Free Only We Know by Simon Packham Page B

remember stuff by.’
    â€˜What about the wedding video?’
    â€˜You can’t just walk into someone’s house and start defacing their property.’
    â€˜Oh come on, Dizzy, I was enjoying that. Give us my pen back.’
    â€˜Don’t be an idiot.’
    He jumps off the bed and steps towards me. ‘All right then, if you’re really that bothered about it, how about we get a bit more creative?’
    â€˜What are you talking about?’
    â€˜Can’t you guess?’
    â€˜No.’
    â€˜Here’s a clue then. If you were a burger I’d call you McBeautiful.’
    â€˜What?’
    â€˜Leave it out, Dizzy. You must know I like you.’
    â€˜Well, I’m sorry about that because —’
    â€˜It’s okay, we can just talk if you like. Why don’t you tell me about your old school?’
    â€˜ No , I … it’s too boring anyway. You don’t want to hear about that.’
    â€˜I’m sure there’s something else we could do,’ he says with a massive metaphorical wink. ‘You never know, you might enjoy it.’
    And I’m looking around for a football to curb Conor’s enthusiasm when in walks the deputy head student with a crash helmet under his arm.

19
A LITTLE TOUCH OF HARRY IN THE NIGHT
    ‘Talk about bad timing,’ says Conor Corcoran. ‘Bloody hell, Hazzer, don’t you ever knock?’
    ‘I need somewhere to put my helmet,’ says Harry.
    ‘Well, chuck it on the bed and do one, eh, matey? Me and Lauren want some quality one-on-one time.’
    ‘Is that right?’ says Harry, rearranging the coats into a straight line.
    ‘Yes,’ says Conor, grabbing my hand. ‘We’re an item, aren’t we, babe?’
    ‘Don’t be stupid,’ I say. ‘And can I have my hand back, please?’
    ‘I think you’d better let her go, Conor,’ says Harry.
    ‘Oh come on, Hazzer, give us a break.’
    ‘I said I think you’d better let her go.’
    ‘Yeah all right,’ says Conor, releasing my hand and slumping back onto the bed. ‘But I still reckon we could be good together.’
    ‘Look, I’m sure you’re a nice guy and everything, Conor, but I think I’m going downstairs.’
    ‘That’s what they all say.’
     
    Back in the kitchen, they’ve abandoned grape-stuffing for chilli powder and Tabasco cocktails.
    ‘You okay?’ says Harry.
    ‘Yeah, fine. It’s just a bit hot in here.’
    ‘Don’t worry about Conor. He’s an idiot sometimes, but I think he actually likes you.’
    ‘Is that so hard to believe then?’
    ‘That’s not what I meant,’ says Harry. ‘I was trying to make you feel better.’
    Skinny jeans really suit him, and so does that blue checked shirt. ‘Yeah, I know … Thanks.’
    ‘Can I get you a drink or something?’
    There are so many questions I’m burning to ask him, so many things that I just can’t say. ‘I think I’d better call my dad.’
    ‘You can’t go yet,’ says Harry. ‘It’s not even ten.’
    ‘Well, I suppose I could stay for a bit.’
    ‘Great,’ says Harry. ‘What do you want to do?’
    And then I have an idea. ‘The music’s a bit crap, but we could go and have a dance if you like.’
    ‘I don’t dance,’ says Harry.
    ‘Really?’ H used to be into some weird hard-core stuff. Maybe it’s for the best.
    ‘But I know what we can do.’ He takes a paperplate and piles it with pizza triangles. ‘Pepperoni, right?’
    ‘How did you —’
    ‘Everyone likes pepperoni. And if you look under the sink, there’s a plastic bag with some cans in it.’
    ‘I don’t drink.’
    ‘Me neither, so you’d better bring that bottle of Diet Coke.’
    ‘Where are we going?’
    ‘Shh,’ says Harry, pushing open the back door and stepping into the night. ‘We’re not supposed to be out here.’
    ‘Why not?’
    ‘Izzy’s dad’s a bit of a gardening freak. Breathe on his roses and you’re dead.’
    ‘How do you know that?’
    ‘We went out for a bit. Me and Izzy, I mean, not