managed to mumble instead.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered a few moments later as I stood in his corridor.
“No big deal, Corey,” I whispered back softly, before making my way home.
In my bedroom, I easily located the cassette Corey had given me for my thirteenth birthday and placed it in my portable cassette player. I pressed play and listened to track two of LL Cool J’s album. “Around the Way Girl” flooded my earlobes.
My favorite.
do as i say, not as i did
Kevin Trivia: I truly felt I’d become a man after watching Shaft with Charlie at the Coronet. A classic.
My baby’s eighteen! Yeah! Even though you probably thought so five years ago, it’s now official—you’re a woman. How does it feel? Probably no different from yesterday, really. There’s always this big build-up to your eighteenth, and when it finally comes around you realize it’s just the day after you were seventeen.
Yeah, right!
This is MASSIVE.
A big deal. And I bet your mom’s throwing you a huge party or you’re going out with your friends for your (first, I hope) legal drink. Whatever you’re doing I hope you mark it memorably, have loads of fun and don’t get too drunk, okay?
Lois, now you are eighteen you have more power over what you do and I really hope you take advantage of this in a good way. Like, making sure you vote when it’s time. None of this “it won’t make a difference,” upper teenage rebellion crap. In some countries people are still dying for the right.
And if you haven’t already, get a passport, learn to drive and save a bit of money each month. You might be thinking “What’s my old man on about?” but trust me, these will all come in handy one day.
T he Sunday Corey’s dad drove off with him in the passenger seat, and headed for Eurostar, the sky was full of the promise of rain. Carla’s mom was dabbing at her own damp eyes as the car disappeared up the high street, past Lanes Fish Bar then the rec, our former stomping grounds. There was Carla, uncharacteristically upset at the departure of her brother, attempting to keep her tears locked until at least bedtime. Me, rubbing her back supportively as I waved him off, stiff upper lip, to the outside world merely wondering if the rain would hold off for another day, already “over” the departure of the first boy I’d ever kissed. Even my personal goodbye, the previous night during the hasty get-together Carla’s mom had arranged, was calm and accepting of the situation. Corey didn’t say much to me, busy with the rest of his family and assortment of invited friends, although he did manage something about keeping in touch. Writing. Which I dismissed straight away because as I said to the outside world—Corey included—I was already over him. Right?
“Be happy,” I said, because he looked anything but. He was about to reply, I think, before his tearful motherwhisked him into the kitchen for something to do with cake. Like my feelings didn’t matter. Like I didn’t matter.
As I said, I was over him already. Before that moment. Perhaps I had been on the day he kissed me for the very first time.
Not to worry, I still had my dad, stacks of coursework, driving lessons and thoughts of my future to be getting on with, which regularly alternated between going to university (no way) or securing a job with a half-decent wage.
I was already over Corey, I told myself again that night, as I sunk my tear-stained face into the belly of the one-eyed teddy.
I got a job working at Freeman Hardy Willis shoe shop in Lewisham. The hours were regular and I was given a twenty percent discount that seemed to excite Carla more than me. Admittedly, the days were tiring. Stepping up ladders to locate “Miriam in red, size five” during a hot summer meant regular contact with smelly feet and prickly customers. But the independence that came with earning my own money outweighed any amount of bunions and foot fungi, and soon even Carla was a slave to
“I’m sorry,” he whispered a few moments later as I stood in his corridor.
“No big deal, Corey,” I whispered back softly, before making my way home.
In my bedroom, I easily located the cassette Corey had given me for my thirteenth birthday and placed it in my portable cassette player. I pressed play and listened to track two of LL Cool J’s album. “Around the Way Girl” flooded my earlobes.
My favorite.
do as i say, not as i did
Kevin Trivia: I truly felt I’d become a man after watching Shaft with Charlie at the Coronet. A classic.
My baby’s eighteen! Yeah! Even though you probably thought so five years ago, it’s now official—you’re a woman. How does it feel? Probably no different from yesterday, really. There’s always this big build-up to your eighteenth, and when it finally comes around you realize it’s just the day after you were seventeen.
Yeah, right!
This is MASSIVE.
A big deal. And I bet your mom’s throwing you a huge party or you’re going out with your friends for your (first, I hope) legal drink. Whatever you’re doing I hope you mark it memorably, have loads of fun and don’t get too drunk, okay?
Lois, now you are eighteen you have more power over what you do and I really hope you take advantage of this in a good way. Like, making sure you vote when it’s time. None of this “it won’t make a difference,” upper teenage rebellion crap. In some countries people are still dying for the right.
And if you haven’t already, get a passport, learn to drive and save a bit of money each month. You might be thinking “What’s my old man on about?” but trust me, these will all come in handy one day.
T he Sunday Corey’s dad drove off with him in the passenger seat, and headed for Eurostar, the sky was full of the promise of rain. Carla’s mom was dabbing at her own damp eyes as the car disappeared up the high street, past Lanes Fish Bar then the rec, our former stomping grounds. There was Carla, uncharacteristically upset at the departure of her brother, attempting to keep her tears locked until at least bedtime. Me, rubbing her back supportively as I waved him off, stiff upper lip, to the outside world merely wondering if the rain would hold off for another day, already “over” the departure of the first boy I’d ever kissed. Even my personal goodbye, the previous night during the hasty get-together Carla’s mom had arranged, was calm and accepting of the situation. Corey didn’t say much to me, busy with the rest of his family and assortment of invited friends, although he did manage something about keeping in touch. Writing. Which I dismissed straight away because as I said to the outside world—Corey included—I was already over him. Right?
“Be happy,” I said, because he looked anything but. He was about to reply, I think, before his tearful motherwhisked him into the kitchen for something to do with cake. Like my feelings didn’t matter. Like I didn’t matter.
As I said, I was over him already. Before that moment. Perhaps I had been on the day he kissed me for the very first time.
Not to worry, I still had my dad, stacks of coursework, driving lessons and thoughts of my future to be getting on with, which regularly alternated between going to university (no way) or securing a job with a half-decent wage.
I was already over Corey, I told myself again that night, as I sunk my tear-stained face into the belly of the one-eyed teddy.
I got a job working at Freeman Hardy Willis shoe shop in Lewisham. The hours were regular and I was given a twenty percent discount that seemed to excite Carla more than me. Admittedly, the days were tiring. Stepping up ladders to locate “Miriam in red, size five” during a hot summer meant regular contact with smelly feet and prickly customers. But the independence that came with earning my own money outweighed any amount of bunions and foot fungi, and soon even Carla was a slave to
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