Boys Don't Knit (12 page)

A man came round from the council to test our water. He said there was too much zinc. Is this why the SodaStream's stopped working? There's nothing about it on my
Guardian
Periodic Table Wall Poster. I should Google this later.

I've finished the Not-the-Ocean-Spray sweater. I calculated that it took 22 and a half hours of actual knitting time. I think that's pretty quick. I'm looking at it now, laid out on my bed. One of the arms is slightly longer than the other, which puzzles me as I'm sure I used the same number of rows in each. Also, there are a couple of dropped stitches from the other night when Mum and Dad were out and I was watching
Dallas
and my attention was caught by a particularly dramatic confrontation between Christopher and John-Ross.

I'm not one hundred per cent happy with the jumper. But the cabling on the front is quite neat, I suppose, and I added a couple of impressive flourishes that just came to me. I'll take it in to class tomorrow night and get some constructive criticism from Mrs Hooper.

Googled zinc. Apparently, excess zinc causes lethargy and ataxia. So this is why I'm rubbish at football. The good news is that I can now blame my dad, who probably bought cheap zinc pipes when he installed the bathroom and kitchen suites. He can't really argue with Google.

And if I fail my AS levels that'll be down to him, too.

Mrs Hooper LOVED the sweater.

‘This is astonishing,' she said as she examined it.

‘Dropped a couple of stitches watching
Dallas
,' I mumbled apologetically.

It was before class and a few of the others had wandered in and joined Mrs Hooper to exclaim over my work. I did feel a bit proud.

‘This cabling, was this from a pattern?' Natasha asked.

I shook my head, slightly embarrassed. ‘I just thought of it as I was doing it. The jumper itself is inspired by the Ocean Spray design.'

‘I see that. It's brilliant,' she said, her eyes shining.

‘One of the arms is longer than the other,' I pointed out. ‘I think I must have miscounted.'

‘Or it could be that you've made the knits slightly larger on one side. That's natural for a beginner, until you've settled into your natural action.'

I was pleased to hear that. I hate getting calculations wrong and it had been bothering me.

‘What are you going to do next?' Mrs Hooper asked excitedly.

I shrugged. I hadn't really thought about it.

‘Why don't you go down to the bookshop? They have quite a wide selection of new patterns down there. I think you're probably ready to tackle something quite complex now.'

‘You do?' I asked.

‘Definitely,' Mrs Hooper said.

Everyone smiled at me and it felt pretty amazing, just for a moment.

I'm nearly done clearing out the shed. It's really quite spacious now. Dry and warm. I can see why Mr Frensham spent so much time in there. It would make a nice, relaxing place to sit and reflect and maybe get away from Mrs Frensham from time to time. It would also make a nice place to sit and knit, in peace.

Mrs Frensham brought me a radio today, along with my tea. I paused the
Knitwits!
podcast I was listening to on my iPod and smiled at her.

‘Found this in a box,' she said gruffly. ‘You might as well have it, instead of listening to that thing all the time,' she pointed to my iPod, clearly thinking it was a portable radio.

‘Actually, I'm listening to a podcast,' I told her. ‘About knitting.'

‘Whatcast?'

‘A podcast. It's like a radio programme, but you download it off the internet and put it on your iPod.'

‘What's wrong with the radio?' she asked.

‘Well, they don't always have the programme on that you want to listen to.'

‘So change it to Radio Two,' she suggested. ‘What programme did you say you were listening to?'

‘
Knitwits!
It's two girls who talk about knitting a lot.'

She stared at me for a while, an odd look in her rheumy eye.

‘You're a bit odd, aren't you?' she said.

You know in
The Apprentice
where one of the contestants flaps about, talking to potential customers without actually selling anything and they later get accused in the Boardroom of being unable to ‘Close the Deal'? Well, that's like me with Megan Hooper. There's lots of talking going on. Lots of face-to-face interaction, but no contract. Not yet.

Take today, for example. I saw her at lunch, she was on her way to the library. I was heading off to the staffroom to talk to Mr Grover. We smiled at each other. I said hello. She said hello. Then I couldn't think of what to say next, so I said, ‘See you later'. She said, ‘See you later', and we smiled at each other again and that was that.

