Chapter 32
The excitement spreading through school as the formal drew closer was especially strong in the canteen; Thursday’s lunchtime Science revision had been cancelled because Mrs Robbins was off sick, so I went to find Jennifer.
Margaret had been with her and made it clear she wasn’t too happy about me stealing her friend away from her once again.
‘Sure you can fit me into your schedule?’ Jennifer said, which wasn’t the first time she’d said this. It used to sound like a joke but it somehow didn’t.
I picked a table for us and took out my lunch box while Jennifer got her food from the hatch, standing behind Leanne Newell and her friends in the queue.
‘I just overheard Leanne,’ Jennifer said, sitting down opposite me with a plate of vegetable rice. ‘Apparently she’s wearing a dress by Christian Dior to the formal.’
‘Who’s that?’ I asked.
‘Oh, it’s some ridiculously expensive designer brand, but her mum’s in fashion so probably got it for free,’ she said.
‘Did you get yours sorted?’
‘Yes, we’re still going fancy dress, right? Because the Beetlejuice costume I’m wearing is going to knock your socks off; I’m going for the green hair and everything.’
‘I love that film! I haven’t seen it in ages!’
‘Well, you’re going to get a good taster of it on Saturday night. Just remember to say my name three times before you pick me up or else I can’t manifest into the real world.’
I was laughing but awkwardly, because even though I wasn’t taking the formal seriously, there was something happening with Jennifer and me that did seem serious.
I was feeling things about her. About us.
And about Ronan. How he reacted when I told him Jennifer had said yes.
I hadn’t told Jennifer about that, I didn’t want her to know that her and me together was making my best friend somehow sad.
He was missing out on things and I was just simply missing him.
I was waiting for her to ask me about Ronan but so far it was all about the formal.
‘Don’t worry,’ she said, ‘I’m not going as Beetlejuice. Mum took me shopping last weekend and we got something that I’m not unhappy with so it’ll be OK, I think. I hope.’ She was getting twisty and nervous. ‘It’s easier for boys. Did you get your tux?’
‘Yeah, Dad took me to McMillan’s last weekend, all sorted.’
‘Great, and is he still driving us? I don’t mind us meeting there if my house is too out of the way? Mum can drive me?’
‘No, no, it’s OK, my dad is pretty set on being the chauffeur.’
‘I actually really can’t wait now,’ she said, ‘I never thought I’d be the girl who’s all excited about the formal but I am because, well, because it’s the first time you and I …’
The bell rang and Jennifer looked towards it.
‘Guess I’ll make this to-go,’ she said, looking down at her untouched plate of food and standing up.
‘You never finished that thought,’ I said, standing up too.
‘Which?’
‘The “you and I” thought …’
‘Oh,’ she said and brought her chin in tight to her neck and out again, ‘can’t remember, doesn’t matter.’
We left the canteen. Margaret was waiting for Jennifer outside and so I let them walk off together as I went in the opposite direction. It was the first time Jennifer hadn’t asked me anything about Ronan, her usual interest was pushed aside by the formal. I think I was annoyed about that.
As if annoyance was the theme of the day Kevin Sherry passed me with his football mates and walked over my shoes with his muddy boots.
‘Oh, sorry, didn’t see you there,’ he said with a massive smirk on his face.
I looked at him blankly as he walked on with his teammates, talking about the limousine he was renting and how much they all owed between them to cover the cost. I could already picture the scene: Kevin and Leanne arriving in a limousine, showing off their designer clothes, stepping out of the limo like they were arriving at a Hollywood premiere – they’d probably even hire some fake paparazzi to flash their cameras at them on arrival.
Then the image of my arrival played in my head: Jennifer and me climbing out of Dad’s Honda; its chipped bonnet and watermarked windows and air freshener hanging from the mirror to mask the damp smell.
I’d been neglecting cleaning Dad’s car because of how busy I’d been and if I didn’t do it, it didn’t get done. Prickly panic ran up my neck.
I ran from the bus stop to get home as quickly as possible. I busted into the hallway and went straight for the phone.
‘Mr Feeney, I’m so sorry, I completely forgot about something – can I do a half day on Saturday and do a full day on Sunday instead? I’ve got my formal on Saturday night and if I work the whole day it’ll be cutting it a bit fine.’
‘Need the afternoon to get yourself all dolled up, do you, Brendan?’ he said with a chuckle.
‘No, it’s just I need to get back to sort my dad’s car out, it’s boggin’, and he’s driving me and my date to the formal in it.’
‘Date?’ he said. ‘Very Yankee of you, Brendan.’
I felt myself blush.
‘Well, not a date, but like, the girl I’ve asked to go with me.’
‘I see …’ he said and paused a little bit too long, ‘… well, you’re in luck because I’ve not many funerals in over the weekend at the minute, so that’s not a bother for Saturday, as long as you get the hearse done because she’s out on a funeral in the afternoon and then if you can get the BM done too, that’d be grand. Sound alright?’
‘Absolutely, Mr Feeney, I’m sorry about that. I’ll be there first thing on Sunday to make up for it.’
‘You will not indeed, young fella, this is your first, last and only formal and I’ll not be havin’ you callin’ it an early night to get up on Sunday mornin’ to work. You take Sunday off, Brendan, and enjoy yourself.’
