'I'm not happy about this,' I muttered, scanning the public schoolyard sourly.
'You think I am?' Sally replied bitterly.
We were leaning against the wall of St Vincent's, right by the gate, waiting for Jackson to come out of school. There were a few kids hanging out in the yard in sweatpants, and Sally and I had spent a good ten minutes wondering the who the hell they were before we realised that sweatpants were the uniform at St Vincent's.
Suddenly, as though in a freaking cartoon, the orange main doors opened and hundreds of kids spilled out onto the tarmac, screaming, shouting, talking, singing, kissing, fighting and, every now and again, walking past us at the gate to get home.
Against my will and better judgement, Sally and I were here to officially ask Jackson to use his play for our school performance. Of course, it transpired that Sally had known all along that Conor had changed his mind about the fairytale play, and in the midst of trying to come up with an alternative Jackson's play had just fallen into her lap.
'What if he doesn't want to let us show it?' Sally murmured as we both scanned the crowds for Jackson.
'Then Conor will just have to get over it,' I muttered, though I didn't mean it.
'Yeah, cos you haven't hurt him enough today,' Sally said under her breath, which I clearly wasn't meant to hear.
'You know it's better that way for now,' I muttered, turning away from her.
She was having a hard time forgiving me for what I'd done that morning and I couldn't really blame her. I was angry with me too. But I really was just trying to cause minimal long-term damage.
'I don't know wha the fuck you were thinking,' she muttered. 'Rachel told me she sent you to fix things with Conor, not make them immeasurably worse. In what universe is what you did better?'
'This one,' I said firmly. 'The one where I have to play boyfriends with Jackson for who knows how long and Conor has to see it. He gets to be angry with me now, instead of himself for engineering this situation.'
Sally didn't say anything, but the way she was glaring at the ground let me know she was grudgingly agreeing with me.
'Do you see him anywhere?' I asked, conciliatory, after a minute.
'No... Oh wait, no, there he is.' Sally nodded in the direction of the school's main doors without uncrossing her arms and I followed her gaze. Jackson was standing at the bottom of the steps with a group of four or five others, laughing and talking. For the first time since we'd started going out, I didn't feel that little pull in my stomach as I registered how cute he was. I could still appreciate it on an aesthetic level but it didn't make me want to wrap my arms around him from behind and nuzzle his neck. But as Sally and I pushed ourselves off the wall and started walking over, I prepared to do it anyway.
'He sure is cute though,' Sally muttered to me while we were still out of earshot, and I glanced down to see her looking at Jackson and kind of smiling.
'Hey, you,' I mumbled, hating myself, as I slid my arms around Jackson's waist from behind and kissed his neck.
'Tyler?' Jackson asked, turning around, surprised.
'Well I would hope there isn't anyone else kissing you on a regular basis,' I replied, as I burned in my own hypocrisy.
Jackson wrapped his arms around my neck and hugged me, then turned around and started introducing all his friends. He introduced me as TyTy. It strengthened my resolve.
'And this is Sally,' he finished up, motioning to her as she stood to the side of the group uncomfortably.
'Oh my god,' one of them mumbled to another. 'That's Sally Evans.'
Sally blushed as the others realised and looked at her with a mild sense of awe, and then the rumour was circulating around the entire schoolyard and we had to leave as people muttered, 'Name Withheld,' 'Sally Evans,' 'She's the keyboardist,' '... That show the other week,' 'She's going out with Conor Archibald.' I stopped at that one and looked around, but Sally surreptitiously tugged on my hand and pulled me out of the schoolyard.
'We haven't even released the first single yet,' she muttered, thoroughly embarrassed.
'The guy who runs your Facebook fan club goes to our school,' Jackson explained, looking a bit embarrassed too. 'Sorry about that.'
'No, that's okay... I'm just not used to it I guess.'
'Name Withheld are horribly unpopular at our school,' I joked, earning a dig in the ribs from Sally.
'You'll have to get used to it,' Jackson added, as they both ignored me. 'Once the record comes out... What are you guys doing here anyway?' He grabbed my hand and laced his fingers through mine naturally; I felt my palm clam up. His hand felt wrong in mine.
'Actually, we wanna ask you a favour,' Sally admitted, biting her lip.