As it is pretty obvious that I really don't know what I'm doing here, why can't Megan take charge? Maybe she's really not interested, and that kiss we had was like an experiment that has somehow failed? Maybe she instructed Jasmine not to give me her number? Why does it sometimes seem as though she's avoiding me at school?

The reason I'm not giving up hope entirely is because it's so bloody awkward with her and everyone knows that's a good sign. If we were just friends, then we'd chat, or just make stupid faces at each other in the corridor as we passed and not think anything of it. If looking at me made her want to stick forks in her eyes, then she'd just ignore me, or run away, like the other girls do.

But there's something there. I know it. Something there that makes it impossible to have a normal conversation with her, something that makes me trip over my shoelaces, and makes her drop her books. Something that makes both of us act a bit mental around each other.

Or am I just kidding myself?

Apparently I'm just kidding myself.

Hated today. I had another run-in with Lloyd Manning. Plus Megan seems to be not just avoiding me now, but deliberately ignoring me. So much for the mutual-awkwardness theory. I couldn't get close to her because she was always with a group of friends, helping each other with their quadratic equations, or pretending to. I hung about for a bit, feeling like an idiot, and when it was clear she wasn't going to even look up, let alone come over and talk to me, I gave up and went off to the library, which is where Psycho Manning caught up with me. I was sitting, staring at a page of logarithms and he just walked past and slid all my books off the desk onto the floor.

‘Shh,' Carter the librarian hissed at me.

‘Sorry,' I mouthed. Then I turned to glare at Manning, who was metaphorically roflhao. What was he even doing in here anyway? Manning can't read. I'd always imagined he couldn't cross the threshold of a library, like a vampire unable to enter a church.

I'd just got engrossed in the book again when he walked past and this time he snatched my notebook and walked off with it.

‘Hey!' I yelled, scrambling after him.

‘Shh!' hissed Carter again.

But I ignored him and kept after Manning, who walked quickly out of the library and ran off across the quad. I gave chase. It was windy today and leaves were being whipped around as I sprinted after him, furious. I wasn't sure what I was going to do but I wasn't going to back down, that was for sure.

Then I saw his two bodyguards, walking along towards us. He slowed as he approached them and turned to watch me.

‘Problem, Bellend?' he asked.

‘Give me that back,' I said, less sure of myself now there were three of them, but blood still boiling.

‘What? This?' he asked, looking at the book. He flicked through a few pages. It was then that I remembered the Pattern. Or the revised pattern. 2Patz.

‘Oh, how pretty,' he said. ‘Bellend's been drawing. Lovely cardigan here. And here it is again, with a hood, and now there's arms. Very nice, Gok!'

Jermaine and the other one were peering over Manning's shoulder, laughing and whispering. I felt my face grow hot.

‘It's a project for Art,' I lied. I didn't actually do Art, but they wouldn't know that.

‘Need some assistance, Ben?' a familiar voice asked behind me. I turned to see Gex, Joz behind him looking nervous.

‘Thought you were suspended,' Manning grunted at Gex.

‘Nope, it's finished,' Gex said. ‘  …  I think.'

Manning's gang fell about laughing at this.

‘Give him his drawings back,' Gex said, impressively focused given the situation.

‘Or what?' Manning said, not laughing now. The three of them walked over to us and Manning stood nose-to-nose with Gex, who didn't flinch.

‘Forget it, Gex,' I said. ‘It's just a dumb notebook.' The last thing I wanted was a fight. Not just because I'm a coward, but also because I'd be breaching the terms of my probation. And Gex would certainly be suspended again if he was caught fighting. That's assuming he wasn't already suspended but had forgotten about it, which has happened before.

‘Yeah,' Manning said, still eyeballing Gex. ‘It's just a dumb notebook.'

‘But it doesn't belong to you,' Gex said. ‘It belongs to my friend.'

The end of lunch bell rang. I was supposed to be on my way to Geography. I felt agitated.

‘Your boyfriend, you mean?' Manning said. ‘Is that why he's drawing a pansy cardigan? Is it a present for you?'

‘Come on, Gex, let's g—' I started to say, but before I could finish Gex and Manning were on the ground in a tangle of limbs. Manning's gang piled on top of two of them, rolling around, fists flailing. Joz and I looked at each other with a WTF look, then rushed forward to try and pull the fighters apart.

