Harry puts his hands on his hips and grins up at me. “Thoughts?”
Harry Greene, a fairly short guy with very tall hair, is probably the most notorious individual in the entire school, partly due to how many parties he throws and partly due to the fact that he never, ever shuts up.
I raise my eyebrows. “About the fort or about your thighs?”
“Both, mate.”
“Both are great,” I say, deadpan. “Good job. Keep it up.”
Harry steps to one side and lunges. “I knew the skirt was a good decision. I should do this more often.”
“Definitely.”
Still in a lunging position, he asks, “Did Shannon send you? Have you come to shut down our fun?”
“Technically, yes.”
“Are you going to?”
“Obviously not.”
Harry nods. “You’re gonna go far, mate. You’re gonna go far.”
Nick is usually very easy to spot in a crowd, but today almost everyone is wearing red. There are a few people who clearly couldn’t be bothered, one of whom being my sister Victoria, who’s in her black Truham uniform, sitting on the blue asphalt in a corner talking to her friend Rita. But apart from her and a couple of others, everyone blurs into one giant mass of red.
“Nick’s over there.”
I look back at Harry and he’s pointing towards the far left corner, grinning at me. Then he starts walking towards the corner, humming ‘We’re All in This Together’, and I follow him.
“NICK, MATE!” Harry shouts over the crowds of Year 13s, all holding food and red plastic cups and taking photos of each other.
And there he is.
He turns round from a small group of people, a slightly dazed expression on his face as if he’s not quite sure whether he’s imagining Harry’s voice.
I have been going out with Nick Nelson since I was fourteen. He likes rugby and Formula 1, animals (especially dogs), the Marvel universe, the sound felt-tips make on paper, rain, drawing on shoes, Disneyland and minimalism. He also likes me.
His hair is dark blond and his eyes are brown and he is two inches taller than me, if you care about that sort of thing. I think he’s pretty hot, but that might just be my opinion.
When he spots us, he waves enthusiastically, and when we finally reach him, he looks at me and says, “All right?”
Nick’s High School Musical costume consists of a pair of bright red gym shorts and a red tank top. He’s pinned a piece of paper to the front with a very badly drawn wildcat on it. If I’m honest, he’s had worse outfits.
“You didn’t text me back, bitch,” I say.
He sips his drink. “I was way too busy getting my head in the game.”
Then he holds up a disposable camera and, before I have the chance to smile or make sure I look in any way presentable, takes a photo of me.
A second too late I hold up my hand in front of the camera. “Nick!”
He lets out a loud laugh and starts rewinding the camera before putting it in his pocket. “Another one for the Derp Charlie collection.”
“Oh my God.”
Harry’s already wandered off to talk to another group, so Nick steps a little closer and our hands automatically touch, his hands tapping mine like we’re playing a clapping game. “You sticking round here for a bit? Or are you revising?”
I glance round. “I wasn’t really revising. I was watching Mac DeMarco concerts.”
“Mac DeMarco?” Nick laughs. “I thought you said he was a dickhead.”
“He is, but his music’s good.”
We just sort of stand there for a bit, hands touching, and then Nick brings up a hand to adjust my hair slightly. It hits me suddenly that this is the last day we’re going to be at the same school. Six entire years of being at the same school, being in the same place every weekday, are over. The two years we’ve been a couple at school, two years of eating lunch together, sitting in form, hiding in music rooms, I.T. rooms, P.E. changing rooms, two years of going home together, walking home when it’s sunny, getting the bus when it’s cold, Nick drawing faces in the window condensation, me falling asleep on his shoulder. It’s all over.
Normally we talk about this stuff – stuff that we get sad about or annoyed about or angry about – but Nick’s really excited about uni so I don’t want to start complaining or make him feel bad. I’ve done more than enough of that in my life, for God’s sake. I just… I’m the one getting left behind, which is kind of crap, really.
We look up when we hear a small ‘click’ and a loud laugh. We turn and Harry is holding Nick’s camera up to us gleefully. “So bloody romantic. I can’t believe I’m gonna have to find a new couple to cockblock at uni.”
Nick snatches the camera back, but he’s smiling. “Did you just pickpocket me?”
Harry winks and laughs at him before wandering away again. Nick shakes his head and rewinds the camera. “That’s gonna be such an awkward photo.”
“Where’d you get the camera from?”
“I bought it. I thought it’d be good to have some actual physical photos to put on my uni wall instead of just crappy photos on my phone.”
I grab it out of his hands and take a picture of him.
“Hey!” He grabs it back, grinning. “I don’t want pictures of just me. Everyone’ll think I’m obsessed with myself.”
I smile too. “I’ll have that one then.”
Nick puts his arm around me. “Okay, we need at least one picture together where we look fucking normal.” He holds the camera up in front of us, the lens facing us, and I say, “Let’s be honest, we never look normal,” and Nick laughs at me while I’m making sure my hair isn’t doing something weird, and then we both smile, and he takes the picture.
“When I visit you at uni, I’m expecting that one framed,” I say.
“Only if you buy me a frame. I’ll have rent to pay.”
“God, get a job.”
“What? You mean you’re not going to buy me things now that you have a job? I can’t believe this. Why am I even in this relationship?”
“I don’t even know, Nick. Why are you still here? It’s been over two years.”
Nick just laughs and kisses me quickly on the cheek, then starts to walk backwards away towards the drinks table. “You’re nice to look at.”
I give him the middle finger.
When we first started going out I didn’t really like being too flirty with Nick around school because we’d get a lot of weird looks, particularly from the younger boys. I didn’t really like holding his hand anywhere where people could see us. I even felt kind of awkward just talking to him in school, because groups of other boys would look at us like they weren’t quite sure whether they were supposed to be making fun of us or not.
Nowadays the weird looks only make me want to hold his hand even more.
NICK
So I might’ve cried when the final bell went. Just a little bit.
I wasn’t as bad as Harry. He was bawling his eyes out and hugging everyone, including some scared-looking Year 7s who just wanted