'Oh? Okay. What is it?' He looked between Sally and I expectantly, and Sally gave me a meaningful look, telling me to say it. I shot the look back at her, and she returned it again. Eventually I sighed and bit the bullet.
'Sally showed us your play yesterday after you emailed it to her,' I started. 'It's really good, Jackson.'
He grinned. 'I know. Like Shakespeare, right?'
'We're not joking, Jackson,' I said seriously. 'You're an incredibly talented writer.'
He blushed. 'Okay. So what has this got to do with...?'
'Well... We were wondering if we could use your play to submit to Ms Hughes tomorrow afternoon.'
Jackson's eyebrows disappeared behind his wayward hair. 'Seriously?'
'Yes. If you'd allow us.'
'What about the other play? The one you and Josh and Conor wrote?'
'It's still missing, and,' I paused, then spat out, 'it was pretty bad anyway.' I hadn't read Conor's play... But I knew it wasn't bad. Aside from the fact that he was a good writer – a great writer – his play was more personal. It had a place in my heart whether I liked to admit it or not.
'Oh. Well then, yeah, I guess you can use my play. Go ahead.'
I laughed. 'It's not quite as simple as that.'
'You'll have to come up to Glenstal Abbey and sign a few things,' Sally explained. 'And if you have an agent or manager they should be there too.'
Jackson raised an eyebrow at her sceptically. 'I'll just bring my dad. What kinds of things do I have to sign?'
'Just some forms giving us permission to use the play and stuff like that. It's pretty straightforward.'
'Won't you get in trouble for using a play you haven't written? That was your punishment, wasn't it?'
'We won't be using Glenstal Abbey's lawyers, we'll be using our own,' I said assertively. 'One of the forms will say you can't tell anybody you wrote the play. And we'll have to discuss a fee of course.'
'A what?' Jackson stopped walking; I noticed we were near his house.
'A fee. We'll obviously pay you for the privilege.'
'Um, no, don't. It's fine. I don't want any money.'
I smiled in spite of myself and wrapped an arm around him. I still cared about him as a friend and he was obviously getting freaked out about how much this thing was escalating. 'Don't worry about it Jackson, it'll be really straightforward. We're not going to take the play for nothing, so you may as well accept the fact that we'll be paying you.'
'But who's paying me? Since it's not the school?'
'We'll be paying you from our private accounts,' I said, frowning. I mean, duh.
Jackson shook his head. 'No, I don't want that. I don't want any money or forms, just take the play.'
I choked back a sigh and looked to Sally for help.
'We have to do it this way,' she said softly. 'It's just to make sure there's no unpleasantness later.'
Jackson scowled. 'You people don't trust anyone, do you?' he demanded, and turned around to storm down the street and into his house, leaving us standing on the sidewalk, perplexed.
'You have to go after him,' Sally said softly, looking at me apologetically.
'No. Please. You go. Please Sally.'
'I'm sorry,' she mumbled. 'It has to be you.'
'I don't want to. I can't. I feel like such an asshole, I can't do this.' I was getting upset, and Josh wasn't even in the vicinity.
'I know, but you have to. Do it for Conor.'
'I can't do it for Conor! I want to not do it for Conor.'
Sally caught me by the shoulders and spun me around so I was facing Jackson's house, then gave me a slight push. I walked down the street, trying to control my emotions to be the right ones for cajoling Jackson, and knocked on the door. To my utter horror, a tall guy with a bald patch answered.
'Can I help you?' he asked.
'Um...' Like I said. I don't do parents. 'Uh, is Jackson here?' I knew he was. Why did I say that?
'Might be. Who's asking?'
'Um.' Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 'Tyler Lincoln. I'm his...' Did they know? 'Friend.'
'Bit more'n friends from what I hear,' Jackson's dad muttered, but opened the door and stepped back to let me in. I moved into the hallway tentatively, reminding myself not to get defensive. When I get defensive I can often play the "I'm wealthier than you" card and that never goes down well with anyone. Not to mention the fact, I'm not wealthier than anyone. My parents are.
'He's in his room,' Mr Smith said, jerking his head towards the stairs. 'Seems pretty upset.' He just stood there, looking at me, a mug of coffee in his hand. It was only four-thirty, why the fuck wasn't he at work? Or anywhere other than where I was?
