Billy Carter

Chapter 11: Teenage Dirtbag

I woke up with a gasp, my heart racing and breathing already heavy. I'd been having a nightmare where Dad was chasing me through my house, trying to kill me. The house was a labyrinth though, and I couldn't escape. I ended up getting turned around somehow and he finally caught up to me - that was when I woke up.
"Are you alright?" Ollie asked, staring at me with worry. I noticed I had an audience watching me with expressions of concern.
"Yeah Bill, it didn't seem like you were having a good time," Tony told me.
"I'm fine, I just had a bad dream," I told them, sitting up straight on the couch I'd dozed off on. My head was killing me, and I felt nauseous. Classic hangover.
"A bad dream? Billy, you were thrashing around!" Cynthia exclaimed.
"I'm fine, it was just a dream," I said with a nervous laugh.
"Did you come across a man with a fedora, a stripey jumper and knives for fingers?" Trent asked, getting elbowed by Natalie.
"No. I'm fine, seriously you lot, stop worrying about me," I climbed to my feet and stretched. "What's for brekky?" I asked.
"Well we tried making pancakes but Jenny fucked up the batter and-"
"I didn't fuck it up, you fucked it up!" Jenny exclaimed angrily.
"That's enough squabbling, children," I said, firmly. "I, the Pancake King, shall cook you the best pancakes you will ever ingest."
"Self-proclaimed, I would point out," Tony told the others.
"Yeah but his pancakes are actually really good," Trent said.
"Exactly," I said. "Let me show you how it's done."
Everyone followed me into the kitchen where I made myself at home and prepared the pancakes - after I helped myself to a generous dosage of painkillers to ease my hangover and put on my sunglasses to dim the bright sunlight coming through the windows that was hurting my eyes. Trent was filming everyone with his phone while they all hung out with me in the kitchen. He loves filming and making little movies, staring us. He made a western once, out of pieces of footage he'd shot at random occasions and strung together. The dialogue was decent too, for snippets of random conversations. The western element, you ask? He photo-shopped cowboy hats onto all of us. Trent wants to work in film when he finishes school, he's decided he's going to be a big Hollywood director like Steven Spielberg or Quentin Tarantino or George Lucas. Tony wants to become an accountant. Don't ask me why. And Cyn wants to be a psychologist and help people with their mental problems. I don't know what I want to do. I probably won't be going to university, I'm not smart enough and my parents can't afford it. Don's said I could work for him full-time after school until I get something sorted out, or part-time if I do go to university. I'm pretty handy, so maybe I could get an apprenticeship as a builder or a mechanic. I could fix cars up, that'd be pretty cool. Dad was a builder at one point. I was eight when he got the job (he'd done an apprenticeship when he was younger and studied construction in school, so he already had knowledge and experience) and because he and Mum both worked late he'd pick me up from school then take me back to the construction site - Mum's old boss didn't like kids in her restaurant. I'd sit in the car and struggle through my homework, then when I finished that I'd play with the G.I. Joe's Dad kept in the glove-box for me until he finished work at five o'clock and we went home. About a week into that routine, Dad decided he'd had enough of going back and forth from the van to the house they were building and interrupted my dashboard-battle for assistance. I'd get him nails, screws, measuring tape, tools - whatever it was he needed, so he wasn't wasting time going back-and-forth. He got me to sort the scrap and do all the little pain-in-the-arse jobs that he hated doing. It caught on, and soon I was running errands for all the other builders as well. The next Monday one of the builders, Adam, who dad's still friends with now, bought me a yellow hard hat to fit my considerably smaller head. I got a fluorescent yellow safety vest as well, and work boots that were a little bit too big for me - I had to meet safety regulations after all. Most of the time I'd just keep them company, but I impressed them with my eagerness to help. I got ten quid at the end of every week as my pay (which was all the builders throwing in a couple pounds from their own pay as a thanks for running around after them). My favourite bit though, the part that made me feel really special, was that everyday at five o'clock they'd all sit down together after packing up and have a beer and a rest. When I started helping out, Dad'd throw a can of coke or a little bottle of juice into the cooler box so I could sit down and have a drink with the rest of them, like I was part of the team. It only lasted a few months - the company Dad was working for went bankrupt, and the whole crew was let go. But it was fun while it lasted, and I learned a lot - Dad's always teaching me things, so I'm fairly competent around the house - I even fixed a leaky sink in the science classrooms at school once in Year Nine. Perhaps I could do that sort of thing professionally, make a career or even a business out of it.
I shook my head to clear my mind. I hate thinking about my future, it just seems so bleak and hopeless to me. I know I'm a cynical person, but I can't help it. If you're always expecting the worst possible outcome, you can't really be disappointed, can you? And when things do go well, it's like a pleasant surprise. So that's how I try to navigate my train-wreck of a life. With any luck me and Ollie's relationship will work out and he'll become a successful doctor or a surgeon and I can be a trophy husband or whatever. I might have to start working out, or at least become really good at giving blow jobs. Maybe I should ask Annabelle for some advice - I mean, when she's not so shirty with me. I'd be more comfortable asking Cynthia about that sort of stuff, but she's pretty innocent. Sometimes I wished she was more whorish.