‘Oh, I can’t do that, Mr Feeney …’
‘You can and you will and there’ll be no more talk about it. See you Saturday.’
‘Thank you, Mr Feeney, I really do appreciate it, see you Saturday.’
I set the phone down.
At least I had the time. I just hoped it would be enough.
Ronan was mirroring my nervous energy when I saw him that night, shifting around in his seat and jerking his arm every now and again and moving his head in the directions I was moving mine.
I wanted to tell him everything, but I was careful too; I didn’t want all the talk about the formal and Jennifer upsetting him again.
‘The whole school has become obsessed, not just our year, all the other years are tuned in as well and joining in on all the gossip about who’s going with who, who’s not going anymore because they broke up, who’s getting dropped off in what fancy car.’
Ronan blew through his lips.
‘Exactly. Kevin and his gang are renting a limo. I’m going in Dad’s Honda.’
Ronan chuckled.
‘And yesterday, John McKeever did a buy-one-get-one-half-price Valentine’s special on his condoms in the toilets, but Mr Colton found out and everyone had to scatter. John was wandering around school today like a drug dealer doing secret sales.’
Ronan laughed, but not as much as I expected him to.
‘Anyway, I didn’t buy one.’
Ronan was just staring at me. I realised I’d been talking non-stop and he’d only been making sounds every now and then.
‘Everything alright, Ronan? You feeling OK today?’
His eyes looked off towards the window and then back to me and then his chin went to his chest and up, all very slow.
‘I really do wish you were going on Saturday night, you know,’ I said.
A weak smile from him.
‘Eye-uh … eye-uh …’ he said, trying to find a word, then gave up with an exhausted sigh.
The next thing out of my mouth wasn’t the thing I should have said probably. I suppose curiosity made me ask it.
‘Who would you have went with?’
He went very still and looked like he was about to sink into an even lower place so I quickly said:
‘Dawn McArdle?’
Ronan made a high-pitched yelp. Dawn was a girl in our year who seemed to have a grudge against the world and everyone in it; the last person Ronan would have asked.
‘I’m only joking; she’s not even going, she’s actually been protesting against it, something about conformist sheep, I think she called us.’
But the curiosity kept driving me.
‘Who else? Eimear Nugent?’
Ronan’s eyebrows raised. Eimear was Ronan’s equivalent when it came to sports, both of them winning the ‘Best Sports Boy’ and ‘Best Sports Girl’ awards on prize day every year.
If Ronan hadn’t had his accident I’m sure he would have asked her.
And if he had been going to the formal I knew I probably wouldn’t have; he was the one who did things and I was the one who watched.
He’d be the one talking about all his plans and then telling me about how it all had gone when we were back at school on Monday, making me feel like I had been there with his detailed retelling of the night. He’d have made me feel included.
‘What are you doing Sunday?’ I asked him. ‘I’ve got it off work, so how about I come round here in the afternoon and tell you how it all went?’
He shifted around in his seat.
‘Only if you want, though, to hear how awkward it all was for me?’
I smiled broadly at him and he slowly did the same back.
‘Yeah-ssh,’ he said slowly and quietly, hissing out the S sound for a few seconds.
‘OK, deal,’ I said.
Knowing I was taking on a role that was meant for him.
Knowing he knew it too.
Both of us agreeing to it.
To try.
––
Mr and Mrs McCoy were in the kitchen having a cup of tea when I was ready to leave.
‘Brendan, that sounds lovely,’ said Mrs McCoy after I told them about my idea for Sunday. ‘Do you want to join us for lunch as well? One o’clock?’
‘I don’t want to put you to any hassle,’ I said.
‘Not at all, it’ll be brilliant to have you and hear all about the Valentine’s night formal,’ she said.
‘The Valentine’s Night Formal,’ said Mr McCoy in a Dracula voice, ‘sounds like the title of some horror film.’
‘Oh I’ve just had an idea,’ said Mrs McCoy, walking over to open a drawer, ‘we have one of those new digital camera things, it’s very compact – would you mind taking a few snaps on the night and we can look at them together on Sunday?
Do you know how to use these things?’ she said, taking it out of the box.
‘Yeah, I’ll work it out,’ I said.
‘Thanks, Brendan, that’ll be great. Looking forward to Sunday myself now,’ said Mrs McCoy.
The beep of a car horn signalled my dad’s arrival.
‘Great, look forward to seeing you Sunday,’ I said.
‘And watch out for Cupid,’ called Mr McCoy after me, ‘he’s a busy man on Valentine’s night, so you may watch out for those arrows!’
‘Oh, don’t you worry, Mr McCoy,’ I said, ‘Cupid’s got bigger fish to fry than me.’
‘Oh, I don’t know about that, Brendan,’ he said, ‘when it comes to Cupid he doesn’t care about the size of the fish, he only cares about catching the best one.’
‘Thus spake Captain Ahab!’ said Mrs McCoy, laughing. ‘Go, Brendan, before he gets worse, he’s in one of those silly moods tonight.’
‘Just keep swimming,’ Mr McCoy said.
‘Stop!’ said Mrs McCoy, laughing more. ‘Get out while you still can, Brendan.’
I left feeling boosted, somehow less anxious about the formal now that I’d be able to share it with Ronan.
Share it with him in a new way.
Our way.