'Um. Yes. Trying to fix that,' I said, hesitated, then bolted up the stairs, not even the thick carpeting muffling my urgency to get away from him.
I walked down the hall and knocked lightly on Jackson's door.
'I'm not hungry, Dad,' he said, sounding miserable.
I pushed the door open and stepped inside, closing it behind me. He was laying on the bed outside the covers, facing away from me. 'Please don't ever call me "dad" again,' I said weakly, trying to lighten the mood.
Jackson sat up, staring at me. 'What are you doing here?'
I shrugged. 'You're upset.' I went over and sat down on the edge of the bed. 'Wanna tell me why?'
Jackson sighed. 'It doesn't matter. When do you want me to go up to Glenstal Abbey?'
'Jackson,' I said softly. 'Come on. Talk to me.'
Jackson shrugged one shoulder. 'I just think it's really fucked up that you guys have to treat this like a transaction. It could just be a favour. But none of you trust me to follow through because I'm not one of you.'
I shifted uncomfortably. It was partly true. And considering I was planning on breaking up with him soon, we needed to be sure the whole thing was tied up in legislation to save our asses. He was right that it was fucked up.
'It's not because we don't see you as one of us,' I said, truthfully.
'Yeah,' Jackson said, with finality. 'It is.' He turned back and lay down again, facing away from me. 'But I'll meet you at your school in the morning and sign whatever you want me to sign.'
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Conor, Sally, Josh, Rachel, three lawyers, and I sat in the library somewhat awkwardly the next morning, waiting for Jackson and his dad to arrive. We were using Josh's lawyers on the basis of Rock, Paper, Scissors, at which he had lost spectacularly, and they had driven into the school a half hour earlier in a sleek black company car that could not have drawn more attention if it had had a novelty horn.
Luckily, lawyers and other officials are a pretty regular installation at Glenstal Abbey, what the well-above-national-average rate of divorce, the natural instinct of parents with money to bring lawyers into any little suspension or expulsion dispute, and, basically, the fact the top six hundred wealthiest kids in the country attend this place. So while it was obvious that there were some legal proceedings taking place on campus, they didn't exactly stick out like a sore thumb, and the administration doesn't even bother to get involved anymore unless they're part of the dispute. Most likely due to a worry that if they do, they'll become a part of the dispute.
Rachel looked at her watch worriedly. 'What time did you tell him to be here?' she asked timidly. I had been in a bad mood ever since leaving Jackson's place – it had started out with just feeling guilty and uncomfortable but had mutated overnight into a sort of self-directed fury – and the only person who didn't seem to give a shit one way or the other whether I blew up at him was Conor. He'd been calling me TyTy all morning and making other snide comments that made my blood boil. Sad thing was I couldn't decide whether it would be more satisfying to shut him up by punching him in the mouth or sticking my tongue in there.
'Nine,' I answered Rachel curtly. I was pretty much operating on monosyllabic answers today.
'It's nearly half past,' she murmured. 'Is he definitely coming?'
Sally and I glanced at each other warily. We hadn't mentioned to anyone the negative reaction he'd had about the forms and fees, and that he seemed to feel used and cheapened by the whole situation (which wasn't entirely inaccurate). Then again, he'd said he would be here to sign the papers.
'Rachel,' I said suddenly, turning to look at her.
'Huh?' She looked a little scared.
'You used to be poor,' I said bluntly, and literally everyone at the table looked at me like I was insane.
'Yeah...' she conceded warily, wondering where I was going with this.
'Is this... Are we... Is this fucked up?' I finally managed to ask.
'I need more,' she said, after staring at me for a couple of seconds.
'This,' I gestured to us, the lawyers, the forms. 'Do you think that this is superficial and weird?'
Everyone glanced from me to Rachel to hear her response.
'Um. That's kind of a difficult question. Yes?'
'But...?' Josh prompted her, sensing there was more.
'I wouldn't have been able to understand it before, but I do now. Does this have something to do with why Jackson is late?' she asked shrewdly. I could only manage to shrug in response.
We settled into a reflective silence as the lawyers began to look at their watches impatiently. It was almost nine-forty and Jackson hadn't even texted or called to say when he'd be here or if he was coming at all.
