The Taming of Lilah May Page 2

  ‘It’s me,’ I say. ‘Lilah. You know – your best mate. That Lilah.’

  Bindi gives her little chuckle.

  ‘You crack me up, Lilah May,’ she says.

  ‘Yeah, I’m hilarious,’ I say. But I’m smiling again.

  That’s what’s good about Bindi. She really likes me just for being me, even though she knows everything about me.

  Everything.

  And not all of it is good.

  There’s no way that my parents are ever going to agree to me going out with Adam Carter tonight, so I have to rope Bindi into a devious plan.

  Bindi does not like deception. She’s the most honest person I’ve ever met. I just can’t imagine Bindi ever lying. Ever.

  ‘Why can’t you just tell your parents the truth?’ she says. There’s the sound of screaming in the background and the harassed voice of Bindi’s mum, Reeta, trying to separate two of the youngest members of the family. ‘They like Adam, don’t they?’

  I sigh.

  ‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘They like him because he’s a friend, but if I said I was meeting him on my own they’d lose their cool.’

  I squirm on the bed where I’m sitting in a pair of black jeans with my legs crossed and my hair falling like silk around my face in its post–school liberation.

  ‘I’m going to have to say I’m with you,’ I tell Bindi.

  ‘But then your mum will ring my mum, and my mum’s not going to lie for you, Lilah. I can tell you that now.’

  I roll my eyes – she can’t see me anyway – and flop back onto the bed, sticking my legs up into the air and observing my blue and white stripy socks.

  ‘Well, then – you’re going to have to pretend to be your mum and answer the phone,’ I say.

  I know I’m putting Bindi on the spot here, but nothing can be allowed to ruin my wonderful evening with Adam Carter. He is only like the most gorgeous boy in the entire school. He’s sixteen and plays in a band called Death of Love. They’re thrash metal and really good.

  The trouble is, Adam might be all tough when he’s in the band, but when he’s not, he likes girls to be all feminine and pretty and small and laughing. Which is just about the opposite of me. I’m a tomboy, attractive rather than pretty, taller than most girls in my class, and I definitely have not done much laughing of late. That’s why I was surprised when he suggested meeting up.

  After lots of pleading and begging and persuasion, not to mention a bit of bribery (I’ve promised to buy Bindi any lunch she wants for the next week), Bindi agrees to help.

  ‘Thanks,’ I say. ‘You’re a true best mate.’

  There’s another loud scream from an indignant child in the background.

  I laugh.

  ‘Is that Adi?’ I ask. Adi is the youngest in Bindi’s household. ‘He’s so sweet.’

  It’s Bindi’s turn to give a big sigh now.

  ‘Not always so sweet,’ she replies. ‘He’ll do anything to get attention. Some of us don’t get a look in.’

  ‘Oh,’ I say, but I don’t really believe her. Bindi’s parents are very proud of her.

  ‘OK, I’ll cover for you later,’ Bindi is saying. ‘You’re a nightmare, Lilah May.’

  I smile and hang up the phone.

  She like so loves me.

  Mum never has time to cook during the week.

  She’s standing in the kitchen gulping from a new glass of red wine and dishing up a shepherd’s pie that she made at the weekend and then shoved in the freezer.

  There are tiny baby carrots to go with it, and a dish of leafy kale.

  Dad’s gone out on an emergency lion-call so it’s just the two of us.

  That’s nothing new. It’s hardly ever the three of us these days.

  ‘Mum,’ I start, stirring my fork around in the savoury mince so that a strong smell of animal and onion rises up towards my fringe. ‘Is it OK if I go round to Bindi’s in about an hour? She wants to play me some CD or something.’

  Mum looks up from where she’s forking in mince in a vague sort of a way. I know she’s thinking about Jay.

  ‘I’ll give her mum a call, just to make sure,’ she says, going over to the phone.

  I cross my fingers hard underneath the table. I’ve arranged with Bindi that she will hog the phone all evening.

  ‘Reeta?’ Mum’s saying. ‘How are you?’

  There’s a short pause. I’m hoping that it’s Bindi she’s speaking to, not Reeta.