I finished making enough pancake batter for all of us - I guessed the amount of ingredients I'd need, but I've got a pretty good instinct for that sort of thing. Maybe I could add 'good cook' to my trophy husband resume. I was halfway through cooking the pancakes when Trent pointed his phone camera at me.
"Oi, Bill, do that trick were you flip 'em in the pan!" Trent told me. I smiled and did as he said, flipping the pancake high into the air and catching it again with the pan.
"Oh, cool!" Natalie's little sister Amanda - or Mandy, as we call her - said. She's thirteen, and I'm pretty sure she has a crush on me. "Do it again!"
I flipped the pancake again, to her delighted cheers, and continued cooking.
"Bill, you remember our date at Hyde Park?" Annabel asked me. I nodded. "And I didn't believe you could cook? Well I take it back, these pancakes are the best I've ever had."
"Speaking of your date, when are you two going to have your second date?" Jenny asked. "I was thinking we should double!"
"Oh, I don't think we're going to have another date," Annabelle told Jenny.
"Why not?" Jenny asked, sounding confused and angry like we were breaking up with her rather than each other.
"Because it's Billy," Annabelle shrugged. "He's an asshole," she said and popped another piece of pancake soaked in honey in her mouth. I pulled a face at her and she smiled happily.
"I guess I deserve that," I admitted. She nodded serenely.
"Well what happened?" Jenny asked, still upset. "William, what did you do?" she asked angrily.
"I didn't-" I stopped and sighed. "I may have, um, told a little fib."
"What about?"
"It's not important, Jenny," Annabelle assured her. "We're still friends and that's all that matters."
"Fine. Do you know?" Jenny asked Tony. He shook his head. "You're useless," Jenny muttered, and turned to Cynthia. "Do you know?"
"Uh, no," Cynthia lied unconvincingly.
"You filthy liar."
"He lied about how he felt, Jenny," Annabelle sighed, giving in. "He just wanted to get in my pants. I told him that's not going to happen. End of story." Sure, it didn't exactly paint me in a very favourable light, but at least it was enough for Jenny to drop the subject - and I guess technically it was kind of true. The part about me lying about my feelings, I mean - not the trying to get into her pants bit.
"Oh? Decided to try lose your virginity, huh?" Trent teased me. I kicked at him but missed.
"Wait, you're a virgin?" Annabel asked me with surprise. I blushed crimson.
"Well... yeah," I said sheepishly. She looked even more confused.
"How?"
"What do you mean how?"
"I mean how are you a virgin? Look at you!"
"W-well, we s-shouldn't be doing that until we're sixteen anyroad," I stammered nervously. "Leave me alone, eat your pancakes."
She did, and finally I finished cooking the pancakes and got to eat some myself, amazing everyone with my ability to eat like a starved rabid dog. To be honest I only ate so much because I didn't know if I'd be getting any dinner tonight - or lunch, for that matter. In the meantime, Natalie returned my clean and dry shirt and jumper to me, so I changed into them and gave Mike his shirt back. The doorbell rang and Mandy answered it, returning with my mother.
"Mum? What're you doing here?" I asked her. She smiled at me.
"Seriously Bill? Sunglasses inside?" she asked, ignoring my question. "How much did you drink last night?"
"You don't want to know," I told her.
"What am I going to do with you?" Mum asked with a sigh. Natalie's father Paul walked into the room and smiled at Mum.
"Good morning, I'm Paul, Natalie's dad," he introduced himself. "You must be after Billy, right?"
Mum nodded and laughed. "We look that similar, huh?" she asked.
"Yeah, you do actually. Sorry, I don't know your name." He offered his hand and Mum shook it.
"Janelle, but I go by Nelly," she told him.
"And you're his Aunty?" he guessed.
"Um, mother actually," she corrected him. This wasn't the first time someone's mistaken her for my aunt or cousin - even sister, once - based on her age. Mum didn't mind it when people made the mistake; it was the reaction they had when she corrects them and they do the maths and figure out she was only eighteen when she had me - that's when she can get frustrated. Paul didn't bat an eye though, and I released a sigh of relief I didn't realise I had been holding in.
"Of course, I'm sorry," he said with a friendly smile. "Would you like a cup of coffee, or tea?"
"No thank you, we have to get going," Mum told him, and turned back to me. "Can you get your things together please sweetheart?" she asked me.
"Um, sure. Can I finish breakfast first?" I asked. She noticed my plate of half-eaten pancakes and rolled her eyes at herself with a chuckle.
"Of course honey, I'm sorry," she said. "Well in that case Paul, I might take you up on your offer."
"Sure. Tea or coffee?" Paul asked, taking two mugs out of a cupboard.
"Tea, please."
"Why do we need to get going?" I asked Mum.
"Don't speak with your mouth full, I didn't raise a pig," Mum chided me. "Your glasses are ready to be collected - they came a bit early, but the optometrist closes at twelve so we need to hurry."
