CHAPTER
FIFTY

Jess Jackson squealed with delight as she made her entrance into the school hall. “Loving the American theme!” she grinned, looking up at the red, white and blue streamers that hung from the roof. Satisfied that everyone in the immediate vicinity had clocked her arrival, she made a beeline for Noah, who was standing awkwardly at the edge, in his suit and bow tie.

“It’s not American, Jess,” Noah said.

“Yeah, because it’s a prom, isn’t it? Proms are American!”

He shook his head. It’s like she couldn’t even see the huge replicas of the Eiffel Tower and Big Ben either side of the main stage, and put two and two together.

“Heard you’re getting suspended,” she purred, like it was the sexiest thing ever. “You bad boy.”

“Yeah, well, I’m appealing.”

“You bad boy.”

“You said that already, and like I said, I’m launching an appeal. It’s a miscarriage of justice, Jess. It won’t happen.”

“Bro.” Josh Lewis nodded at him as he came up alongside Jess, looking as suave and comfortable in his tux as James Bond, or some other widely admired Hollywood star.

“Josh has bought us one of those three-wheeled buggies for the baby,” Jess said, cuddling into Josh.

“That’s nice,” Noah said. “Lucky you’re so successful with your PT and protein shake business to afford it, Josh!”

Josh gave him a forced smile. “I’m gonna share my … good fortune, dude. Gonna give you a big discount on your next tubs of shake. You’ll double your profit.”

Noah shook his head. “I’m getting out of the game, Josh. But thanks.”

“Oh look!” Jess said. “They’ve got candyfloss! And it’s red, white and blue, just like in America!” She began to push her way through the crowd. “And a chocolate fountain! Maybe Hershey’s?” she called back.

Josh nodded at Noah. “You, er … all good, man?”

“Well, I could be better, Josh, to be honest. See, there was a misunderstanding. With Ms O’Malley. She’s got it in for me, and I just feel, if only someone she respected put in a good word for me, someone who really excelled in PE as a student here, she might back off?”

“Uh-huh.” Josh nodded. “I’m getting you, Noah. I’m reading you loud and clear. You want me to –” he leaned into Noah “– gently lubricate the wheels of justice a bit?”

A little shiver ran down Noah’s spine as Josh said the word “lubricate”. He did his best not to giggle. “Could you, Josh?”

“I help you … and you…”

“Help you,” Noah interrupted. “I mean, no, not you, I mean, I help you. Not you help you. You know what I mean.”

Josh nodded. “Consider it done, little dude.” He gave Noah a wink and moved off into the crowd.

Noah glanced around the hall, filling up now with students, teachers, some old folks from the Willows, and parents. A “community celebration” indeed; Noah had to concede that Pierre had done a good job. Along the back wall, trestle tables had been set up, groaning under the weight of French cheese, bread, cured meats … and some pork pies, which Noah supposed was the “British” contribution to this culinary fest.

And then there he was.

Standing in front of the curtains of fairy lights that were cascading down the opposite wall, alone, slightly forlorn.

Harry.

Noah stared at him, his breathing shallow, heart pounding.

“Hello, everyone!” Pierre’s voice boomed over the PA system as he addressed everyone from the stage. “If I could have a moment of quiet, please! Thank you. I organized this prom to say a warm thank you on behalf of all the French students to our host families in England. It has been an … experience. We have tried your local cuisine, we have practised your tongue…”

There was a “Wha-hey!” and general cheer from the students.

“And we have learned so much during our time in your very English town. As we go home, we will have a new appreciation of the many differences between our two countries, and when England appears in the news, or in films, we will think of you.”

Applause from the crowd. Noah clapped along too, but absent-mindedly, his focus still on Harry.

“And now, I invite your own spokesperson to the stage to say a few words, I am sure. Noah Grimes!”

Noah looked up sharply as all eyes turned to him and his stunned face. No! No, no, no! What was he meant to say? He didn’t know this was the plan! He hadn’t prepared anything! He brazened it out, smiling with clenched lips and moving up to join Pierre on the stage.

“Welcome to the prom!” Pierre said, as Noah arrived, giving him a huge all-embracing hug, which felt to Noah like he was having his ribcage crushed.

“OK, well, thank you, Pierre,” Noah gasped, extracting himself. “Um … as we are in England, I prefer not to call this a prom, as such. Let’s call it… a ball.”