  ‘Lovely,’ Mum says. ‘Actually Reeta, Lilah would like to come over and see Bindi for a while. I hope that’s OK with you?’

  Whoever’s on the phone obviously says that it is, because Mum says, ‘Thanks, love,’ and hangs up with a smile.

  ‘Yes, that’s fine,’ she says to me.

  Megatriff!

  ‘Poor Reeta,’ says Mum. ‘She sounds as if she’s got a terrible cold.’

  I fight back a smile.

  Bindi’s such a great best mate.

  ‘You don’t need to call there to check I’ve arrived,’ I say, rinsing my plate in the sink and gulping down a glass of water. ‘I’ll only be a couple of hours, tops. Promise.’

  ‘OK,’ says Mum. She looks a little nervous. There weren’t all these rules and curfews and checking-ups when Jay was my age.

  ‘Thanks for supper,’ I say, bolting upstairs.

  I stand in front of my mirror and decide to stay in the black jeans, but change into a tight black and white striped top and some silver hoop earrings.

  I spray gloss stuff all over my dark hair and put my eyeliner on again for about the millionth time today. Then I lace up a pair of black Converse trainers and fling my black leather jacket over the top.

  ‘See you later,’ I call to Mum, rushing out of the front door before she can see how much make-up I’ve got on.

  I leap onto my bike and wheel off towards the precinct, wobbling in the stiff breeze.

  There’s something strange in the air tonight.

  Or maybe it’s just me.

  It’s like everything is sharpened and extra-clear after the storm earlier.

  I swear I can even smell a hint of danger in the air.

  It makes me feel reckless and mad and confident.

  I chain up my bike and stroll into the precinct.

  Adam’s there early, which is kind of good as I have absolutely zero patience and hate waiting around for people.

  He’s got his back to me, so I creep up by the fountain where he’s standing, and then some mad urge makes me leap on his back and shout ‘ADAM!’ so that both of us almost fall into the water.

  ‘You nearly gave me a heart attack, Liles,’ he says, brushing down his black T-shirt and tossing back his hair.

  Liles?

  When has he ever called me that?

  That’s the special name that Jay had for me.

  ‘Call me Lilah,’ I say, abruptly.

  He stares at me for a moment, but then his good-natured grin returns and he offers me a hand to jump off the side of the fountain.

  ‘Where shall we go?’ he says.

  I shrug.

  ‘Park?’ I say. It’s a mellow sort of evening now, still and full of promise.

  ‘Sure,’ says Adam. He pulls a roll-up from his pocket and sticks it between his lips.

  ‘Smoke?’ he says, offering me the packet of dried worm tobacco.

  ‘No thanks,’ I say. ‘Smoking is for idiots.’

  He gives me a surprised look at that.

  I can see why. I mean, I look like a girl who’d smoke. I’m wearing a rock-chick outfit, after all, and I’ve got the attitude to go with it.

  But there are things that Adam doesn’t understand.

  Things from the days of Jay and me.

  ‘I thought you’d—’ he starts.

  ‘I said no,’ I repeat, firmer.

  There’s a very packed silence, full of questions and apologies and disappointment.

  Oh, mushcats, I think. This date hasn’t got off to a very good start.
/>   ‘I like your jacket,’ I say, trying to make my voice softer.

  ‘Thanks,’ he says. ‘Got it off eBay for three quid.’

  I give him a new look of respect. He’s obviously got an eye for a bargain. And he does look dead gorgeous.

  ‘So how ARE you?’ he’s saying now. Uh-oh. He asks this while staring straight ahead. Most people can’t look me in the eye when they come up with the question. It’s awkward for them.

  It’s even more awkward for me. He’s asked my worst ever question.

  I take a long, deep breath through my gritted teeth and kick one of my feet against the other. It’s only a little movement, but it makes me feel a bit better.

  ‘Yeah, OK,’ I say, all casual. ‘Nothing’s changed much.’

  Adam flashes me a look of sympathy and then clears his throat.

  ‘So,’ he says. ‘Do you still want to go to the park?’

