Chapter 13

THIRTEEN

Zoe

I walk into school the next day and Mia is waiting in the staff room for me, arms crossed, basically tapping her foot in the same way we do when we're waiting for kids who are late into our classrooms.

‘Is your phone broken, you absolute cow?' she tells me.

Ed comes rushing over from the staff room fridge. ‘I am so sorry about her, I am so sorry we did that to you. It was all her idea. I told her it was such a bad idea. I told her you'd never trust us again and we work with you. We'd have to see you on Monday…'

I look at both of them, po-faced, shaking my head.

Ed looks absolutely mortified. ‘Did you at least enjoy the room? I'd have understood if you felt it appropriate not to stay. Did you stay?'

‘I stayed.'

‘Then that's a good thing… isn't it, Mia?' Mia looks like this isn't the information she wants but there's a sliver of satisfaction in stringing her along, to make her think she's not as clever as she thinks she is.

‘And did anyone stay with you?' she asks me, impatiently.

‘What? No. You got me that room for myself, didn't you? I mean, I went down to the bar to meet you for that drink, but I may have missed you, no?' It's only then that I can't seem to control the smile emerging and Mia comes over and hits me across the arm, a joyous emotion creeping across her face.

‘You are hilarious. So it worked? The plan worked? ED! IT WORKED!'

Ed shakes his head. This does not bode well for Ed – Mia will be incorrigible now. It's like we've unleashed a criminal matchmaking mastermind into the world.

She pulls me to the sofa and asks me to sit down.

‘You have five minutes before I have to go to my room and set up for the day,' I tell her. ‘We met, we chatted. It was lovely.'

‘ Lovely ? I didn't put that plan together for lovely,' she says, wrinkling her nose.

‘He's lovely.' She sits there and shakes her head. ‘I'm not sure what you want to hear?'

‘Did he at least make you come?'

‘MIA!' Ed says.

‘She said I only had five minutes.'

I sit there laughing, watching them argue over me but my eyes are secretly wandering around the room looking for Jack. I don't think he's in yet. It feels a bit schoolgirly to be searching him out, to feel all that excitement in my bones to want to see him again. I realise the great irony in this and laugh to myself.

‘Zoe, I can only apologise,' Ed says, turning to me.

‘Ed, it's OK. Your friend is lovely,' I say, putting a hand on his arm. Ed smiles back at me, relieved. I sling my bag over my shoulder.

‘We'll get more details later, yes?' Mia asks and I shake my head, laughing.

‘But thank you, you crazy, wonderful woman,' I say, hugging her.

And Mia does a little dance as I head off to my classroom, the magnificent sound of her whooping with joy echoing down the corridors.

As I walk across the courtyard to the maths block, I try and get my head around what's happened in the space of just a few days. I feel a little disoriented to think of all the things that transpired. This isn't what my weekends used to be about; they used to be about watching football matches on cold pitches, laundry, marking, planning the groceries for the weekend. Now I feel like I've played out a full four-part series in mere days. It started with me as a single parent crying over the absence of her kids; it moved on to highly explicit scenes of me shagging someone over ten years younger than me, and it ended with me killing demons. Demons called Brian who wear terrible chinos. As a young Year Seven child smiles and waves at me as I walk past, I wonder if it all happened to another person. I smile to myself in disbelief.

‘You look different.' It's a voice that weaves in from the end of the corridor as I enter the block. It's Drew. Do I dare tell Drew? He'll think me mad.

‘Good different?' I say back to him.

He nods. ‘Good weekend?'

Drew, I came so hard on Saturday morning that I thought my nipples were going to fly off. I smirk to myself. That's not Monday morning maths talk.

‘It was alright. We still having that departmental meeting?'

‘No, Sharon is stuck in traffic. You just look… I don't know the word… I think it's rested.'

I don't know how to reply to that so put a thumb up in the air. As I walk in the room, though, someone is sitting at my desk, in my chair, waiting. It's that cheeky relaxed stance he always seems to take, sleeves rolled up, bag slung across his shoulder, that look in his eye which shows he knows exactly where he should be. I bite my lip to try and hide my glee in seeing him.

‘Mrs Swift. Good morning.'

I look down at my desk and see a shiny red apple. ‘Is that for me?'

‘It is,' he says, looking down at it.

‘That's old school,' I tell him, my grin making my cheeks hurt.

‘In return, I was hoping you could help me.' A group of students walk past my room, and he immediately stands up.

