Hollywood email: 04Feb10

Hello SS - No, I've nothing... how horrible of you to ask me that question. So direct! You know I've read some of them - the red stuff's screen friendly but why do you still think CITR is so great ? We've been over it a million times and you just don't give up do you? I don't think the JD loyalty card will break on that one, anyway he was absolutely right, I've never known him not to be. If only a few people (like you) had known him the world would've recognized the genius he was.-- Anyway CITR is book through and through and is not for multiple screen shots of LD who's far too good looking and far too old. Did you contact PW - she says one of your guys did ? She pissed off with so many calls and's embroiled with the valuation - how do you value the 'unknown' coloured stuff? - Do-Da's got it under her wing (not PW) for now, and if there's tax pressure that'll be the end of it. I'm seeing doc about the spelling - I guess headaches are just the age I'm at. I don't want to fly and see your doc but thanks anyway. I'll get over it. I'm right off Hollywood big time so could we meet in the 'Scottish Isle' for mid March? Or are you busy again ? If you really want to know...there's some interesting stuff I can tell...little snippets just for you. Love Lily Rolt.


I think I better explain this:

I fell in love when I was thirteen. Not the sort of love you can walk away from. It just got to me. Worse than heroin; I don’t take drugs but I know once you’re on it you can’t get off it. Well think of it a thousand times worse. I mean really bad.

The first time I ever saw her was just after I had swung on the basketball hoop. How could anyone forget that day - the biggest eclipse in thirty-five years was just about to happen.

I walked up to the lower side of the knoll - it's where the older boys go to smoke because it is hidden from the main block, but I like it because it's quieter; really the knoll is just a heap of crap piled up high in the corner of the playing field, probably from when they built the school. Some of it is grassed over but if you kick the surface a few times you will see old bricks and stuff. Sixth-formers sit ontop the granite boulders at the top of the knoll but plebs have to stay below the rock line.

To be honest the whole school's a pile of crap.

I dream a lot when I am in school. I imagine all sorts. That's why I sit at the back of the class. My eyes are crap. Even if they were ok I still wouldn't know what's going on. You have to invent something to kill the boredom at school, there's only so much I can take of the second world war. You wouldn't believe how every day is such a bore.

But that day the eclipse was just about to happen. It was like you could half look forward to it if you had a mind to. I was sitting on the pathway leading up to the knoll, reading The 39 Steps. There's a problem reading, it takes me an age just to read one page.

Justin Mann, my form leader, came up and sat down next to me. I hate it when someone interrupts. I have a thing about that.

There are a few books I read over and over. They take me away from school. I'd use ear phones but I don't like things stuffed in my ears. Drives me crazy.

I see movies sometimes but if it's a bad movie you've gotta hang in until it's over because you've normally gone with some Buddie or other. There is nothing worse than hanging in watching a dud movie with a Buddie you like. You stand up to go then sit down again because you are with your Buddie. Then if you start looking around people get pissed off. They think you are looking at them. You explain you don't like the movie and they say why don't you leave then. Then you get up to leave and you sit down again because you are with your Buddie and you cannot leave when your Buddie is there watching the movie. Hollywood actors are a dead give away to a bad movie. No one in the world is as good looking as a Hollywood actor so if they are pretending the movie is real why are they all so damn good looking?

I was half waiting for Justin to say something really stupid but he said nothing, which was pretty unusual for him; he just kept flicking his hair back. I knew he was doing it, he was that close to me.

The 39 Steps, top of page one hundred and forty-four and she walks up, right up, and stares down at me. Right there. Right there in front of me. Staring down at me while I'm reading my own book. That was the first time I ever saw her. The very first. Then like she was some sort of god the sky went black. Then the sun almost disappeared. And we had this massive eclipse. It was weird. Really weird. Everything behind the playground just went black. The trees went black. Everything was just disappearing. Never seen anything like it. All I could see was she had a cigarette in her hand. To be honest it didn't look like she really smoked that much.

Justin suddenly freaked out big time shouting, 'Fuck, it's all going black, it's black as fuckin' shit - Jesus fuck, I can't see fuck all!'

He jumped to his feet and danced around like some possessed screw ball. I don't know what he was playing at because the whole damn world knew there was going to be an eclipse over Fenton Prep.

It's pathetic, but only because Justin was sitting there I wanted to yell at the little twat to get her pussy feet out my way because I wasn't going to move for her, but by the time I had squinted up the second time the sun was begining to come out again and she'd walked around me and carried on; I noticed a book tucked in the back of her tatty track trousers. To be honest I'm not sure I would have told her to piss off, with a book tucked in her track trousers an all. In fact I wished Justin hadn't been there as she looked the sort, that if you got her right the first time you met her, she'd be your friend for ever. All orange and warm. May be I should've moved out her way.

