: Honey Boy

 

The Powell household, on a Saturday morning, can be a bit of a crazy place to be.

Take the Saturday I was meeting Danny (or Honey Boy), for example.

My brother Matty stayed over the night before because his fiancée Pascal was on a hen night or something like that. Matty is eighteen years old but has already moved in with Pascal, and they're already engaged. Our parents are fully supportive, while Pete and me – well, we like Pascal and everything, but we think it's a bit rushed. Not that we'd ever say that to their faces. Matty would probably disown us if we did. Pascal is half-French, half-Canadian, and is probably slightly insane, but she's not so bad, once you get past the fact it really annoys her when people can't speak French.

So, anyway, Matty had been staying over, which meant we'd had to get out the blow-up bed for him. When he used to live with us, he'd shared a room with Pete, and Gareth and I had our rooms. When he moved out, Pete redecorated what had been their room and got rid of Matty's bed, so when Matty sleeps over, he's got to sleep in the living room. What this means is that it adds to the craziness, because we're trying to get ready to go out and whatever, and there's this big dock off lilo in the living room.

That morning was also crazy because Pete had announced the night before he was off to Scotland with Gethin Jones for the weekend (that's Siân's brother if you remember), so there'd be no one to look after Gareth while my mother and father were shopping at IKEA. Matty couldn't do it because he and Pascal were looking at cars or something like that (I don't know).

So there we were – it's half-ten on a Saturday morning. Matty's curled up on his dock-off lilo, Pete's running around trying to find spare socks and his toothbrush which has mysteriously vanished, my father's trying to sort out the microwave which has combusted while cooking bacon, my mother's making many phone calls to neighbours, friends and family members to see if any of them want the task of looking after Gareth, and Gareth's trying to watch Saturday morning television in peace. It's futile, you see, to try and argue with my mother that we live in the centre of a village where the last burglary happened in 1971, and it's highly unlikely that Martin Evans from down the road is going to try and break into our cottage and nick our television while Gareth's home alone. Mum won't listen. So, on that morning, she was becoming increasingly frazzled, as no one wanted to look after Gareth.

And me? Well, I was like Pete – racing around the house trying to locate my pink tights. Not my pale pink tights, I continuously told my mother in between her phone calls, my hot pink tights.

"I didn't even know you had a pair of hot pink tights, cariad*," my mother frowned, punching a number into the phone.

"I bought them a few weeks ago, and I wore them when I went to the cinema with Siân," I said, letting out a deep breath, "And then I put them in the wash and I can't find them –"

"You always assume it's me – Oh, Hello, Brenda, it's Ellen here –" and she was off. I stomped into the living room and flopped down on the sofa next to Gareth, causing him to slop his bowl of Cheerio's into his lap. He glared at me reproachfully.

"This is all your fault, kid," I growled. "I want to find my tights."

He stuck his tongue out at me and gingerly made his way into the kitchen, his lap covered in milk and Cheerio's. "Thanks, Nerys," he called over his shoulder. "Now I look like I've pissed myself –"

"Language, Gareth!" our mother shouted, momentarily abandoning her phone call. With a groan, Matty stirred, and I chucked a cushion at his head. "Nerys, don't throw cushions at your brother!"

And then the doorbell rings and seconds later, Pascal bursts in, a vision in bright purple leggings and a green flowery dress, green beret perched precariously on her bright pink hair, seemingly not hung over as she yells at the top of her voice: "Matthew! Se réveiller! Aujourd'hui est un jour nouveau, mon amour**!"

Of course, the dramatic arrival of Pascal is only made more dramatic when she trips over our tabby cat, Grimm, and lands on top of Matty's prone form, with a shriek of "Mere*!" on her part.

It is, as I said, a typical Powell Saturday morning: loud and dramatic, with lots of last-minute phone calls, cereal spilling, microwave exploding, sock/tights hunting, and so on and so forth.

It's a bloody miracle that we made it out of the house about three hours later. Pascal and Matty got into her ancient Mini to trundle off to God only knows where, and Pete began the long trek to Gethin's house three streets away. Meanwhile, my mother, my father, Gareth and I all pile into our car. First stop, Llynmawr Mall, to drop of Gareth and me.

Yes. Naturally, because there was no one to look after Gareth, I was ordered to take my younger brother with me to the cinema, my task being to make sure that he's not mugged by all the nefarious teenagers that inhabit Llynmawr Mall at weekends (note, I go to school with nearly all those 'nefarious teenagers'. Even bigger note, those 'nefarious teenagers' are usually my friends).

So I sat scowling in the back of the car, for two reasons. The first and obvious one was that I had to look after my eleven-year-old brother all day, and the second was that my hot pink tights had mysteriously vanished. Gareth claimed to be innocent, but I recall him telling me that my legs looked like uncooked sausages the last time I wore them, so he probably did something. I know, I don't remember uncooked sausages being hot pink either, but apparently to Gareth Powell...

