Chapter 1

It was just another school day that I woke to. Tuesday was bright, sunny and unseasonably warm for the beginning of September, a contrast to Monday’s heavy rain.

I suppose I should probably start by introducing myself. So, my name is David James Barker, aged 14 and a member of form 4alpha at Castleford High School. I’m the second of three children of James Andrew Barker, and his wife the former Miss Patricia Forbes-Walker. There’s also my brother Andrew, who we all called Andy, two years older than me, and my sister Alison Louise, who is two years younger.

Oh, and there’s my best friend Cal. Cal lives next door and had moved in two weeks before we started year 1 in school. In the 10 years that we’d been friends, Cal had caused me to break my arm (twice), my ankle once, my nose twice and had caused me to need a total of 23 stitches. Add in two concussions, and sometimes I wondered why I didn’t just avoid Cal like the plague.

It was Monday morning, and after my usual morning date with Rosy Palm and her five beautiful daughters, I was finally dragging myself out of my pit and heading for the bathroom. As usual, my darling sister was in there, and I was doing a little jig, trying to avoid wetting myself.

“Alison,” I pleaded, banging on the door, “I need to pee.”

“Use mum and dad’s I’m in the shower.”

I walked down the hall to mum and dad’s bedroom and used theirs.

“Mum,” I shouted when I’d done what I needed to, “Alison’s hogging the bathroom again, can I use your shower?”

“OK,” mum replied, “breakfast in ten minutes you lot.”

I had my shower, wrapped a towel around my waist and went back to my room to get dressed.

When I got there, I pulled up short. Cal was sitting on my bed.

“Cal,” I protested, “I need some privacy here. I have to get dressed.”

“Don’t be daft I’ve seen you naked before.”

“Yes, but if mum were to see.”

“She sent me up here. Oh, you are a wimp, all right, I’ll close my eyes and promise not to peep.”

Mum saved the day just then by shouting that breakfast was ready.

“Cal are you eating?” she added.

“No thanks Aunt Pat, I already ate?”

When I got downstairs, everybody but Cal was eating. I took my place and started to demolish the Full English breakfast that was waiting for me. Just as I was about to spear the last piece of bacon, Cal’s fingers popped across and lifted it from my plate.

“Thank you,” Cal smiled sweetly, as she popped it into her mouth.

Did I mention that Cal is a person of the female persuasion? Something which is fairly apparent at first glance, although that hadn’t been the case when we first met. Actually, she is beautiful, both inside and out. She’s a lovely person, and a beautiful girl, no, she’s a beautiful young woman. Cal is short for Calista. Apparently when she was born her mother’s favourite TV show was Ally McBeal, and she was named after the star of that, Callista Flockhart. Her name only has one l in it because her dad didn’t know how to spell the other one. She never knew her dad, he left when she was six months old, and when she was five, her mum, who had gone to school with my dad, moved back to Castleford to be near her family. She is also a very focused person, at fourteen (she’s two weeks older than I am), she knew what she was going to be when she finishes her education, she was going to be an opera singer, and if Cal says she is going to do something, then she will. She loved to sing. She loved to drag me along when she goes to singing lessons once a week as well. As for me, well I’m a lot easier going. I haven’t made my mind up what I want to be yet. I play rugby (league not union) and guitar, but mostly I read. I also have a natural ear for languages. My mum says that’s because I’m a musician, I get the rhythm of the thing. I’m more the geeky type though, I’m always messing about on the family PC or playing video games. That’s going to have to change this year though, this year we start working towards GCSE, and that means we have to choose what subjects we do, and that means restricting our career choices.

