Free The Bad Mother's Handbook by Kate Long Page B

Year 11 girls
half turn to gawp.
    ‘What’s that for?’
    He ran his hand through his wiry hair like he does and
pushed his glasses against the bridge of his nose. ‘You
looked in need.’
    ‘Of what, exactly?’
    ‘Chocolate.’
    ‘I think you ought to know I never accept sweets from
strangers.’ I bit into the KitKat and felt better. ‘Thanks.’
    ‘My big sister always swore by chocolate. Contains
iron and antioxidants, boosts your immune system,
relaxes your arterial walls making strokes less likely.
Really. It ought to live in the medicine cabinet. And,
most importantly, it lifts your mood through the mystic
power of everyone’s favourite chemical neurotransmitter,
ta-daah, serotonin.’
    The Year 11s were hunching their shoulders suspiciously
and nudging each other. Girls that age are so
immature.
    ‘Right. Do I look like a miserable bugger, then?’
    He had the grace to look uncomfortable. ‘I overheard
Julia telling Anya that you’d split with your boyfriend.
Although, and I know I’m almost certainly going to regret
saying this, he was somewhat lacking in sartorial discretion.’
Daniel sat down opposite me and leaned forward
across the desk. ‘He dressed like a tosser.’
    I was genuinely confused. He didn’t even know Paul.
    ‘Spooky leather trousers. Give you crotch-rot. Apparently.
Not that I’ve ever worn them.’
    ‘Oh, I get you. He – it wasn’t—’ I stopped. If I started
to explain he’d think I was a right tart. Bloody hell. Why
did I attract these weirdos? What bloody business was it
of his anyway? ‘It’s not really your place to comment,’ I
snapped and stuffed the rest of the KitKat into my mouth.
    For a moment he seemed crushed. ‘No, fair enough.
Scrub that bit. Foot in bloody mouth again. The Aztecs
used cocoa beans as a simple form of currency, you know.’
He snatched up the hot chocolate and took a deep swig.
Then he put the plastic cup back down on my spider
diagram and grinned hopefully. I scowled back. He took
the scrap of silver foil and scrunched it deftly into a four-pointed
star shape, which he stuck on the end of his finger
and waved around. The star dropped off and skittered
away, leaving a red dent in his skin. Finally he picked
up my retractable biro and began clicking it on and off
rapidly.
    ‘Right, well, having fucked up big time I might as
well go the whole hog.’ He fixed his gaze on me. ‘Would
you – go out with me?’
    And it seemed to me he shouted those words and they went echoing round the ceiling, because the hum of chat
suddenly dropped, like it always does exactly when you
don’t want it to.
    I was completely amazed. It wasn’t only that he
looked a bit odd and talked posh bollocks, but it had
been popularly assumed since he arrived at the school that
he wasn’t interested in girls. Electrical gadgets, maybe;
human relationships, no. He’d been here a term and a half
and never asked anyone out, never got off with anyone
at a party, never even seemed to notice the opposite sex
in any way. Julia had reckoned he might be one of these
God-botherers. There was an intensity about him that
made you feel fidgety. He certainly wasn’t like anyone else
in the year.
    ‘Shit, shit, shit. I’ve done it wrong, haven’t I? I ought
to have said, “I’ve got two tickets for a gig,” or “Do you
fancy coming for a drink sometime.” ’ He threw down the
biro and scrumpled up the KitKat paper in anguish. ‘And
then you’d say, “No, sorry, I’m bathing the dog that
night,” and I’d crawl off and die quietly in a corner somewhere.
Much as I’m going to do now.’ He flushed and rose
to his feet, scraping the chair loudly on the parquet so that
the Year 11s put their pens down and turned right round
to watch the show. ‘Don’t know what I was thinking of.
Sorry. Catch you later,’ he muttered. Then he slunk off,
banging the double swing doors behind him.
    I slumped forward and