Bear Necessity Page 20

  “Don’t tell anybody that I let you stay out so late,” said Danny as he tucked Will into bed.

  “It’s not that late,” said Will, unsuccessfully stifling a yawn.

  “Then why are you yawning?”

  “I’m not,” said Will, his eyes closing despite his best efforts to keep them open.

  “Well, I am,” said Danny, yawning into his palm. “Get to sleep.”

  Danny turned the light out and began to close the door behind him.

  “Dad?”

  “Yes, mate?” said Danny, pausing with his hand on the handle.

  “I had a good day today,” said Will.

  Danny smiled. “Me too,” he said, but Will was already too far gone to hear him.

  In the living room, Danny opened his backpack and almost gagged at the stench. Holding his breath, he yanked the costume out so quickly that everything else came tumbling out with it. He threw the costume into the wash and wearily waited for the cycle to finish before crawling into bed, completely unaware that his notepad was lying on the living room carpet.

  CHAPTER 27

  Will woke to the sound of banging. He thought it was the front door at first and momentarily panicked, worried that Reg and Dent had returned to finish what they’d started the other day, but the noise seemed to be coming from the kitchen.

  Climbing down from his bunk, he pulled on his school trousers and opened the bedroom door a crack. He could hear singing as well as banging now, and it wasn’t until he crept down the corridor and peered around the fridge that he figured out what all the commotion was about.

  Danny was dancing around the kitchen with his earphones in and his back to Will. He plucked the toast from the toaster and tossed each piece in the air before catching them one by one on a plate. Only when he pirouetted his way to the fridge to grab the margarine did he notice Will watching him from the doorway.

  “Hi, mate,” he said, quickly pulling his earphones out. “You’re up early.”

  “Were you just listening to the Dirty Dancing soundtrack?” said Will, his lips twitching with barely suppressed laughter.

  “What?” said Danny, fumbling with his iPod as he tried to turn the music off. “No. I mean, I don’t know. Maybe. Wait, how do you know Dirty Dancing?”

  “I’ve seen it with Mum like a hundred times. I didn’t think it was your kind of thing.”

  “It’s not. I didn’t even know that song was from Dirty Dancing. I’ve never even heard it before.”

  “Then how do you know all the lyrics?”

  Danny opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again. He held up a piece of toast.

  “Jam or Marmite?” he said.

  Will smiled and rolled his eyes. “Jam,” he said, shuffling into the living room and taking a seat at the table. “I hate Marmite.”

  “Since when?”

  “Since forever,” said Will, absently playing with a two-pence piece that he found on the table.

  Danny made a mental note about the Marmite. “What classes you got today?” he shouted, eager to change the subject.

  “History, science, English, and maths,” said Will, spinning the coin between his fingers.

  “Four of my worst subjects.”

  “Every subject was your worst subject,” said Will as the coin spun from the table and landed on the floor by his chair.

  “That’s not true. I got a C-minus in art.”

  “That’s what I mean.” Will leaned down to retrieve the coin but found Danny’s notepad instead.

  “My art teacher was this woman called Miss Black. She was terrifying. Did I ever tell you about her?”

  Will didn’t respond, too busy flicking through the pages and trying to figure out what all the columns and calculations meant.

  “She had this glass eye that she sometimes took out and washed in front of the class. I still have nightmares about her.”

  Will stopped flicking. He stared at the words in front of him. Words he’d seen before. Words he’d spoken before. He doesn’t know anything about me.… Tell me something about your mum.… Pandas are great listeners. He scanned the pages, trying to make sense of what he was looking at, but the more he read the more he felt like the butt of a joke he didn’t understand.

  Danny emerged from the kitchen with a cup of tea in one hand and a plate of toast in the other.

  “One time she sneezed so hard that her eye—” Danny fell silent when he saw what Will was looking at.

  “This is how you knew,” said Will, his eyes fixed on the words in front of him.

  “Will, I—”

  “Going to Brighton. Making pancakes. Decorating my room. You made me tell you everything.”

  “It’s not like that,” said Danny. He put Will’s breakfast down and took the seat opposite. “I wanted to tell you, mate, really, but—”

  “This is why the man at the park knew your name, isn’t it?” said Will. Danny started to answer, but Will cut him off. “You tricked me,” he said. “You lied to me.”

  “I didn’t lie about anything, Will. And I didn’t trick you either. You started talking to me, remember? What was I supposed to do? Ignore you?”

  “You could have told me. But you didn’t. You just let me keep talking like an idiot.”

  “Will, you hadn’t spoken for over a year. I didn’t know if you were ever going to speak again, so when you started I—”

  “I didn’t talk because I didn’t want to talk!” yelled Will, his cup of tea rippling as he slammed the table with his palms.

  “I know, mate,” said Danny, showing his own palms in surrender. “I know. You’re right. And I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.”

  “Why were you even wearing a panda suit? Why were you dancing in the park? Why aren’t you going to work?”

  “It is my work,” said Danny. He sighed. “Alf fired me a couple of months ago and, well, I’ve been doing the panda thing ever since.”

  “And you didn’t think that was something you should tell me?”

  “I didn’t want you to worry.”

  “Worry?” said Will. He laughed, but there was no humor in it. “I came home the other day to find you tied to the chair and Mr. Dent about to whack you with a hammer. Don’t you think I found that slightly worrying?”

  “I’m sorry you had to see that, mate, really, but everything’s going to be fine, I promise.”