"Why don't we just get them tomorrow?"
"I'm working late tomorrow, your dad has some job interviews to go to, and you have work on the other side of town. Besides, your grounding starts today, remember?" she said smartly.
"You're grounded?" Tony asked me. "What did you do this time?"
"Um, I, uh, lied about some things and broke curfew a couple of times," I told him. I wasn't eager to advertise my pick-pocketing - as far as anyone else knew I'd left that little habit behind after my brief stint in juvie a couple years ago, and I couldn't disappoint my friends as well as my family.
"Yep, and now he's paying the price," Mum said. "He's not to leave the house except for school and work."
"What about tutoring?" Ollie asked.
"Well I guess you could come over for tutoring - if you don't mind the change of location," Mum agreed.
"What about my piano lessons?" Annabelle asked.
"I guess I'll allow that too."
"What about band practice?" Trent asked. "That's kinda like work. And if you don't let Billy come, really you're punishing me, Tony and Cyn as well, and we didn't do anything wrong," he pointed out.
"Tony plays guitar, you'll be fine without Billy for a month," Mum told him.
"A month?!" I exclaimed. Mum nodded very seriously. "Mum-"
"Nope, don't want to hear it," she told me, and Paul gave her a mug of tea, smiling at us.
"Ok, well you're right about Tony and the guitar part, but Billy's our song writer, so without him we don't even have anything to work on," Trent told her, and I kicked him under the table, making him yelp. "Hey, I'm trying to help you!" he pointed out grumpily. Mum frowned and looked at me curiously.
"Songwriter? Really?" she asked me.
"Um, well I've only written two songs-"
"But they're really good!" Cyn interrupted me.
"Excuse me, I was talking."
"Bill, you didn't tell me you were writing songs," Mum said with a smile. "That's great, that's- very interesting, actually..." she trailed off thoughtfully, frowning off into space. "Are you singing, too?" she asked, coming back to us.
"No, Tony's singing," I told her.
"Bill can't sing," Trent said matter-of-factly. Mum frowned at him, then at me.
"What are you talking about, he's got an amazing voice," Mum said while I made throat-cutting gestures to try and communicate to her to stop talking.
"Wait, you can sing?" Mandy asked me.
"No he can't," Cyn said, looking confused now too.
"Yes he can, he has a beautiful voice," Mum told her. "Harry taught him, your music teacher. You've never heard him sing?"
"Mum!" I exclaimed, then I said in French, "Stop talking! I don't want anyone to know, it's embarrassing!" Being bilingual has its perks.
"Alright, I'm sorry," Mum replied, also in French.
"Well, we've never heard him sing," Cyn admitted. "But he's always said he can't sing." Now everyone was staring at me curiously. I swallowed my mouthful and cleared my throat awkwardly.
"Um, actually, I've never said that I can't sing, just that I don't sing," I pointed out.
"What?" Trent asked.
"So you're admitting that you can sing?" Tony asked me.
"Well, technically everyone can sing, it's just that not everyone should sing-"
"Enough with the cryptic bollocks, William," Ollie said. "Can you sing? In a fashion that's pleasing to the ear, I mean - not like a tortured cat, like Trent."
"Hey!" Trent punched Ollie's shoulder.
"Perhaps. Think of it like that cat-box science thing you were telling me about a couple months ago," I said. "Until you hear me sing, there is a possibility that I can sing well, and a possibility that I can't. And none of you are ever going to hear me sing, so forget it."
"You mean Schrodinger's Cat?" Ollie asked.
"Yeah."
"He can sing," Mum told them, nodding seriously. Everyone stared back at me.
"Sing something," Trent ordered. They all looked like they'd just discovered gold or something.
"No!" I snapped indignantly. "Mother, take me home to my grounding, thank you."
"Go on sweetheart, you have an amazing voice," Mum said encouragingly.
"Well... Too bad," I snapped. "I'm not a jukebox, I don't sing on command."
"Maybe if he drinks too much at his birthday party you can get him to sing," Mum told them.
"You're having a birthday party?" my friends asked me.
"I'm having a birthday party?" I asked Mum. She smiled.
"Of course," Mum said. "You'll all have to bring your own drinks though," she told my friends.
"When's your birthday, Billy?" Paul asked.
"Two weeks, on the 29th," I told him.
"My baby boy's going to be sweet sixteen," Mum sighed. "Where have sixteen years gone?"
"I don't know, but in one more year I'll finally be able to get my licence," I said happily.
"Uh-oh, better stay off the roads," Trent said with a laugh. I shot him a glare.
"I'm a very capable driver, thank you very much," I told him.
"Yes, I agree there," Mum said. "He might be irresponsible in many aspects of life, but driving is not one of them. Thank God."
"Not that it matters, we don't have a car," I said.
"Well, that's true."
"I wish Natalie was the same," Paul said with a cheeky smile at his daughter.
"Oh my God that was one time and it wasn't even that bad! There was no accident!" Natalie exclaimed. Paul laughed, and I finished my pancakes.
I collected my things, said goodbye to everybody, and left with Mum.