Aiming High

By Will McGeorge

Amy Morgans family relocation to Nottingham sets in motion a life-changing series of events. The seventeen-year-old A level student falls in love, and suddenly, her world turns upside down.

Steven Porter, a popular, charismatic fellow pupil, introduces her to a new world, one of change, success, failure, discovery, and ambition. His dream to run at the Olympics becomes their dream, but health issues threaten that future.

Their journey, shared with new friends Mel, Christina, Sean, and Sam, is chronicled alongside historical events of 2011the riots, a Jean Genet exhibition, a day at Alton Towers, an early Ed Sheeran concert, and a Champions League experience enrich the realism.

Through months of emotional turbulence, laughter, and tears, Amys self-esteem is stretched to breaking. She knows, however, there is only one way to fulfill their dreamsthey must aim high.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Dec 8, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524666767

Book preview

2016 Will McGeorge. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 11/30/2016

ISBN: 978-1-5246-6677-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5246-6676-7 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Prologue

Part 1

Uncharted Territory

Around My Little Finger

Revision Shit

Do You Have A Dream Amy?

Post-Party Mess

Just Warming Up

More Than a Number

Me?

Good to Hear You’re Not Well

Take a Deep Breath

A* - I Can Help

In Our Laps

No Returns

Headache

Braining and Training

Imperfect Chemistry

Midweek Examination

Pritchard And ‘The Girl’

What’s the Point?

A Plan Coming Together

Mate or Date?

Pressure……….

…………Eased

The Ring’s the Thing…

He’s going to Piss This

Finish it!

Still the Man

Part 2

Lost

Hurting

Any Storm In The Ports?

If I’m Not Made For You….

He Isn’t Here

This Hard Land

D Day

Every Little Helps

Faulty Love

Scratching the Sore

Made Of Stern Stuff

Part 3

……And Found

A Leap of Faith

Sean And Christina, Djokovic

And Nadal, Pork And Crackling

Let It Go

Recuperation

Resolution

Turning Up The Heat

Everybody’s Looking For Something

The Beast Is Uncaged

On The House

Negative Purchasing Interest

Read All About It

The Power of Five

When…….Not If?

Smile Till Sunday

An End To Silly Season

The D B’s!

Back Down To Earth

Magaluf? Leeds? - One Day

Outside The Box

Desperate

Did You?……..Was it?……

Ready To Go

A Day To Remember

Out On A Limb

A Lull…..

Something Out Of Hollywood

Society Insane

The Special One

What’s The Worst Thing That Could Happen?

Part 4

Difficult Paths, Precious Destinations

It’s In The Eyes

About Bloody Time

For Every Positive……

Three A s In January

Spam? I’ll Eat You For Supper!

Inbetween

A Bit Of A Break

Decisions Just Getting More Difficult

There’s No R in Bath

Loonies For Uni

Head it Like Drogba

Marmite And Two Haribos

T hanks I m A lright

Take A Step Back

It’s Decided…….

Nothing Like A Nice Bath

Loughborough

The Dreams of Youth

Let’s Celebrate

So Much Going On

I’ll Do It All For You In Time

Something From A Science Fiction Film

Four Five Ten

Apprehension, Abatement and Admiration

A Day For Surprises

Still Tingling

Happy Birthday Steven

Part 5

Calm Waters

Golden

Make A Statement

It’s Our Year

A Big Night At The Bridge

It Was Worth It!

All Clear

and…..and……and

Tis The Season

All I Want For Christmas…..

A Shopping Masterclass

The Gift Of Friendship

Picture The Summer……..At Christmas

God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen

A Lull Before…

Goodbye Old Friend

Part 6

Just How Far We’ve Come

Soon

A Head Start

Countdown

Glorious Discontent

Cross Purpose

Nobody Saw It

For Millie

……there through the hours

Prologue

December 2011

From the hall, melodic chords of Christmas carols floated across the classroom and an air of festive excitement had replaced the reluctance of previous attendance. Even Mr. Sinton, a fierce bastion of the school’s discipline, had given up any pretence of imparting further knowledge to twenty four hormone-loaded teenagers, chatting and tapping expectantly on mobile lifelines.

Amy glanced at her watch and then smiled as she swiped to the picture of Steven, her boyfriend who would be escorting her to the Sixth Form Disco tomorrow night. Looking somehow different to the young man that first sat behind her eight months earlier, she grinned again at the cheeky photo they had taken the previous evening in the school library. Steven Porter was indeed a heartthrob, every Parkside girl’s dream, and even more highly lauded than the iphone5s that dominated every social experience of the Year 12 lives.

Not physical yet, Amy knew it was only a matter of time. Yes, Steven had had a Facebook/Twitter history, a ‘Twistory’ as her friends had coined it.

Don’t believe all that stuff, they had advised.

She smiled to herself. Then across to Steven. A child-like giggle made those near her look up from their texting as she recalled her time at Parkwood, a journey that had her moving swiftly from wary dislike, polite interest, reluctant admiration, delight, disappointment, desperation, to all-consuming love; now she was just one day away from the pinacled dream she’d yearned since April.

Amy wasn’t feeling smug, far from it, she was just so happy to be finally sharing everything in the world with someone who made her feel alive. Warnings from others at various points were simply imponderous…’distractions from her A levels’ was dad’s monotony, ‘dumped’, that American phrase she so despised, had been previous girlfriend’s warning. ‘Using you’ another. The reasons for these didn’t have the weight to register inside her head. Not jealously, protection or even spite.