  I shrug.

  I haven’t really given the evening much thought. All my energies have been focused on getting to the fountain in the precinct and looking gorgeous for Adam. But I guess we’ll have to do something – we can’t hang around the closed shops all evening.

  ‘OK,’ I say. ‘Park’s fine.’

  We set off down the road. I’m ultra-aware of how close Adam’s body is to mine as we walk along the pavement. I hold myself very straight and try not to brush against him, but sometimes it just happens, and a little shock of excitement pulsates up from my legs to my stomach.

  Thanks, Bindi, I think. I’ve got some serious making-up to do next week.

  We’ve reached the high iron gates of the local park.

  Adam pushes one of them open and holds it for me while I duck under his arm and head towards the swings.

  ‘You’re a bit old for that, aren’t you?’ he says, as I plonk myself onto an orange plastic swing and watch my black-jeaned legs fly up in the air and over his head.

  ‘So?’ I say.

  He’s pointing to the sign now. It says, No children over fourteen.

  ‘It’s OK, I look young for my age,’ I shout from where I’m flying backwards with my hair streaming out behind me and the silver hoops pulling in my ears.

  I don’t tell him that I used to play on these swings with Jay when we were little.

  Some things are too painful and private to ever say, even with a Lilah-ism.

  Adam sits down next to me and does some slow swinging back and forth, but I can tell that he’s not that impressed so I swing down again, bit by bit, and then skid to a stop with my trainers in the gravel.

  We walk the length of the park, chatting about this and that, but all the time I’m wondering if he’s bored and if I’ve made a big mistake thinking that he liked me, because he’s acting quite casual and distant. And although he smiles at me, it’s not a smile with much warmth behind it, but more a careful, measured smile kept for friends who just happen to be girls.

  After we’ve done the park we wander into a local cemetery.

  I like gravestones. Don’t know why. There’s just something solid and comforting about them. The last home of the dead. Kind of like the end of an exhausting journey. It’s like a big, quiet, safe club full of people who can’t shout at me to tidy my room or brush my hair. In fact, it’s the only big gathering of adults I feel comfortable with.

  I perch on top of a tomb shaped like a treasure chest, and Adam sits on the grass at my feet and rolls up another cigarette. After a pause, which is loaded with meaning and anticipation and stuff, and just when I’m sure he’s about to say something really amazing to me, he looks up from beneath his wing of fair hair and says, ‘You know something? You kind of scare me, Lilah May.’

  Then he gives an abrupt laugh and becomes very busy with stuffing the tobacco worms into his cigarette paper again.

  Somewhere behind the wall of the cemetery, the sun finally starts to sink down, leaving a blank grey sky and an edge to the air.

  I zip up my leather jacket and hug my elbows.

  I scare him?

  ‘But you’re the one in the big hard rock band,’ I say. ‘You’re far more scary than I am.’

  Adam smiles at this, but still looks a bit wary.

  Great.

  This date is going about as wrong as it could do. Or, to be more exact, it isn’t exactly going anywhere at all.

  So I’m frightening. I scare people.

  I never used to scare Jay. It was more the other way round, particularly towards the end.

  I get up, and toss my hair back over my shoulders.

  ‘Maybe I should do something scary, then,’ I say. ‘Kind of live up to your expectations, huh?’

  Adam gets to his feet and lights his cigarette.

  ‘Don’t be stupid,’ he says. ‘We’re good mates, yeah? You can just be yourself, can’t you?’

  My heart flops to the grass beneath his feet and is trampled to death underneath his red Converse boots.

  Mates.

  I feel like an idiot now. It’s all Bindi and her stupid suggestions. She kept passing me messages in class saying he was staring at me. How can she have got it so wrong? He doesn’t like me at all in that way.

  I feel the little flicker again. Red-hot, rising up from my feet towards my chest.

  I can’t see my own face, but I know what it looks like.

  Tight. Pinched. Lips sucked in. Eyes dark and cold.

  Anger sucks all my prettiness out of me.

  I head off towards the cemetery wall.