I don't what it was but I found myself looking at her ass. I'm not sex mad or anything. I'm usually okay with girls. I haven't had a real girlfriend yet but when I do I think I'll be okay, I won't wear my jeans in a strange way and show my muscles and stuff. I only think about that sort of thing at night when I'm in bed. She was wearing the tan school gym top and track suit bottoms. Girls change at break-time so they don't have to traipse back to the main block. Not sure if she was one or two years below me because I didn't recognise her. Her hair was all over the place so it wasn't as if she was that neat or anything. There's five forms in our year and six in the year below. It's a hell of a of big school and at that time I'd only been there two months. My eyes followed her round because she was sure as hell going to get shouted at by the sixth formers lounging about up on the rocks looking up at the black sky.

As she leapt up onto the highest crag of the granite boulder the sun exploded out from a scarlet cloud sending hundreds and thousands of shadows everywhere and half blinding me. Small fluffy clouds appearing everywhere. My eyes are crap. I'm only thirteen. I think I'll be blind by twenty. I have loads of these circles floating around my eyes like snakes. I can't see through them. Some sort of degeneration. Each time the sun hits my eyes there's another half dozen circles. For a moment all I could see were red poppies coming into my head; really red, I don't know why. I'd told my Mom a million times to take me to National Vision or Specsavers but she never believed me, so I reckoned on just going blind when all the snakes joined up.



Anyway, when I could see again I got this sort of faint smell of pink roses and saw silhouettes of two six formers glancing over at her but none of them said a damn thing, which I felt pretty disappointed about as they should have gone berserk with some little hot shot standing on their big rock; but when I think about it there's a lot of people out there who think they rule the world but they don't really. It's such a crap world, Even on my best days, like my birthday, I don't own my world. There's always some bastards out there taking bits of it away and pulling me down. I don't even know why they're trying to do it but believe me they're sure as hell doing it.


The school bell rang. There was like a million school shoes all trudging back to the main school block; accept her, me and Justin that is. Rock girl carried on staring out towards the hills. She reminded me of one afternoon last winter at my last school. Our class visited the local zoo and we saw this baby gazelle perched on a rock, all stretched out like Bambi looking for its mother. Then it looked up to the sky toward this star, Venus or something, and made this hella of a strange noise. Everybody laughed and some of the girls said how cute the deer was. I mean it was a gazelle for christ's sakes. But it's no good telling a girl they're wrong over something like that so I just watched them call it over and stroke it nose, but I wished it hadn't of just walked so easy like that. It made me sad as hell. It was only four o'clock and I tell you there was this star in the sky that was real bright. It seemed to be moving but it was probably just the small little clouds kidding me along. I'd swear that baby gazelle wanted to get the hell out of it. Then it trotted back to it's rock and started waling even louder, right up to the star. Calling it down. And if I could've been Jesus for a moment I'd pulled out a pocket full of miracles and made that star slide down a rainbow for ol' Bambi to jump on, and to hell I probably would've gone with the dude as well - riding up high, passing through the night, star jumping like a couple of crazies from one shining stepping stone to another, hopscotching into the universe 'till we were a million miles away from the zoo and its black metal railings.

I turned the page but I wasn't really concentrating on my book anymore, I'm not sure what I was really thinking about but Justin caught my eye as he leaned over toward me, 'Who the fuck’s she?’ he whispered.
‘I don’t know.’ I replied.
‘Fuckin’ hell, she was in your face, you gay fagot, an' you just let her walk away!’
‘She only looked at me.'
'She was gagging for it for Christ's sake!'

I'm not into fuck and cunt and all that heavy stuff anymore. When I was ten I was but now when someone says fuck in our class you're half expecting something bad to happen. I'm not really into fighting and all that sort of stuff. Actually I was never very good at it.

But it was strange, rock girl looking down at me like that. With a cigarette in her hand. If you really want to know I quite liked the way she stood there for that second or two but it's not the sort of thing you let on. If she had stayed there another second I would have told her to piss off. School does that to you; I always end up doing the opposite of what I want to do.

Last summer, shooting with Justin's crap air guns in the woods; I was dead keen on shooting this deer but when it turned around and looked at me all I wanted to do was hug it. That's how I felt about her standing there. It sounds crazy but I knew I was in love.