Once I finished my breakfast (well, I suppose that, technically, Cal had finished it), I gathered my book bag and PE gear and the pair of us set off to school, accompanied by Alison, who was starting year 8 today. We walked along, Cal holding one hand and Alison the other, with the pair of them chatting away ten to the dozen as if they hadn’t seen each other for weeks, while I just bathed in the glory of being with two of the most stunningly beautiful girls in Castleford. Life was good. Now, I really do have to stress here, Cal is my best friend, she is not my girlfriend. But I would protect her with my life if I had to. We loved each other, but as friends, even though I think, privately, that our mothers are hoping we’ll end up together, so if she wants to have a boyfriend, that’s OK with me, and if I get a girlfriend, she’s OK with that. We’ve talked about this more than once, and that’s how it is with us. We go out and do things together, we even go out with other couples, but even in the back row of our local cinema, we sit holding hands watching the films, while our friends are making out beside us. That’s just us, although sometimes, I did wonder what it would be like if we were like the others.

At the school we separated, I mean, come on, this is the 21^st century and we still have separate boys’ and girls’ entrances. I headed towards the hall where the first assembly of the year would take place and waited. As a fourth-year student (that’s year 10, or what the Americans would call a freshman) I could take a seat anywhere at the rear of the hall, except for the very back row which was for teachers. I took a seat one in from the aisle, about four rows from the back and waited for my crew to arrive. My ‘crew’ were Mike, Geoff, Keith and their respective (and mainly rotating) girlfriends, and Cal, of course.

The assembly started with the headmaster welcoming us all back to a new school year. The first years, the new starters, year seven kids, had come in the day before. He unveiled some staff changes, told us all about the boys’ Rugby trials, and the girls’ hockey trials this Wednesday, then read out the list of form teachers and form rooms for the year. We had the head of English and drama, CH Tomlinson, one of the most popular teachers in a bunch of truly inspirational teachers. Nobody knew what the CH stood for (I found out later but was sworn to secrecy, so sorry, I can’t tell you), but everybody just referred to him as Tom. After that, we all wandered off to our form rooms to take care of registration and discover our timetables for the year. Our school day was divided into eleven periods. Each day would start with assembly, with one year having theirs in the Dining Hall and the others in the main hall. Then registration in our form rooms, two forty-minute lesson periods, a fifteen-minute break, then two more lesson periods. Then we had lunch, followed by afternoon registration, then another two lesson periods, a five-minute break and a final lesson period, before we were let out.

So we went off to room 1 which would be our home for the next 10 months, answered our names and were given our timetables. The advantage of having English, followed by English Lit without a break soon became apparent.

“Right you lot, listen carefully, I shall say this only once,” Tom started, (sometimes he was funny, this was not one of those times), “you lot will all be doing both English Language and Literature GCSE this year, instead of next, so we have three books to read, learn, inwardly digest and then dissect the results of.”

There were some retching noises, poorly done, from the back of the room.

“Thank you,” Tom said, “may I suggest that those of you who made that racket, don’t bother attending auditions for this year’s first play. The rest of you, however, will do so.”

“What is it?” Jenny Hague asked.

“As always, this year’s set Shakespeare, the Merchant of Venice.”

He passed around a pile of books, which were that play.

“Now I’ll say up front, that this is quite controversial. A lot of people believe that it’s anti-Semitic.”

Peter Hartley raised his hand.

“Yes, Peter?”

“Sir, what does anti-Semitic mean?”

“Anybody?”

“It means views that are derogatory to any of the Semitic peoples, especially Jews,” I offered.

“Very good David.”

We spent the whole double period reading through what we’d all come to call simply ‘Merchant’ by the end of the year. When the second bell sounded Tom handed out copies of Pride and Prejudice and The Narrative Art in Verse and told us all to read through Merchant by next Monday. Oh goodie, our first homework.

The rest of the day was similar, basically a review of the syllabus, handing out textbooks and exercise books. Luckily, Tom was the only one who gave out homework, and PE was warm-up and a game of basketball.

The girls and I met up for the walk home. Cal had been in most of the same lessons as me apart from that she had French when I had German, and games when I had PE.

“I’m trying for the hockey team on Wednesday,” she announced.

“Well done,” I answered, “is there much competition? Ouch, what was that for?”

“You implied that I could only get in the team because there wasn’t anyone else.”