‘Mr Damon, of course,' I say, trying to remain calm. ‘Was it a maths related problem?'

‘More of a teaching one. I was hoping you could show me something.'

He needs to stop smiling at me. I need to stop visualising this man naked. I've seen him naked. There was a point where I had his penis in my mouth. A blush rises in my cheeks. I take my bag off, putting it on a nearby desk and walking over as casually as I can to put my coat and scarf on the back of my chair. As I do so, his arm brushes mine and I momentarily stop breathing.

‘Can I ask what's in that cupboard? To the back of your room?' he asks.

‘Oh, it's stationery. Books, paper. I have a very good guillotine in there.'

‘For paper?'

‘Yes. For paper. The one for heads is over in History.'

He laughs. ‘Do you possibly keep a supply of paper clips?'

‘Paper clips?'

‘Yes.'

‘Well, I guess we could take a look?'

He nods.

I walk over to the cupboard and allow him to follow, feeling his presence behind me. As soon as I close the door behind us, he turns my back on to it, and kisses me, intensely, passionately. His lips are pressed firmly against mine, hand to my inner thigh. And all good sense leaves me completely as I kiss him back, allowing him to push his body to mine, feeling the warmth of his skin on mine, that faint spark that always sits between us ignited. He pulls away and leans his forehead against mine.

‘Good morning, Mrs Swift,' he says, breathily.

‘Yep,' I say, unable to return the greeting.

‘I know I said the copiers but it's busy in there and I don't think I'd have been able to do that.'

‘That.'

I seem only capable of answering in monosyllables at the moment. He sighs and tenderly kisses me again before scanning the shelves and picking a jar of paperclips, throwing them in the air and winking at me.

‘Just what I needed. Thank you, Mrs Swift. I appreciate it.'

‘You're very welcome, Mr Damon. I have lots of paper clips if you ever need them.' I exhale, trying to retain some sort of sensible calm but laughing under my breath.

‘I see you also have a lot of protractors.'

‘Did you have angles to measure?' I ask him.

‘Always.'

And with that he comes in for one last kiss before pulling away and I feel his hand leaving mine.

This is awful. This is what we tell the kids not to do – the ones who couple up and rendezvous by the toilets, by the bike sheds – and suddenly I realise I kissed this man by the bike sheds, too. I'm regressing into my youth, I need to remember how old I am. I mean, I know that because I feel that even more when I'm with him, but I need to remember my codes of teaching and how to be a responsible adult. This is why when I am on school grounds, I should always have some level of good sense. I am a mother. No more. I step back from him and take a deep breath to compose myself.

‘Paperclips,' I whisper for no other reason than it's the only word I can think of at the moment.

He laughs and I push at the door but as I do, I'm very conscious of someone standing in there, waiting for me. Shit. I shut the door pretty much in Jack's face so he can't follow me. That can't happen. You stay in the cupboard with your paperclips. Having to think on my feet, I grab at a box of glue sticks.

‘Gabe? Morning, how are you today?' Am I flushed? Am I flustered? Have I got lip gloss smeared all over my face? Did he hear the kissing? I hope not because that's not really a sound that anyone should want to hear.

‘I'm good, Miss. Sorry, is someone in there? I heard talking…'

‘Oh god, no,' I say, hoping Jack heard that. He really has to stay in that cupboard now. ‘I was just talking to myself, running through my day.' Because that is a better option than saying I was in a cupboard with another member of staff, the fact that I just stand in cupboards and talk to myself. Gabe gives me a look and smiles. He's a good kid. I have a number like this – they're a bit older and have floated through school but suddenly have got to Year Eleven and realise they need to leave here with something, anything. I wish they'd got to such realisations earlier in their school career, but at least I now have something to work with.

‘How are you? How was your match last week? Did you win?' I ask him.

Gabe looks shocked that I remembered. ‘Yeah, we won. Two-nil. I got an assist. How about your lad?'

I like how Gabe remembers small details of our conversations. ‘He didn't play this weekend.'

He nods. ‘Actually, Mr Damon was at my match. You know him?'

I let out a small squeak at the mention of his name and try to style it out with a very forced cough. ‘Oh yeah, the new sub. He was there?'

‘He was taking training for some other kids.'

I smile. Of course he was. He's a young, good-looking man who's terrific in bed, saves kittens from skips, and volunteers his time for grassroots football. I really need to start hearing bad things about this man to make me think he's human.

