Free Graffiti My Soul by Niven Govinden Page A

It’s been a bitch. But when my parents say grounded, they mean it.’
    â€˜Moon, it ain’t that hard. Haven’t you heard of MSN, slipping a note through the door late night, coming down to training with the dog?’
    I knew not to txt after being gloated at by Gwyn outside thenewsagent’s, whilst Jason was arguing with the woman inside over why a packet of Benson Silver should pass across the counter.
    â€˜They’ve taken her phone off her, troublemaking boy, so don’t waste your precious 5ps with your texts.’
    Gwyn was known as the only girl in the upper school who didn’t own a mobile as a point of principle. She thought it made her cool.
    â€˜There was life before mobile phones,’ she’d more than once said. ‘They’re worse than TVs for vegetising the brain.’
    The three of us thought she was sad.
    â€˜It’s lucky she doesn’t have a phone,’ goes Jason, when he finally comes out of the newsagent, fagless, ‘’cos she doesn’t have any friends to call on it. Just a smokescreen, innit?’
    Moon doesn’t mention the txt thing either. Too embarrassed probably, but still manages to look affronted the way that only girls can do when they’re in the wrong.
    â€˜I was grounded. That means being a good girl and listening to her mummy and daddy.’
    â€˜Like you didn’t manage to sneak off all those times before? You’ll need a better excuse than that.’
    Aside from this, I cannot get any more from her on how she’s spent the last seven days.
    She uses the journey to focus solely on the team. Like me, she takes her position seriously. Getting Mr Morgan to crank up the stereo whenever a good tune comes on, doing her impression of every saddo boy band all rolled into one after a horrific car accident; it’s all geared to make the four of us in the bus laugh our arses off. Even Peter Kei, aka Chinese Peter (like Gwyn, a reluctant teenager, who is so serious that he never laughs at anything), broke a smile at Moon’s seated moonwalk for paraplegics.
    I love it that she can make a dry old nerdy bus wet their pants. Love that she tells the jokes that I’ve already heard in private. The ones we made up lying on our backs watching MTV Base, and pissing about in my room, waiting for Mum to come home with the dinner. When Moon is on form, when she’s got the charm offensive in herhead, she can light up anywhere. And I love it, that everyone loves her silliness the way I do. It’s a proud moment.
    By rights Mr Morgan should be slapping her down for most of the things coming out of her mouth. She’s distracting his driving for a start, but he’s in a good mood today; for the same reason, we’re all feeling great, out of the school for the afternoon, and he laughs just as hard as the rest of us.
    I take a swig from the Evian bottle the moment after she does. It’s the most intimate erotic thing you can do whilst you’re sat beside of a group of nerds. Normally, this is the kind of stuff she notices. Today she doesn’t.
    Moon hugs me at Godalming’s gates. Another love-you-mate, love-you-darlin’ hug. Throws the body in, tight squeeze, small pat on the back, very egalitarian. The whole team gets them. I wait in line for my hug – I’m at the end of the queue – and console myself that this is the best I’m going to get. For the last half hour of the drive, after the toilet stop, she moved to the front next to Morgan, giving him the one to one, ignoring everyone else. Txts on her phone like a maniac. We’re all over the place with each other today, not acting right. It’s only the small peck on the cheek that indicates any recall of past conquests. Feels nostalgic. I want to tell her that she’s special, but Morgan’s nagging us to hurry up so I don’t get the chance.
    Godalming’s team are killer. They should be, considering the