He's After Me - By Chris Higgins Page 0,2

as he makes his way along the side of the harbour, past the boats moored to the wall.

‘What is all that about?’ I ask wonderingly as he disappears from sight.

‘It’s The Bitch. It’s got to be. She’s told him to get rid of his belly.’

‘What does she see in him?’

‘What does he see in her, you mean!’ says Livi fiercely and I nod in agreement. But we both know what he sees in her, though we’d never admit it, not even to each other.

Livi sniffs. ‘I meant, by the way, what are you doing today?’

‘Don’t know. Going into town I guess. Meeting Zoe.’ The weekend stretches emptily before me. I can’t bear the thought of hanging round here with nothing to do. ‘I think I might go home after that.’

‘Me too. I’m not stopping here if Dad’s going to keep me locked up.’

‘You’re not a prisoner!’ I laugh, but then I sober up. ‘He’s not going to like it, you know, if both of us do a runner. He’s made plans for us.’

‘Tough. Wait for me, I won’t be long.’

But my sister takes ages, as usual, on the phone to her mates, changing her arrangements each time she talks to someone new. In the end, I get fed up with hanging about so I scrawl a note to Dad to tell him about the change of plan. I feel a bit mean, walking out on him like that.

Then I remember he walked out on us and I slam the door behind me.

At the bus stop I lean back gloomily against the shelter and pull some chewing gum from my pocket. Is this what my life has come to? A weekend with nothing to do and no one to share it with.

‘Thanks,’ says a voice and I stare in surprise at the hand outstretched before me. It’s got a shark tattoo on the wrist. I look up and my heart misses a beat. It’s him. The guy on the bus.

‘Where’s your mate?’ he asks. Then he prompts, ‘Can I have one?’

‘Cheek!’ But I drop a piece of gum obediently into his hand. He flicks it up into the air, catches it in his mouth and grins at me.

‘Doesn’t always work,’ he says modestly.

Close up, he’s about eighteen or nineteen. Not bad-looking. Pretty fit, actually. His teeth are white against his olive skin and very slightly crooked, which makes him even more attractive. His hair is dark, even darker than mine. I want to touch it.

‘Where’s your mate?’ he repeats. ‘The crazy one?’

My mate? The penny drops and so do my hopes. It’s Livi he’s after, not me.

‘Why?’ I say. ‘You interested?’

‘Might be.’ He smiles at me lazily, his eyes heavy-lidded. ‘But not as interested as I am in you.’

Unbelievably, I feel myself going red but then, thank goodness, the bus arrives and he stands back. ‘After you,’ he says and I step up on to the platform and fumble around in my bag for my bus pass and I can’t find it.

The driver is grumpy, impatient, tutting at my slowness, and my face gets hotter and hotter. I root through the contents of my bag, trying not to show my pyjamas to the world.

At last he waves me on and I make my way to a seat, my cheeks burning, hoping and dreading at the same time that the boy will come and sit beside me.

But when I sit down, he’s still standing half on, half off the platform, like he’s waiting for someone.

‘On or off?’ says the bus driver, grumpy old git that he is. ‘Make your mind up. I haven’t got all day.’

‘There’s someone running for the bus …’ he says, and steps back down on to the pavement. But his voice is cut off as the driver closes the doors on him. Through the window I can see my sister running, full-pelt, towards us. Towards him.

As the bus pulls away, Livi comes to a stumbling halt and he throws out his arms to save her.

The last thing I see, as I slump down in my seat, is the pair of them in each other’s arms, making identical, one-fingered gestures of derision at the driver and laughing hysterically.

I curse out loud and the woman in front of me turns round and gives me a look of disgust.

At the shopping centre I meet up with Zoe, my best mate, and we go for a coffee. She’s recently been dumped by Max, a guy from our A-level Sociology class, and she’s