‘Is he a proper teacher?' he asks me.

‘Define proper,' I say, trying not to laugh, praying Jack can hear this.

‘Like you.'

‘I don't know. He's just doing some cover work. He may stick around, may not. Whereas I've been here so long, I sometimes sleep in the school gym.'

‘Do you, Miss?' he asks, shocked.

‘That would be a no, Gabe.'

As he didn't get the joke, I get the feeling that he is preoccupied. In fact, that cool confidence that often just oozes from him is absent, so I revert back to his language of football.

‘Well, I'm glad to hear it was a win. Local derby, right?

Again, he seems shocked that I remembered. ‘Yeah. It's just… Do you have a minute to chat through something?'

I stand there with my multipack of glue sticks, staring at the cupboard door. Jack will be alright, it'll only be for a moment. He won't starve and you can get phone reception in there.

‘Of course, take a seat.' I urge him to close the door first and pull up a seat for him next to my desk.

‘Is everything OK?' I ask him. He puts his bags down and starts fidgeting, picking at his nails that are bitten down to the skin.

‘There was a scout at that game. A good one. Someone from Fulham wants me to come along to training and see if I like it there…'

‘GABE, that's fantastic news!' I tell him enthusiastically, slightly confused at how despondent he appears.

‘It is, it isn't. I don't know…' he mumbles. ‘It's a big step. I don't know if I'm ready for it. Plus, they, like, train three times a week and I've got exams coming up. It's a lot of work.'

‘Are you just worried about the balance?' I enquire.

‘Yeah. I'll have to get a bus to Fulham training because my mum and dad work. I want to leave here with some GSCEs in case the football don't work out. And Fulham might not even like me…'

I shake my head at him. ‘Well, you can shush that sort of talk for a start,' I say. ‘A lot of what these places look for won't be skills, a lot of kids they take on want hard work, commitment and from what you're telling me now, I see that in mountains.' He takes a big sigh and tries to summon up a smile. ‘Let's change that language about. Let's say Fulham love you, let's say the football will work out, you will leave here with GCSEs. I am manifesting that shit for you.'

‘You swore, Miss,' he reminds me.

‘I know, it was for impact. Don't tell anyone,' I say, putting a finger to my lips.

‘I just don't think there are enough hours in the day, you know?' he tells me.

I lean forward in my chair. ‘Well, as your maths teacher, I am saying now that you will leave here with at least something in my subject. I will be sure of that. Even if I have to come to your training and shout out equations over the sidelines.'

‘Yeah, don't do that, Miss,' he laughs. The lad already thinks I'm a little mad for talking to myself in cupboards. ‘So you think I can do this?'

‘I have every faith, Gabe. Keep it positive. Give Fulham a go, show them you're an absolute baller. These sorts of opportunities don't come up that often so sometimes you've got to seize them with both hands and work hard – not think you can't do it because you're…'

‘Scared.'

‘Exactly.'

He nods. ‘Facts… facts. Did you use the word "baller", Miss?'

‘I did.'

He laughs.

‘Hon, have you spoken to your parents about this? What about your form tutor?' I ask him.

He shakes his head from side to side. ‘My parents are a bit overexcited about it. I don't like my form tutor,' he tells me plainly. ‘But I like you.'

He realises what he's said, and I try not to smile too much. ‘Well, that's very kind.'

‘Just in a teacher way, yeah. Not like I like you, because that would be well weird,' he explains, the grimace on his face confirming that statement. ‘You believe in us and stuff. I don't have anyone like that in my life.'

And I stop for a moment feeling sad but almost slightly relieved that I can fulfil that role for him. I can't say I have any experience of what it means to be an elite sportsperson, but I have always felt this lad wears a lot of that pressure on his young shoulders and doesn't quite know how to carry it. Maybe it's from being a mother or having lived in this job for the longest time but you worry about all these kids like they're your own, all you want is to see them succeed.

‘They will meet you and love you, I'm sure of it. If you're coming unstuck with work and it starts to get too much, you know where I am. We can always chat more.'

‘Come unstuck. That's funny,' he says, and I look down to see the box full of glue sticks still in my lap.

His mood seems lifted, his body lighter, and he gets up from his chair. ‘You're a real one, Miss.' I shrug my shoulders, not really knowing how to answer that.

‘I'll catch you later, Gabe,' I tell him as he leaves the room, closing the door. I stare at the cupboard, watching it opening gingerly as Jack's head pops around to see if the coast is clear. I shake my head at him.

