The dad trap, p.17
The Dad Trap, page 17
That I was talented and fearless and could stop bad things from happening.
That I hadn’t broken my best friend’s nose.
That I hadn’t pushed away the only friend I’d ever had.
* * *
“William…” Jabari says now, slowly, in the lunch hall. There’s hurt in his eyes. I know there’s no going back now.
“I did it on purpose,” I say, spluttering out the words.
This isn’t how I wanted to tell Jabari. Today was meant to be perfect.
Jabari doesn’t say anything. He just looks at the floor.
“I’m sorry … I’m…”
I realize the lunch hall has gone quiet and everyone is staring at me, a sea of accusing faces swimming around me.
I take a step back, panting hard.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Jabari.”
“William…” Jabari begins again, standing up.
“No, no, please, Jabari. I know I’ve mucked everything up. I was angry and…”
Tears are streaming down my face now. My hands flap up and down in agitation.
So many people. So many people everywhere, looking at me. Evelyn and Freddie and Dinesh and Luke and Millie and … and … Florence too. She looks shocked and … something else? Worried? I don’t know.
Now they all know what I’ve done. What I did.
I look round desperately. I need Dad.
Where is he? Where’s Dad? I can’t see him. He’s supposed to be here. Where’s he gone?
There are too many people looking at me.
I feel blood rushing to my head and the loud whooshing sound in my ears. I’m dizzy. Disorientated. I start banging the sides of my head with my fists.
“William,” Jabari says, reaching out a hand to me. “Stop. Just stop. You’re going to hurt yourself. Just listen…”
“NO … NO … I…!” I scream.
Jabari steps back and stumbles into the bench.
I hear Aaliyah gasp.
I stop hitting the sides of my head. Jabari looks stunned. Is he … is he scared of me?
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, unable to catch my breath. “I … I…”
I’ve ruined everything.
And with that, heart pounding, I turn and run.
Chapter Twenty-eight
We Could Touch the Stars
I run through the museum. Everything is a blur as I push past a group of tourists standing round a huge human-headed lion. It seems to stare at me reproachfully. People tut at me and shake their heads, but I don’t stop. I barge past some kids doing a virtual tour on their iPads and race into an empty gallery. I collapse on to the floor, sobbing.
I can’t breathe.
I clutch at my chest and put my head in between my knees, trying to take in big lungfuls of air.
“Are you OK?”
I look up. A concerned-looking security guard stands over me and I shout, “Go away! GO AWAY! Leave me alone!”
I hit the sides of my head with my fists again, over and over.
“You can’t stay there, young man,” the man says, his voice faltering. “Are you … lost? Let’s help you find your group?”
I shake my head and kick my feet up and down on the hard, cool floor.
“Leave me alone! Leave me alone!” I shout.
“I’m going to go and get some help,” the security guard says, his face etched with confusion.
I bury my head in my hands, hot tears streaming down my face, my nose runny and wet.
Have you ever felt so bad, so guilty about something you’ve done, that you want to disappear?
I have.
I’ve ruined everything.
Jabari hates me. I know he does. He’ll never forgive me. And now everyone else knows too.
I tug at my hair and whisper to myself, “No, no, no, no, no.”
“Hi, William.”
A quiet, gentle voice. I look up slowly as Ross sits down next to me. He smiles kindly.
“You’re sat next to a Molossian hound, apparently,” Ross says.
I turn to my right and see I’ve squeezed myself into a space next to a large marble statue of a dog. Its mouth is gaping open. It looks fearsome – nothing like the Dalmatian I wanted when I was six years old.
I cover my face with my sweaty hands and close my eyes. I’m too ashamed to look at him.
“Scary thing, isn’t he?” Ross continues. “It says they were used as guard dogs in ancient Epirus.”
My breathing begins to slow, just a little.
“We used to have a dog when I was younger. Sarah Jessica Barker. Your dad and I used to take her for walks in the fields. Only time we could be alone. Only time we could hold hands back then without anyone seeing us. It says here that Molossian hounds were very obedient. Sarah Jessica Barker used to gobble up food from my plate and then spend all night farting,” Ross says, laughing. His voice quivers ever so slightly.
I open my eyes and peek out through my fingers. My back is pressed up against the cold, hard wall.
“It’s actually a Roman sculpture. Pretty impressive, hey?” Ross says, looking at it. “Look at the way they’ve done the fur around his face. So clever! I wonder what his name is?”
“Probably Trevor,” I say.
Ross laughs.
My head hurts. There’s a hammering feeling right at my temples.
Ross is quiet for a while and then he asks, “What happened back there, William?”
“Is Jabari … is he OK?” I ask, my voice stuttering with nerves.
“He’s fine, mate,” Ross reassures me. “Think he was just a bit shocked… No big deal.”
“I kicked a ball at him last year and broke his nose,” I say, the words tumbling out. “Everyone thought it was an accident, but it wasn’t. I did it on purpose because I was angry and I think he hates me now.”
Ross is silent for a moment and then he says, “I don’t think he hates you at all, William. In fact, he said he’s been trying to talk to you for ages. Maybe you should trust him? Trust him to forgive you and make things right?”