I wanted to keep her in my head so began mentally taking snap shots of her looking down at me. About twenty I guess. I intended using them that night; I have a hell of an imagination when I'm in bed.

I thought I might as well finish reading the page I was on; but when I peered up, everybody had gone, including the girl. The sun had come out hotter than ever. I was soaking wet with sweat. I shook the grass from my black trousers but not all of it came off. I hate grass that sticks to my trousers. Most of the dry brown grass shakes off dead easily but it's the green stuff that stays on. It has no right to stick like that. So I took each piece off. One by one. Then just for the sheer hell of it decided to go up to the same rock where the girl had been standing to see if I could get into her mind, know what she was feeling. Silly really when you think about it. But I did it anyway. As I was standing on top the rock I notice an old book wedged in a crevice. It looked like the same beaten up book she had slipped down her waist band. Sort of beige with three words in big red colours down the cover: The Third Man.

I am pretty good at Art but I couldn't keep my concentration on the first lesson that afternoon. Miss Fellerman's pretty good looking for a teacher and she's not bad at drawing horses either but never stops banging on about Picasso and Van Gogh. The lesson is actually called Appreciation of Art so we don't always get to paint stuff, we have to write as well. How many times do we have to hear about how Van Gogh cut his ear off for love, sold no paintings and died without anything. Most people die without anything for Christ's sakes. We must have heard it about every two weeks and I'd only been in the school two months - if we weren't painting Van Gogh crows in the corn field or sketching his old frigging boots we were being asked to write essays on whether we would cut our ears off for love. One time we had to pretend we were some great Artist or Musician and write five hundred words on the craziest thing we would do for love. Now that's pretty dumb if you ask me. I think Van Gogh was totally mental. Of course no one wanted to buy his paintings because they wouldn't be seen dead with a painting on their wall of some crazy nut with his ear cut off. And besides he uses too much yellow. If I wanted to be a millionaire I'd tell everone I'm eleven old artist (I'm actually thirteen) and go to some field outside Paris with a canvas and splodge yellow everywhere and drip blood from my heart onto the yellow splodge and call it 'My Red Valentine'. And I'd pretend to be crazy too. Like I'd only wear girls underwear and walk around the Artist's quarter playing 'In The Summer Time' on my Dad's $150,000 stradivarius violin. And I'd play really badly too. And no matter how bad my version of 'In The Summer Time' was everyone would give me bucket fulls of money because they would think I was crazy like Van Gogh and they would all know if I really wanted to I could knock the hell out of the violin and play like a genius.

I can't remember what Ms Fellerman was banging on about exactly that afternoon, something about the eclipse and how light and dark affect Art or something but as the air conditioning was drumming right above my head I kept getting flashbacks of earlier that day. I started thinking scenarios: if I'd talked to the rock girl would she have said anything back or just ignored me? She looked like the sort who would have probably ignored me. Why did she she just look at me the way she did? Maybe she was going to say something stupid to me like most people do. Would she be at school tomorrow, the last day of term? What should I do about her book? Pretty sure it was hers. The more I thought about her the more my whole mind was full of snap shots of her standing there.

Of course, I half fancied her from that first moment I saw her but it was more than that, I promise you. She didn’t look like those models you see in glossy magazines; you know, the bored thin vampire type that never smiles or the Jessica Rabbit type with egg timer curves, false eye lashes and always looking so god damn desperate for someone to say how pretty they are; models generally make me feel cold as hell.

Now I think about it she was pretty skinny, but naturally skinny and you couldn't help notice her long legs. She looked pretty fit and bouncy on her feet and half reckoned she would've made a terrific hurdler if she set her mind on it. I'm no good at sport but I can sit by the playing field watching girls running around all day long.

Her ragged track suit, dishevelled hair and old pumps; a real Cinderella - would've driven Walt Disney crazy. The strange thing was her eyebrows, hair, lips, face legs, the lot, all melted into the same honey fawn colour, even the school track suit was almost the same damn colour. And she didn't have that fake six months in Acapulco look or the type who'd go around sucking a red lolly pop either. Actually, if you put a feather in her head you could half imagine she might be an Indian squaw.

During the fifteen minute break that hot afternoon I made my way to a table in the corner of the old wooden tuck shop and sat listening to some old hat music from the fifties. As the cooler box had run out of coke I had to put up with warm stuff off the shelf. There's this black guy everyone calls Dello who serves behind the counter; he's the size of a double decker bus and wears this red and white apron and's got these spooky round glasses, bigger than John Lennon's. His right eye always looks to the left. Weird. Dello looks pretty miserable but he's not really. He's got a smile the size of the grand canyon. Everybody likes him. Just shows you can be ugly as sin but popular as hell.

