Chapter 12

Chapter 12

The book was good. One of them dies. Sounds about right.

The response had settled my mind a bit. Over the weekend I'd got myself steadily more worked up. I didn't want to be different to everyone else. I wanted to be normal. I sometimes wonder what I would have done if I'd walked into the library on Monday lunchtime and found anything other, anything more suggestive, than a chat about literature, because I think I might have bottled it there and then, for who knows how many more years?

I'd made the decision not to do any digging about who was in the supervised private study lesson on Friday. I couldn't think of a way of doing it which wouldn't arouse suspicion anyway; Beth was the obvious choice, since she was in that class, but it would have been an odd request. She would have known I was up to something. But I didn't want anyone to know anything about me, because the first person who really should have known … was me.

I reread his words, tracing my finger over them, feeling good because it made me feel close to him somehow, and then was immediately overcome with shame because what are you doing, Jamie?!

Sometimes I hated myself.

Why did I have to be so sentimental and emotional and feel things I knew I shouldn't feel?

I read the words again.

I wasn't sure about the "dying" thing; it made me uneasy – was it a veiled threat? Self-hatred? A morbid joke? So I scribbled back:

What do you mean?

That was enough for now. I was still being non-committal. I could still back away from this and leave no trace of myself. Short of spy cameras, I knew it was unlikely anyone could work out who I was.

I snapped the book shut, placed it back on the shelf, rounded the corner of the shelves, and bumped straight into Dan.

"We must stop meeting like this," he said, a smile playing on his lips. "Don't suppose you want some lunch?"

I glanced over at Beth, who was busy with two first years at the desk: "The fine is calculated weekly, or part thereof. I don't make the rules!" she was saying.

I felt disloyal, leaving her in there, but then she was a student librarian now, and I wasn't, so what could I do? It wasn't like Dan was replacing her, or anything. It wasn't like I was cheating, even if it felt like I was.

Over our chicken pies and chips, I gathered up the courage to ask him: "Found anyone to go with you on your couple's ticket yet?"

He looked down at his plate, sighed and shook his head. "This'll sound stupid, because I know I'm supposed to know this, but … how are you supposed to actually do it? Ask someone to a ball?"

I laughed.

"I'm serious!"

"No, I know you are. I'm not laughing at you; I'm recognizing the problem."

"Every scenario I can picture is ridiculous. I went to see a film with my parents last week – it was called Four Weddings and a Funeral. It's just come out. Have you heard of it?"

I nodded.

"So, it had all these people fancying each other, and I thought it might be useful, you know? It might be a template for … dealing with romance. But it was so over the top! Weddings being stopped, people in love with the wrong person, heart attacks … sorry. I shouldn't spoil it."

"I mean, the title gives a certain amount away."

Dan laughed. "Oh, yeah. Anyway, none of that is me. All that drama! I just want things simple."

"Me too," I said. Simple sounded good right then. Who wanted their life to be dramatic and tense enough to make a work of fiction out of it?*

Dan chewed thoughtfully on some of his pie. "There were two gay characters in it too."

I suddenly became aware I was staring at him, and quickly looked down at my food, forking a cube of chicken. "Oh yeah?" (So casual.)

"One of them dies."

I froze.

"Sorry, I'm spoiling it again," he added.

I looked up, met his eyes, and he smiled, gently, at me. "It was actually quite a sweet storyline, although I don't think my dad was too impressed. But why not, huh?"

"Exactly. Why not?"

Dan nodded.

We ate in silence for a bit, while thoughts crashed about my head, like:

What do I say now?!

One of them dies?! That cannot be a coincidence!

Why bring that storyline up anyway?!

"So?" Dan said softly.

For some reason, I turned ice cold. "What?"

"Any tips on asking someone out?"

"Like I said, I'm no expert."

"Still." He cocked his head and smiled.

I scrambled around for an idea. Having listened to Keith's advice on Saturday, I felt like I had one thing to offer: just do the opposite. Keith's approach was all game playing and bluffing and tactics and tricks to try to engineer some sort of result. It sounded exhausting. It also sounded wrong. "My tip," I said, swallowing, "would just be real. Just be yourself." And what I didn't say: "Because you are perfect as you are, Dan."

