Daisy smiled.
‘What you smiling at?’
‘Nothing.’
‘You are. You’re laughing at me.’
‘I’m not.’
‘You are.’
‘I’m not!’
‘You are!’
‘Get off! No. That tickles—’
‘I’ll teach you.’
The next thing, the two of them were on the floor, rolling around. Sometimes Jaz was on top, sometimes Daisy. Either way it was fun, if painful when the laughter got too much. Sometimes Daisy was winning, and Jazir let her win, and sometimes Daisy was losing.
And she let herself lose.
‘Are you all right in there, you two?’ It was Jazir’s mother, knocking on the door. ‘Would you like something to eat, Daisy?’
‘We’re all right, Mum,’ Jazir shouted, trying to get up. ‘We’re working hard.’ But the door swung open, unlocked.
‘Oh, Jazir. What a mess you’ve made!’
‘Yeah, Mum.’ On his feet, unsteady. ‘I’ll clean it up. Right this second, Mother.’
‘I’m helping him, Mrs Malik,’ Daisy said from the floor, showing her a piece of burgerwrap she had picked up. ‘Look.’ She got to her feet.
‘That’s nice of you. Dinner will be ready soon.’
‘Daisy’s going in a bit. I’ll walk her home.’
‘Very good. There’s some nasty men around.’
She went. Jazir locked the door. ‘My mum’s sound. Four kids. Things are changing. It’s just—’
‘Am I really going?’ asked Daisy.
‘Yeah. In a bit. Didn’t I say that?’ He did a little dance, copying the movements of Frank Scenario. One two, one two, slide… singing a lyric.
Closer they came.
On the computer screen, the stray blurb from one land mass found a stray blurb from another. For a few seconds they danced around each other, before finally merging.
By which time Daisy and Jazir were lying on his bed.
Play to win
Afterwards Daisy kissed the wound on his hand. It was a sealed-over bump, which gently moved under Daisy’s lips. She didn’t want to talk, and Jazir was asleep anyway.
Afterwards he walked her home, as promised. Again, very little was said. Daisy was slightly embarrassed now. It was the thought of giving in so easily, so suddenly, after being so alone and so opposed for so long. Again, the probabilities were unworkable. Watching the blurbs on the computer, what had that done to her? Well, she had waited long enough and Jazir was a friend. Would her life change? Would he still be a friend? Was this the start of something, or the end? So many thoughts.
Jazir, the same. Mostly of shame, however. He knew it hadn’t gone well. He was glad it had happened, but why had he fumbled so, with the protection and the act and the afterwards? The thought of his mother and sister downstairs, that was part of it. And the ever-present father, floating in his mind, his bedroom, his body. Would he never escape?
‘It was your first time too, wasn’t it?’ Daisy asked, finally.
Jazir didn’t answer.
‘That’s OK. It’s good, I think.’
Jazir shrugged. Daisy took his arm. She’d never seen him this quiet. There was no going back. It was an equation that couldn’t be undone. Even now, thinking of numbers.
‘Jaz,’ she said, ‘this doesn’t mean—’
‘We’re all the same, aren’t we?’ said Jazir. ‘I mean, we’re all virgins, these days.’
‘Not any more—’
‘No. We still are. Everybody is. Even Joe Crocus, in a certain sense. We’re all waiting for something to happen. It’s the times.’
‘I suppose.’
A blurbfly landed on Jazir’s shoulder then. He stroked it, without thinking, as it whispered in his ear. Some secret message.
‘You know what this is like?’ Daisy asked.
Jazir shook his head.
‘They’re attracted to you, just like they’re attracted to your special recipe. Maybe you’ve got some sauce on you, a real version that is. Is there a real version?’
Jazir shook his head.
‘What is it then?’
Jazir shook his head, but made an answer anyway.
‘I’ve been bitten.’
They were walking along the curryfare, neon bathing them bright with colours. SHAZAZ. KING TANDOOR. ASSAM. EASTERN KISS. GANGA JAL. TAKSHAKA. PALACE OF SPICE. Finally, THE GOLDEN SAMOSA.
‘Oh God, Jaz! Have you been to a doctor?’
Jazir shook his head.
‘You must. Something’s wrong with you.’
Jazir kissed her. ‘Don’t worry. I’m dealing with it. Friday night, right?’
‘Friday.’
He walked away, a blurb on one shoulder, another two floating overhead, singing his praises.