I sigh.
“So, you kicked a ball at your best mate?”
“Yes,” I mumble. “And I don’t need you telling me it was wrong. I know it was wr—”
“I used to do stuff like that all the time when I was younger,” Ross says.
“You did?”
It suddenly feels nice to hear that. Nice to know I’m not the only one.
“Oh, yeah. I was always doing impulsive stuff. Never thought things through. Angry at everyone and everything. Couldn’t concentrate. Mum said I never stopped. Always on the go. It made me feel like I never fitted in. I never knew who I was meant to be or who I wanted to be. It all used to get the better of me and bubble over.”
“That’s what happens to me,” I say. “All the time.”
“It will get easier, William,” Ross says. “As I got older, I started to recognize when I was getting overwhelmed and when everything was too much. You need to be a bit kinder to yourself, I think.”
“Maybe,” I whisper.
“I wish I’d been a bit kinder to myself when I was younger,” Ross says.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“Well, I found someone I really liked – someone I loved – but I ran away from him.”
I look up at him. “My dad?” I ask.
“Yeah, your dad. When we were together it felt like we could … I dunno … touch the stars! Fly among them! Together. Me and him. I thought anything was possible.” Then Ross’s smile fades. “But things weren’t … good … back then, if you were ... like me and your dad. People can be cruel. I was scared and ashamed of who I was. One day someone asked if we were a couple and I said no. I know that hurt Teddy. After that, I left without telling your dad. That’s why I was so pleased when I saw him again at the school gate. It felt like I was being given a second chance.”
I hear footsteps shuffle past and muffled voices talking about ancient Greek perfume bottles.
“Do you think you don’t want to make up with Jabari because you feel like you don’t deserve a best mate?” Ross says carefully.
“I’m not sure I do,” I say, scratching my head.
“Oh, I think you do, William. I think you’re a pretty special kid. And Florence likes you too and she’s a very good judge of character.”
“She does? She’s horrible to me!”
“Ha!” Ross laughs. “Yeah, that sounds about right. She must really like you, then! She certainly doesn’t like me at the moment.”
“We’ve been trying to break up you and Dad,” I say.
Ross moves closer to me.
“Yeah, Florence told me,” he says eventually. “We had a chat last night after you left. I see now that this has all been a bit much for you both. I get that.”
“I wanted to keep Dad to myself. I thought he was going to leave me. I’m really sorry,” I say meekly.
Ross nods slowly. “I’m sorry we overwhelmed you both with all this.” He pauses and then says, “So, the macaroni cheese incident…”
“We might have added in some extra hot chilli powder and mustard…”
Ross runs his fingers through his hair and I’m shocked to realize that he’s chortling to himself. As his laugh gets louder, he throws his head back. I start laughing too and I’m not sure why.
“I KNEW something had happened! My macaroni cheese is unbeatable! Wait! So that means it’s still the best in the world, after all?”
“Maybe I’ll get to try it one day and see,” I say.
We sit together for a while until my bum starts to feel cold.
“We should be getting back,” Ross says. “Everyone’s looking for you.”
They are?
Ross stands up, brushes down his jeans and holds out a hand to me. I gaze at it for a while, unsure what to do.
Ross came here to check I was OK. He was worried. He was here for me when I needed him.
I take a deep breath, close my eyes and grab Ross’s outstretched hand. He helps me up, though my legs are stiff and trembling.
“He won’t leave you, William,” Ross says. I’m standing really close to him now. He towers over me, suddenly a solid, reassuring presence. “I’ve seen how much your dad loves you. Nothing will change that. I promise you.”
“Thanks, Ross,” I say. “You’re not so bad, after all.”
He smiles at me and we start to wander back through the gallery.
“Oh, look,” Ross says, “there’s another statue with his bits out. You’ll have to let Freddie know.”
I giggle and put my hand over my mouth to stifle my spluttering laughter.
Ross winks at me and we walk out into the Great Court, where dappled sunlight streams through the glass roof. I see Dad in the distance by the gift shop, looking frantic and desperate.
I stop and stare at him, too nervous to go any further.
Ross kneels down and smiles warmly at me. Very quietly, he says, “Trust your dad. He loves you. He’s not going anywhere. Oh, and, William?”
“Yes?”
“You deserve to be happy. You’re a good kid.” Ross nods towards Dad. “Go on,” he whispers.
Dad rushes towards me and I collapse, crying, in his arms.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Always Be My Baby
“I think we should talk,” Dad says later that evening, “about what happened today.”
I bury my head in his shoulder. We’re on the sofa, tucked up underneath our blanket. I haven’t spoken since this afternoon. After lunch, we wandered around the ancient Egyptian galleries and I held on tightly to Dad’s hand for the whole time.
In the gift shop Freddie got upset because his dad hadn’t given him any money, so Ross gave him a few quid and told him not to tell his dad. Freddie spent the rest of the afternoon smiling. Aaliyah bought a copy of a book called Brilliant Black British History by Atinuke and Kingsley Nebechi for Jabari. Most of the other kids got little ancient Greek vases that were actually fridge magnets.