‘Paperclips,' he says, holding the box over his head. ‘Found them.'

I'm not sure I can handle what this tryst entails. From stolen kisses in darkened corners to having to snap on my teacher face, all of it makes me feel giddy, in a good if unfamiliar way.

‘I'm glad, Mr Damon. Did you get everything you need in there?' I say, trying to remain cool and professional.

He stops for a moment. ‘I did. Thank you for your assistance, Mrs Swift. You're a real one, you know.'

He laughs. I would laugh if I had a clue what that actually meant.

Jack

She bought me a Snickers. After I kissed Zoe in that cupboard, I went to the staff room and there was a Snickers waiting for me in my work pigeonhole. I remember telling her I liked Snickers in a passing moment, our heads on the same pillow and I remembered staring at it, smiling. There was a Post It note attached saying For the Anti-Wanker x

And I thought about how Zoe went out into that classroom and told a confused, stressed young man that he was amazing, and she had complete belief in him. I thought about how she does that, she raises everyone up on some sort of pedestal and watches them, content to just prop them up. It made me think I'd never met anyone like Zoe before in my life. A person who put that sort of energy out into the world. I then thought about the kiss. I thought about hotels, and it meant I went to my Year Eight French lesson distracted and basically let half of them engage in a paper ball battle which meant no one left knowing how to conjugate irregular verbs in the present tense.

Since then, five days have passed since I kissed Zoe in that cupboard. I'd like to say it was a complete moment of spontaneity but really, I woke up that morning and I had an ache to see her before the day started. Not that sort of physical, sexual ache but just a feeling like I missed her, that seeing her face would make this Monday morning feel a thousand times better, so I stole an apple out of the staff room fridge and I went to search her out. Since then, it's been five days of messaging and random gifts appearing in each other's pigeonholes. It's turned into some lovely innocent form of courting because we work in a school and we have to keep things appropriate, but it's built an intensity there, too, a string of messaging that has become quite sexually explicit. It makes me smile to think of her blushing at the content – content that includes pictures of my ding-dong. However, sitting in that cupboard, listening in to her conversation with Gabe, one thing also worries me and that's what she said about me – ‘he may stay, he may go' – and I start to wonder what she means by that. Does she worry that I'm taking this to be some mindless fling to help her get over her husband? Does she anticipate me leaving? Because I guess I could. Sarah's job offer is still on the table and the option is there in a way it hasn't been before. Zoe also spoke of opportunities, grabbing them with both hands, and her words echo so very true. But how could I do that to Zoe now? Given everything she's been through, I don't want to hurt her again. Maybe I just need to let her know I'm serious. All these feelings I have about her, the esteem in which I hold her, feels serious.

I'm waiting now in a local shopping centre, a zig-zag network of escalators overhead, low-level instrumental music in the background, surrounded by the buzz of a Friday night as people finish work and begin their weekends. This may not be the ideal date but at least it'll prove to Zoe that she's not just a fling in my eyes.

‘Hey, stranger.' I hear her voice behind me and grin, spinning around to greet her. She looks relaxed, happy, scrappily trying to rearrange her curls. I reach in to kiss her and whilst she doesn't flinch, I also sense some caution. We're kissing. In public. We've done this before but there are far more people in the vicinity. There may be children around that we both know. She looks me in the eye but also spies the bag hanging from my arm.

‘We're doing gifts?' she asks, curiously. ‘Is that a contribution to my STEM club?'

I laugh. ‘Not quite. You wore trainers?' I say, looking down.

She looks down at her New Balance. ‘You know I'm not hugely sporty, yes?' she says, still trying to work out the boxes in my bag. ‘You haven't given me much in the way of clues here. Is this one of those puzzle escape rooms? Is that for someone else?' she asks.

I told Zoe to meet me here. Let's just have a date, spend some quality time together, I told her. Her kids had both agreed to spend an evening with their father – just him alone, this time – but I sensed that after what happened in Manchester, she still wanted to stay close. Just give me a couple of hours, I asked. She now looks at me suspiciously.

‘It actually is.' But before I have a chance to let her know what's happening, two people bomb us from behind.

‘UNCLE JACK!' Barney shrieks. ‘YOU CAME!'

I think Zoe may be shocked. I can't quite work out if she's impressed by this ambush or not, but she ensures that it doesn't show in front of my nephews. To the rear, Dom appears, carrying a couple of shopping bags and some helium balloons. ‘Barney, George, Dom – this is my friend, Zoe. I hope you don't mind that I asked her to come along today?'