Another glance rewarded her as he looked across from a tight knot of football, music, clubbing, appearance-obsessed seventeen and eighteen year olds - that smile and assured wink gave her all she needed in that micro-second. He gave her one of their shared signs, stolen from Gareth Bale’s heart-shaped football celebration, he’d told her…….digits arching in a finger and thumb ‘m’, meaning they would be sharing a burger on the way home that early evening.

Picking up her few remaining books, she looked around the grimy classroom that had been so pivotal in her life those previous months. Maths, of course, had been one of her three ‘A’ Level choices and her most confident. The display of Fibanacci sequence work, posters of strange-looking solids all ending in ‘oid’ alongside sine, cosine and tangent mnuemonic reminders, were like old friends.

Oid like a burger, she remembered Steven joking.

Quite how she’d managed to persuade her dad that her long time uni-option had changed from Bath to Loughborough, reversing a four-year plan just as personal statements and CVs were being finalised, she’d never know.

It is a Russell group Uni dad and I still need AAB, Amy had explained. Only two months later did Mr. Morgan ‘fall in’.

I hope you know what you’re doing Amy Morgan! he’d sighed over the dinner table. Reference to her full name was a transparent indicator that he was far from happy. In total contrast, Amy was as close to bliss that she’d ever been in her young life.

She made her way through the line of graffiti-covered desks with Christina. Amy called back over her shoulder to the remaining girls, all just about to leave.

Tomorrow night, gowns for clowns girls, don’t be late. A pointed finger above her head jabbed towards the group of lads where Steven was chatting. He left his friends immediately he heard her voice.

Suits for beauts, chaps, he nodded and placed his arm around the shoulder of his girlfriend. A teasing chorus of whistles and catcalls acompanied them to the door but they just smiled at each other, Steven flashing a single middle-finger salute above his head. No one saw his smile change to distorted grimace as the headache’s shooting pain creased his brow.

April 2011

Love at first sight had always been something Amy confined to romance novels. However, when, as she did repeatedly, her thoughts returned to that first meeting, she questioned all preconceptions.

Amy could remember with pinpoint accuracy the finite moment, Saturday June 4th 2011, 14.47. Before that, she recognised, the gradual chipping away of mistrust, ambivalence, resentment and low self-esteem had been mere confirmation.

Amy had only attended Parkside Academy since early April after moving to Nottingham with her family. It had been a painful year, particularly for her father who, following the death of both his parents, had the opportunity to relocate. At the time it seemed like the end of the world.

Better now before the real hard work next year, he’d try to appease her. All the course work is the same from school to school, isn’t it?

Looking back now, her dad could never have given her anything better. She hadn’t settled well and found the first few weeks as dark as she had insisted they would be. Amy had always mentally shifted and bookmarked her classmates into three groups, the 3Rs, and she didn’t fall neatly into any of them. The smallest were the ‘rebels’, those who did no work in any lesson and were hellbent on making sure no one else could. Now in her first year of A levels, these were very few but Amy believed the odd one or two here had quickly assessed ‘the new girl’ and knew she would not alter their ‘power base’ in any way. The ‘readers’ were the workers who listened attentively, completing coursework and homework early, requesting extra to ensure those A*s. Amy certainly had her ambitions and worked diligently but would not fit into ‘geek’ category. Lastly, and probably best fit, we’re the ‘realists’, the students who worked hard and had university ambitions, but also enjoyed a lively teenage lifestyle. She had watched them all, carefully placing each into the correct grouping. Extra attention was paid to those who she would try to befriend. Christina and Melanie were the stand-out ‘realists’. Steven was impossible to pigeon-hole, he had a bit of each in him.

For the umpteenth time over that first week, her gaze locked in his direction, only to quickly scan her open text books when his attention was reciprocated. If it was possible for a teenage girl to create an identikit heartthrob composition, police-like, the result would be embarrassingly obvious. Tall, blond hair, broad shoulders, blue eyes and a cheeky, flashing smile. You bastard, she thought as she watched him glide from group to group, person to person, and captivate them. His charismatic charm seemed to overwhelm, engulf, encapture. What angered her more was that he wasn’t arrogant, wasn’t self centred or even the slightest bit aware of people looking to him, eagerly waiting for the chance to enjoy his company. He seemed to leave each group happier, fuller, more alive.

He’d taken no more than twenty minutes to talk and ‘welcome’ her that first morning. Effortlessly.

"Hiya, I’m Steven, Steven Porter, it’s Amy isn’t it? The smile was kind, unfeigned, but it was his eyes, ice blue, that captivated. And how the hell did he know her name already, she wondered, as any nervousness started to dissipate. She was desperate to dislike him, and she would, she decided, as he shifted to sit on the edge of the desk opposite her.

Welcome to Parkside Acadamy, the only school in Nottingham that needed a new Ofsted rating, ‘shithouse’. Amy had to smile, she didn’t want to but was aware of others glancing, with envy she thought, across the classroom towards them.

Give me a shout Aims, if you need anything, really. It was the first time anyone had ever used that nickname, now so familiar, but the early mixture of care and bonding only emphasised his ability to put those in his company at ease.

