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Ransom Publishing Limited - Lancett Peter

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77 pages

English

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Tom Hathaway leads a pretty comfortable life. He's got it all. He's only ever seen at school wearing Prada, Ralph Lauren or Gianfranco Ferre - because then he's a different person - defined by the cut and the cloth - cool and confident. That's how it is when your parents have money and you can have style by the label-load. This fast-paced read is dynamic and gripping, perfect for teen readers who want all the characteristics of a long novel, dealing with teenage issues and tough topics, in a strong, condensed book. From a series written by some amazing authors, this book is everything a reluctant reader would want to get them engaged. Note: this book contains some strong language, graphic scenes and/or tough topics, so is only suitable for older YA readers.

Informations

Publié par	Ransom Publishing Limited
Date de parution	01 janvier 2013
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781781271711
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0400€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

Seeing Red
PETER LANCETT
Contents

Title Page CHAPTER 1 My best friend’s sister CHAPTER 2 Looking sharp, Tom CHAPTER 3 Who’s that girl? CHAPTER 4 Carve his name with pride CHAPTER 5 What moms can be CHAPTER 6 Hanging on the telephone CHAPTER 7 I’d rather be dreaming… CHAPTER 8 No one to talk to CHAPTER 9 You can’t compete with a movie star CHAPTER 10 Why can’t life be simple? CHAPTER 11 My funny valentine CHAPTER 12 A weight off my mind CHAPTER 13 I can’t be responsible CHAPTER 14 Making allowances CHAPTER 15 Mondrian, Kandinsky and Rive Gauche in the clinic CHAPTER 16 I want my mom CHAPTER 17 New shoes About the Author In the Same Series Copyright
CHAPTER 1
My best friend’s sister
I was out with Eddie last night. Eddie’s my best friend, though I guess that’s not saying much; I don’t really have friends. Just a few people I say ‘hi’ to now and then. I say ‘hi’ to Eddie more often than anyone else and I suppose that makes him my best friend, but we’re certainly not close in the way that you are with your best friend. Phew – I should have taken a breath there!
Anyway, like I was saying, I was out with Eddie last night. We’re not doing much, just hanging around on the street corners. We kinda like it that people cross the streets to avoid us and nobody wants to look us in the eye. Just what they think we are or what we’ll do I can’t imagine. Well actually, I can; they think that we’re going to vandalise the neighbourhood and maybe trash their cars after dark when they’re safe behind their curtains. Eddie wears a hoodie and never smiles when there are people around. He likes how that freaks them out. I like it too, if I’m honest. The thing is, you’d think that people would know that we’re not out for trouble just by looking at me .
You see, while Eddie likes to think he’s cool – he always wears the latest stuff – I don’t go in for it. Even just hanging around on the streets with Eddie I’m wearing penny loafers by Prada and Ralph Lauren casual pants, a two-button jacket by Sean John and an open-collar Pierre Cardin shirt. And if other kids laugh at me and sneer – and they do – I take comfort in the knowledge that my shoes cost more than their entire wardrobes. In some cases, that would go for my haircut too. What? So I have parents who can afford it and like to indulge me. So what? Saves them ever having to listen to me.
So where was I? Oh, that’s right; I’m hanging out with Eddie last night. We’re sitting in the bus shelter across from the playground. Eddie is chain-smoking as he sometimes does. French cigarettes that give off an awful smell. We are waiting for his bus – Eddie lives a couple of miles away – and Eddie starts talking about girls. Eddie says that most people at school think that I’m queer because of the way I dress. As if I don’t know that already.
‘So are you?’
‘Am I what?’
‘You know… queer.’
There, see. I told you we’re not really close.
‘Well, if it puts your mind at ease, no. No I’m not.’
It crosses my mind that Eddie might not believe me. We sit in silence for a moment, with him drawing slowly on his cigarette while I wait in vain for him to erupt in spasms of uncontrolled coughing.
‘Who do you fancy out of our class?’
A trail of vacant faces passes before me. The girls in our class. What a carnival. I won’t describe them now; maybe later.
‘None of them, really.’
‘Then you are queer. Not even Joanna Stevens?’
Actually I don’t fancy Joanna Stevens, but that’s because I’ve heard her speak. I can see where Eddie is coming from though. If it came down to just looks and nothing more than that, you’d have to hand it to Joanna Stevens. Even wearing nothing better than off-the-peg ‘High Street chic’ I have to admit that she is a superior class of slut.
‘No, not even her. I’ve seen trees with more brains.’
Eddie doesn’t look at me. He blows a long plume of blue-grey smoke out between his lips as he flips the glowing cigarette butt into the gutter.
‘Brains? We’re not talking about picking a debating team here!’
Eddie laughs and turns to me, smiling.
‘Really though; wouldn’t you just like to get her in the dark and run your hands all over her?’
I smile back and shake my head.
‘No, no I wouldn’t…’ There is a pause. ‘Well, OK, maybe that does sound good. But then I’d have to speak to her the next day. It just wouldn’t be worth it.’
Eddie laughs and shoves me playfully.
