuts through the air before Jules has a chance to finish what he was about to say.
“Fuck! I think you’ve ripped my tits off!” I let the laughter out the moment my hand meets my side. Jules’ chest is angry and red as he stands, poking it, wincing at the contact.
“Well, let’s see what we got.” I hold the strip sticky-side up between us. Silence fills the room as we both squint at the adhesive.
“Huh,” is all Jules manages.
“Wait! I think that’s one… right… there?” We lower our faces to inspect the anomaly. “Uh, actually, it looks more like a bit of lint…” Jules pushes past me and makes his way back to the bedroom, muttering under his breath the entire way.