Authors: Jacqueline Wilson

Kiss (30 page)

BOOK: Kiss

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‘Bender.’

‘Queer.’

‘Faggot.’

Paul was there, calling too.

‘Glass boy.’

‘
Ass
boy.’

They all guffawed. Carl strolled on, still whistling, though his face was bright red.

‘
Glass boy, ass boy
,’ Paul chanted, and they all chorused it.

‘That bastard,’ I said, trembling. ‘We have to shut him up.’

‘I know how,’ said Miranda. ‘Come on.’

We marched through the school gates into the playground.

‘My God, it’s that girl with the tits!’ someone shouted.

‘The tart on Paul’s phone!’

‘Paul’s girl.’

‘I’m not Paul’s girl. Paul’s an idiot,’ said Miranda. ‘I’m Carl’s girl. Hey, Carl.’

She left me and went right up to him. Then she put her arms round his neck, snuggling up close, and kissed him on the lips in front of everyone. It was a long slow kiss, stunning everyone into silence.

‘But he’s
gay
!’ someone muttered.

‘Gay or straight, he’s a better kisser than any of you lot,’ Miranda said. ‘Silly little boys. Come on, Carl.’

She gently took his bandaged hand. They
started walking. I thought they would walk straight past me, but Carl put his other hand out for me.

‘Who’s
that
girl?’ someone said.

‘She’s Sylvie. She’s my girl too,’ said Carl, holding my hand as well.

We walked on, the three of us, out of the school gates. There was a stunned silence behind us.

‘There you are!’ said Miranda triumphantly. ‘Was that not brilliant!’

‘
Not
brilliant,’ said Carl. ‘But thank you, Miranda. Thank you, Sylvie.’

We were still holding hands.

‘What do we do now?’ I said. ‘Walk off into the sunset?’

WE WALKED BACK
to Carl’s house. Jules was waiting white-faced in the kitchen.

‘Oh! Hello, Sylvie and Miranda,’ she said. She paused. ‘Hello, Carl. Good day?’

‘Could have been better,’ said Carl. He paused too. ‘It caused a bit of a stir having the two girls come to meet me.’

‘I’ll bet,’ said Jules, glancing at Miranda in my pyjama-vest. ‘Coffee, girls? And I’ve made chocolate caramel shortbreads.’

They were Carl’s favourites, usually kept for high days and holidays. The four of us sat round the table drinking coffee and eating shortbread. Miranda started showing off, but Jules had some inkling of what she’d done for Carl and indulged her now.

We heard the front door slam and then Jake
bounded into the kitchen. He did a classic double take when he saw us sitting there. A
triple
take for Miranda’s chest. He gave me a little grin and then turned to Carl.

‘Watcha, squirt,’ he said. ‘What’s your secret, eh? How come you get
two
girls stalking you like crazy and I haven’t got any?’

‘My natural charm?’ said Carl.

‘Yeah, right.’ Jake paused too. ‘Good day?’ he said.

‘You’re all starting to sound like spies in a James Bond film,’ said Carl. ‘I take it
Good day
is code for
Did the little shits beat you up now they know you’re gay?
’

‘Dad says you can’t
know
you’re gay at your age, squirt. Same-sex crushes are part of normal adolescent development, blah blah blah.’

‘Yeah, whatever,’ said Carl.

‘Quite,’ said Jake. ‘Still,
did
they beat you up? Because if you tell me which ones I’ll be round to sort them out.’

‘You’re too late, mate.
I’ve
sorted them out,’ said Miranda.

‘In her own inimitable way,’ I said.

‘Phew!’ said Jake. ‘Fancy sorting me out some time, Miranda?’

‘I think maybe I’m going to start getting more choosy,’ said Miranda. ‘You guys don’t seem able to cope with my physical charms. I’m not sure I like being called the Girl with the Tits. Maybe I’ll bind them up and wear a modesty tent for a few years.’

‘Spoilsport,’ said Jake.