Here’s Frobs, he indicated with a tilting of his head, he’s okay. The reference was to Mr. Froberton, their form tutor, walking into the classroom with a waving of his hands that said ‘hello’ and ‘sit down’ at the same time.

Amy was sure she saw a fierce tightening of those eyes and a creasing of his forehead under the short fringe as he began to walk to his desk, but it failed to distract her from fascination of the tight, pert backside modelling away from her.

Bastard, she repeated to herself, bastard. At that moment, any thoughts of a relationship were preposterous. In fact, quite the opposite, she would consciously avoid him at all costs and remain anonymous.

December 2011

Walking through the main gate, hand in hand with Steven, she pondered the sizmatic impact the school had had on her life. Self-assurance, a university place she hoped, new, treasured friends and the man for whom she would forgo all, just for him to remain in her life. She resisted the urge not to look behind as they left the cocooned environment.

Well, another term over Aims, Steven smiled, taking out the ear-phone from his right ear. Amy mirrored the action, removing the single shared earphone from her left. It happened all the time, him voicing her exact thoughts or she voicing his.

Yep, what a year, just one term to go eh? she said, dancing in front of him and skip-walking backwards looking up into his face. She loved the feeling of security his height and deportment gave her. Popping his ear-phone back for him, and hers too, they continued listening to Muse, one of many bands he had added to her iPod. Amy had been a pretty standard sort of music lover, enjoying Adele, The Wanted, Ollie Murs and Jessie J. Now, the range was far edgier; Doves, Friendly Fires, Fleet Foxes and Paulo Nutini. The first dance she ever had with Steven was indeed to ‘For the First Time’, it hadn’t mattered a jot that at the time, she’d hardly heard of The Script. It had been at Melanie’s party, six months ago, held because she’d had a ‘freehouse’ when her parents had holidayed in Morocco.

You bloody are coming! Amy remembered her friend shouting at her, and staying to help me clear up. There’s only a few invited, please Amy. It had changed her life.

Part 1

Uncharted Territory

Chapter One

Tuesday 3rd May 2011 -

‘Around My Little Finger’

Dad had taken a bit of persuading.

She would go to the ‘gathering’, fragile self-esteem fuelling doubt. The simple fact was that if she were to continue establishing a foothold on her new life, it was a ‘must do’. It had only been five weeks since her arrival but things were better for sure. Surprising what effect a few good assignment grades and a few kind words from teachers could have. Most importantly, she, Melanie and Christina were becoming inseparable.

I don’t know these people Amy, you hear so many stories of houses being wrecked after mass invasions. Fights and police, drugs, that Facebook is to blame. Mr. Morgan was speaking over the top of his newspaper.

Blimey dad, you haven’t included teenage pregnancy, Eastern European gangs or drink-spiking, she had replied. She immediately felt guilty, she knew dad was only worrying about her welfare. She also knew that sarcasm was the wrong tactic if she were to succeed in getting the green light for the party.

It’s only a little get-together before the exams dad, three-and-a-half weeks of exam hell starting Monday week. How does one-thirty with a cab home sound then dad? she bargained, sitting on the arm of his chair.

And I suppose I’ll be paying for that too, he said, his voice softening. Amy knew at that moment she was home and dry.

And I cut the grass on Sunday too dad, promise, she smiled and planted a kiss on the top of his head.

You just be careful Amy Morgan.

The teenager smiled to herself as she walked upstairs, already planning what she would wear on Saturday.

Chapter Two

Tuesday 3rd May 2011 -

‘Revision Shit’

At virtually the same time, Steven Porter was in his bedroom too, having just finished his revision for the day. He wasn’t the most gifted of students but was desperate to fulfil one of his dreams to become a PE teacher. He loved all sports, with the exception of Formula 1 which he considered to be more of a mechanical battle than a contest of physical ability. He adored baby-sitting his younger brother, who in turn squealed with delight when he teased him with his football skills, twisting and turning, not letting him get a touch of the ball. He always did, after a while of course, falling over and clutching his leg, ‘Premiership’ style. Another day, he would make Jamie laugh with his own personal goal celebration, a long yawn followed by a pointed finger gesture to the imaginary stands. A career in teaching would be perfect.

He lay on his bed, looked up to the ceiling then reached across to the bottle of water. Popping the paracetamol into his mouth, he swigged the Evian and reminded himself that after the exams finished in a few weeks time, this ‘revision shit’ would have ended and these headaches gone.

Chapter Three

Saturday 7th May 2011 -

‘Do You Have A Dream Amy?’

Can’t go wrong with the little black dress she decided. Not too overt, suitable for most occasions and revealing little of the person within. Amy had never considered herself pretty, but most boys would validate self-depreciation. She was five feet six with long, brown hair that tumbled past her shoulders. Her best feature, she always thought. Amy had wished a thousand times for a bigger bust.

Christina, on the other hand, turned heads. Always extravagant, she would attract attention with short skirts, vibrant colours and low-cut tops. Lads would often talk to her ample chest, but Christina would only giggle about it, little annoyed her. The little handcuff charm she wore around her ankle added to the intrigue. It shouted sexy, not cheap, and why not with her figure?

Melanie was far more reserved and Amy expected her to wear trousers and buttoned blouse. It would be cruel to describe her as plain, but she could easily blend, inconspicuously, into any small group. A flawless complexion, high cheek bones and clear green eyes needed a little more make-up, Amy always felt, but certainly hadn’t yet had the courage to suggest it!

