Terry’s sitting on my bed
flicking through a battered copy of
Matilda.
He grins when I come in.
I’m not sure what he wants.
‘All right?’ he asks.
He closes the book,
leans forward and
carefully puts it
back on the shelf
between a scrapbook
and some old CDs
Liam gave me years ago.
‘I’ve been thinking,’ he says.
‘You and me never do anything together.
We should start.
We should get to know each other better.’
I take an almost invisible step
back
into the hall.
‘You’ve known me since I was eight, Terry,’ I say,
as happily as I can.
He nods, stands, comes forward
and takes my hand
so he can pull me into the room,
then
uses a foot to kick the door closed.
‘Yeah, I know that.
But when you’re a teenager you change, don’t you?
I’ve seen the changes in you.
I wanna get to know who you are now.’
He sits back down on the bed
and cos
he has my hand, I’ve got no choice but to
sit down too,
when what I really want to do
is run,
get out of that room
as quick as I can.
But why am I suddenly so afraid?
Terry’s never hit me.
He’s never put me in one of his films.
‘Maybe we could go swimming or something,’ he says.
‘Do you like swimming?’
‘I suppose so.’
‘Maybe you’d be shy in a bikini though.’
‘I don’t know, Terry.’
‘Nah, it’s hard to know how you’d feel
about that sort of thing until the
time comes.’
He pats my knee
then
goes to the door.
‘We’ll find something fun to do.
Just don’t tell your mum.
You know what a sulk she is
when she thinks
we’ve ganged up against her.’
He closes the door.
I stare at it
and know only
one thing:
I have to get out of here.