On the coach, I sat next to Dad. He stroked my hair and held my hand all the way home.
Ross sat next to Cheryl, and I kind of felt sorry for him. I heard her say, “Go on, Ross! How old do you think I am really? Brian said I looked like a young Angelina Jolie the other day! HAARRR HAARRR!”
I didn’t hear the rest of their conversation because my eyes began to close, the rocking of the coach and the thrum of the outside world eventually lulling me to sleep.
As we lie on the sofa now, I close my eyes and tell Dad about Jabari and what happened in the lunch hall at the museum. Then I say, “I’ve also done something else a tiny, incy-wincy bit silly.”
I pick at my nails.
“Go on,” Dad says.
“Well … erm … first of all … I ripped up all my logo designs the other day in class and had to go into the Rainbow Room. I thought if I could win the competition then you’d be proud of me, but I feel like a complete failure because I’m meant to be good at art and drawing and I can’t think of a logo design and it all got too much and … and…”
“OK, OK,” Dad says, taking my hand. “It’s OK. Mrs Oliver told me this afternoon. She’s really proud that you took yourself off to calm down, and she’s organized some extra time for you all to finish your logos anyway. I know it’s important to you, William. We can sort it. I can help you.”
I nod.
“But, you know, it’s OK if you don’t win? It doesn’t mean you’re not good at art and it doesn’t mean I’m not proud of you,” Dad says.
“But … there’s more,” I say quietly, not daring to look up at Dad.
“I take it this has something to do with Ross and Florence?” he asks slowly.
I cover my face with my hands.
“Come on, William. Let’s sort this out.”
I take a deep breath and begin. I start telling him about the Dad Trap and how we decided to try and split up him and Ross.
“I was scared. Everything was changing. I thought if you saw how different you and Ross are, you wouldn’t want to go out with each other and you wouldn’t fall in love and move in together and, and ... I thought if I could keep Ross away from you, then you … you … you … wouldn’t leave me. No one wants me.” I realize I’m struggling to breathe and so I stop and wait.
Dad has a strange expression on his face. Suddenly he gets up and walks out of the room.
I wait.
He’s left me.
He’s gone.
I hang my head and start to weep. This is exactly what I feared would happen. I just wanted Dad to myself. I just wanted him to—
The living-room door opens and Dad strides back in. He sits down next to me. I notice he’s carrying a shoebox.
“This is for you,” he says, quietly but decisively.
“A shoebox?”
“Just open it,” Dad says, rolling his eyes and smiling.
I open the shoebox and gasp.
It’s filled with letters, stories, photographs, pictures and poems. I pick one up.
Fireworks Night, Will iam is 7
The fireworks
explode
above
us.
Red and green,
purple and gold.
But I can only see
your smile,
lighting up
the cold
night sky.
* * *
“I was going to give this to you when you were older, but I think you need to see it now,” Dad whispers, taking my hand.
“Who wrote all this?” I ask, searching through with my free hand.
“I did,” Dad says, blushing. “They’re copies of letters I’ve sent to Gemma and all the pictures you’ve drawn for me. And there’s poems I’ve written about you too. It’s all my memories of the special times we’ve had. Every moment you’ve made me smile and laugh – every moment, the good and the bad – no matter how small.”
I hold Dad’s fireworks poem to my chest. I remember that night. It was frosty cold and I had my ear defenders on because it was so loud. I remember all the dazzling colours and my heart thumping and bursting every time a firework exploded. Dad was next to me and I thought he was watching the show but he wasn’t.
He was watching me.
All this time, he’s been watching me.
“You are so wanted, William,” Dad says. He takes my face in his hands. “I never thought I’d be a dad, you know? I didn’t think that would happen for me. But the greatest achievement in my life, the best thing ever, is getting to be your dad. Getting to see your spark and imagination every day – your kindness, your bravery. I’m so lucky. You mean everything to me and, no matter what, I will be by your side. Always. I love you.”
I smile shyly at Dad and say, “I love you too.”
“I’m not going anywhere, William. And I’m really sorry I ever made you worry that I was. Although, I wish you’d been honest with me and told me how you were feeling, instead of hatching a secret little plan!”
“I know… I’m sorry,” I say.
Dad laughs then. “So, it’s you two little schemers who are to blame for Ross being sick on the high ropes?”
“Yes,” I mumble.
“Will you promise you’ll talk to me in the future?” Dad says. “No more interfering in each other’s lives. No more dastardly deeds, no more villainous machinations and no more nefarious plots!”
“Oh, nefarious,” I say. “Good word, Dad. Latin, I think. Something to do with wickedness.”
“Yes, William,” Dad says indulgently, “but do we have a deal?”
“We have a deal,” I say nodding.
We’re quiet for a bit while I search through my shoebox of memories.
“What’s this?” I ask, holding up one of my drawings.
“That is the very first picture you ever drew. You were four years old!” Dad says.
“I can’t believe you kept all this!” I say. “What’s this? It says ‘The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face’?”
