Dean told me to be quiet as I walked into his parents’ kitchen.
‘Gramps is asleep on the sofa and if you wake him up he’s gonna complain all day.’
‘OK,’ I whispered.
Dean closed the kitchen door behind us and asked me if I wanted a drink.
‘You got any juice?’ I asked.
‘You kidding? I got orange, cranberry, pineapple, orange-and-pineapple, red grapefruit, grape . . .’
‘That’s a whole heap of juice, bro.’
‘It’s my dad – he loves his juice – only drinks that and water. And the odd brandy now and then.’
‘Er . . . I dunno which one to have.’
Dean grabbed the cranberry and orange cartons and made me a mix of the two.
‘Try that, bro. It’s rude . . .’
I drank the juice as Dean poured himself some. He took a swig and then asked if I was sure that Micky was having an affair.
‘Definitely. I found some underwear that don’t belong to my mum,’ I said.
Dean screwed up his face.
‘You know what? I’m a bit freaked out by the fact that you know what size underwear yer mum wears,’ he said.
‘If you did any housework, you wouldn’t care less,’ I replied.
‘Yeah, but you gotta admit it’s not normal,’ he continued.
I shrugged. ‘I ain’t embarrassed. My mum is always busy so I do the washing. Ain’t no big deal.’
Dean looked away.
‘I don’t mean to take the pi—’ he began.
‘It’s OK,’ I told him. ‘I don’t mind.’
He took another swig of his juice before he spoke.
‘So, you found some underwear and a load of texts?’
‘Yeah . . . some of them are really nasty too . . . you know, explicit and that?’ I told him.
He nodded.
‘So, did you bring the sim card?’ he asked.
‘Nah – I brought the whole phone,’ I replied, pulling it out of my pocket and putting it on the table.
‘You idiot! What if he misses it?’ said Dean.
‘He won’t. He’s out cold. And he’s always losing his phone anyway.’
‘Let’s take it to Raj at the phone shop,’ said Dean. ‘That way you can get it back to him and he won’t suss.’
I handed him the phone.
‘Check it out for yourself,’ I told him, ‘though the battery’s a bit low.’
‘No worries – I can use my charger with it if it dies,’ replied Dean, reading through the messages.
‘Nah – some of these texts is nasty . . . nah!’ he said after a few minutes.
‘Can Raj copy the sim card then?’ I asked, not wanting to reread the messages. They had made me mad enough to begin with.
‘Yeah – I rang him. He said to bring it in anytime . . .’
‘So, let’s go then,’ I said, getting impatient.
I wanted to get it out of the way so that I could tell Dean about my new plan to get rid of Micky. The old one had been good but the new one was better and I wanted to run it by my best mate.
Dean got up and finished his juice.
‘Ain’t this gonna change your plan to get rid of him?’ he said, putting his glass down.
‘It’s gonna make it easier,’ I told him.
‘How?’
‘I’m gonna catch him, bro,’ I replied.
‘What, bumpin’ uglies with the whale?’
I nodded.
‘Rather you than me, geezer. Even thinking ’bout it is making me feel sick.’
‘It’s the best way,’ I said. ‘My other plan was too dangerous . . . this way isn’t and the others don’t have to get too mixed up in it.’
‘True,’ agreed Dean.
‘I’ve just gotta work out how,’ I told him. ‘But let’s go do this phone thing first.’
‘Come, then,’ he said. ‘Let’s go see the phone man, Stan . . .’
I got home an hour later, with Micky’s phone and an extra sim card. Raj had transferred all the data from Micky’s card over to the new one and I asked him to keep a copy on his hard drive too, just in case I lost mine. I felt a bit like a secret agent, sneaking back in quietly and replacing Micky’s phone so that he wouldn’t know it had been missing. I was half expecting some bald man carrying a big white cat to turn up and tell me that I was going to be killed, like in those James Bond films that I watch on telly every Christmas.
As I was putting it back, the text alert sounded and I was sure Micky would wake up, but he didn’t. He stirred, mumbled something, farted twice but kept his eyes closed. The message was from his secret woman so I read it. It was a list of days and times, like a rota for lessons or work. Monday 10–3, Tuesday 9–2, Wednesday 12–2 – that sort of thing. It took me a few minutes, after I’d replaced the phone, to work out what the message meant. The woman, Tracey, was telling Micky when she was free during the week. I wondered if Micky was going to see her or if she was going to come to my mum’s house. And then I realized that the latest text helped my new plan.
I grinned to myself, turning to watch Micky sleeping on the sofa. I crept over and tried a few of the beer cans. One of them was half full. I picked it up, saw his dirty, smelly trainers sitting on the floor, and tipped the lager into them. Then I placed the can so that it looked as though it had been knocked over. I didn’t mind the carpet getting soaked either. It would be worth cleaning it up, especially once Micky was out of my mum’s life for good.
I’d arranged to meet Suky near Grace’s house, outside a bookshop called Browsers. As I was waiting I looked at my reflection in the shop window over and over again, hoping that I looked OK. I had on my one pair of smart trousers and a blue shirt, which I hadn’t worn for about a year. My shoes were the same ones I wore to school but I was hoping that Suky wouldn’t notice.
As I stood there, looking at myself, the lady who owned the shop smiled out at me. I looked away really quickly, feeling embarrassed. When I looked back, she was at the till wrapping a book with a bright green and orange cover for some woman. I recognized the book – it was by a local author who had gone to our school years before.
‘You thinking of buying something?’ I heard Suky ask me.
I turned and smiled at her. She looked really nice, all done up and that.
‘Er . . . no. I ain’t into books, really,’ I replied.
‘You should be,’ she told me. ‘They’ve got some wicked ones in there.’
‘Whatever . . .’
Suky smiled and told me that we would walk back to her house.
‘Cool,’ I replied.
‘You’re not too nervous, are you?’ she asked me.
I shrugged.
‘It’ll be fine, Jit . . . just smile and answer their questions.’
‘Do I . . . er . . . do I look OK?’ I asked her.
‘You look fine, Jit. Don’t worry about it.’
‘It’s just that my mum has been really busy at work and she didn’t have time to wash my other clothes, and . . .’
‘Jit . . . honestly, you look fine. Stop being such a worrywart about it. Relax and that way we can have a bit of fun,’ Suky said.
‘Fun?’ I asked.
‘Yeah . . . I feel quite naughty about it . . . conning my parents.’
I shook my head. ‘And how you gonna feel when they catch you out?’
‘They won’t – stop being such a girl about it.’
‘Oh shut up!’ she said with a grin.
We crossed the road, just past where Grace lives, and walked up towards Suky’s house. At the first junction we went right into Dovedale. Suky’s house was at the top and we walked slowly towards it, as Suky went over who was going to be at her party and apologized for her grandmother.
‘I ain’t even met her yet,’ I said.
‘Don’t worry,’ grinned Suky, ‘you will.’
‘You make her sound like a lunatic.’
‘She is,’ replied Suky. ‘Right, this is it. You ready?’
I straightened my clothes and nodded.
‘Here goes . . .’ she said, leading the way.