Amy could foresee how the evening would unfold. Melanie would be dashing about, serving drinks, refilling nibbles and ensuring no ‘upstairs’ action! Christina would be first to dance, encouraging everyone else and she was sure she could easily slip into the shadows of the evening, guaranteeing no involvement in anything contoversal, neither inflaming or exaspirating any conversation.

Amy arrived at six-thirty to find Christina already there. Both girls opened the door to her and held their arms out in warm affection.

Loving the look Aims, beamed Melanie. Why did it irritate her that others had begun to use the nickname Steven had originated?

Christina looked stunning, exactly as Amy expected. It was her way, Amy had quickly realised, of overcoming a lack of confidence and the exact opposite of her own approach. Even her hair, lifted off her neck, was a first.

You too, wish I could get away with that! Amy giggled, exaggerating lifted eyebrows as she focused upon the deep-blue mini skirt.

All three girls giggled as they moved into the house. Amy immediately noticed that Melanie had moved furniture around, removed breakables and scattered coasters on every surface.

How many coming? Christina asked, checking her hair in the reflective surface of the microwave.

Just fifteen or so, no Phillip, no Ranjit, but all the others I hope, replied Melanie, tipping a packet of Doritos into a bowl.

Christina held up a bottle of cider with a tipping, questioning gesture.

No thanks, too early. Amy enjoyed an occasional drink but knew it was important to keep a clear head at the first party with her new friends.

The kitchen table had on it two bottles of white wine, one rose, a half bottle of vodka and several two-litre bottles of soft drinks. Amy took out her four-pack of Strongbow and a bottle of orange juice and added them neatly to the ‘bar’. Christina’s bag was a little fuller. A four pack of Bacardi Breezers, a large bottle of cider and one bottle of orange juice. She immediately took the bottle opener and flipped the cap off one of the Breezers with practised guile.

Amy pointed to the fresh orange juice she had brought.

Me too please, Melanie added, need to keep a clear head to fight off Stuart Browning!

Twelve weeks, four days and fifteen hours ’til results girls, Mel reminded the others. Although the party was conceived to take their minds off exams, the ugly presence of results and their consequences still gatecrashed the evening. The Thursday in late August seemed a million miles away.

Oh, you do know how to start the night well, we haven’t even sat them yet, Amy replied.

The door bell rang.

Seconds out, round one, let’s knock ’em dead girls, Christina called over her shoulder as she went to the front door. It had been Steven Porter, looking relaxed in a light-blue Abacromb and Fitch t-shirt with ‘Chelsea blue’ Chino shorts. Understated yet eye-catching for sure. Amy still hadn’t had too much to do with him up to that point; she’d been watching him of course, every girl did, but he wasn’t the type of person with whom she’d dream of seeking solace.

He walked into the front room with a heavy-looking bag in one hand and a small package in the other.

For you, he smiled, handing Melanie the smaller of the two and taking the other to the drinks table. Amy was sure Melanie was blushing as she revealed a small box of chocolates. Steven flicked his eyebrows towards Amy and flashed that smile.

I’m a bit early but thought you might need a hand getting things ready. He glanced around. Looks like everything’s under control though. Amy felt guilty at her surprise. Steven Porter was the archetype to make a late entrance wasn’t he, after others already there had been discussing if he would ‘show’ at all?

The four classmates sat around for nearly half an hour, drinking slowly, sharing hopes and fears, dreams and futures. It was the first time she’d learned of his athletic aspirations. Amy didn’t want the door bell to ring again.

It was nine o’clock before Amy had her first alcoholic drink, she had begun to feel more relaxed as the room filled with her classmates and conversation became animated and natural. Laughter bounced off the walls as she sipped a glass of cider and chatted about recently announced university fees with Paul, a fellow ‘realist’.

As she finished her cider, Amy suddenly heard the raised, agitated voice of Melanie, having answered the front door. She put her drink down and went to the end of the hallway, immediately seeing her friend with hands raised in a vertical position. Beyond her, she could just make out the figures of three boys she didn’t recognise.

Sorry guys, it’s just a small get-together of personal friends, sorry. Melanie’s voice took on a slightly strained tone, but polite and non-confrontational. As if deaf, the host’s explanation had no impact on the new-comers and one was now standing with his foot on the front step, peering over Melanie into the hall.

It’s all good man, it’s all cool. His voice held a hint of menace and it’s owner was now alongside Melanie with the second close behind. She looked to Amy, eyes ablaze with fear. An air of tension had descended and Amy was unsure what to do. She felt afraid. Please guys, she mumbled as she walked halfway to stand behind her friend. The music had been turned off now and the silence was compounding the intensity of the situation.

The boy with the black hoody was advancing towards her and she began to feel physically sick. Dad’s face flashed in her mind. About two meters in front of her, he stopped and looked past her.

Wankers, the intruder growled through gritted teeth and spat on the carpet. Amy was paralysed, rooted to the spot, her heart beating wildly inside her chest.

Hearing a shuffle of feet behind her, she turned to see Steven, making his way along the hall. Her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth, her eyes wide, pleading.