Everyone clears out his way when he waddles through between the tables - that's real respect - they wouldn't do that for no teacher - and it was no different that day as he slung open the windows shutters and let the sunshine in; as he lent over me to flick the catch he was humming some tune or other; he has this wife or some girl friend or other that sings in bars, that's what Justin said anyway - and he's seen her down town and says she's called Lorrie and a hellava looker and sings in the Old Blue Ding Club with all the big Mama's from the fifties without a microphone or anything. She even went over to him while he was standing on his own at the back. That's what Justin said. He through she was going to tell him to leave because he was too young to be in the joint but instead just bent down and gave him a real smacker on the lips while she was still singing the damn song. That's what Justin said. And you know I believe him. He gets away with murder.

The smell of beef burgers and sizzling cheesy sunflower oil mingled in hot breezy waves and to be honest I was half-minded to have a chicken salad burger but felt a bit sick having just eaten a soft chocolate bar with the warm coke and I had this air that was tying to come up. I was really trying to help it up, pretending to cough and bang my school shirt. I ruled out the burger for good as there was something like the smell of little puppies wafting around. That really did it. Besides I was beginning to feel depressed in the old wooden shack as it was heaving with girls celebrating a birthday, and they all seemed so damn happy. It was as if everyone might just stop and stare at me sitting in the corner but I knew the hell they wouldn't because they were all falling about having such a god damn good time. But it didn't stop me thinking that way. I get embarrassed sometimes, even thinking about people looking at me.

The rock girl started taking hold of me again. I was going to munch the second chocolate bar but it was so soft it was stuck to the silver paper so I began carefully wrapping it up again. It was difficult to wrap up properly because the paper didn't seem big enough. There was always one side with chocolate coming out. Well iI did my best and put it back in my Zippo. The warm coke fizzed up my nose whilst two flies kept buzzing back to my table. They were really pissing me off. Actually everything was starting to piss me off. It was tomato sauce they were going crazy over but I had no napkin and didn't really want to use The 39 Steps to kill them- sort of disrespectful. if I wrote a book I wouldn't want it being used at a fly swat, unless it was life or death or something. If it wasn't for the fact the whole damn tuck room was so damn full I would have stood up, made some room, and gone all out to swat them. You know if there's one thing I hate it flies. I can't stand flies. I'm sorry but they are the only thing I like to kill. I can kill them all day. They were taking the piss, they really were. And I can't stand the way ol' Dello never cleans the tables either. I would have said something to Dello but he has such a damn big smile.

The tuck shop roof has wooden shingles. you can see them from the inside. And I was looking up at them thinking things over which my eyes shut trying to cut out the screaming din and smell. She did stare at me didn't she - rock girl - for Christ's sakes it wasn't just my imagination was it? Could I have imagined it? I do have a hell of an imagination. sometimes I actually believe I've done things I couldn't possibly have done. But she was right in my face. Justin noticed it so I wasn't just playing it up or anything. Why me, I'm such a dork? I wondered what her name was. I'd love it it to be Nakita or Anya, some romantic Russian ballet dancer's name but I guessed it would probably Jane or something.

It's different when some stranger stares at you on the street or bus. They just look at you because they've got to get up or something and need to pass you. The rock girl just walked right up to me. I mean the knoll is the farthest point away from the main school building. Maybe she was short sighted and got me confused with some other guy in her class or something. But she didn't look like the type who had forgotten to wear her glasses out to the playground. The look she gave me was when...I'm not really sure how to put this, but if I really had to think about it, it was as if I'd been her best friend for ever but had just told her to leave and she wanted to just look at me one last time.

Justin's one of those guys who's forever lucky. He never studies but always gets in the top three. He's full of bull when he talks to the teacher and cheats like hell. Teachers like him cause the bastard looks like River Phoenix. He's like one of those young Hollywood actors and's for ever asking about my Dad who's sort of in the business. Justin's got this really elegant handwriting too. If I was marking his work I would probably give him an 'A' as well. You can be really fooled by some one's handwriting especially if he looks like River Phoenix.

