Читать книгу A Fucked Up Life in Books - Литагент HarperCollins USD, J. F. C. Harrison, Professor J. D. Scoffbowl - Страница 9

I was in reception when I met my first love. He was in year one so we didn’t share a classroom, but we used to see each other in the playground and would poke around at the worms on the concrete together, or make aliens out of the grass cuttings on the field. He was the most handsome boy in school, and all of my friends were well jealous.

At the end of one day, the school sent letters home with us about helping to litter pick on the field at lunchtime the following day. Mum asked me if I wanted to do it, and I did. She packed some gloves into my schoolbag so that I didn’t scratch my hands on the bushes and didn’t touch anything unsavoury.

The day of the litter pick our teacher was reading us Burglar Bill before our morning break. She was one of those teachers that fucking loved reading out to us, and after reading out each page she would turn the book around and sweep it slowly in front of us all sitting on the carpet so that we could see the pictures. Then we went out for break.

I found him waiting by the water fountain. He asked what story we’d had and I told him it was Burglar Bill. Then he told me that we weren’t allowed to play on the field at lunchtime. I told him I was allowed to go on the field because I was going to litter pick. He looked at me a bit funny.

‘Why do you want to litter pick, I thought we were going to play?’ he said.

‘Because my Mum asked me and I said yes. She’s packed my gloves. I think it will be fun, did your Mum forget to pack your gloves?’ I asked.

He scrunched up his face at me.

‘I don’t want to litter pick, it’s stupid. It’s a stupid game and the stupid teachers are doing it.’ He said.

I wasn’t quite sure what to do. I’d told my Mum I wanted to do it and she’d packed my gloves. I’d given my little slip with her signature on it to the teacher saying that I was going to help out. There was no way out.

‘Maybe if I pick up all the litter really fast it will all be gone and then I can come and play!’ I told him.

He looked really, really grumpy.

‘No you won’t. We won’t get to play. I don’t think I love you anymore.’

Fucking hell. Heartbreak.

‘But I thought you were my boyfriend?’ I said.

‘Well if you go and pick litter then we won’t get to play and you won’t be my girlfriend any more,’ he said.

‘But I have to pick litter!’ I shouted.

He shrugged and walked away from me.

At lunchtime I headed out with the other volunteers and picked crisp packets and other shit out of the thorny bushes. I looked over at the playground and there he was, poking at the worms with my best friend. Traitor. Cunt.

We didn’t talk at school anymore after that. And when I went into year six he went to a secondary school. And when I went to secondary school it was a different one to him.

I saw him a few years later when I was about fifteen and out playing and called him a fucking bastard. He said that he was sorry. I got off with him for a bit, but he wasn’t very handsome anymore so I sacked him off after a couple of weeks. We didn’t want the same things, anyway. I still wanted to pick litter and he still wanted to flirt with my mates. Young love, eh?