I Was Born for This(29)

‘I didn’t initiate it.’

‘But you went along with it!’

‘Yeah, well, maybe I felt like getting off with someone. Why do you care?’

Lister doesn’t say anything.

I let out a deep sigh. ‘I just want to be a normal teenager sometimes,’ I say.

‘But we’re not.’

I meet his eyes.

‘Why are you judging me?’ I ask. ‘You’re the one who does this stuff all the time.’

‘Oh, do I?’ Lister laughs and shakes his head. ‘You and Rowan … God … you still think …’ He trails off, and when we reach the bottom of the stairs Lister walks away from me.

I don’t see Magnet for the rest of the night and when the alcohol starts to wear off, my anxiety suddenly goes full throttle and I have to go and sit down in a corner and try to do some deep breathing but it’s not really working. Maybe I’m having a heart attack. Wouldn’t surprise me. Magnet’s not the first guy I’ve kissed and he’s probably not going to be the last either. Drunk Jimmy makes terrible decisions. But I don’t care whether anyone knows about me being gay, anyway. What more can people do to me?

Sometimes I wish I was a normal teenager. I could go to a normal party and maybe kiss a boy and work out all that stuff like normal people do.

As soon as I think that, I hate myself for complaining.

I’ve really got nothing to complain about.

‘Do you ever feel trapped?’ I ask Rowan.

He frowns. ‘Trapped how?’

‘Like you can’t do anything without people watching.’

‘Why does it matter whether people watch?’

I shrug. ‘Must be nice to just … be a person.’

Rowan stares at me. The flashing lights reflect in his glasses. ‘But we’re gods, Jimmy. What’s better than that?’





As soon as I step out of the tube station, my phone informs me I have missed three calls from home.

Since Mum and Dad are normally asleep by this time, I call back immediately. Just in case it’s an emergency.

Dad answers. ‘Fereshteh?’

‘Hi, Dad.’

‘Ah, what a relief. We were getting so worried.’

‘Why? What’s up?’

‘You didn’t call. We thought you were going to call every evening.’

Oh.

‘Oh,’ I say.

Dad pauses.

‘Everything okay?’ I ask.

‘Fereshteh,’ he says, ‘all of this … feels such a shame.’

‘What? What d’you mean?’

‘You worked so hard, my darling. For your exams. We know you struggle with academic study. We know it’s not for you. But we wanted to honour this achievement with you.’

‘It’s not important,’ I say. ‘The leavers’ thing. It’s not important.’

‘Okay, so it isn’t important,’ says Dad. ‘But we’re still saddened that … you simply don’t seem to care about your achievements or want to celebrate them. You don’t value that part of yourself. You just … care about this boy band.’

‘You’re blowing this way out of proportion!’ God. He’s actually starting to annoy me now. ‘Dad, why would I want to celebrate myself when I’m so extremely average? You’ve got Rostam’s uni graduation coming up soon – just go enjoy that.’

There’s a long pause.

Then Dad sighs. ‘Is this a big, important thing for you, Fereshteh?’

‘Well, yeah. I really like this band.’

‘And what will you feel when you get home? When is the band obsession going to end?’

‘Why does it have to end?’

‘Because this is your life,’ he says. ‘Not the life of a band.’

I stop walking, and stand very still in the street. I’m almost at Juliet’s nan’s house and there isn’t a single person in sight. Just the dull yellow light of the streetlamps and the rain pattering against the pavement.

‘I just wanted to go to a concert,’ I say. ‘And then I’ll feel better.’

‘Were you not feeling good before, my girl?’ he asks.

I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything except The Ark.





‘My Jim-Bob! What are you doing, calling me at this hour? Tell me what’s wrong.’

It’s hard to talk because I’m kind of crying. Didn’t mean to. Someone started playing Frank Ocean over the speakers and then I started thinking about Grandad dying (it’s going to happen at some point) and then I went to find Rowan but he was standing in his bedroom with Bliss, Rowan with his arm round Bliss, Bliss’s head on Rowan’s shoulder, both of them staring out of the window at the rain. So I just turned round and started crying because I felt alone. It just happens sometimes.

‘Jimmy, Jim, talk to me, son. What’s going on?’

‘I … just wanted to talk to you.’

Grandad sighs over the phone. ‘Oh, Jim-Bob. Come on, lad. What’s wrong?’

I sit down on my bed. ‘I … just felt sad.’

‘Why are you sad, boyo?’

It’s hard to say proper words when you’re crying. Embarrassing.