I remember the day Kev decided to have a go at Aidan. I remember very well that it was only a week after he tried it on with Orla – which was when she let him know, in words of no syllables at all, what she thought of that idea. Kev had screamed with flabbergasted pain and Sunil and I thought our heads were going to explode with the pressure of not laughing.
Orla had humiliated Kev big time, but Kev could hardly take it out on Orla, since Orla was tougher and harder than he was and there would be hell to pay later. Her brother Aidan, similarly aloof but a year younger and less well-connected, would have to pay for Kev’s bruised genitals and his almost mortally wounded pride.
Less well-connected, my arse. All I’m doing is making excuses for myself. Aidan was perfectly popular and belonged to several clubs and got on fine with everybody in them. All I’m saying in a mealy craven way is he didn’t have a gang.
Perhaps I mean ‘less smart’. Or ‘less feral’. Or ‘not entirely familiar with the facts of life’. He was not, however, daft enough to argue with Kev.
That day Allie was hanging out with him as usual. I don’t know what I’d expected: perhaps that Aidan had finally remembered she was two years younger, had done the decent thing and told her where to go. Or perhaps, miraculously, Allie would have fallen out of love, lust and hero-worship, found a new friend and forgotten Aidan.
The gods had not had a change of heart.
Still, I told myself, it would be good for Allie to see that her hero had feet of clay, that he wasn’t Superman, he wasn’t even Clark Kent. Maybe I thought she’d find new respect for me, that she’d notice Aidan wasn’t the alpha male around here: I was.
What bizarre thought process convinced me that because I was only Kev’s protector, because I’d shackled myself to him out of pity, self-preservation and respect for his brother, that I was somehow better than him? It was one of those subjective-viewpoint things. Kev was a gangster, Sunil was a henchman, I was a noble savage. Kev was a brutal dictator, Sunil was a thug, I was a foot-soldier.
I did not think things through.
I have to admit it: they were sweet together, Aidan and Allie. My sister was not good at making friends, and when she did it was with other quiet studious girls who were no threat to her self-possession but would be no earthly use in a crisis either. None of them were going to turn into lifelong pals, but you could sort of tell that Aidan might. He treated her like an equal, age-wise. He consoled her when other harder girls got their barbs in. He told her bad jokes, warned her about teachers’ foibles, helped her with her homework, covered for her when she needed covering. He looked out for her. Which was supposed to be my job.
I was more like my dad than I’d ever wanted to be. I was like a drinker who couldn’t drag himself back to fresh air till he’d sunk to his lowest ebb. Like Dad was never going to do.
Aidan was not exactly a soft target but there were enough of us. He was on his own that day, except for Allie, penned with him in the malevolent half-noose of boys. She wasn’t in the line of fire, of course: Kev knew better in those days than to have a go at my sister, but she was pressed against the fence behind her hero. Now that I think about it, Aidan had shoved her back there, shoved her back and stepped in front of her and glared at me with all the contempt in the world. Cutting his eyes away, he looked at Kev Naughton.
‘Go and give us your phone, then,’ sneered Kev.
I sneered too, till my eyes met Allie’s.
She didn’t look hurt at all, not even shocked, just reproachful. As if she knew fine it was myself I was hurting; I wasn’t capable of hurting her. That I was just capable of better. You’re a disappointment to me, Nick, that’s the message I got loud and clear.
My heart tore with the shame of it. My lowest ebb. About time too.
Shaking his head, Aidan smiled at Kev. ‘Won’t your mum buy you one? Here you go. Happy Christmas.’ And he tossed the phone to Kev.
Kev could have let it drop to the ground, but by reflex he caught it. Somehow that made it even more humiliating: taking catches for Aidan. It was a prize, that phone. Slim as a blade, matt black, state of the art. And Aidan tossed it to Kev like a trifle, like Kev was a charity case who needed it more than he did.
When Aidan turned on his heel and walked towards me, I stepped out of his way without thinking. For that I got a killing glare from Sunil, but I couldn’t retrieve the situation without making the lot of us look even stupider. Besides, Allie was marching after Aidan and no way was I getting in her way. She took no notice of me as she barged past.
Funnily enough, I didn’t feel too bad. Aidan had made Kev look a fool, and I realised I was not unhappy about that. In fact, I got a keen sneaky pleasure from it.
A switch tripped in my brain. I felt like I’d caught sight of a small circle of sky above a stinking pit, one I’d climbed in all by myself. Now I could start to claw my way back up to the human race because I didn’t feel like the worst scum on the planet any more; maybe just the second- or third-worst scum. I knew Allie and I would be fine in the end.
I’d have been entirely content with the way the mugging turned out if I hadn’t been so afraid for Aidan. And I am right about some things, because very shortly afterwards I betrayed Kev to save Shuggie Middleton’s backside, and Mister Hero saw me do it, and was inspired to more and greater and stupider acts of heroism, and died of it.