Just seconds, but the world seemed to stand still, a lifetime, eyes locked on eyes, until the lad turned and made his way back towards the front door, pushing Melanie roughly to one side and disappearing into the night. Life flooded back into her as the tears flowed and she ran to hug her friend. They comforted each other, sharing deep relief and release. As they walked back towards the party to guests’ words of compassion and reassurance, Amy saw Steven take one or two steps backwards, still watching the front door intently. He nodded.

The rest of the evening was in total contrast, the release of a caged animal back into the wild. Everyone danced, chatted, drank a little too much but forgot their worries, the intruders and the world outside. It was their time.

Around half past midnight, the music slowed and two or three couples danced together towards the darker end of the through-lounge. Amy sat on the sofa and watched as Christina gripped onto Luke, turning testosterone-filled circles, oblivious of anything or anyone. She was inadvertently smiling, pleased the dance floor was hers.

Amy was unaware of Steven as he approached, holding out a hand.

One of my favourite bands, dance? Amy was shocked and checked with rapid eye movement if anyone else was in the vicinity. She stood up and took his hand, her heart performing somersaults for the second time that night. To this day, she remembered mumbling some sort of response to his question as they danced.

Have you got a dream Amy?

She could remember too, as they danced, feeling embarrassed, worrying she would now have to leave soon to meet dad’s deadline.

As the music ended, Steven thanked her and they sat down on the sofa, conversation stilted.

Sorry Aims, not feeling too great tonight, not great company eh.

Amy tipped her cupped hand in a drinking motion.

Nooooooo, only had one beer, I’m training, think I need a good night’s sleep, he explained.

She saw her ‘out’, an excuse, she too felt exhausted and was leaving soon. Did he live close?

No, errrrrr……no um……, he stuttered, fancy sharing a cab? Was Steven Porter, the Steven Porter, stammering in front of Amy Morgan?

She nodded and mouthed ‘yes please’ over the now pumping music of Black Eyed Peas. Steven took out his phone and confidently dialled a cab, telling Amy it would be ten minutes.

He got up and disappeared; it crossed her mind he’d been teasing and had left without her. In a thrice, Christina had sat exactly where Steven had been seconds before.

We’ll, tell, tell, tell you little minx. Christina could hardly contain her excitement and to her credit, spoke without the slightest trace of jealousy. "Did you see Mary? She was Shrek, Amy, Shrek and Hulk, all in one. The giggle told Amy she had had more than enough cider.

Nothing, nothing at all, we’re just sharing a cab home, that’s all, Amy said in a matter-of-fact tone. Christina would have none of it, and pressed harder.

Before the inquisition deepened, Steven returned.

Ready? he asked. Christina had her back turned so he was unable to see her mouth pucker in a silent ‘oooooo’ then roll her eyes.

Leaving and grieving Mels, Steven called across the room. Amy wished he hadn’t drawn the attention of the room to their exit but couldn’t help recognising a touch of swagger as she walked with Steven and Melanie to the front door.

I’ll pop over tomorrow with my pinny, Amy called from the gate as Steven opened the door of the cab.

The ride home was short and rather flat, Amy sensing a mutually-agreed silence. It wasn’t awkward however, and their eyes met several times. At home all too soon, Steven refused the fiver in Amy’s hand.

Probably see you in the week Aims, he said. There was no goodnight kiss, not even a friend’s peck. The thought, in fact, didn’t enter either teenager’s head. She still wasn’t sure about him, hating her inability to ‘read’ him, pigeon-hole him, and stand sure-footed in his company. Her bedside clock read 01.25 as she slid between the sheets and with her head spinning, drifting into contented sleep before her dad’s curfew.

Steven couldn’t sleep, however, even after having taken the now familiar paracetamol tablets for another raging headache. He’d have to pay a visit to Dr.Khan on Monday.

Chapter Four

Sunday 8th May 2011 -

‘Post-Party Mess’

Amy’s seductive ringtone woke her from contented sleep. She knew, before picking up, who it would be.

Well, what did he say? When are you seeing him? I don’t believe it Amy, you, ………did he, you know?

Half asleep, Amy tried to match the happenings of the previous night and the questioning onslaught. Segmented images prompted recollection of her time with Steven. A mental smile widened as she sat up.

"Not much to tell Chrissie, nothing for you, gossip guts. Quite ordinary, really, but he’s nice. She admonished herself for using that word, it sounded so simplistic. ‘Nice’ is for food, days out with family and the weather, not Steven.

Despite protestations, Amy told her friend she would talk to her later, at Mel’s if she was going to help clear up.

Don’t be long, I want to hear it all, minute by minute, hurry, Christina gushed, a dog with a bone.

Amy showered, drank a cup of coffee and told her mum she would back in a couple of hours to cut the grass.

On her way to Mel’s, she was trying to work out how to play it, not for her friends benefit, but for hers! She’d not met anyone with the presence and charisma of Steven before and she’d enjoyed the feeling of amity as they’d chatted and danced. Even pauses in conversation had felt natural, normal, and she hadn’t once found herself planning the next subject to talk about. Relaxed, soft, soothing and serene, that’s how it had felt.

There was very little mess and virtually no clearing up to do when she arrived at Mel’s. Pity dad couldn’t see it, she thought. Christine was sitting on the sofa when Mel led the way into the lounge. Just where Steven had sat! Mel wouldn’t interrogate, but was just as intrigued by last night’s unexpected events.