Noticing this, I muttered, 'Rach, maybe you should call him.'
Rachel stood up to go outside as she scrolled through her contacts list for Jackson's number, but just as she turned to leave we saw him and his dad meandering through the bookshelves, both looking more than a little nervous.
'Um,' Jackson muttered as he reached our table. 'Hi, everyone.'
There was a mumbled response as Jackson and his dad shook hands with the lawyers and sat down. Mr Smith didn't look so intimidating as he shuffled into a chair in our huge library as he had done yesterday, but I still caught Josh smirking at me; he knows how I am with parents.
I leaned back in my chair with my arms folded, Conor-style, and tuned out as Ms St John started going over the papers with the Smiths.
'Now, Mr Davenport and his associates are putting an offer of €2,000 on the table as an opening bid,' Ms St John was murmuring, and I heard Jackson emit a hiss of cynicism. 'It's a generous offer,' she told told him, misinterpreting his response.
'Mm,' Jackson said inscrutably. 'It sure is.'
Ms St John glanced at Josh, but he just nodded at her to continue, so she did, passing a number of documents to Jackson to sign.
When he was finished, Josh took an envelope out of his school bag, which we'd already filled with €400 each, and handed it to Jackson, who passed it to his dad without looking at it.
'Thanks,' he said tonelessly.
Twenty minutes later Ms St John and her underlings had packed up and left and we were all standing about around the fountain slightly awkwardly. Mr Smith had rushed back to work as soon as the papers were signed, the envelope of money in his jacket pocket.
We were all silent for a few minutes, shuffling and looking anywhere but at each other. I figured everyone was feeling a bit dirty for having bought a play instead of written one, and Jackson, for his part, seemed kind of disgusted with us as well.
'Jack,' Rachel said softly after a while of this silence, moving closer to him putting her hand on his arm. 'You really saved our asses here. I don't think we can thank you enough.'
'That's okay,' Jackson said, cynicism still rolling off his body in waves. 'The money should cover it.'
Sally tilted her head and looked at him. 'Can I ask,' she started, then paused, before just coming out with it. 'What is exactly is the problem with us paying you for the play?'
Jackson laughed. 'That play is not worth €2,000. It's not worth €200. I wrote it over a weekend because I had to, not because I wanted to. You guys didn't buy my play. You bought my silence.' He shrugged. 'You don't trust me.' This was directed at Rachel and I specifically. 'And that's fucked up, because I've never done anything to suggest that I'm not trustworthy.' He was looking directly at me now, and I felt snakes of guilt squirm and twist in my gut. There was a palpable discomfort settling around us now, and I could feel Conor standing just behind me to my right like a tell-tale heart.
Rachel moved around to stand in front of him, forcing his gaze down on her and away from me. 'Jack, no,' she said, sounding distressed. 'That's not how it is at all. Do you really think I've changed that much in just a couple of months? It has nothing to do with you, or with Tyler, or with anyone. It's just how things are done here. You can't take it personally.'
'The fact that you can even say that shows me just how much you've changed in the past couple of months,' Jackson said. I don't think his intention was to be cruel, but we could all tell Rachel was hurt by it.
'I'm sorry,' she said, sounding like she was on the verge of tears, and I guess he took pity on her, because his face softened and he threw her a bone.
'Come on, Rach,' he said. 'How many times have you hung out with your old friends since you started here?' Silence. 'You sent me a Golden Ticket to come play dress-up in your new life, but you don't exactly venture outside the Chocolate Factory very often, do you?'
Rachel shook her head guiltily.
'And,' he went on, lifting his gaze to me again, 'I've spent time with your friends and your enemies,' meaningful glance at Conor, 'but you only met my friends for the first time yesterday. And that was only because you needed something from me.' This was all true.
'Okay,' Rachel said, nodding. 'Okay, you're right. We fucked up. We're sorry. What do you want us to do?'
Jackson laughed again. 'You're welcome back at Robbie's place any time you want,' he said to her. 'But don't bring them unless they really want to be there. Other than that, bring as many people as you like.'
Rachel turned meaningfully to Josh and I, and that point we were so thoroughly put in our place by Jackson's harsh truths that we just nodded wordlessly.
'We'll be there tonight,' she said authoritatively.