ONE

‘Suky!’

I opened my bedroom door and called down to my mum. ‘I’m up!’

‘Well come downstairs then,’ she replied.

I checked my hair in the mirror one more time, grabbed my school bag and went downstairs to the kitchen, where my mum and dad were eating toast. My dad wiped crumbs from his mouth before speaking to me, the dirty old git.

‘You want a lift?’ he said.

I grabbed a slice of toast as I replied, ‘Please.’

My dad grinned. I knew there was something else coming. Something that only he would think was funny.

‘Want to pick up the boyfriend on the way?’ he teased.

‘Er . . . no – he makes his own way to school,’ I told him.

I was talking about both of my boyfriends. My real one, Imtiaz, and my fake one, Jit. My parents had only met Jit and that was who my dad was on about. I put some jam on my toast and started to eat, hoping that my dad would lay off. As I finished it, my grandma walked into the kitchen, holding her false teeth.

‘Aren’t you going to get dressed?’ she mumbled in Punjabi, looking at me.

‘I’m already dressed,’ I pointed out.

‘Stupid cow,’ replied my grandma.

I suppose I should explain a few things really. First off, my grandma is completely senile so no one batted an eyelid when she called me a stupid cow. Secondly, there’s a good reason why I’ve got ‘two’ boyfriends. My real boyfriend is called Imtiaz. He’s in my class at school and I’ve known him since infant school. But he’s Muslim and my parents are Sikhs, and I thought they might have a problem with him even though they know Imi – they’ve met him and his parents loads of times. My parents started asking me to bring my boyfriend home so that they could meet him and I kind of lied and told them I was seeing a lad called Jit, who is Sikh, and in my class at school. They met Jit and liked him and now I’m stuck. It’s a delicate situation and one of these days I’m going to have to tell them the truth, but not yet.

My dad, whose name is Randeep, zipped his tracksuit top over his beer belly and told me to hurry up.

‘I’m ready,’ I replied.

‘And, by the way,’ added my mum, who’s called Tina, ‘we’re planning a family day trip to the seaside soon. You can ask Jit along if you like.’

I swallowed hard. Would Jit go for that? He’d already helped me out enough, coming along to various family events, only to get a grilling from my Uncle Mandeep and my dad; and to get sworn at by the mad witch who was masquerading as my grandmother.

‘Er . . . I’ll see what he says,’ I replied.

My grandma farted.

‘That son of a dung collector?’ she said, to no one in particular. ‘Tell him we don’t want his kind in this house. He’s so ugly I cry every time I see him.’

I gave her a dirty look before getting up from the table.

‘Just ignore her,’ my mum advised.

‘Have you cleaned your teeth, you witch?’ added my gran, looking at my mum.

My dad shook his head and started giggling like a little boy.

‘Don’t encourage her,’ my mum hissed.

‘She don’t need any encouragement,’ he replied. ‘Mad as a pregnant water buffalo, that one.’

I grinned at my dad.

‘Come on then,’ he said. ‘Let’s get you to school so that you can play kissing games with Jit.’

‘Dad!’

My school is called Devana High, which is a stupid name for a school if you ask me, but it’s kind of a cool place. The principal, Mr Black, was standing at the school gates as usual, watching the pupils arrive.

‘Early again, Miss Kaur,’ he bellowed at me in his foghorn voice.

‘Yessir,’ I mumbled, hoping that he’d leave me alone.

‘We should present you with an award for your timekeeping,’ he added, beaming a wide smile in my direction, just as another of my classmates, Hannah, turned up.

‘Er . . . yes, sir,’ I said, feeling embarrassed.

‘Ooh nerdy bum lick,’ whispered Hannah, before giggling.

‘Shut up,’ I told her, as we walked into school through the main entrance.

‘Well – you and your nice relationship with Black – you’re a creep!’

‘But you’re always on time too,’ I reminded her, ‘so what does that make you?’

‘Diligent and punctual,’ she replied. ‘But neither of those things involves being a bum lick.’

‘Oh, get lost.’

We walked into our form room and took our usual seats. Imtiaz (my real boyfriend) was already there and he smiled at me as I sat down.

‘Hi,’ I said.

‘You all right?’ he asked me.

‘Yeah – why wouldn’t I be?’ I replied.

‘It’s just that you said you were going to call me yesterday and you didn’t,’ he told me, looking like a little boy.

‘Sorry . . . forgot,’ I replied, feeling a bit guilty.

‘How can you forget to call your boyfriend?’ asked Hannah, before grinning. ‘Oh yeah – you’ve got two . . .’

I looked at Imi, whose face fell.

‘I’ve only got one real boyfriend,’ I corrected. ‘Jit’s just like a stand-in.’

‘You spend enough time with him, though,’ added Hannah.

I glared at her. Didn’t she get it? I didn’t want her to wind up Imi by talking about Jit. Talk about upsetting the applecart. I think she got my meaning because she went red.

‘So, you just forgot?’ continued Imi.

‘Er . . . yeah. I was with my mum and dad and didn’t get a chance and . . .’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ he added.

I grinned at him. Behind us our form tutor, Mrs Dooher, walked in.

‘Morning!’ she said in her lovely Liverpudlian accent.

‘Hi, miss!’ beamed Hannah.

‘And you call me a bum lick?’ I said.

‘Oh shut up – Mrs Dooher is lovely.’

‘So is Mr Black,’ I pointed out.

‘Is what, Suky?’ asked Mrs Dooher from behind me.

‘A nice man,’ I said quickly.

‘And you’re talking about him because . . .?’ she continued.

‘We’re just comparing teachers, miss,’ said Hannah, winking at me. ‘You know – who we really like and who we don’t. You came top of the list!’

Mrs Dooher smiled warily.

‘Soft gits . . .’ she said, before turning her attention to Marco and Milorad, twin brothers who were having a scuffle.

‘STOP IT!’ she half shouted.

‘But he called me a toad licker!’ squealed Marco.

‘Didn’t!’ replied his twin brother.

‘Why a toad licker?’ asked Mrs Dooher, as Jit, Dean and Grace walked in, two minutes before time.

‘Who’s lickin’ toads, miss?’ asked Dean.

‘No one,’ I told him. ‘The ugly twins are having a scrap, that’s all.’

‘Who you callin’ ugly?’ shouted Marco. ‘Have you seen a mirror lately?’

I felt myself go red, but Jit stepped in.

‘You’ll be ugly when I’ve finished with you,’ he told Marco.

‘Uglier than your brother,’ added Dean, ‘and my guy is butt ugly, you get me? I seen better-looking warts than him.’

Mrs Dooher sighed and told us all to sit down.

‘But why a toad licker?’ asked Grace. ‘That’s just dirty.’

‘You can lick toads though,’ said Dean.

‘HUH?’ asked Hannah.

‘Yeah – they got ’em in South America. They lick them and get all high and that – except for one yellow one though. If you licked that toad you’d be dead!’

‘But why would anyone want to lick a toad – stinky, smelly . . .’ continued Grace, only I switched off because Jit asked me if I was OK.

‘Yes – how about you?’

‘All right,’ he told me. ‘Them twins won’t be picking on you again.’

I gave him a big smile; only Imi saw me do it and I could tell by the look on his face that he was throwing a wobbly. So I gave him an even bigger smile but it was too late. Imi looked away and started talking to a lad called Dilip instead.