He's not even a good guy if you think about it, he just damn lucky. Some people are just born lucky; but there's always a few who get dumped with all the bad luck the friggin' lucky ones should have had but never did. Justin's dad's a Hollywood writer but when ever I've been around his place he says he's out in the 'woods' so I've never really seen him, oh, except once when he was taking a bowl of mushy peas down the garden. I said, 'Hi.' but he didn't say anything back. Justin's really hung about him but he sure sounds cool to me.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not some kind of paranoid school kid. But school mates are school mates. I don’t go home thinking about how happy I am. The next day my class take the piss anyway so the last thing I want is to see them for at least a week. That's how school friends are so if I told Justin he made me happy – which he doesn’t – he’d think I was gay. He thinks I'm some sort of pussy anyway. All I've done is grown my hair for Christ’s sakes.

But once in a life time, even the unlucky ones get a break... and I was about to get mine.

It was one of the sixth formers who came across to my small table where I was sitting. I knew he was going to say something stupid, and sure enough he did: "Hey, float off asshole!"

He was one of the tall lanky idiots who always hangs around with two other guys from the Mile End rowing team; he held a sandwich in one hand and a coke in the other and to emphasise his command nodded his head toward the doorway. As the other two were making their way toward my table I wasn't going to argue. I probably wouldn't have argued even if he had been on his own but I would have said something if I'd been a year older and a foot taller.

Well thanks to that lanky twat I stood up... and could I believe what I saw next! She, that very damn well same god damn girl, passed the tuck shop door! I could only see her from the shoulders up, but there was no mistaking that hair - even with so many other kids milling around everywhere. The same bunch of crazies were still at the entrance singing Happy Birthday with fake Chinese accents but I slipped my way through and found the doorway. The sun did my eyes in again. God, it was bright that day. You could feel the heat in the breeze and my under-arms were dripping. Must have been the eclipse on top a mid-summer solstice or something.

She was heading toward the new gymnasium and from behind, hanging from her shoulder was one of those old gym bags you don't see any more. To the left side of her forehead she had this red ribbon bow in her hair. She hadn't seen me of course but I damn well started breathing heavily. I suddenly had this crazy moment of mental confusion. Worse still I felt shy as hell all over. I get like that sometimes. It's like epilepsy, I feel I'm going down, down right there and then. My whole head felt like a stepped-on giant puff ball dying in slow motion. If I've ever been slightly mad that was the nearest I've ever been to being full out crazy. In my mind it all seemed so easy to burst the balloon and say something to her. But you know I just couldn't.

She was becoming my daydream. And this weird side of me that wanted to put my hand in her hair and bring her head close to mine and sing her some sop song like, "It's a crazy afternoon let's fall in love." But somewhere deep down there was this cool inner dude thing telling me to say, "What the hell were you looking at me for?" And of course there was no way I could tell her truth - that I was totally nuts over her; but I can tell you that was the God's honest truth. I'd have given every god damn thing I had for her to be a friend of mine. But I stood there not knowing what I was going to do. How can you go so damn crazy over someone without even knowing them?

I'm not sure exactly what I did next but I remember climbing up the steep red soil bank, where there's this ten foot gully below, and peering through the high level fan light window into the gymnasium. I could see her there, playing netball. She had a hell of a jump and gave one those feminine shreeks when she made a long pass. But ten seconds was about all I had because like a real dork I slipped and fell into the gully ripping a button off my shirt, banging my head on the wall and catching my ankle something crazy. I stayed down dazed for a minute. Or it may have been three minute because you don't know when things like this happen; but when I came to my senses I just couldn't believe my trousers, it was like some camel had shat all over them. No way was I going to my next lesson like that so I sat down, crouched there hiding behind the gym listening to the echoey sound of the girls screaming inside. At times I was pretty sure it was her voice. Jesus, I never knew girls could scream so much when having fun.

The gully made a good walk way for me to check out the ankle without anyone seeing. I took my shoe off a few times to check it out but there wasn't even a bruise. The last thing I wanted was for someone to catch me spying into the gym. The school looks down on that type of behaviour. Rollersham got suspended for hiding in an empty metal locker in the girls' changing room and peeking out the bent vents.

The class eventually poured out in small girly gangs. Rock girl came out in the first group, half skipping and half making imaginary dunks; in a jiffy she was over thirty metres away. With my turned ankle it was impossible to catch her up so I approached a short girl walking out on her own whose face was all red:

'Excuse me,' I said, 'but what's the name of the one with a red ribbon in her hair?'
'You mean Lily?'
'Yeah, I was wondering what her surname was, I've got something I want to give her.' I tried to smile at her but I guess it looked a bit fake. She seemed a nice sort anyway.

She gave me a slightly weird smile back before replying, 'Lily Rolt.'

