And Your Girl Can Sing

Chapter 59: Real Life Is Just Like School, But Magnified

"He can't fire us now, it's the last fucking one!" he laughed and tugged at my hand. I reluctantly followed, feeling both parts ecstatic and terrified. Eckhorn had paid them already for their whole time yesterday and, honestly, it was a mistake on his part. He should have known bette. Once the money was in John's pocket, he thought he was home free. "Bless Eckhorn! Remember my prayer on the plane here?" He suddenly grabbed my waist and spun me high in the air. "We're going back home, love, and you and I can have such a good life, you know that?"

"Yes," I told him, his energy infectious, seeming to hypnotize me, that this one twenty-one year old could change my world, could change the whole world.

"Come on, come on," he said excitedly, pulling me further along the canal. The walkway diverged over a bridge and we climbed up halfway and watched the still water, the moon reflected from its mirror-like image. Our walk slowed; I was panting. He gave me a teasing, judgmental look and I sheepishly grinned at him. We both faced the canal, leading off into who knew where, standing close to each other.

"What would you say if—" I looked up at him and whispered, all traces of fear of an angry headmaster-like Eckhorn coming for us. John seemed to bring out a side of me I never knew I had. More freedom to do things I had never thought of doing before. Maybe it was the world around us, less restrictions than school, but all the same, the punishments were harsher: fines, jail sentences, beatings without end if one messed about too much with a drunken sailor.

"If what," he said, his eyes smiling at me, leaning on his crossed arms on the stone wall separating us and the water below. "Oh—oh! Don't say what I think you're going to—"

"If I pushed you in—"

"Don't start," he giggled. "Not you. If anyone's going to be doing any pushing, it's me," but I was already running away, laughing against the still June night. "I'm coming for you!" he said, youthful energy propelling him after me, laughing with me. The bridge opened into a smaller walkway lined with streets, people were walking around and I dodged them as I weaved through them. They muttered German obscenities at me, something about crazy kids, but I was protected by the layer of obliviousness John cast on me at the bridge—the quiet moment before I had run off.

I reached a corner, debating which way to go. Round the block again or into an alleyway? I hesitated for too long, though, and John caught up to me, tickling me until I was laughing with pure mirth.

"Cut—it—out!"

"Say Please," John commanded smoothly in my ear.

"Never." I fought viciously, but his fingers soon found a sensitive spot on my stomach. I gave in and gasped out, "Please, please, John!"

"All right." He backed away, laughing, and I snatched myself out of his grasp.

"I wish I was better at tickling," I said mournfully. He held out his hands in an opening gesture. "Come here."

"You're going to get me again."

"Promise I won't."

"Like piss. If you tickle me again you have to do whatever—erm—George says for a week."

"Why Geo?" he asked.

"It'll be amusing because he won't know. By the time he catches on it'll be too late. And... now I'm backing off from this offer. Too much risk." I turned and walked and he ran and followed, grabbing my hand. I relented. "All right, Winston, walk with me."

He was so happy tonight, I thought, and then I realized, "You're not... you haven't drunk all day." He reached into his pockets and pulled out the aluminum casing of little brown pills. Not a single one of the was taken. "Not on anything, love. Just... just on you, I suppose."

I couldn't help but let a grin escape the corners of my mouth, throwing my head back and laughing. It really wasn't that funny at all, but we both roared in laughter. His strong fingers curled around my smaller hand. You're wearing the same dopey smile as Paul, I noted, and felt strange inside, a strange kind of happiness. My god, I don't think I've ever...

"You're always running away from me," John said with a slight chuckle, his thumb caressing part of my hand. "Don't ever leave me."

"I won't," I said. My hand touched something in my pocket; it was a pastry from yesterday night at the restaurant.

"What's that?" he asked me. We had passed the shops and ended up walking into a small park. Both of us had no idea where we were going nor did we care. Eckhorn? George? Who are they? I thought as the park pulled me in with John. I pulled out the pastry. "Look. A raspberry tart."

He looked at it for a few seconds, but I was more interested in the grass we were walking by. "John, all this beautiful June grass... let's have a lie down. We won't be young forever, you know." Without questioning me, the mischief in his eyes confirming my idea was up to his standards, he guided me across the grass towards a tree and we sat down under it. It was like when we first travelled back to Chiswick and it was dark. The grass was the same color, the color of darkness, but it was soft under my bare arms.

"Not used to being without a dress," I told him. "Feeling the grass on my legs. All I feel is leather. Mistake, that, to wear these pants in June heat."

"Ye look great in them, love, no one looks like you do." I leaned against him, looking at the sky, and he nuzzled at my neck. I was still holding the pastry in my left hand. I took a bite, and the thing crumbled, sending a few pieces down the front of my shirt.

"You've lost some of that pastry there, love," John said, and then in a lower voice, "Can I help you get them out?"

I looked at him for a few seconds and then in a single fluid motion, my shirt was over my head, the lightest shirt I owned, gone like water.

This chapter was cute but if you're tired of cute, it's coming! Thanks for sticking around you all! Finding pockets of time among finals to write! <3