  I don’t yet know what I’m going to do, but my feet seem to be carrying me wherever they want and I’ve got no control over them.

  ‘Lilah,’ calls Adam. ‘Come back. What are you doing?’

  I don’t answer.

  I’ve had enough of him now.

  The wall to the cemetery is high, and made of dark red bricks.

  I climb onto the top of a gravestone and then launch myself at the top of the wall with my hands outstretched.

  I heave myself up until I’m sitting on the top, drumming my heels against the bricks.

  ‘Lilah,’ pants Adam. He’s rushed over and is staring up at me with concern. ‘Don’t be stupid. Get down.’

  I ignore him. It feels good sitting so high up above him, with the wind in my hair.

  Up here I feel all-powerful, like the world belongs to me and I’m above everything and everyone.

  It’s a strong wind, but I can’t stop what happens next.

  My legs push me up into a standing position, until I’m balancing on the thin line of bricks in my skinny jeans and my flimsy trainers.

  ‘Oh my God,’ I hear Adam say. ‘Lilah. You’re crazy. Please will you sit down again? I’ll come up and get you.’

  I laugh at that. Bit late for him to go all romantic now.

  I don’t care about him any more.

  I don’t really care about anyone.

  I put my arms out, as if I’m flying, and then I balance my way, one foot in front of the other, until I’ve walked the whole length of the high brick wall.

  Adam’s face is ash-grey below me. He keeps looking around wildly to see if anybody’s coming to help, but it’s a cemetery on a weekday evening and there’s nobody around.

  I reach the far end of the wall, sit down, and then jump onto the grass far below with a thud.

  Adam’s there in a flash.

  ‘Are you OK?’ he asks.

  I can’t stop laughing.

  ‘Your face!’ I say. ‘Get real! I was only walking along a wall.’

  Adam’s smile of relief fades to a glower.

  ‘You stupid idiot,’ he says. ‘If you’d fallen, you could have broken your back, yeah?’

  I lie on my stomach and laugh into the grass. Bits of it go in my mouth, but I don’t much care.

  Adam hauls me up and we leave the cemetery and head for home.

  He refuses to speak another word until we get to the gate outside my house.

  Then he glares down at me through his floppy fringe, and says: />
  ‘You’re not the only person who’s got issues, you know. Get over yourself, Lilah May.’

  CHAPTER THREE

  I go round to Bindi’s house the next day to tell her about my date with Adam.

  Bindi’s house is like this Temple of Delights. It’s about as different from my house as you can imagine.

  She lives with her very large Asian family in a chaotic modern house on the other side of town from us. She’s got five little sisters and one little brother and two insane, chattering and multi-tasking parents who are forever throwing their arms up in the air and shrugging their shoulders as they talk me into the ground.

  I love going over to Bindi’s house.

  Her mum, Reeta, is an amazing cook and the house always smells of onions and savoury meat and hot, heavy, exotic spices. The kitchen is about a hundred degrees at any time of the year and there’s always some sort of family crisis going on, but it’s all warm and close and loving, just like a family should be.

  Except that mine isn’t.

  Not any longer.

  I’m up in Bindi’s bedroom and we’re supposed to be doing homework.

  Asian Network Radio is blaring out and Bindi’s weaving a long shiny ribbon into my hair, and she’s put one of those red dot things right in the centre of my forehead to make me into some sort of demented goddess or something. I don’t really know what she’s doing, and nobody else would ever survive trying to make me look girly, but Bindi gets away with it because she’s my best friend, and the thought of upsetting her would be a bit like the thought of hitting a soft, big-eyed puppy very hard.

  So I don’t. I sit as still as I can while she finishes my transformation into an Asian princess, and then I try on a few of her saris and spin around in front of the mirror to make her laugh.

  Actually, I look quite good. My colouring’s dark anyway and the dark red lipstick she’s forced me to wear suits my skin tone. I’ve got heavy black eyeliner around my bottom lashes – I always wear that, even at school. The teachers have given up trying to expel me for it, and now they just raise their eyebrows and shake their heads whenever I pound down the school corridors, all attitude and black make-up.