I didn't give her time to kick in with any more conversation so I thanked her and made off with a jog. A half jog, I gotta tell you because the ankle really hurt, but I feel good limping back to the main block. I went straight to the toilets, took my black trousers off and washed them using this liquid green soap stuff above the sink and all the while soaked my twisted ankle in the basin. It quite fun making faces in the mirror. I do it all the time. I can do really ugly one by twisting my lip downward and nose up. Did a pretty good job with the trousers but when I put them back on my underwear felt really uncomfortable, like really wet, especially round the bit I like. So I took them off again and really squeezed them tight. Stretching each leg out and really giving it some. All this soapy white stuff came out onto the tiled floor and I started worrying about whether anyone might notice the poncey smell. A bit like those green things they shove down toilets. I heard a couple of older boys coming in so I took myself into a cubicle and looked down as a the water dripped onto my shoes until they left. Still it was hot as hell outside. But I would have to careful who I sat next to in the next lesson. I decided to lie oyut in the sun for five minutes a be late again. Then I had this brainwave.

There's a part in The 39 Steps you just can't put down and I was reading it as I hopped up five floors of stairs 'till I got to the top. The long corridor has shiny clipity lino. I reckon all schools have clipty lino. All the ones I've been to have. I knocked on the door signed 'Administration' door:
'Come in.'
'Excuse me Miss.'
'Yes, what is it?'
'I found this book near the knoll,' I passed her the book, 'it had a paper book mark in it, it's owned by Lily Rolt.'
'Well, you can give it back to her can't you?'
'She's gone home...early, Miss; I was thinking I could post it to her, I mean...'
She was thumbing through the pages while we were talking and she said,' It can wait 'til she returns.'
'But it the last day of term Miss; and er.., there was this book mark stuck half way through it, I think she's only half finished the book Miss, and..'
'Do you know her?'
'Er...no Miss.'
There was a pause and both of us just stood there. I was begining to feel a bit of twat. It didn't come out with any conviction but I mumbled, 'It's no bother Miss, really, I can post it on the way home.'
'So you want her address?'
'No, well yes Miss.'

She bent down, opened a large wooden drawer and pulled out a file. She had some big ass I can tell you. Wearing a pleated skirt and jackets made of thick worstead didn't help. Sometimes you really want to crack a joke about way someone looks even though you know it's really unfair. Her glasses had those wavy handle bars that were the rage about thirty years ago. I really don't know why I sometimes I really want to say things that are totally rude. I've got into trouble for things like this. Anyhow the old biddie was obliging so I shut up and carried on being dorky watching her search down the register list of the file and then, like the gods were on my side, she began scribbling on a note pad and handed it to me. I could see her fat wrinkly finger had the biggest diamond studded wedding ring you could imagine wrapped around it. The sort of ring you'd expect the Queen of England to wear on a good night out at the Opera. Hella of size. I guess some guy probably reckoned she was a dish forty years ago. She probably was. I'm hella prejudice when I think about it.
'Thank you Miss,' I said, 'I've read it myself - it's a great book.'
'And er... refresh me with your name young man?' She said it looking me right up from toe to head. I couldn't really understand why she did that but it dawned on me maybe my black trousers were still sticky but I was pretty sure they weren't dripping anymore.
'Sam... Samuel Mudd, Miss.' I replied.
'What grade are you?
'Eighth Miss.'
'Thirteen...a real boy's year.'
I had no idea what she meant.
She looked me up an down again over her glasses and in a slightly high pitched voice said, 'You can go now Samuel...go on with you.'

I held the note-paper tightly in my sweaty palm. In between my fingers lay Lily Rolt's address.

I was still thinking about her in my pajamas as I lay on my bed with my arm around my pillow staring up at the fluorescent tube. If I stared at it long enough with my my eyes closed I could see tiny white lights and little bits of fluorescent lightening come out from the blackness that turned into images of abstract things; then through the muddle of light and dark emerged black and white pictures that, like a miracle of the mind, changed into short movies; my own lovely movies from my own lovely head.




I crept deep under the sheets lying on my back and making enough space to wiggle my toes. She was wandering into my lovely movie through faded shades of yellow lines, weird shapes... I’m only telling you this because I want you to know that I'm not a crazy nut.