‘Oi, you lot!' Carter had emerged from the library for once. He came rushing up and yanked Jermaine off Gex. Then Mrs Fowler came huffing up. ‘I saw the whole thing,' she said. ‘He started it,' she said, pointing at Gex.

‘No, he didn't,' I cried. ‘It was Manning, Miss.'

At this Manning shot me a filthy look, presumably adding ‘snitch' to his list of reasons he wanted to pummel me.

‘You and you,' she said, pointing to me and Joz. ‘Get to class.'

‘But  … ' I started.

‘Now!' she snapped. I gave Gex a sorry look and walked off. He didn't seem bothered, to be honest. Gex hadn't wanted to go through sixth form anyway. He wanted to go off and be a DJ, but his parents told him they'd kick him out if he didn't keep going to school, and he's not really got anywhere else to go.

I phoned Gex straight after school. He'd been suspended again.

‘Sorry, mate,' I said. ‘I feel responsible.'

‘I had to do it,' he said.

‘No, you didn't,' I said. ‘It was just a notebook.'

‘He was bullying you,' Gex said.

‘Yeah, but who got suspended?' I said. ‘Not Manning. And I nearly got caught up in it. I'm on probation, remember?'

‘You gotta fight for your turf, you feel me?'

‘Oh, don't give me that
Wire
crap,' I said. ‘I appreciate what you did, but it was still a dumb thing to do.'

‘You are such a pussy,' he said. ‘I was standing up for you, innit?'

‘I didn't ask you to,' I snapped.

‘Next time I won't bother, then,' he sniffed.

‘Please don't,' I told him. ‘I don't want to go to jail, OK?'

He laughed. ‘You won't go to jail  … '

‘I might, if I breach the terms of my probation,' I said, angry now. ‘Thank you for standing up for me, I mean it. But next time, please let me deal with it, OK?'

‘Whatever,' he said.

Why can't he see it from my point of view? I need to keep out of trouble. So does he, for heaven's sake.

The only thing that kept me going today was the thought of knitting class tonight. How sad is that?

Nobody judges me in that class. Or at least no one is critical of me. We all help each other with our problems. It's got to the point where we talk about other stuff now, not just knitting-related stuff. I know that Mrs Simpson is having trouble with her cat bringing in birds and ripping them limb from limb on the kitchen floor. And that Amelia is having trouble finding a suitable bloke on her dating website, and that Mrs Grissome has had mysterious problems with her waterworks which she refers to in a code that all the women seem to understand but which leaves me mystified. At first I thought she meant her actual waterworks, as in the plumbing in her house. When I told her I had the same problem and was suffering from a build-up of zinc she and the rest of them gave me a very funny look.

Myself, I steer clear of talking about Lloyd Manning, or my dubious friends. But I have told them about my efforts to ensnare the beautiful Megan. Of course, I never refer to her by her real name. I call her ‘the girl' or ‘Miss X'. I am kind of attached to Miss X.

They calm me, these Stitch and Bitch sessions. It's like the girls on
Knitwits!
keep saying. Knitting is more fun with company. Company is more fun with knitting.

Dad and I were watching a recorded
Great British Bake Off
tonight and one of the contestants was carrying a man-bag in one of the background sequences they do.

‘What a ponce,' Dad said.

‘Why?' I asked, ‘Just because he has a man-bag?'

‘Not just that, look at his pointy shoes. You wouldn't catch Jeremy Clarkson wearing pointy shoes. Or James May.'

‘Richard Hammond might,' I said.

‘Exactly,' he scoffed. ‘He's a metrosexual.'

‘What's wrong with metrosexuals?' I asked. ‘They're just men who look after themselves. You know, they're comfortable with their feminine sides?'

‘Being comfortable with your feminine side is one thing, having cuddles with another bloke's feminine side is something else.'

‘Are you saying Richard Hammond is gay?'

‘What? No, well. I don't know, he might be.'

‘Frank Lampard probably wears pointy shoes,' I said.

‘He bloody does not!' Dad yelled.

‘You're such a homophobe,' I said.

‘I am sodding not,' he replied, annoyed. ‘I don't care what blokes get up to in the bedroom. The thing I don't like is when they pretend to be girls.'

‘What are you talking about?'

‘You know, shoes with heels, handbags, ballet  …  bloody needlework! These are not things for men.'

I nodded wisely, inwardly thinking, HE MUST NEVER EVER KNOW ABOUT ME.