Bigger Boys & Stolen Sweethearts - Alex Turner

10. One For The Road

  I got a right old mouthful when Mum and Dad found out about my suspension. Only a few words, nothing out of the ordinary, but all very 'disappointed' and furious. Mum blamed Arabella since Mr Checkers had told her that she was involved too. Mum told me:

  "It's because you've been hanging around that vulgar girl. You've never acted out like this until you met her."

  "This has nothing to do with Arabella!" I protested. "He punched me in the face which, fair enough, pissed me right off. It was my idea Mum."

  "You forced her?" Dad had asked.

  "No," I said quietly and shook my head.

  "I can't believe this," my mother said, shaking her head. "Go upstairs Alexander."

  "What so I'm grounded?"

  "Go upstairs."

  I was in fact 'grounded'. Which made no sense because I was already suspended from school and they were barely home so how were they meant to watch over me? Let alone enforce my grounding? For once their lack of existence in my life was giving me one hell of an advantage.

  As soon as they left for work the following day I phoned up Arabella — we'd finally traded numbers before we went home so we could keep in touch.

  "Grounded?" I asked her.

  "You bet," she said in a very unimpressed voice. "They locked up my bike," she pouted, her voice sounded better in real life. "So using that to get around is out of the picture."

  "Sounds like they're one step ahead," I teased.

  "I'm not exactly sure if we can go out anymore now," she said sadly. "Sorry."

  "It's not yer fault," I said softly, not wanting her to feel responsible.

  "So now what?" Arabella asked.

  I shrugged, "we walk?"

  I could just imagine her rolling her eyes, "call me back when you've got something more interesting planned." And then she hung up.

  She was always surprising me so I decided it was my time to surprise her. My family had two cars. One that was my Mum's and one that was very old but considered my Dad's. No one ever took it out and  I sure as hell wasn't allowed to take it out even when no one was using it. It was this vintage number that looked cool as hell but it had the tendency to break down in the worst times.

  When I was five, Dad was taking me into Sheffield for a football game I had. We were halfway there, already late because I must admit, me and my family are terrible with timing, and the whole thing made this god awful thunderous grunt and before we knew it, we were stuck smack bang in the middle of the road in this red convertible. I never made it to my football game.

  I decided Arabella was worth the risk and rummaged through my dad's coat pockets until I found the keys for it and reversed it out the driveway. It felt good to be driving on my own, even driving at all. Over a month into having my license and I hadn't sat behind the wheel since I passed my test. I remember telling myself if I could drive us down on Arabella's bike to Sheffield, I could drive a vehicle that I actually had practice and a license for.

  I drove as safe as possible to Arabella's house, going well under the speed limit to warm the car up because I just knew Arabella was going to make me floor it as soon as she got inside. I pulled up at her house and climbed out the car, this excited little smirk on my face as I leant against the hood and dialled Arabella's number.

  "Have you got a better idea?" she asked, my smile widening at her voice.

  "Come outside," I said, eyeing her front door through my dark sunglasses.