"You're assuming I know who I am."

"I mean … yeah."

"OK. So who am I?" His eyes were sparkling, as if he was enjoying this.

"You're … Dan…"

"Good start."

"You're sixteen?"

"Until July."

"Baby of the year, like me."

"Who am I, though?"

I blew out a breath. "I dunno, you're … nice?"

He guffawed while I went red.

"You are, though," I muttered, looking down at my food.

"Jamie Hampton, you'd better not be flirting with me!"

"'Course not." I shrugged, but my brain was about to explode with thoughts and feelings I didn't know what to do with. "I'm just saying you're a nice guy, be real, that's enough."

I met his eyes again and he smiled at me, again. "Thanks," he said. He pushed a few chips around his plate. "You have to be a bit brave, don't you? To put yourself out there? As the real you?"

I wanted to hug him. How was he feeling all the things I was feeling? I didn't hug him. There was a table between us anyway. "Yeah. I think you do."

"Because then you're actually saying this is me, this is everything, and if they reject you, then that's personal. I don't know, some of the lads, they swagger around, talking about ‘this bird' and ‘that bird' and how they asked her out, and maybe she said no, but they still laugh about it, as if it's nothing, doesn't matter, the loss is all hers, and I could never be like that. I'd be devastated."

"I don't think anyone would reject you."

He nearly choked on the chip he was eating. "You're really good for my ego."

"Happy to help," I said.

"Be brave?" he said.

"Be brave."

What would I do?

What would I do if Dan was Mystery Boy?

Dan had been hanging about the library. Very near to the book. I'd bumped into him twice now. He was kind, and he was sensitive – exactly the sort of person who would enjoy a book like Dance on My Grave.

He'd mentioned the gay characters in a film.

Why?

Testing the water?

Was my heart beating faster because I liked the idea of that or because I was terrified of it?

What did I want? I wanted someone like me. Someone to talk with. Someone who got me. It wasn't anything more!

What if Dan asked me out?

Would he?

But he wasn't like that. He only mentioned it.

But what if he was brave?

And yet … that would just be weird.

Wouldn't it?

I could still be friends with someone, though, even if they were gay, couldn't I?

I mean, you get the picture, right? I was a mess. I didn't know who Dan was, or who I was. I didn't know what I wanted. Or what I even hoped for. I think when you're that scared of it, when you're that deep in denial, when you've refused to answer anything you've asked yourself honestly, then, of course, you don't see it. Even if you can see it. Which I'm sure you probably can.

I was hooked on wanting to know more, though. I might not have known me, but I wanted to know if it was Dan.

So, I tested the water in the exchanges in the book that followed:

I don't believe in happy endings

That was him. I didn't like that reply. There was a darkness about it. It didn't sound like the Dan I knew, but actually aren't people full of surprises? I thought Adam Henson was one thing, and he was something else. At least in part. Everyone's got layers. Bits they keep hidden.

I scribbled back:

That's a shame. I do. I think I do. But I don't think they just happen. Even in fairy tales. The prince had to go out and find Cinderella, right? I think you have to take action. Be brave.

There. I'd mentioned being brave. I felt sure Mystery Boy's response to this would provide me with the big clue I needed.

His reply:

Brave? Love the idea of that. Asking someone of the opposite sex out? That might be brave. Asking another guy when you're a guy? In this school, that's not brave. That's suicidal. I could ask you … but I don't even know who you are. And you don't know me. Might not even fancy each other. Although I kind of love the idea of finding out…

There we had it. The first time "fancying" each other had been mentioned. An admission that this wasn't just friends chatting about books. This was (could be? might be?) something more. He liked guys. And he assumed I did too.

He didn't know me; that much was right.

And yet it still felt like he knew too much.

Or he thought he did.

And he might be up for taking the next step. What else could those ellipses mean?! It was what was left unsaid that was the scariest here.

I slammed the book shut and got out of the library as fast as I could.

I was terrified.

*Well, we wouldn't be here otherwise, so in some ways, dramatic is good.