‘Oh it would be worth it alright, trust me. That’s a small price to pay.’
I raise my eyebrows quizzically.
‘Trust me, it is. At least we know that you’re not queer.’
‘I’ve always known.’
Eddie looks at me.
‘Go on then, who do you fancy?’
For a moment a face flickers at the front of my mind. A girl from school and she’s in our year but not in our class. I find myself looking at her whenever she’s out and about at the same time that we are. I can’t tell Eddie this though; word would get out, and that would mean hassle for me. And perhaps for this girl. She doesn’t deserve that.
‘There is somebody, I can tell.’
Eddie. So perceptive he should be a hostage negotiator or a forensic psychiatrist for the FBI.
‘Eddie, I can’t tell you. It would be embarrassing.’
‘Only for you, jerk-off. Go on, who is it? Not that brainiac woman from that TV show is it? Well, is it?’
Eddie keeps pushing and pushing and he’s joking and teasing but he won’t stop. And another face comes to mind. Another girl I find attractive, no doubt about it. But this is forbidden fruit.
‘No, it’s not the woman from TV, Eddie. Christ, she must be a hundred years old!’
The woman is probably in her thirties but that’s how we see her. It’s the way we speak and we can’t help it. Thirties is ancient to us. Then I realise what I’ve said, and Eddie is sharp enough to pick up on it too. His dad is a lawyer and some of that sharpness must have been passed down.
‘So there is an it , a somebody. Come on, I won’t tell anyone. And you know that I’d bite my own arm off to get my hands on Joanna Stevens. So tell.’
‘Hand.’
Eddie looks puzzled.
‘Hand. If you bite off an arm you’ll only have one hand to get all over Joanna Stevens.’
‘Oh very smart… asshole! Now come on. Tell.’
The face again – the forbidden face, not the girl from school, although this girl does go to our school – it’s there floating past me. And not just the face, the whole package; a provocative teenage minx.
‘Can’t we just talk about something else?’
Stupid question, but I have to try.
‘No, no we can’t! Who is it? What do you want to do with her? Do you see yourself with her, getting jiggy? Do you imagine yourself with her and you’re both really hot for each other?’
Eddie is on a roll and it’s almost like I’m not there at all.
‘What’s it feel like when you have your hands inside her top, eh? Don’t pretend you don’t have these thoughts. We all do. Who is she? C’mon – you gotta tell. Perhaps I can set you up.’
‘It’s Helen.’
I say the words and realise what I’ve done and I know that I can’t take them back and I so wish that I could but it’s too late.
‘See, that was easy. Helen…’ Eddie is searching his mind’s rolodex to find an appropriate Helen and he’s struggling. I try to appear cool in the hope that he’ll run out of ideas and it can remain my secret. I look down at my shoes.
‘I only know one Helen. And I think we can count her out.’
I’m still looking at my shoes and I can feel Eddie’s eyes on me. The atmosphere has changed, just like that. I should smile and come back with a sharp remark; easy to say, but it’s too late. I make matters worse by shrugging, and as I turn to Eddie to explain that’s it’s all innocent, I’m just in time to see the punch that Eddie’s swinging. Instinctively I roll away and off the seat. Eddie still catches me though, and I feel a thud to my cheek, but there is no pain. Adrenaline I guess.
‘ My Helen? You just stay away from her, you dirty bastard!’
I’m rolling away and catch a hefty kick in the ribs, but I manage to get up and start running. It’s only when I realise that I can’t hear footsteps pounding after me that I stop and turn.
Eddie is not pursuing me and he’s walking backwards towards the bus stop. He seems to be looking not at me but down the road beyond me, so that I turn to look too. Now I see why he is not racing after me. A bus is coming towards us. Eddie’s bus.
‘You’re a filthy perv,’ Eddie shouts for all the world to hear. Thankfully the streets are deserted. ‘You just stay the hell away from Helen!’
The bus has swept past me. It is pulling up at the stop as Eddie points at me and makes a throat-slitting gesture with his fingers, before turning and boarding.
I catch my breath and shake my head as I watch the bus pull away. I’ve never seen Eddie turn like that. Obviously he was shocked to hear that I found Helen attractive. But she is a fox, and she knows it too, and surely Eddie can see it.
And I can’t believe that Eddie would attack me like that, no matter what. It’s not like I’d been talking about getting my hands all over her – those were Eddie’s own words, not mine, and Eddie’s thoughts too, come to that, not mine. What did he mean, calling me a perv? It’s not like I’m some kind of paedophile is it? So what if I’m sixteen and Helen is thirteen? If I was twenty-five and she was twenty-two, would it matter to anyone? And anyway, I never said I wanted to do anything with her, anything at all.
I wonder if Eddie is still my best friend? After all, it’s not my fault that Eddie has a really hot kid sister.
CHAPTER 2
Looking sharp, Tom
I don’t have a black eye, and that’s amazing. I’m looking in the bathroom mirror. It’s morning and the cheekbone under my left eye is a little swollen and a little red. But there’s no bruising. I doubt that anyone would ever notice. I’m guessing that I only notice because I’m so familiar with my own face. It hurts though. Not a raging pain, just a presence. It sits like a coiled snake, waiting to strike, waiting for a wrong move. So I make the wrong move by poking at it. The pain is immediat