Zoe laughs to herself. ‘I'm so sorry for the gatecrash. But I guess happy birthday?'

The boys high-five her but I can see Dom working it all out, slowly. It's the older woman. I'm trying to gauge if she was what he expected. He realises he's probably left it too long without saying anything and snaps his manners into place.

‘An absolute pleasure, Zoe. God, the more hands the merrier. I've got eight more boys showing up – it's going to be chaos.'

He gives the supermarket-bought cake to Zoe to carry while he hands me a bag full of what look like some version of party bags.

‘Dom. What are these?'

‘Oh, I forgot party bags, so I had to improvise and stuff them with things I found at work,' he tells us, trying to corral the boys in the right direction. I look down. Some lucky kid is getting a full set of neon Post It notes, what looks like some vending machine crisps and some multicoloured paper clips, which makes me smile. ‘I hope you're a huge fan of Laser Tag then,' Dom asks Zoe.

I'm not sure about the look that Zoe gives me next. I think she's mildly amused, but I also hope my smile is going to persuade her that this is far more interesting than a restaurant pizza or an overpriced drink in a generic pub. She looks at me and then down at the boys. ‘Well, I hope you like being beaten, kids, because birthday or not, you're all going down…'

I thought I'd seen bedlam before. I've travelled through train stations in Asia, and I've even been at the canteen in Griffin Road Comprehensive, but nothing has quite prepared me for Laser Tag with a group of thirty kids on a Friday night. Because it's not just the nephews celebrating their birthday today, we all seem to be lost in this neon maze with Lewis who is turning eight and Kai who is turning nine and all their little friends, too. Some of whom seem to have inhaled some Haribo beforehand so they will be absolutely feral and take no prisoners. One of them eyeballs me in his glowing vest and slides a finger across his throat. Well, I'm sorry. You may be close acquaintances of my nephews, but you're going down first.

‘Right,' says a very bored teenager who's been sent to brief us. ‘I need to remind you of our house rules. Please remember there is no eating or drinking in the arena and if we hear any foul language then I am afraid that we will ask you to leave.' I am not sure why he looks at the little girl at the front when he says that. ‘No running, no biting, no kicking, no phones, no climbing and please do not lie down on the floor. ARE WE READY?'

‘Yes!' cry a number of small children.

The bored teenager suddenly summons up a roar out of nowhere. ‘I SAID, ARE WE REEEEEEADY?'

‘YEEEEESSSSSS!' they all reply.

The tension and energy are palpable. It's like a scene out of Gladiator when the doors are going to open and the slaves have to fight some tigers except all the slaves are tiny and in tracksuits and there's a techno soundtrack. There will be blood. Behind these children stand six less enthusiastic adults – family members who've been asked to supervise, many of whom against their will except for one particularly exuberant dad who came in sports gear, a makeshift headband and who you know has eyes on the leaderboard. Mate, you are also going down.

A door suddenly opens, and all the children disappear into clouds of dry ice and flashing lights, their screams fading into the darkness.

‘This feels like the ship out of Alien ,' Zoe says next to me. She has a point. Exuberant sporty dad runs in, his laser gun held close to his body like he's in actual battle.

I watch a girl immediately shoot him. ‘Come get me, you giant dick.'

Zoe laughs as we stroll through this strange, darkened maze of terror. ‘So, give me your line of reasoning here… why you thought this date was appropriate,' she jokes. She doesn't seem annoyed or angry but slightly bemused to be finding herself in this position on a Friday night. In a hoodie, leggings, a glowing vest and armed with a laser to take on a bunch of hyperactive kids.

‘I thought, in my mind, it could be fun. Something a little different.'

‘Dom seems nice.'

‘He makes a shit party bag, but his heart is the right place.' We allowed Dom to sit this one out so he could sit outside, put candles in the cake and enjoy forty-five minutes of relative peace before the children emerged again. ‘That vest is super hot, by the way – just saying…'

She pushes me, which at first I think is a little aggressive until I work out she's pushing me out of danger from incoming fire. The speed with which she returns shots and manages to accurately take out an eight-year-old leaves me mildly aroused.

‘Zoe? Methinks you've done this before…'

‘I have a son. Of course.' She pulls me to a corner of that arena, behind a padded cushion. ‘The strategy is to let the kids do all the running. You just find a corner, take a defensive stance and then shoot them whilst they're running in circles.'