These are nice, Christina mumbled as she picked out another chocolate from the box. Amy and Mel both declined and sipped on black coffee. Between them, a silence, glances, smiles, then laughter, the type only friends understood.

Amy recounted the sequence of events, as blandly as she could, not wishing to expose the privacy swirling inside.

Nothing further predicted, not interested, she lied, exam time and all that. That was the ‘realist’ surfacing in her again, not wanting to open her vulnerability. She had to admit though, as that reality began to focus, she was enjoying being central to events. It’s not going to happen, so let’s change the subject, wash up or eat up, offering Christina another chocolate.

Did you get his number? Is he ringing you, Aims, let us in! Christina implored.

Let’s leave it now, whatever will be will be. It was a good night though wasn’t it? Mel interrupted.

The girls continued to chat, about nothing and everything, steering clear of the one thing that was uppermost in all three minds. Amy tried to push it to the back of her head, she didn’t even have time for him twenty four hours ago. He hadn’t been drunk, she hadn’t seen him drink one beer. Shit, had she been watching him that closely?

So when’s everyone’s first exam? Mel asked, even though she knew the answer. She wanted to find a comfortable subject to move away from last night.

Same as you, I think, Monday week, two bloody hours for English! How come I get all the longies? Another two and a half for English, one two and a half, one three hour bugger for French, Geography’s not too bad. Christina had found it difficult when options followed GCSE results. She was very much an ‘arts’ student and had realised she would, for the first time since Year 3, be split from her friend Mel, when classes resumed last September. And I don’t finish til the 16th June, what about you Amy?……...Amy?

Errr….I think…..it’s….what? Amy hadn’t heard the question. Think I’m gonna head home for a bit of revision, keep mum and dad happy. Amy needed space, time to think. I’ll ring you later on.

By the time she had arrived home, her dad had already cut the grass and she had convinced herself that last night was a one off, had meant nothing to Steven, and it was a dead story. Steven was a friend now, wasn’t he, that was all he was, and that was good,

Turning on her laptop, she logged onto her Facebook newsfeed. Her neat analysis, her self persuasion had been absolute. Her heart leapt, jumped and twisted. There, uploaded already, were pictures from the party. Not just of her and Steven, thank goodness, but six or seven among thirty or so. Chatting on the sofa, dancing in the semi-darkness and laughing together. Amy didn’t know how to feel. What she did know was that she liked the feeling the pictures gave her, liked the uncertainty in her head and liked the nervous anticipation. She lay on her bed and struggled to revise alkanes, alkenes and hydrocarbons.

Chapter Five

Tuesday 10th May 2011 -

‘Just Warming Up’

Amy had managed to re-focus upon the imminent exams, made easier after no further party reverberations. She decided that morning, to go into school’s library to use the learning platform to work upon particle interaction theory, an area she had never fully understood.

She said a warm hello to Mrs. Cox at reception and signed in. Immediately, the familiar smells of lunch-box food and teenage hormonal sweat greeted her like an old friend. She was feeling more tense as the days counted down but her arrival back in these surroundings comforted her, made her feel less isolated than the recent time spent on study leave. She made her way up the stairs to the library, through a noisy year eight class on the way down. She stopped and looked at them, envious of their carefree air, the insouciance that adolescence had attempted to steal. Swinging bags, pushing, showing friends mobile screens.

The library was empty bar two upper-sixth students and the librarian. Amy was glad, the last thing she wanted was a troubled chat that would only increase her current anxiety. Amy could either share guilt in a lack of revision or feel shocked and guilty at the amount of revision another student had completed.

Taking out her books and logging on to the county’s revision site, she rubbed her eyes, ready to begin.

Then, in a micro-second, any tension lifted, dissipated and flowed from her. The library windows faced the school field where the white lines of an athletic track blended with a drying, parched grass. She held her breath as she focused upon Steven, alone below her. It was the first time she had seen him since the cab ride on Saturday and her head screamed with delight. She was aware of his deep interest in all sports and indeed, and had been told of his considerable prowess. They hadn’t discussed any of this on Saturday, but his comment about a ‘dream’ began to clarify itself.

It was a warm day, not hot, but clear blue skies hinted at summer. Steven was wearing the school’s blue athletic vest and plain black track suit bottoms. His upper body wasn’t over muscular but well-toned and tapered to a slim waist. The Adidas stripes seemed to add to his height that Amy remembered from their dance three days earlier. The Steven she had spent hours trying to rid her thoughts of since Saturday was now in front of her, seemingly performing for her, solely. She questioned the antagonism tearing her apart, why was she telling herself this voyeurism was wrong……this was enchanting! All he had done was be polite, considerate, yet intoxicating.

She watched.

The foreplay was physical, sensual, sexual. He was aware of each muscle and sinew, methodically stretching and loosening, preparing it for an ultimate act. Each and every part received his consummate attention, and like the most attentive and considerate lover, selfless in sparing no time or effort.