“That’s not what I meant,” I rubbed my arm where she’d pinched me, “I’ll have a bruise there. When’s your trial?”

“Wednesday after school, weren’t you listening in assembly?”

“I’ll come and watch.”

“So that he can perv at all the fit young girls in their short hockey skirts and bottle green gym knickers. All those teenage boobies bouncing around,” my sister announced, “and besides, you’ll be at the Rugby team trials.”

The last part was addressed to me.

“Pip!” I exclaimed, I called her pip, short for pipsqueak sometimes.

The rest of the week flashed by. We had a new boy in our class. John Sollberger. His dad was an Austrian chiropodist who had just opened a practice in town, and he seemed a nice guy. We invited him to hang out with us. He invited us to call him Solly. Wednesday night Cal and I went off to dance lessons, where we were learning the Rumba. I confess, she was a lot better than I was, but then she was a lithe and beautiful young lady and I was a rugby player, afterwards we all met up in our favourite meeting place, the Blue Cup Café. We sat around with drinks, Solly had joined us, and we threw stupid jokes and silly chat around for an hour before we started breaking up and going home. Solly was looking around the group of us all the time with a strange faraway expression on his face. I assume he must have felt like a spare part, being the only one there without a girl. Although, he and I were the only two that didn’t have a girlfriend.

When I arrived at school the following morning with the girls, we parted company and I headed for the boys’ entrance. Solly was waiting for me on the steps.

“David, can I ask you something personal?”

“So long as I can refuse to answer if it’s too personal.”

“What’s the story with you and Cal.”

“That’s too personal.”

“Oh, OK. Sorry I asked.”

“No problem.”

“So, is it OK if I ask her out?”

“John, she and I are best friends, it’s not up to me who she goes out with.”

“I just didn’t want to step on your toes.”

“You wouldn’t be, we’re just friends. Go ahead if you want to give it a try.”

I walked into the school and off to room one. Tom was in there when I arrived.

“David,” he greeted me, “just the man I wanted to see. School play. Merchant. You’re playing Shylock.”

“Pardon?”

“You’re playing Shylock.”

“But...”

“But me no buts. I heard you reading on Monday, and you’ve got the part.”

I could see I wasn’t getting away with it, so I just sagged my shoulders.

“Don’t be downcast, it comes with benefits.”

“It does?”

“Yes, the rehearsals will clash with your Woodwork lessons.”

I hated woodwork, actually it wasn’t woodwork itself, Mr Hague, the woodwork teacher and I just did not seem able to get on, so I brightened up considerably.

“OK, sir.”

“Now get out of my sight until registration.”

I scooted off to Assembly.

At the end of my first lesson, German, I was walking towards the next one when I got a text, from Cal.

WHAT R U PLAYING @

WHAT U MEAN, I answered.

SOLLY SAID THAT YOU SAID HE COULD GO ON A D8 WIT ME.

L8R TCHR LOOKING FUNNY

She cornered me at the end of German.

“Did you send Solly to ask me out?”

“No.”

“Well, he says you did.”

I laughed.

“He met me on the way in,” she explained, “and asked if we were a couple and when I told him we were just friends he asked if that meant it was all right to ask you out, so I told him he could go for it. If you want to go out with him, that’s OK with me.”

“Oh, well,” I retorted, “so long as it’s OK with you then, I just might.”

“Cal,” I protested, “I merely let him know that if you and he wanted to go out, I had no prior claim.”

“Don’t you?”

“We’re best friends, I would never do anything to jeopardise that.”

I watched Cal’s retreating back, wondering what had got into her, she wasn’t usually this snappy at me. I shrugged and went off to join the gang who were kicking a ball about. At the end of break time I went off to rehearsals for the play.

When I arrived I got three surprises. Mike had been appointed stage manager, and both Cal and Solly were in the cast, Solly as Lorenzo and Cal as Jessica.

“Hi Dave,” said Solly, “what are you doing here?”

“I’m playing Shylock, and please, it’s David, not Dave.”

