February 2011
Helen Sutherland was the most beautiful girl in the world, of that Michael had no doubt, which was why he had timed his departure from the school to coincide with hers. He had also timed it to not coincide with that of 'Bomber' Harris and his two cronies - he kept as far away from that kind of trouble as he possibly could; but, as he had watched them swaggering off up the street some five minutes earlier, he felt safe enough to follow Helen today.
He kept a discrete distance behind her, so as not to make it obvious, but close enough that he could see the object of his dreams clearly. She was not like the other girls in school: rumours abounded about what some of the girls got up to - 'behind the bike sheds', so to speak - and, if you discounted the majority as testosterone fuelled exaggeration or simply wishful thinking, that still left a few who were perhaps just a little more 'sociable' than the rest. But Helen wasn't like that at all; she spent most of her time with her two best friends, Rachael and Clare, and 'Bomber' took great delight in calling them the 'the three dykes', much to Michael's disgust.
As the three girls turned the corner out of sight of the school, Rachael and Clare both rolled the waistband of their uniform skirts around to raise the hems halfway up their thighs, but Helen always kept hers at prim regulation height - just above the knee. Michael was disappointed, as he knew that Helen had fantastic legs - he always sat near the window in the cafeteria on Thursday lunch-times when the girls' netball team practiced and the sight of Helen leaping about in that short flouncy skirt always left him in a cold sweat.
But ahead they had stopped at the bus stop and he was forced to walk past them as nonchalantly as he could, wanting desperately to say, 'Hi!' but totally lacking the courage. He tried to watch out of the corner of his eye to see whether she had even noticed him as he passed, but they seemed to be deep in conversation while Clare was sending a text message and he was simply invisible.
Emblazoned across the window of the corner shop was a huge red sign announcing 'Valentine's Day, Monday 14th February.' Michael slowed down as he approached and then, on a sudden impulse, turned into the shop. He knew it was a stupid idea, but, once he had started, he couldn't stop himself; he spent a long time sifting through the racks of cards, discounting most as too silly or too sloppy or too crude, and in the end reduced his choice to three. He finally settled on a Tatty Teddy card - the bear was holding out a box of chocolates with such a pathetically shy grin that he simply couldn't fail to win her heart.
He took it to the till, so engrossed that he failed to hear the door open behind him, but he did feel the hands that landed heavily on his shoulders, 'Hey, Mikey, you Muppet, watcha buying?' 'Bomber' snatched the card from his trembling fingers and opened it up, 'Oh, that's rich! . . .' he turned away from Michael, who was attempting to grab it back, ' . . . I think my heart must be made of chocolate . . . 'cause it melts when I'm near you!' He poked his fingers towards his mouth and gagged. Michael was dying on the spot.
The door opened and Mr Meyrick came in. 'Twenty Benson & Hedges, please, Ali,' he said, taking in the scene at the counter. Michael snatched the card back and the three reluctantly left the shop; but they hung around outside, pulling faces at him through the window and pointing suggestively at the Valentine's poster. Michael waited until Mr Meyrick left and followed him at a safe distance until the boys eventually gave up.
The following Monday, Michael made a point of being in early and, to his relief, the classroom was empty. He looked back at the door to make sure, then placed the card carefully in the centre of Helen's desk before retreating to his seat at the back of the class.
A few minutes later though, uncharacteristically early for a change, the three boys came in and immediately homed in on the lone card. Michael cringed as the card was opened and 'Bomber' shouted across to him, 'Hey, you Melting Chocolate Muppet, you won't get nowhere with the likes of her!' and, to Michael's horror, slipped the card into his pocket.
The rest of the morning was uneventful, but Michael dreaded the impending lunch break, he felt certain that 'Bomber' and his mates were up to something. He tried to stay inside the building, but Miss Carter, the PE Teacher, saw him lurking by the lockers and ushered him enthusiastically out into the playground, 'Michael, you simply can't stay inside such a beautiful day as this - out you go and play!'
He had only got a few yards when he saw them, lounging against the wall in the corner; he turned back, but the door had been closed behind him. He froze. 'Hello, lover-boy!' Strong hands took a firm grip on his arms and he was led out onto the field, where the three girls were chatting. 'Bomber' thrust the card into Helen's hand, 'Hey, babe, seems like this Muppet's got the hots for you. Reckon he deserves a kiss, don't you?'
Helen's face was impassive as she looked from 'Bomber's' grinning face - to Michael, who was staring at his feet as if he was willing the ground to open up and swallow him - then back to the larger boy again. The grin faded, his ploy hadn't quite had the impact he had anticipated.
Helen opened the card and read it slowly; she looked up at Michael, whose face was now glowing bright red. 'I am not in the habit of kissing anyone unless I want to,' she said. But then her face softened into a warm inviting smile, her eyes sparkled mischievously. She advanced towards 'Bomber' and said, 'But, after all . . . it is Valentine's Day . . . isn't it?' His face was a picture - he certainly hadn't expected this - neither did he expect what happened next; Helen suddenly drew back her arm and her hand struck his face with such stunning force, it knocked him sideways into Arnold; they both fell in a writhing heap on the grass.
She drew a passive Michael towards her and planted her lips on his, kissing him softly. He threw his arms around her, but more to keep his balance as his legs had gone weak beneath him. When she finally broke for breath, Michael was still clinging to her arms.
'Bomber' pointed up at her, his voice breaking, 'You little shit . . . I'll get you for that!'
Michael turned on him, 'You leave her alone - you'll have to get past me first!'
'Bomber' dragged himself to his feet, 'You and me, Muppet . . . just you and me alone . . . over there . . .'
But Helen stepped in between them; the smile was back on her face, but the eyes were black holes, 'He'll never be alone, you delinquent cretin, he'll be with me,' her voice was low and menacing, 'And if you ever lay one finger on him again, you'll have me to reckon with.' She took Michael's arm and led him away.