First his neck, small circular swaying, standing with legs astride. Arms windmilled then squeezed gently as they wrapped scarf-like around his neck. Steven’s hips rotated clockwise, then anticlockwise in smooth, hypnotic gyration. Amy watched. The focus upon upper body shifted to lower limbs. Simple toe-touching progressed to fisted knuckles pressing downwards and then elbows touching the top of his feet. Amy was entranced, suddenly realising and looked around guiltily. Had anyone been ‘watching the watcher’? She moved closer to the window to witness more contortions, wondering at his suppleness. Gripping behind bronzed thighs, he doubled forward to lay his stomach on them. Finally, he left one leg forward while the other was tucked at right angles, reaching forward to touch his outstretched right leg with left fingertips. Amy watched, recognising this hurdling position from athletic sessions in previous years. Lifting from the grass, Steven slid his track bottoms down with a two-handed motion and eased them over spiked running shoes. White, split-leg shorts ended well above mid-thigh and were cut high at the sides allowing maximum movement. Amy was transfixed. The athlete began to jog slowly around the oval track, increasing the pace each time he entered the finishing straight. It was a fluid, gliding action, effortless yet powerful. Contact between feet and track seemed to be minimal yet the speed generated was breath-taking.

Amy looked at the clock. It had been fifteen minutes since she had first entered the library. Steven was now lifting hurdles onto the track, carefully placing them on lines dividing the straight into ten metre sections. Beginning slowly, he ran across them, front leg dagger-straight, head motionless, rear leg cocked and right-angled sideways, pulled through at bullet speed. As if forgotten, the barriers were invisible, an irrelevance to the athlete’s journey over them. Like waves rolling and foaming across a flat beach rock, Steven flowed across the hurdles, smoothly increasing his speed with each new run. His thin gold chain bounced and swung around his neck in majestic celebration.

Amy, no lover of sport, knew that she was witnessing asthetic beauty, a physical poetry that aroused the senses and induced powerlessly to it’s allure. She needed to tell him, make him realise the seduction.

She returned to the desk where her books remained unopened. Go and talk to him she remonstrated with herself, just to ask how he had enjoyed Saturday, how his training was progressing. She wouldn’t, couldn’t, tell him how his training had captivated her, bewitched her senses and left her spellbound. Scooping her belongings into her bag, Amy was ignorant of the librarian’s bewildered stare as she found herself rushing to the library doors.

Down the stairs opposite the history department, her trot became a dash, increasingly urgent to meet Steven. Mid lesson, the corridors were empty so the clipping of her sandles echoed on the parquet floors.

Finally pushing through the double doors at the gym, Amy burst out into the sunlight and fresh air.

Steven had gone. All that moved were the birds eagerly savaging for scraps of sandwich, crisp or cake left after break. Her heart sank as she looked left and right for a third time. Nothing except three hurdles neatly stored against the gym wall. She couldn’t hide from the self questioning. Why didn’t you come down earlier? Why are you continuing to pretend this doesn’t matter? Why did he finish so quickly?

She was in no mood to return to the library so decided to make her way home. The thought struck her that a full morning would have passed with no revision. It grated that her dad had been right, it annoyed her that her naivity had taken her further behind with her work schedule and Steven once again was the root of discomfort. She told herself to straighten her mind, prioritise and act like the Amy Porter she thought she knew.

Returning home, she had begun her revision guiltily but floundered. Hapless, she deliberated repeatedly the morning’s happenings and conducted a mental self-examination, trying to straighten and order her emotions, justifying her behaviour. It wasn’t simple, it was like trying to swim or ride a bike for the first time, she was in an introspective turmoil.

She made one easy decision, she wouldn’t tell Melanie or Christine of the day’s events. All others, she consequently discovered, were abstruse.

Amy worked for longer than usual, a form of subliminal punishment. The quality the revision wasn’t of her usual standard, multiple cups of coffee intervening ‘enthalpy change’.

The regular evening phone calls between the friends centred on the usual topics; revision, time span to exams, music and Facebook. Mel didn’t broach the ‘S’ subject but of course Christina did, exploding her excitement. Amy found it hard to placate her with bland, non-committal responses, neither wanting to lie or commit.

I haven’t talked to him, no, was her carefully-considered reply. The whole charade was becoming unbearable, she had to remove the pretence. And at that precise moment, Amy made a fateful decision. She would return to school tomorrow morning and hope, hope Steven was training again. These athletes were creatures of habit weren’t they? Surely he had a routine, a schedule to accommodate his running and revision.

She suddenly felt the weight of the world lifting from her shoulders and completed a final hour of revision, the most productive for days!

Chapter Six

Wednesday 11th May 2011 -

‘More Than a Number’

Amy awoke to a degree of nervousness she couldn’t recall. Not the first day at primary school, sitting her 11+ exam or the GCSEs last year. She showered, and began to dress in the clothes laid out last night.

Her plan was to get to school early, begin her revision in the library and hope Steven echoed his training regime of yesterday. She spent far longer than usual on her makeup, particularly her Rimmel mascara which she felt made her lashes look longer. Straightening her hair and a little hydrating foundation later, the mirror told her she was ready, on the outside at least. Inside she was churning and was unsure why. She wasn’t going to reveal any inner emotions, exposing herself to ridicule or rejection. She was merely going to meet an acquaintance, chat and try to unravel or clarify her muddled thoughts. Pull yourself together she told herself as she left home for the bus stop.

What she hadn’t planned was the shouted greeting as she approached the school gates.

Aims! Aims!

It was Steven, some thirty metres behind her, dressed in his track suit. His large shoulder bag swung at his hip as he trotted to catch her up. Why did he do this, she asked herself, the unexpected every time, catching her off guard and ambushing her meticulously planned morning?

