I stand up from my chair and put my blazer on. ‘If there’s any left.’
The Year 12s have already left for study leave and the only reason I’m here is because I revise better at school than at home. Tao and Aled thought the same. None of us really want to be here though. It’s the hottest day we’ve had this year and I just sort of want to lie down somewhere with an ice pack on my head.
Nick and I have plans for this weekend. He’s finally free from school, I’m taking a weekend off revision. It’s Thursday today; I’m staying over his tonight. Tomorrow night we’re going to Harry’s party for everyone in sixth form. Saturday we’re going to the beach. Sunday we’re going to London.
Not that we don’t spend every weekend together anyway.
Not that we don’t see each other every single day.
If you’d told me three years ago I’d be in a two-year-long relationship by the time I was seventeen, I would have laughed in your face.
‘CHARLIE SPRING!’
As I walk through the box-fort entrance underneath a banner that says ‘WILDCATS!’ Harry Greene approaches me, arms outstretched. He is wearing a twelve-year-old’s High School Musical cheerleader costume and is exposing a lot more thigh than is probably appropriate for school.
The fort is huge – they’ve taken over two tennis courts. Along with the hilarious amount of cardboard, they’ve also stolen at least ten tables from various classrooms and have a fully functioning barbeque set up in between the two courts. A couple of people are handing out burgers and buns. Vampire Weekend is playing from a wireless speaker in a corner.
Most, if not all, of Year 13 are here. It’s a huge year group compared to the rest of the school – a lot of the Higgs girls from that year group moved to Truham after there was a big fire at Higgs and a few buildings burned down. Long story.
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.’
Harry used to be a pretty nasty person – just one of the many older boys who gave me shit when I was younger and the only out kid in school. But over the years, thankfully, he’s gotten over himself and realised that being homophobic isn’t cool. Not that I’ve forgiven him, though. Nick and I still think he’s a massive knob.
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 being my sister Tori, 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,’ 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 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.’
‘Ah. Of course.’
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 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 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. ‘Did you literally just pickpocket me?’
Harry winks and laughs at him before wandering away again. Nick shakes his head and rewinds the camera. ‘God, he’s so irritating.’
‘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.’