Then up comes Fenton School in bursts of hot light flashes. All the junior classes are out in the playground, most of them just fooling around in all the din; a few of them are crying but only playground crying. I'm the only serious one looking for rock girl like my whole life depends on it. I see her at the far end of the hockey pitch by the chain link railings but after running over there find it's not her. Then a football hits this other girl in the head and she's crying like a baby. Then I see her by the knoll but she turns around and it's a strange face of a boy who only wants to gawk close up at me, then laugh like some demented nutter. It's freak me out all this weird stuff. Then suddenly I'm in Assembly, the main hall, green walls, long brown drapes and the Headteacher's on a roll banging on about how we must try hard now and we won't have to try hard later. I'm not sure of all that sort of crap. Half dreaming I'm outside again racing toward the gymnasium in the scorching hot sunshine and this stupid song comes into my head. God it is so bright and loud, some lullaby song for babies with this out of tune electric guitar playing in my head and this noise like an orchestra rehersal going on all around me. Everything twirling around and suddenly Justin is trying to sing which freaks me out because he's a really crap singer, but all the girls are all loving it not because he can sing but because he's so damn good looking. Suddenly everything changes; it's dark, with my eyes closed tight and the music fades out and the Rock Girl appears. I know she's gonna make me happy. And in my brain she comes into my bedroom and we are standing there, real close, as only we edgy types can be, in the half dark, breathing staccato softness. Boy it so real her standing there. We want to dance real slow but we don't know quite how so I stand by her side, aware of how near she is, her thin arm unknowingly carressing the side of my shoulder; my hand so wanting to touch her; her sillouette of soft perfection and red ribbon; the only pleasure she has ever given herself. Then she dares communicate the most imperceptible smile. My heart beats a million yearnings knowing she is melting ever closer to me. I want her to stay like this for ever but she triggers an invisible flood of white tears like the sweetest music ever heard. Then my head starts shaking. All I could do is lie there breathing heavy big full stops because I knew no matter how hard I try I am just a nothing.

I awake back on my bed... alone again. My hand goes up to my head and I start scratching it, digging my nails in.

I really want a Dad like Gregory Peck. A Dad who can talk to me. Gregory Peck would talk to me. I know he would.

Where did it all wrong. Who am I? The 'I' that's me. I tried to turn my mind inward to see who I was. The bit everyone else know is me. I really tried. But you know no matter how hard I tried I couldn't get inside the inside of me. If I could find that I would know why people didn't like me. It's so stupid if you don't know who you are. How can you change when you don't know who you were in the first place?

I can't remember the beginning but things went off the rails after mother left me in a bus station. In a pram. I guess she had somewhere better to go. I don't think I've had a lot of friends since.

My adopted parents are called Mudd. That makes me Samuel Mudd with two d's but in class I have the name 'shit-face'. And I've only been in this school two months. Some wise crack about my surname got twisted into Sam Shit. Then into Shit-face. I don't make a deal about it but it's weird having a normal conversation while being called shit-face. Only Justin and the teachers calls me by my real name.

You're not so important if you don't have a real mom to back you up. Dad's are always to busy working. You become forgotten like a new bicycle left on the corner getting slowly picked apart spoke by spoke.

I never tell anyone who my adopted father is. He's called Robert Mudd but he has a different Hollywood screen name. Not many people recognise him the supermarket and stuff. He's a dead ringer for Brando, when he was at the beginning of his 'get fat' stage. In my head I always call him 'Brando'. You may of seen him on the credit rolls. He's no big deal. More a Hollywood 'C' class actor. 'Lonely Mountain'. That was his last movie. He plays the third dectective, the one that gets killed in the mill. A whole lot of corn comes crashing down and he sort of drowns in the corn. He's one of the good guys but when you watch the movie you'll probably want him to die as well. It makes the bad guys look more real when they kill off people like my Dad. But he plays the part pretty well and I'm always half feeling sad everytime I see his hand goes up through the corn and there's no one there to help him out. Anyway, we have a cracking house.

Not everyone has had two fathers dumped on them but if I could choose I'd have Gregory Peck for my Dad. I'd have been Sam, Sam Peck - a bucket load better than Sam Mudd; you sort of almost know a nice guy from his name sometimes. Greg Peck would look over his warm bushy eye brows and I'd sure as hell know everything's gonna be alright, while Brando would just slam me against the kitchen wall, knee me in the gut then ask why the fuck I didn't go to school.

Over breakfast Brando looked across at me and said, 'I want to see you in the office before you go to school.'

I tapped on his office door. His office is the size of the Titanic with signed photographs of actors splashed over the walls. He's knows half of them as well. He never stopped saying how Greg Peck was a real dude and Cary Grant the biggest puff in Hollywood. Can't think why he had them side by side if he thought that.

'Come in.'

I took a quick glance at Greg Peck and closed the door behind me. For once he wasn't playing Frank Sinatra.







He's crazy over Sinatra.