He aimed a mock punch at Carl’s shoulder. ‘Glad you’ve got your girl army, kiddo. Just pass them my way when you’re done with them.’ He sat down and started munching.

‘I said, I’m afraid I’m no longer available,’ said Miranda. ‘I’m intending to lead the life of a nun.’

‘OK, OK, I get the picture, Sister Miranda,’ said Jake. ‘But you’re not the only girl, you know.’

He paused. He looked at me significantly.

I sighed, thinking he was sending me up. ‘Yeah, right, ha ha,’ I said sourly.

Jules nudged me. ‘He’s seriously got this big crush on you, Sylvie,’ she whispered.

I blinked, astonished. Miranda raised her eyebrows. Jules smiled at me encouragingly. Carl looked hopeful.

Oh God. I could see them thinking this was the perfect solution. I could have Jake as a boyfriend and Carl as a best friend, a neat and cosy arrangement with the two boys next door. But it wasn’t as simple as that. I didn’t love Jake. I loved Carl.

Jake was looking at me, very red in the face, though he was trying to act cool, drumming his fingers in a syncopated rhythm on the table. He shook his head, tossing his wild fringe out of his eyes. I didn’t want to hurt him.

‘Oh gosh,’ I said in a little-girly voice. ‘Stop teasing me, Jake! And anyway, even if you were serious, you’re like, so much older than me,
practically grown up. Mum would never let me go out with you.’

I don’t know whether I convinced him but he laughed shakily. ‘Yeah, I’d be seriously cradle-snatching hanging out with you, Little Titch.’

Jules sighed and poured herself another cup of coffee. Miranda started talking about all the older guys she’d been out with, seventeen – and eighteen-year-olds, even some guy in his twenties. I couldn’t tell if she was making it all up or not but it didn’t really matter. Her voice went on and on, while we nodded and gasped and laughed, her captive audience.

Then Jake slouched off to do his homework. He ruffled my beautifully styled hair and made silly kiss-kiss noises at me, turning it all into a joke. He went to ruffle Miranda’s too, but she caught his wrist and twisted it.

‘Don’t try that game on me, matie. No one messes with me.’ She yawned and stretched. ‘I suppose I’d better be sloping off home. Oh God, it’s miles away. Maybe I’ll get a taxi.’

‘I’ll drive you,’ said Jules, getting her car keys out of her bag.

‘You’ll have to change back into your school uniform, Miranda,’ I said.

‘Can’t be bothered. I’ll come to school like this tomorrow, eh? That’ll wind them up.’

‘You’re the biggest wind-up merchant I’ve ever met,’ said Jules. ‘But you’re a great friend to my Carl and that’s all that matters to me. Come on, sweetheart.’

‘OK, OK. Thanks, Jules.’ She looked at Carl and me. ‘You guys are coming for the ride, yeah?’

‘Sorry, Miranda, we’ve got things to do,’ said Carl.

She moaned, but Jules led her away firmly.

Carl and I were left alone in the kitchen together.

‘Things to do?’ I said softly.

‘I want you to come to the Glass Hut with me,’ said Carl. ‘I can’t face it by myself.’

‘OK,’ I said, though my heart started racing. I took hold of his hand without thinking and he winced.

‘Sorry! Are your hands still very sore?’

‘It’s my own fault. Sylvie, do you think I’ve smashed
everything
?’

‘Pretty much,’ I said.

‘Maybe – maybe I can’t stand to look just yet.’

‘No, let’s go now. We’ll have one quick look, just to check.’

‘OK. What are your shoes like? You be careful, you mustn’t cut your feet. And put on Dad’s gardening gloves, OK? Just in case you touch anything.’

We walked slowly down the garden. We came almost to a standstill as we approached the hut.

‘I want to hold your hand, but look at us, we’re like bloody boxers,’ said Carl, tapping his big bandage against my leather gardening glove.

‘Deep breath,’ I said.