“Sorry.”

“How come you weren’t at auditions?”

“I was told during the week that I was playing the part. Told mind you, not asked.”

“Well, it should be fun,” Cal put in, before dragging me off to the side.

“Are you sure you’d be OK with Solly taking me out?”

“Of course, I’m your best friend, not your boyfriend.”

There was a strange faraway look in her eyes.

“So where’s he taking you?”

“He wanted to go out just me and him, but I told him it was either our group visit to the cinema on Friday or nothing.”

“That’s great, have a nice time, what are you going to see?”

“You’re coming with us right?”

“No, I think I’ll skip it this week.”

“David,” she whined. I always thought that there were two syllables in my name, apparently there are somewhere around twelve.

“What?”

“You’re coming.”

“I don’t think I will, there isn’t anything on I’m bothered about.”

“DAVID!”

“Cal, if I come everybody will wonder why you’re sat with Solly and not me.”

“So the two of you could sit on either side of me.”

“Somehow I don’t think that would work. Just go and have a nice time. I’m fine, honestly.”

I walked away as I heard her pull her phone out and make a call. Then I stopped dead as I heard the two most dreaded words in the English language.

“Aunt Pat,” she said, then there was a two-second silence while my mother answered, “David’s being mean.”

There was another silence as I turned around.

“Okay, here,” she said as she held her phone out to me.

“What are you doing to Cal?” mum asked as I put the phone to my ear.

“She’s arranged to go on a date with a new lad in school on Friday. They’re going on our usual gang visit to the pictures, and she’s whining because I said I wouldn’t go.”

“And why wouldn’t you go?”

“Because I wouldn’t want to go and make them uncomfortable.”

“But you’re just best friends so why would you make them uncomfortable?”

“Mum,” I protested.

“No, I’m interested, why?”

“Mum, it just would, look the teacher’s here, I’ve got to go.”

I handed the phone back to Cal as Tom walked in and we all sat down.

Tom clapped his hands and got our attention.

“OK gang, we did our first run-through of Act 1 on Monday in class. Now I want to do it again, but this time, I want you to read the parts you’re going to play.

While the rest were reading Scene 1, some of us sat down quietly reading along with them. Cal passed me a note.

YOUR MUM SAYS RING HER AT DINNER TIME.

Ten minutes later scene 1 was finished and we started on scene 2.

By the time the lunch bell rang, we had read through the first two acts.

“Right, next time we’ll continue from the beginning of act 3. Do please try and at least have read the rest of the play by then. And maybe even have learned some of it. Now get out of my sight.”

We all left willingly. I took a detour back into the classroom and rang mum.

“Well?” was mum’s one-word greeting.

“Well, what?”

“I take it you’re now on your own.”

“Yes.”

“So, where’s the problem?”

“I don’t want them to feel uncomfortable.”

“Are you certain of that?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are you sure that it’s THEM that you don’t want to feel uncomfortable?”

“Who else would?”

“Who else would be there?”

“The usual gang and me.”

“Who would be?”

“Geoff and Ruth.”

“A couple.”

“Mike and Chris.”

“A couple.”

“Keith and Maggie.”

“A couple.”

“Me.”

“Not a couple.”

“Yes.”

“So, four couples and a singleton.”

“Yes.”

“Tell me something, how do you feel about Cal?”

“She’s my best friend, and...” I trailed off.

“And what?”

“And I love her.”

“And have you told her that?”

“Yes, every day.”

“No, I mean have you told her that you LOVE her?”

“You mean like boyfriend /girlfriend?”

“Yes.”

“No, I haven’t she’s my best friend, I wouldn’t risk that. What if that happened and we broke up?”

“That’s a risk.”

“But not one I want to take.”

“Tell me something. Let’s say that after this date, they fall in love, and that love survives teenage years and training for careers and they get married. Who would be her best friend then?”

“I would.”

“Are you sure? Who’s my best friend?”

“Dad.”

“And who was my best friend when I was a teenager?”