Diary Of My Life 💋👏

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Marcus knew that he couldn't make Will go out with his mum if Will didn't want to. But he knew Will's secret now, so perhaps he could make him do something else. He started going round to Will's flat after school.

The first time, Will wasn't very pleased to see him. He stood in the doorway and didn't invite Marcus in. 'What?'
'I just thought I'd come round. What are you doing?' 'Watching Countdown!
Marcus knew about Countdown — the most boring programme in the history of television. But he wanted to get inside Will's flat.
'I could watch it with you if you want. I really like it.' Will looked at him for a time. 'All right. Come in.' There were lots of interesting things in Will's flat — hundreds of CDs, records and cassettes. There were pictures from films on the wall, and black and white photos of people with musical instruments.
'Who are these people? And why are they on your wall?' 'They're musicians. And they're on my wall because I like their music and they're cool.' 'Why are they cool?'

'I don't know. Because they took drugs and died, probably.' Marcus thought he wouldn't want pictures on his wall of people who took drugs and died. He'd want to forget all about that kind of thing, not look at it every day of his life.
Will made tea in the kitchen. Then they went back into the living room and sat down on the sofa. 'Do you like school?' Will asked. 'No. I hate it.'
'Why? Do the other kids bully you?'

Marcus looked at him. How did he know that? 'Not really. Just a couple of kids.' 'What do they do to you?' 'Nothing really. Just, you know, say things about my hair and glasses. And my singing. Sometimes ... I sing without noticing.' Will laughed. 'It's not funny.'
'I'm sorry. But you could do something about your hair. You could have it cut in the way you want it.' 'This is how I want it.'
'Why do you want your hair like that?'
'Because that's how it grows, and I hate going to the hairdresser.'
'I can see that. How often do you go?' 'Never. My mum cuts it.'
'Your mum? How old are you? Twelve? You're old enough to get your hair cut yourself. You could get married in four years' time. Will you let your mum cut your hair then?'

Marcus didn't think he'd be married in four years' time, but he understood what Will was telling him and knew that Will was right. But there was another way of looking at the situation. If his mum was going to cut his hair in four years' time, then she would still be alive.

Marcus visited Will a lot that autumn, and by about the third or fourth visit he felt that Will was getting used to him. They didn't talk about much at first, but one day Will said, 'How's the situation at home?' for no reason that Marcus could understand. 'You mean my mum?' 'Yes.'

'She's all right, thanks.'
Marcus had never talked about it, and he'd never said how he felt. But what he felt, all the time, every day, was a horrible fear. This was the main reason why he came round to Will's after school. Every time he climbed the stairs at home he remembered the Dead Duck Day. When he saw his mum watching the news or eating or preparing work on the dining table, he wanted to cry, or be sick or something. But he couldn't talk about it. 'Are you still worried about her?

'A bit, when I think about it.' 'How often do you think about it?' 'I don't know.' He thought about it all the time, all the time, all the time.
Could he say that to Will? He didn't know. He couldn't say it to his mum, or to his dad, or to Suzie. They would all be too worried about him. He just wanted a promise from someone, anyone, that it wouldn't happen again, ever, and no one could do that.
Will was wishing that he hadn't asked Marcus about Fiona, because it was clear that the boy was very upset. Will wasn't used to coping with people with real-life problems. He liked watching people's problems on TV, but he'd never had anyone with problems on his sofa before.
Sometimes they managed conversations about other things, like Marcus's dad.
'Do you see your dad often?'
'Quite often.
Some weekends. He's got a girlfriend called Lindsey. She's nice.'
'Would you like to see him more than you do?' 'No.'
'Well, that's all right then.'
The next week, while Will was watching Countdown as usual, he was interrupted by a long, urgent ring on the doorbell. He got up off the sofa and opened the door. Marcus was standing on the doorstep, and two ugly-looking boys were throwing hard sweets at him. Some sweets hit Will.
'What do you think you're doing?' He couldn't remember the last time he had been so angry.
The boys ran away and Will went back into the flat. Marcus was sitting on the sofa watching Countdown.
'Who were they?'
'I don't know their names,' said Marcus, his eyes on the TV 'They're in the class two years above me at school.'