“You like balls!” someone shouted from the crowd, to howls of laughter.

Noah cleared his throat and pretended he hadn’t heard. “I just want to say that we have all learned a lot too, so we would like to thank our European neighbours as well. Obviously some of you turned out to be drug dealers who were wanted by the police, but that can’t be helped. In any group of people, some will always turn out to be bad. Others good. That’s the way the world works.” He looked at Pierre and smiled. “But on the whole, I like to think that people are good.”

Pierre smiled back and Noah dared to glance over at Harry, who was looking back at him, before flicking his eyes away.

Noah cleared his throat. “As I was saying, it’s all been very nice to learn that we have so many similarities. And I just want to finish by saying that I … I love the Eiffel Tower, croissants and France as a whole.”

Pierre led some brief applause and came back on the mic. “Now, we have entertainment for you tonight, including karaoke, and I have had a special request from one of the residents of the Willows to start us off….”

“No, no, no,” Noah muttered.

“So, with no further delay, may I present Noah Grime’s own grandmother…”

Noah emitted a high-pitched squeak

“… and her band Millie and the Dickheads…”

“Pierre, no, she’s got dementia, this is—”

“… minus Vera and Babs, who …” Pierre consulted a scrap of paper. “… have been fired due to artistic differences.”

Behind him, much to his surprise and horror, Gran and Dickie wobbled on to the stage, helped by Matron, and took up their positions behind two mic stands.

“Matron!” Noah protested.

She waved him away. “It’s fine, Noah. Your gran wants to. And if she wants to, I say go for it. Life’s too short! Now get off the stage!”

Noah sighed and shook his head – then he looked at his gran. She was smiling, eyes sparkling, she was loving this. And he supposed that was the point. She wasn’t suffering from dementia – she was living with it. Living. Making the best of what she’d got and enjoying it while she could. That’s what you had to do. That’s all you could do.

“A one, two, three, four!” Gran shouted, as they started a version of “Go West” by the Pet Shop Boys.

Noah hopped off the stage. Gran could go ahead and pursue her dreams, but that didn’t mean the rest of the school weren’t a bunch of unforgiving tossers; a low profile would be best.

“TUNE!” shouted Josh Lewis, as he appeared to become possessed by the music and not only start dancing but also joining in with the “Go Wests” on the chorus, almost like he regularly danced to this song in gay clubs OR SOMETHING!

Whether out of similar enjoyment, or just a desire not to see her boyfriend humiliate himself, Jess Jackson quickly rallied the troops, and pretty soon she, Melissa, Connor Evans and even Mr Baxter were all joining in. From there, the less popular kids quickly embraced it, including the poor girl that Noah had accidentally trampled on during football, who threw down her crutches like the song had magically healed her and embraced the campery.

OK, that was something, at least. Maybe he could just disappear to the sides of the room, be inconspicuous and…

“This one’s for Noah and…” She turned to Dickie. “Who’s it for?”

“Harry!” Dickie shouted down the mic.

Oh God, this was too much now…

Noah gave an embarrassed smile, kept his head down, and headed for the wall.

“Noah?! Go and ask…” She looked blank.

“Harry!” Dickie chipped in.

“Ask Harry to dance!” Gran shouted, instead of the lyrics.

Noah glanced back at her, mortified.

“Big gesture, remember?!” Gran shouted.

She should really sing more of the song and speak less.

“Ask him!”

“No…” Noah muttered to himself.

“He’s OVER THERE BY THE BUFFET!” Gran shouted. “I CAN SEE HIM NEXT TO THE VOL-AU-VENTS!”

“Gran!” Noah said, through gritted teeth, frantically gesturing for her to SHUT THE HELL UP.

“Harry, Noah may have made mistakes but he loves you, so he does!” Gran shouted. “Who here thinks they should give each other a second chance?” Dickie said.

“YEEESSSSS!” shouted the crowd, in an entirely unexpected, completely unusual and never-to-be-repeated display of Noah acceptance, as they clapped and marched to the beat the song.

“Gahhh!” said Noah, surveying the braying crowd. “Hideous.”

A flash of someone moving quickly, and Noah saw Harry push open the fire exit and run outside into the night. Heart in his throat, Noah fought his way through the dancing mob, following him out…