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to arrive— why was I first? —she began telling me how lovely my brother was and wasn’t I lucky? Her brother was in prison for nicking a car.
    A pack of Simon’s mates turned up, shouting about football. Andrew, Benj, Dickie the Dick, and Felix, who was also Abigail’s cousin, each of them trying to prove something.
    The girls arrived in pairs, smoothing their hair, smelling of baby powder and lilacs, wearing shoes with teetery heels. Abigail rubbed my shoulder like she meant to polish it for inspection. The girls thought it was adorable to call me Simon’s Brother.
    “Ooh, Simon’s Brother, ’bout time you showed up at Abigail’s Naughty Parlour. Aren’t you in for some fun?”
    “Simon’s Brother, are you as cheeky as Simon is?”
    One of the oafs, Andrew, pushed me out of the way while demonstrating his recent match-winning save.
    “Piss off, yob,” I said.
    “Ooh, Simon’s Brother,” he crooned at me. “A softie, eh?”
    It was dark enough he couldn’t see my blood rise. Felix slung an arm around me. “Not worth a black eye,” he said. “Come on downstairs.”
    Abigail’s parents let her use the cellar however she pleased. Simon told me she’d gone about filching chairs and sofa cushions from rubbish heaps, so it was one huge grotty den of lust down there.
    The cellar routine was: first, drinking games; next, Truth or Dare. No one chose Truth, as it turned out. You were a wuss if you chose Truth. It was all about Dare.
    It started pretty tame. Benj had to sing a Beatles song in his underpants. Abigail and Rachel had to trade shirts. Dickie had to drink Andrew’s piss.
    Then it was my turn.
    “Make out for two minutes,” said Andrew. “With another boy.”
    “Who the hell is going to do that with him ?” said Benj.
    “The good news is, not you , yob,” I said, but I wanted to crawl under a mouldy cushion and stay there.
    “For the cause.” Felix stepped up. “Eh, Simon’s Brother? But only if the lights are out.”
    “How will we know you did it?” asked Dickie the Dick. “If it’s dark?”
    “You’ll know,” said Felix. He snatched up Abigail’s little purse from her lap and snapped it open while she squeaked and grabbed to get it back. He pulled out a lipstick tube and dropped the bag into Abigail’s reaching hands. He took off the cap and twisted the colour up. No one laughed or made noise, all just staring. My blood zimmed like a fiddle in my ears.
    Felix rolled the lipstick across his lips, like he was an expert, a girl, making his mouth look as if he’d sucked blood. He winked at me—big jolly jeers broke out all round—and pulled me over to stand in the middle of the room.
    “Who’s timing this?” His hand slid down my arm, burning through my shirt.
    “Me, I will,” said Dickie, showing us a nerdy light-up watch.
    “Two minutes?” said Felix.
    “Yeah!” They all were laughing now, jazzed up on our behalf.
    “Lights,” said Felix. His hand was still on my wrist, circling, not holding. The lights clicked off, a couple of girls giggled.
    “Go,” said Dickie, and I saw the flash of his watch face before it went out, leaving the room sealed in dark. Felix’s hand left my wrist and cupped my bum, pulling me all the way close. I gasped, girls giggled again, but now I felt him hard inside his jeans, and nearly popped my own fly on the spot.
    It happened so fast, his one hand at the back and the other sliding down the front, while his mouth found mine with no trouble in the pitch bloody black. He wasn’t exactly kissingme, just smearing the lipstick back and forth on my lips and face, his slight moustache scraping my skin. His hand in front was trying to get past the elastic on my boxers. I’d have fallen over if he hadn’t been holding me up. Rustling in the audience and whispers. Their dark was not the same as my dark. I opened my eyes, not knowing I’d closed them, all this happening together. My prick was about to fly off, so happy and hot. Felix’s