I reached forward and gently edged the door of the Glass Hut open. I sniffed the familiar
earthy smell, wondering just for a split second if it had all been some mad and terrible dream. I’d have given the whole world for Carl’s collection still to be there, carefully lined up and colour coordinated. But my foot crunched on broken glass as I stepped inside. I switched on the light. We stood together, breathing heavily.

The Glass Boy was still shattered, only one foot intact. All the little glass animals were horribly maimed. The vases were smashed too, great shards of colour creating crazy stained glass on the shelf. But the paperweights were mostly OK. I picked up Miranda’s
Remember Me
.

‘Thank goodness.’ I turned it round and round, holding it up to the light. ‘It’s not even got the tiniest scratch. How lucky, it’s your most valuable piece.’

‘It’s not the most valuable,’ said Carl. His voice was thick. I knew he was trying not to cry again.

‘You mean the poor Glass Boy,’ I said, looking at the little glass foot, five small perfect toes, a graceful arch, a slimly turned heel and then an ugly jagged edge of ankle.

‘No, I mean my special champagne flute,’ said Carl. He nodded over at the shelf of glasses. They were nearly all broken, snapped off at the stem, but my champagne flute birthday present seemed untouched.

‘There!’ I said. ‘I’m so glad!’

I could see there was a little chip in the glass
at the top. I’m sure Carl could see it too, but we both pretended it was still perfect.

‘You still have a collection,’ I said. ‘Small and select.’

‘True.’

‘And you can carry on collecting.’

‘Maybe,’ said Carl. ‘Or maybe – I don’t know …’ He started very cautiously pushing bits of coloured glass around with his bandaged hand.

‘Careful!’

‘Yeah, yeah, I’m being careful. Look, you pick up that blue piece, and that one, and that darker bit. Look, if we put one piece here, the other there …’ He nudged them into place. ‘There!’

I looked. I didn’t see what he was getting at. ‘I don’t think you can mend it,’ I said gently.

‘No, no, I’m not mending, I’m making. Pick me out some more blue bits.’

I didn’t get it until Carl made me put a tiny chip of yellow against the top blue piece – and then I saw.

‘It’s a bird! A bluebird with a little beak!’

‘Maybe I’ll start glass appliqué? It might work, mightn’t it?’

‘You’d be brilliant at it. And maybe later on you could learn real stained-glass making, when you’re at art school.’

‘And you’ll come to art school too.’

‘And we’ll rework all the Glassworld Chronicles and get them published and make a
fortune,’ I said, picking up the big book.

Little splinters of glass fell from it but it was safe too.

‘And King Carlo and Queen Sylviana will always live together and love each other,’ said Carl.

‘Of course,’ I swallowed. ‘Even if we don’t.’

‘I’ll always love you, Sylvie,’ said Carl.

He took a step until we stood together, the Chronicles clasped between us. He leaned his head forward and gently, softly, sweetly, kissed me on the lips.

It wasn’t the kiss I’d been hoping for. But it was the next best thing.

About the Author

Jacqueline Wilson is an extremely well-known and hugely popular author who served as Children’s Laureate from 2005-7. She has been awarded a number of prestigious awards, including the British Children’s Book of the Year and the Guardian Children’s Fiction Award (for
The Illustrated Mum
), the Smarties Prize and the Children’s Book Award (for
Double Act
, for which she was also highly commended for the Carnegie Medal). In 2002 Jacqueline was given an OBE for services to literacy in schools and in 2008 she was appointed a Dame. She has sold over thirty-five million books and was the author most borrowed from British libraries in the last decade.

Also by Jacqueline Wilson

Published in Corgi Pups, for beginner readers:

THE DINOSAUR’S PACKED LUNCH

THE MONSTER STORY-TELLER

Published in Young Corgi, for newly confident readers:

LIZZIE ZIPMOUTH

SLEEPOVERS

Available from Doubleday/Corgi Yearling Books:

BAD GIRLS

THE BED & BREAKFAST STAR

BEST FRIENDS

BURIED ALIVE!