He was now at her side, smiling with that casual ease that she found so annoying yet totally beguiling.

What you doing here Aims? Thought you’d be ankle deep in text books and highlighters. He let out a familiar chuckle that told Amy his teasing was laying a foundation of friendship. She warmed inside.

Get more done here, no distractions. An alarm sounded in her head as she realised the lie she had told him already. What about you? Another!

Here to train, got an athletics match on Friday, then again next week before the county trials in June, then afternoon and evening revision. Think I’d make a Trappist Monk Aims?

‘I hope not’ would have been Christina’s response but Amy didn’t have that confidence and could only smile with a little shrug of her shoulders.

How’s the revision going then? Not long now eh, can’t let it take you over though, balance and all that, others things Aims,

Shit, he’s spot on thought Amy, it’s as though he could read her, understand her and say just what she needed to hear.

Yeh, yeh, bit stressed at the mo, enjoyed the party at Mel’s. She had steered the conversation to common ground, fishing for a reaction.

Me too, felt a bit under the weather but had a great dance with a hot chick. Steven was teasing again, his head tilted just slightly to one side. Her heart was pounding and colouring her neck and cheeks. It didn’t matter that he had joked about their time together on Saturday, she was sure she detected mutual ground, a distinct progression in the relationship.

Suddenly, Amy realised she had walked past the library, engrossed in Steven’s company.

This is me, gonna train for an hour or so, Steven told her, sitting down and beginning to strip his track suit bottoms again in the manner that had captivated Amy from the library yesterday. It did again.

I’m off to the delights of nucleus decay, not as exciting as your morning, Amy said, unable to maintain the lightness of conversation.

Amy can still remember Steven’s next sentence with precise clarity. It didn’t fully register at the time but would take their relationship to a new level.

Hey, Aims, why don’t you come to the match here on Friday, cheer on the school………and me!

He knew how to play it, take out any intensity and make the invite casual, but still personal.

Tell you what, bring Melanie and Christina too, be great to see you. If it’s okay, I’ll ring you with the time.

Amy began to root through her bag, telling herself to stay calm, not wishing her furious snatching to betray her elation.

"I think I can, be good to break from the books, ‘other things’, she smiled. Steven took out his phone and held it as he looked to her, finger exasperatingly poised and eyebrows raised.

07785438721.

Whoooooooaaa, 077…………… Steven called, asking her to slow. Amy cursed herself, hoping her garbled number didn’t seem over keen. She repeated her number then waited for Steven to call it, securing a further bonding.

Okay, I’ll let you know the time as soon as I know it, it’ll be great to have you here, training then braining today though, and he was gone, jogging into his programme.

Amy wished she could stay to cherish, first hand, the allure of this physical theatre, but knew it would seem far too brazen. She waved goodbye with a waggle of her fingers and made her way to the library.

She stood to view Steven from the windows but soon sat down, becoming aware of the librarians inquisitive attentions. She fished into her bag for her phone and immediately keyed in Steven’s name against the recent ‘missed call’. She then changed positions so Steven was out of sight; he wasn’t out of mind but she managed to satisfy two hours of solid revision before returning home with a smile stretched permanently across her face!

Chapter Seven

Friday 13th May 2011 -

‘Me?’

The following two days passed without the drama of the previous five. In fact, they flashed by, exams advancing like a hungry predator. She had told Mel and Christina, of course, about the meeting with Steven, his invitation and embellished things with a vivid description of his training! Each of the multiple phone calls began with the same question.

Has he texted?

He hadn’t and Amy did begin to doubt him, and herself, chiding herself over another delusion. She engrossed herself into revision, hour bursts throughout the day and evening, alternating between chemistry and physics, confident that her maths needed least attention.

She hadn’t been out since Tuesday and being cooped up with only her own negativity, thoughts had begun to chip away at her and dent any recent increase in self-esteem.

Her mum noticed the mood swings and touchiness, unaware it was due to more than exam nerves. Always the ‘softer’ of her parents, she tried to put her daughter at ease, always trying to see the good in any situation. Her regular knocks on the bedroom door with coffee, biscuits and kind words hadn’t allayed Amy’s doubts.

Not long now Amy, it’ll all be over before you know it, it all be worth it in the end, she encouraged, not realising the whole truth behind her daughter’s anxiety.

Amy’s three day’s of pent up emotion finally evaporated in two hedonistic minutes. It was around 11 o’clock and she was between subjects when Taylor Swift’s banjo rift sounded from her phone. The magical six letters shone from the Blackberry screen.

Aims, it’s me, Steven, the match today, are you, can you………….? Did he sound nervous? Amy was surprised and strangely felt calmer. Can you make half two at school, did you talk to Mel’s and Christina? How’s the revision going? The quick-fire questions hinted at a premeditated list and offered her no opportunity for reply. Errrr……."

Hiya Steven, yes, yes, and okay, she teased. Thanks for calling, yep, we can all come, hope you’re going to win. She was tempted to add for me but decided quickly against it.

Hope so, you never know though, maybe a MaccieD to celebrate after eh? he suggested.

My shout if you win, she said.

Deal Aims, see you later.

It was all going too well, something would spoil this, she warned herself, she didn’t want to expect too much, allow herself to be lulled into false expectation.

That was it. Alone in her bedroom, she threw her head back and let out a yelp. Her clock told her she had three hours. She