‘So, you're like some expert Laser Tag strategist. Just impressive on so many levels…'

‘I've just been around the Laser Tag far too many times.'

As we wait there in the corner, I stand close to her, my breath on the side of her neck.

‘I'm trying to work out if you're just wildly inappropriate or you're one of those people who enjoy risky situations?' she says, jokingly. ‘You heard the briefing, I don't want the shame of being barred from this place.'

‘I didn't hear anything about being thrown out for kissing.'

‘I'm thinking more about what you've got pressed up against me…'

‘Zoe! How rude. That's just my laser,' I say, holding up my gun. And a laugh illuminated in purple, pink and green but also one that makes me think she's not too angry with me for bringing her here.

‘FOUND HIM! FIRE!' Our hiding place is suddenly invaded by George, Barney and a couple of friends who bombard us with lasers, so much so that my laser vest seems to be having its own epileptic fit. I fall to the floor, pretending to die and one of them puts a foot to my back and seems to celebrate my demise. I hope that's not one of my own nephews.

The music cuts out. ‘Can the gentleman lying on the floor please get up?' someone announces over a tannoy and I return to my feet. The music starts up again and the boys run away to plan their next attack. I turn around and Zoe has disappeared. Damn, maybe this was too much. I start tiptoeing around this place. I am sure I had a fever dream in a place like this before. It's like Lord of the Flies meets TRON . I get to one corner, to see exuberant-headband dad hiding from an elevated position and taking on a herd of kids who can't seem to see him. I approach quietly. I take that evil fucker out.

‘WHO? DAISY? IS THAT YOU AGAIN?'

I smile and escape again until I get to a corner of this place, listening to Barney's voice from around a corner.

‘If you had the choice, would you rather have an eye in the middle of your head or two noses?'

Oh, Barney. I take a swift glance around that corner to see that Zoe is with them, and I start to wonder if she's been taken hostage or defected to heavier artillery. I hear her laugh and smile.

‘One eye, obviously. Is it a giant eye?'

‘It would take up at least half of your forehead.'

‘Still the eye. Imagine having all those nostrils and having to pick all of them – it would take up most of my day.'

All the boys in that corner laugh and I beam. I know her.

‘So are you like Uncle Jack's girlfriend?' one of them asks her.

It's a little painful for young George to be so forthright but it's also the beauty of those little boys. ‘So many questions… Hold up?' There seems to be a break in the conversation to have a full-on laser attack with some other people in this arena. All at once, I feel a little ashamed. I should probably join in and help defend their position, but I don't want to reveal myself and not hear the answer to their last question.

‘Yeah, yeah… RUN, YOU PUSSIES!' That was certainly not Zoe but also not my nephews and I feel that again, I may need to advise Dom on the company that his boys keep. I stand with my back to the padded cushions.

‘So… are you his girlfriend?' Well done, George, for keeping that line of interrogation going.

‘I'm just his friend. Why do you ask?'

‘It's just we've not met any of Uncle Jack's girlfriends before.'

‘Really?'

I pause for a moment, hoping these boys don't shame me. It's true. I don't think anyone's lasted long enough, but also this felt like a step to introduce my lads to anyone. They're essentially my family, my people, the ultimate litmus test. In the back of my mind, they're also part of the reason I've not acted on Sarah's job offer yet. I know I would possibly miss them too much.

‘He must really like you if he's brought you to Laser Tag,' Barney adds, and I hear Zoe chuckling.

‘Indeed. You both must really love your Uncle Jack.'

‘Of course. He's the best. Did you know he can burp the alphabet?' George says, and this is when I spring up. Less of that, especially as they have a story about the time I tried to light a fart. Let's not kill the illusion.

‘FOUND YOU! I can't believe you took Zoe hostage!' The boys all take aim.

‘She came of her own volition!' one of their friends shouts. He knows the word volition, so I'll allow the boys to be friends with him.

‘It is true. When you were on the floor, I thought you had died.'

‘So you left me?' I say, a hand to my heart.

‘I am sorry, they also lured me with sweets.'

I shake my head as she smiles at me, the techno still ringing in our ears. This must be something if I still feel all these immense feelings for you amidst this absolute bedlam. The boys around her start to flee in different directions as I try to get close to her again. However, as I walk, my vest starts to glow again, and a little girl stands behind me.

‘I GOT THE PRETTY BOY! SUCK ON THAT, LOSER!'