Don't You Forget About Me

“Do you wish school was different, Verity?” I asked. “Don’t you ever wish it was like a John Hughes film?”

“You and your bloody proms again. I don’t really think about school much,” she said.

“I do. All the time.” All the time I was at school, I couldn’t wait to leave, but I often wondered what it would be like to go back, do things differently.

I turned to Stubbs who was looking at me with his head cocked.

“I suppose what I really want to know is,” I continued, “if you could have your time at school again, would you do things differently?”

“I suppose, there is one thing I’d do if I had the chance.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” And he nodded his head towards the corner table where April Webster and her friends were sitting.

“What is she doing in here?” I said.

Having caught Stubbs looking over at her, April advanced towards us, Luis Vuitton handbag swinging at her side, blood-red lipstick, meticulously applied eyeliner, and false lashes, which were much longer than her dress.

“I wonder if Barry M know she’s raided their warehouse?” Verity whispered. I shushed her as April’s march came to a halt at the bar. Stubbs suddenly seemed tongue-tied and I got a bit flustered myself.

“So. Are you three coming then?” she asked.

“To what?” asked Verity, abruptly.

“To my ball. It’s going to almost be like a school reunion. It’s nearly fifteen years since we left school,” April said.

“A school reunion? What exactly is the point in having a school reunion when everyone I spoke to at school drinks in here all the time anyway?” said Verity with a sneer. It was actually a very good point and as if to prove it, Divvy McDavidson swaggered back in from the pool room. He pulled down the hood of his parka. I think he was trying to pull off a Liam Gallagher swagger, but in reality, he looked more like Frank. He’d clearly had a skinful again. He pulled up a stool, sat down and slumped over the bar.

April wrinkled her nose in disdain. “You can see everybody else.” I think she wanted us to thank her for honouring us with her presence and inviting us to mingle with the important people. “It’s to help the less fortunate. All the proceeds are going to charity,” she said smugly. “I’ve booked an amazing venue. It’s going to be spectacular.”

“When is it?” I said, wondering how good April’s event management skills were. I guessed they were impressive and much better than mine. April would be able to handle being the focus and would love being the centre of attention, I reckoned.

“Two weeks on Saturday,” she said, stroking her sleek black hair.

“Isn’t that’s a bit short notice?” I asked.

“Why, what else are you doing? Anyway, I’ve been planning it for months.”

Funny she hadn’t thought to mention it to us before, but she was right – I didn’t exactly have a scintillating social life.

Stubbs still wasn’t saying anything. He was looking at the floor, hands in his pockets. His hair fell over his eyes and it reminded me of the shy boy I had known at school.

“You’ll come, won’t you, sweetie?” she said, reaching over the bar and touching his arm. He looked up from beneath his hair, raised his eyebrows a little to indicate a yes.

Then, still digging her claws into Stubbs, she turned to me and Verity. “Oh and you know who else is coming don’t you?”

“Oh let me guess, is it Divvy by any chance?” said Verity motioning with her head to the crumpled parka in the corner. We could just see his head poking out as he snored on the bar. “Because if it is, then I’m definitely coming. Who wouldn’t want to spend an evening with him?”

Divvy lifted his head, but it seemed like too much effort to keep it there, so he slumped back down again.

“No, it’s not Divvy. I doubt he’ll be able to stand up that long. So do you want to know who it is then? Someone else who got back into town recently?” she asked.

“I’m guessing you’re going to tell us anyway,” said Verity, knocking back the last of her wine while I nervously sipped mine.

Don’t say his name.Not him. Don’t say it.

And then of course, almost inevitably, she did.

Chapter Three (#ulink_a627ef26-c1cb-50ab-b6f1-99c092986bb7)

Daniel Rose.

I remember the very first time I saw him. It was just after autumn half-term break in year eleven. Dad was back at work but things were still tight. That year, I had April’s old school cardigan from the year before, but if April knew, she didn’t tell anyone and I’d been able to keep myself under the radar.

But then I’d been late for registration again and Sister Mary Margaret was waiting outside the Science block for me at break time. She gave me a clear polythene bag along with some sharp words and pointed me towards the playing field. If I got back to Sister with a full bag before the end of break, I might have still had time to join Stubbs and Verity for a piece of soggy cheese and tomato pizza in the steamed-up dining hall. If I didn’t manage a full bag of litter within the first few minutes, I’d have to spend the whole of break out there freezing my backside off. I made my way towards the fence where the crisps packets gathered.

That’s when I first saw Daniel. He was leaning on the fence drawing on a sketch pad and as I approached he looked up, ran his hands through his Judd Nelson–style curtains of hair and indicated my litter bag with his pencil. He nodded at me in acknowledgement. He wore a checked flannel shirt over his uniform and I thought he was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

He walked over. “What you in for?” he asked, eyeing me up and down as if to assess my crime.

“Late,” I said.

“Yeah.” He nodded wisely, looking deep in thought, and gave another flick of his curtains.

“What about you?” I asked.

“This,” he said. He pointed to his blazer pocket where he had torn off his school badge and sewn on a Nirvana patch. “They’re so oppressive here. They don’t let us express ourselves, you know? They said I’ve got detention every break until I take it off and wear their school propaganda, but I said this place was an oppressive regime and it was symbolic of that, you know?”

I nodded, even though I didn’t have the foggiest what he was going on about. I studied him and noticed his trousers were ripped – not through wear and tear; I suspected he had done it himself.

“So, do you want to split this lot between us then?” I asked, pointing at the crisps packets. “We’ve still got fifteen minutes of break left. Or are you just going to stand there and doodle?”

He shook his head. He ripped a page out of his sketchbook, screwed it up and threw it among the other litter.

“Didn’t you like that one then?” I asked, picking it up and putting it in my litter bag.

“Art is meaningless,” he said, motioning his head towards his crumpled-up paper. “And it means everything. You know?”

My God, he was amazing. He was different to all the other boys at school, apart from the curtains haircuts – they all had those, of course, but Daniel was different. Daniel looked like a rock star and he had noticed me. I had spent years trying not to be noticed, but here I was enjoying the attention.

“I don’t know really,” I said. “I wasn’t allow to do art because…well, I can’t draw to save my life and there was that time in pottery where I made the My Little Pony penholder that exploded in the kiln, so I don’t think Mrs Kelly likes me much. So I do Office Studies and Information Processing.”

“Yeah?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah. It’s perretttty cool,” I said, trying not to cringe over telling him about the penholder and not sounding like I was cool at all. My social skills were underdeveloped as it was and here I was trying to talk to this rock star of a boy.

“Yeah,” he said, nodding and staring intently. The wind whipped up around us sending the litter up in the air and I instinctively tried to grab them like I was a Crystal Maze contestant. I grabbed a drinks carton and a pickled onion Monster Munch packet and then I stumbled trying to reach for a Wham bar wrapper, which left me nearly upside down.