So, anyway, I was wearing a completely different outfit than the one I'd carefully planned out the night before. Well, I was wearing the same dress, but boring black tights and different jewelry, so the effect was completely different. Like the tights, the left shoe in the pair I'd intended to wear had done a vanishing act, so I even had to wear different shoes. And finally, as we left the house, Grimm decided it was a good idea to cough up a hairball on my black cardigan, which had been on my bed at the time. We'd located the hairball five minutes before we were leaving the house, and my mom lost her temper, put the cardigan in the wash and then ordered me to leave the house, cardigan or no cardigan.

And it was chilly out. Also, my freckly arms were on display for the whole world to see.

So I was not a happy bunny.

We arrived at the shopping centre at ten past two, a record for me. I'm nearly always late. The last time I went to the cinema I was meant to get there for two and I arrived at half-three. I'm not sure why I was so late.

Gareth and I bade our parent's goodbye and hurried into the shopping centre, pushing our way through the throngs of shoppers to get onto the second floor. We arrived at the escalators near the cinema, furiously out of breath and red in the face.

Siân, John, Beth, Ann, Elisha, Sharon and Elisha were all lounging against one of the pillars that made up the entrance to the cinema. Adam and Louis stood about a foot away from them, and Adam was showing something on his phone to Louis. The ever-present red apple was cupped safely in his free hand. Stood on the stairs next to the escalators were Gwen and Suzanne and all of that lot, but they barely acknowledged that we were there.

"Hello," I gasped out, stumbling to a halt about three inches away from John. He moved backward, giving me an odd look. "Sorry, I'm late."

"You need to get into shape," Siân advised while chomping on a bar of chocolate. I swatted at her, and she dodged out of my way. "I saw your brother this morning. Think he'd go out with me? I like his hair."

I gaped at her. "Siân," I said slowly, "Pete is twenty."

"Yeah? And?"

"You're not even fifteen yet," I reminded her, just as Adam threw an arm around my shoulder.

"You finally arrived, Nerys," he said cheerfully. "Shall we go and buy some tickets, or do you want to wait for Honey Boy to arrive?" He addressed this last part to Beth.

Gareth hovered behind me, eyeing Adam and Louis nervously. Adam caught sight of my little brother and released me.

"Nerys, I think you've got another stalker," he said slowly.

"No, that's just my little brother," I replied. "Adam, Louis, this is Gareth. Gareth..."

"I know," he whispered, eyes wide. I rolled my eyes. Of course, he knew who they were, and it appeared my brother somewhat idolized the two. Bloody hell.

"Nice to meet ya, Gareth," Adam said cheerfully. Louis just nodded his head at Gareth, who attempted a smile.

"My parents are going to IKEA," I said, by way of explanation. Siân nodded wisely, and John reached out to ruffle Gareth's mop of straw-coloured hair.

"Can we do something?" Ann asked in a bored voice, examining her nails. "I could be revising right now, you know."

"I just want Danny to get here first," Beth fretted, fiddling with the end of her plait. Ann sighed slightly, and Adam looked at her.

"Ann and I could go and buy the tickets," he suggested. "You can all give us the money..."

"What film are we going to see?" Gareth asked me, prodding my arm with his finger as I dug in my bag for my purse.

"You know, that one based on the superhero comic thingy," I replied. "I forget its name."

We all handed our money to Ann (Adam, it appeared, no one trusted with their cash). Ann jerked her head towards the escalators and Adam followed her, hands in pockets. He smiled at Gwen and company as he stepped onto the escalators just behind Ann.

"I'm surprised that The Beast hasn't tried to steal Adam yet," John said mildly, leaning against the pillar and watching Gwen's group.

"You mean she hasn't tried to yet?" I demanded, surprise suffusing my voice. I had fully expected her to come over already, flicking her hair and trying to entice Adam and Louis away. Or, at least, I'd expected Gordon to come over; I assumed that he knew and was acquainted with Adam and Louis.

"Nope," John replied, and then he looked at me, taking in what I was wearing. "Nice dress. I think my sister has one like it."

"It's nice," Elisha agreed, "But it's not colourful enough!" Elisha, in typical Elisha style, was decked out in rainbow-striped hot pants paired with glittery turquoise tights and bright pink Converse. A Mighty Boosh T-shirt and pale yellow cardigan complete the ensemble. She was attracting more than her fair share of odd looks, but she didn't care. At that moment, she reminded me of Pascal, albeit minus the French-Canadian accent and the swearing.

Gareth sniggered. "She was going to wear hot pink tights," he informed Elisha, "But she couldn't find them. And she couldn't find one of her shoes."

I put my hand on top of his head and pushed him backwards. He let out an indignant yell and tried to kick me, but I swerved away.

"Then her stupid cat coughed up a hairball on her cardigan," he continued. Elisha looked sympathetic.

"Ooh, I hate it when my cat does that," she clucked.

"I have a cat," Louis butted in randomly. "He's called Ashley."

"My cat is called Timothy," Elisha replied, giving him her massive trademark grin. One thing that Elisha loves more than life itself: Timothy, the fat ginger tomcat. It's the sort of animal that can barely walk because it's so big, but she adores him. She adores cats full stop. "Sharon's cat is called Tiger, but he's not really hers, he's just a stray that wanders in every so often."

