And Your Girl Can Sing

Chapter 4: Weed, And Why It's Good to Say No

All these words and I couldn't tell June no. I barely heard John give the negative response to June's question, but stared out the window and thought about how to best get out of the situation.

We were in a strange part of town, really on the other side of London. I didn't recognize it. John was looking around in interest, his hands still in his lap. I felt the irrational need for him to reach out and take my hand, but he didn't. Both June and John would be more likely to smoke than me. I wanted to leave. But we were already out of the car, and June was leading us in climbing some steps, and a head peeked out of the door: Danny Newsport. What a bloody coincidence. The school pothead. We had history. We used to be friends back in primary school when everyone was young and clean and innocent, and then secondary school arrived, and people turned out to be not so young and clean and innocent, and things started falling into shambles.

All right, Drama Queen, shut it.

"June," he acknowledged, his dark head and the rest of him appearing as he opened the door to reveal a normal looking house. He turned towards John and me, who were standing at the bottom of the steps, John seeing my reluctance to go inside. Danny's eyes widened for a quick second at my appearance, but he recovered and said, "Hello, Cora and her male friend."

"Yer a plonker," June shook her head.

"Come inside, you lot," June told us. We all walked towards the door, but Danny shook his head. "Only her." He pointed at June, not quite looking at me. "You all wait out here."

"Give me a bell if he tries to murder you," I called out sarcastically to June, and the door closed behind them.

John and I sat down on a brick lining that hosted some pretty flowers. "That was an odd encounter," he said. "You and that bloke, you got history?"

"Somewhat," I said, and looked at him to find an oddly understanding expression on his face.

There was a silence and he suddenly said, "Look, Cora, let me ask you one thing. You don't want to get skunk, do you?"

I shook my head, not looking at him. "Not really. At least not now. Usually if I'm with June I just do it, you know? Because she's my best mate and all. Look, I'm not trying to be a prig but now isn't the right time, I suppose."

"You don't have to," John said. "Let's just go."

I was caught off guard. "John, I can't just leave my best mate," and he said, "If she's doing something bloody stupid and making you come along even though you don't want to, and now you're feeling gutted about it—"

"I am not feeling gutted," I interrupted.

He put a hand on mine to stop me. "You don't have to do everything she tells you to do. All you have to do is say no."

How bloody ironic. You tell people what to say all the time. Weren't you the leader of the whole band in the first place? Didn't you introduce so many new things to the band?

Too late, June was back outside. "All right, I talked to Danny, let's go inside, there's a back porch and all," she said, her fingers snapping shut a large change purse. I looked at John, and he gazed at me with a look that fueled my next words: "June, I don't want to use skunk."

"Of course you do," she said impatiently.

"You don't know how I feel inside. You're not me." And then for some reason, "I do not want to participate in this activity." June looked abashed for a moment, and then she said quietly, "Fine. Don't. But find your own ride home."

She disappeared into Danny's house, and I looked at the ground, slightly embarrassed, until I felt John's fingers touching my hand softly.

***