He'd been playing 'One for my Baby' a million times these last few weeks. I know because his office is right under my bedroom. It sort of drives me mad when I'm trying to sleep an' ol' blue eyes is belting out his crap for the fiftieth time under my bed. Anyway he had this soft piano stuff on. The sort of stuff they have on airplane take-offs to calm down all the nutters who start freaking and worrying which toggle they've gotta pull and why in hell there's no parachute attached to the lousey life jacket.

'Sit; Sam, you're going to a new school after the vacation, how do you like that?'

'I dunno.' I replied.

To be honest I'd only just started at Fenton. Having gone to four different schools in seven years including a three years in England it was difficult to know what ol' Brando was doing with my educaton - what ever it was it wasn't working. The one in England was a private prep shool. I went there because ol' Btrando thought the American culture was going down the pan. Before packing me off he said, 'Sam you're gonna come back an English man.'

All I seemed to learn in England was to say 'sorry'. 'Sorry' and 'bloody'. They all say those words a million times a day over there. Everybody says sorry to everybody even if you haven't done sweet adam. If you said sorry you could half kill someone and get away with it. An English judge 'll say, ' Jury there's no need for you to decide upon this case, it is clear he has said sorry so it is clear he is repentant and should go free.' I said sorry for three god damn years. When I came back last year they all said I sounded like an English boy. Well that pleased ol' Brando.

'Are you listening Samuel?'

'Sorry,' I said. I just came out with it because I was thinking about ol' England.

On the the shortest wall are these really bright paintings of flowers by some famous Artist. Don't ask me who the Artist is but Brando said the primrose one is worth one and a half Ferraris. Each flower is about a foot square so if you're half blind like me you can sort of make out what the flower is. Eight of the flowers are grouped into little sets of twos. The Bluebell's my favourite. I wondered if he would give it to me when he died. I'd quite fancy a Ferrari Dino. But then I guessed it wasn't a good time to ask.

'Dr Halwiess has recommended this school in Carson City,' he continued.

'Okay.'

There didn't seem any point in arguing because the deal had been signed before I entered the room so I just nodded as I imagined Bill Gates would. I suppose I wouldn't be called shitface in Carson City and if I was I guess my face really did look like shit. I smiled.

Father saw me smile, 'Good on you son, you see you'll like it.'

At that moment I felt pretty keen on leaving; not for Carson City, but leaving home for good, tonight.

'You'll grow out of it Sam... yeah, at the Carson City military academy you'll soon be doing what all the other boys do!'

To be honest I didn't know what he thought all the other boys did that was so damn different to what I did.

I felt pretty much the same way as when I came sixth in Maths last term. Of course that wasn’t good enough for ol' Brando. I stood just like I was now in his office, only then I was having to put with Sinatra in the background as he banged on about how important Physics was. Yeah, like I'm going to be a scientist.

'Why did you come 18th in Physics when you came 6th in Maths?' There's no real answer to Brando with that one, it's like saying why is the moon nearer to me than Jupiter; hell I don't know why but it is. And so he went on: Why is it I couldn't remember simple facts... line up all the ducks...it's so easy. God he loved saying, 'line up all the ducks... One,two, three, that's all school is, it's so easy.' Why couldn't I spell after all the extra lessons? Why was my hair growing longer? Why were my shoes red? Why did I talk mid-atlantic? Why didn't I do more sport? Why did I stay in my room all day? Why wouldn't I eat chicken legs? Brando could always think of something to make me feel like I was seriously screwed up and in need of a shrink.

He cleared his throat and booomed across to me, like he was in World War Two Flight lieutenant acting mode, 'So Carson City it is!'

'Sounds great,' I said lying.

I went back up to my room and remembered the time when justin dragged me to a late night concert and he got on his feet and starting dancing to the stupid robot music, 'That's the way to do it,' he yelled, 'lemme tell ya, those guys ain't dumb.'

I needed something to make me feel happy. There wasn't anyone who could do that so I decided to get drunk. After sipped a little from four of bottles in the lounge cabinet I reckoned on the sherry as it didn't taste too disgusting. I emptied it into a glass bowl, put the bottle back, slipped back up, got undressed and lay on my bed and downed the lot. Not sure I felt happy but sure felt like dancing

Rolling half off the bed the cover and a pillow fell with me. The street lamp shone through the window. My naked self got off the floor and my hand found the clock. It said quarter to three.It fell to the floor. Legs slipped into my Jeans and I ripped the mirror off the wall and took a look. Yep that was me in the mirror Ol' Brando was still in his office. I could hear playing Sinatra. Gody gody Sheesh!