"Yeah," Sharon muttered. "And sleeps on my washing basket. She wrecks all my clothes."

Elisha ignored her best friends slanderous words against cats, and ploughs on. "And Nerys, for some reason, called her cat Grimm. Isn't that just the most awful name ever for a cat?" she demanded. Louis just stared at her, looking slightly bewildered. "It's not even a cute name," Elisha continued, shaking her head. "Awful."

"Grimm?" Louis said, looking questioningly at me. Most people think that Elisha is barmy, but she's not – not really. She's actually really pretty and dead slim, but most boys at our school tend not to notice her for two reasons – her personality, and the fact that she's better at sports than all of them put together. She's been playing basketball since she was a kid, and she's the only girl on the Year 10 basketball team. For this reason, most boys know of her but seem to think of her as a boy.

I sighed and began to explain. "She's named after the Brothers Gri –"

"Oh my God!" Beth shrieked, right down my ear, "He's here!"

She was pointing her finger in the direction of a gaggle of boys around our age heading towards the escalators. Walking slightly in front was a tall boy – taller than me, at least, with shaggy dark blonde hair and an Adam-esque smirk playing on his good-looking face. A diamond earring glinted as he moved, and he wore simple clothes – plain black hoodie, dark gray jeans, and trainers. So this was Honey Boy.

"Hello, Manuka," he called, raising a hand in greeting. Beth started forwards, a large grin plastered across her face.

"First impressions?" I muttered out of the corner of my mouth to John.

"He reminds me of Adam," John murmured in response. "Minus the apples and the gingerness."

Beside us, Louis snorted.

As Danny – now walking with Beth, his friends trailing in their wake – approached us, Ann and Adam returned from the ticket kiosks with handfuls of orange cinema tickets.

"The film we were meant to see was sold out," Ann said in her usual monotone voice, "But we managed to get tickets for all of us to see the latest Pixar movie."

"Oh, great," Gareth muttered, but I nodded, eyes focusing back on to Danny, who had come to a stop right in front of us with Beth stood next to him.

"Danny, these are my friends," she said, "Nerys, John, Siân, Ann, Elisha, Sharon, and then there's Louis and Adam too."

"Hello." Danny had a kind of deep voice and lots of bracelets around his tanned wrist. "Nice to meet you all."

"You too," I said, smiling in response. "Oh, and this is my little brother, Gareth," I added, giving him a nudge. "I'm babysitting."

"Hi," Gareth mumbled, edging closer to me.

"We didn't get you a ticket," Adam said apologetically to Danny.

"I wouldn't have expected you to, mate," Danny said easily. "We'll just go on up and buy them now. See you in the foyer?" he added to Beth, who nodded mutely. There was a faint blush on her cheeks. He grinned at her and then rejoined his friends, passing Gwen and company on their way to the escalators. I watched as Gwen detached herself from the group and tagged onto Danny's, talking straight to the man himself.

"Bitch," I heard Beth hiss, her eyes narrowing considerably. "Who does she think she is?"

"Do you want me to sort her out for you?" Louis offered helpfully. "I can't stand her."

Adam smacked him on the arm and then handed him a cinema ticket. "You don't threaten girls like that," he warned him, before striding off to the escalators.

"I know that dickface," Louis snapped at Adam's retreating, following him. Ann finished handing out her selection of tickets and then we all began to migrate towards the escalators.

Ann walked alongside me, eyes fixated on a point in front of her. As we got on the escalator and began to ascend to the next floor where the cinema screens and ticket kiosks were located, she turned to me and said in a low voice, "Adam does have a nice arse."

I was floored. It was one of these comments that Ann makes every so often, which leaves you speechless. These comments, you see, usually involve swearing, lewd comments or observations about the opposite sex that one has to assume usually remain unmentioned in Ann's brain. It's once in a blue moon that these comments are uttered, and this was just her latest. It was a big one, as well. I mean, not her observation – that was nothing new, we all knew Adam had a nice arse – it was just the fact that...well, Ann said it.

I was staring at Ann, wondering what the hell else goes on in that head of hers, when Adam turned to look at us. "I've got to warn you, Nerys," he said. "When you get up here, you're not going to be happy."

"Why?" I asked in a suspicious tone, a feeling of foreboding creeping into my stomach, as he stepped off the escalators with Louis. In that second, I knew – knew what I was going to find at the top of the escalators.

I stepped off the escalators myself, then, and immediately noticed why I wasn't going to be happy. I bet you can guess why...

Billie Winters had obviously remembered the times and dates for today's cinema trip and had decided to come with us. Because he was stood there, leaning against a pillar, chatting amiably to Liam Wace and Joe West. His other friends were crowded nearby.

And that was when the trouble started.

*Cariad – Welsh. Means 'darling,' and is used as a term of endearment.

** Se réveiller! Aujourd'hui est un jour nouveau, mon amour! – French. It's meant to mean 'Wake up! Today is a new day, my love!'

*** Merde – French. Means 'shit.'

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