Читать книгу Surprisingly Down to Earth, and Very Funny - Limmy - Страница 23

About halfway through fifth year in school I decided to move from Hillpark Secondary to Shawlands Academy. It was right in the middle of me doing my Highers, and because of that I ended up failing them. Failed the lot of them.

Now, why would I go and do a thing like that? Why would I move school and risk failing my Highers? Was I being battered in Hillpark or something?

No. It was because I was loved up with this lassie from Shawlands Academy, and I wanted to be with her all the time.

This is like the third time I’d fucked things up because of a lassie. This is the final part of the trilogy. First the drinking, then the wrist, then this. It wasn’t their fault, obviously, and I would have fucked things up anyway. In fact, this lassie was only part of the reason I moved school.

It was mostly because the people at Shawlands Academy had better clothes.

I’m not joking.

Remember I said that I was a bit of a tramp when I started secondary and that I was mostly interested in doing well and proving myself. Well, it was kind of the opposite by fifth year.

Me and my mates were right into all the designer gear. We were all from council estates, but we’d save up our monthly £30 family allowance and blow it on one John Richmond Destroy T-shirt or a Junior Gaultier top or something else that made us look a bit better than we were. We’d go to the under-18s like Fury Murray’s and the Tunnel and Tin Pan Alley and rub shoulders with all these other youngsters from better areas, dripping with money, these 15-year-olds with posh accents and £500 John Richmond jackets. We couldn’t keep up, but we did our best to look the part. We’d also do our best to sound the part. If a lassie asked me where I was from, I wouldn’t say I was from Carnwadric. I’d say I was from Thornliebank. Things like that.

I started noticing that a lot of these trendy folk went to Shawlands Academy or St Ninians, whereas none of them went to Hillpark. All my mates were Catholics, so they were at St Ninians, making me about the trendiest cunt in Hillpark at the time. I’d sometimes wear some of my gear into school, almost to show off, to make up for feeling like a tramp back when I started. Some folk would have imitations of the designer gear I had, like I’d have Junior Gaultier and they’d have Benzini Junior, and they’d slag me off for having what they believed to be a rip-off. And I’d be like, ‘Oh my God, you just don’t have a fucking clue, man.’ Really making up for my trampy period, really enjoying my superiority.

Anyway, this lassie.

I met her during the summer holidays before fifth year, and we really liked each other. She was into all the gear, she came from a better area with a better house, and she had a posher voice. Plus she went to Shawlands Academy. I felt like I’d pure moved up in the world.

When I started back at Hillpark and I was seeing less of her, I missed her. We’d meet up and she’d tell me what she’d been up to in school. The more I thought about her school, the more it felt like a better scene. It just felt like where I belonged. Fuck Hillpark, man. I’m out of here.

So I managed to move school about halfway through. Fuck knows how I convinced my mum and dad to let me and what my reasons were. I think I just said I was dead unhappy, and they shrugged and made the phone calls.

I met all these new folk, folk that I’d seen in the clubs. It was all fresh and exciting. People were wondering who this new guy was, I felt all interesting. The teachers didn’t seem to take a liking to me, though. I think they thought I’d be a problem, having to get me up to speed with their class. And they were right.

I couldn’t catch up with what they’d been doing. I felt myself fucking it up, and I started to just let it happen.

Me and that lassie drifted apart, until we broke up. We more than broke up. I went to speak to her one day and she said, ‘I’m not talking to you. I know what you said about me.’ I didn’t know what she was on about, and I still don’t.

I started losing interest in all the fancy clothes. I just started wearing plain gear – denims, a band T-shirt, a denim jacket. It felt better.

Then I did my exams, fucking clueless. And during summer I got the results through for the four Highers that I’d taken. Failed the lot.

What a silly boy.

I didn’t know what the fuck I was going to do.