  “How can you make a promise when you can’t even tell the truth?” Will threw the notepad at Danny. “I thought I could trust you! I thought you were my friend!”

  “You can trust me! We are friends!”

  “No, we’re not!” Will got up and grabbed his schoolbag. “Mum was my friend, not you!”

  “Will, wait, please,” said Danny, following his son to the front door.

  Will paused, but he didn’t turn around. “You know what I wish?” he said. He wasn’t shouting anymore, but something about his tone made the yelling suddenly preferable.

  “What, Will? What do you wish?” said Danny, but he already knew the answer, because not a single day went by that he didn’t think the same thing. “You wish it was me, don’t you? That I had died instead of her.”

  “No,” said Will, turning around to face Danny. “I wish it was me.” He jabbed himself in the chest. “I wish that I had died, with Mum, because I’d rather be dead with her than stuck here with you.” He yanked the front door open and slammed it shut behind him.

  Danny didn’t know if Will had chosen those words deliberately, but they cut him more than when Liz’s father had spat them at the funeral.

  Now he’s stuck without a mother.

  Now he’s stuck with you.

  * * *

  “Hold on, what?” said Mo as he fiddled with his hearing aid. “I think this thing is broken. What did you just say?”

  “I said my dad’s a dancing panda,” said Will. He kicked a stray tennis ball across the crowded schoolyard.

  “Maybe it’s the batteries or something. It sounded like y
ou said your dad’s a dancing panda.”

  “That is what I said.”

  “Then I’m still confused,” said Mo.

  Will sighed. “Remember when I told you about the guy in the panda suit who saved me from Mark that day?” Mo nodded. “Well, that was my dad.”

  “Why was he dressed like a panda?”

  “He was dancing. In the park.”

  “Like, for fun?”

  “No, like, for money.”

  “I thought he worked on a building site?”

  “He did,” said Will, “but he got fired, so he decided to become a dancing panda instead.”

  “No offense, but, well, I never thought of your dad as the dancing panda type.” Mo pondered this for a moment. “Actually, I never thought of anybody as the dancing panda type. I didn’t even know your dad could dance.”

  “A pole dancer taught him after he rescued her bathrobe that was stolen by a wizard who can set things on fire with his mind,” said Will matter-of-factly.

  Mo waited for the punch line. None came. “You are totally making this up,” he said.

  “I couldn’t make this up.”

  “For reals?”

  “For reals.”

  “Then this is officially the coolest thing I’ve ever heard. I think I want to be your dad when I grow up.”

  “You don’t,” said Will. “He’s a liar and I hate him. And anyway, I thought you wanted to be a zoophile or whatever it’s called.”

  “Screw that. Who wants to be a zoologist when you could be helping pole dancers fight telekinetic wizards? That’s the stuff dreams are made of.”

  “Pole dancers?” said Mark as he swaggered past with Gavin and Tony. “You losers talking about Will’s mum again?” He laughed, as did his goons, although even they seemed reluctant to endorse the joke.

  “Are you the only person in your family with Tourette’s, Mark?” said Mo. “Or did you get it from your mum and dad?”

  “What’s Tourette’s?” whispered Gavin.

  “French food,” said Tony.

  Gavin nodded, even more confused.

  “What did you just say?” said Mark, squaring up to Mo, who started to reply before his words were cut short by a hand around his throat. “Don’t you ever talk about my dad again, you little shit!” spat Mark.

  “Why?” said Will. “Because it hurts?”

  “What?” said Mark, his grip relaxing on Mo as he turned his sights on Will.

  “It hurts, doesn’t it?” said Will, his heart racing but his voice steady as he forced himself to hold Mark’s gaze. “When people say things about someone you love who isn’t here anymore.”

  “I’ll hurt you if you don’t shut your mouth!”

  “Not as much as you’re hurting yourself,” said Will.

  Mark frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  “You try to act tough all the time, but I know you feel the same way that I do.”

  “You don’t know shit,” said Mark, standing so close to Will that their toes were almost touching.

  “I know you keep yourself awake at night wondering why it had to happen to you and not to somebody else,” said Will.

  “Shut up.”

  “I know you see people with their mums and dads and you wish that could be you.”

  “I said shut up!” shouted Mark, his voice cracking slightly.

  “I know you hold on to things that belonged to your dad because you think there’s still a little piece of him attached to it.”

  “Shut the fuck up!” yelled Mark, tugging his sleeve over the old silver Casio around his wrist.

  “And I know you’re angry, Mark,” said Will, his voice shaking now. “You’re angry because somehow the world just continues, even though your life’s been ruined, and it feels so unfair that you want to ruin other people’s lives because it’s not right that they get to be happy and you don’t. And I know you think that nobody else understands what you feel, and most people don’t, but I do, Mark.”

  Will prodded himself in the chest.

  “I know how you feel. I know how much it hurts. But hurting other people won’t make it hurt any less. It won’t make the pain go away. So keep beating me up. Keep taking the piss out of me. Keep pushing me around. It won’t change anything, because your dad is gone, just like my mum, and nothing in the world will ever bring them back.”

  Mark stared at Will with a jaw tight enough to make a crowbar tremble. His chest was heaving and his fists were shaking like two angry dogs on a lead, and Will quietly braced himself for the moment that Mark set them loose; but much to the surprise of Mo, Gavin, Tony, and everybody else who had gathered at a safe distance to watch the altercation unfold, Mark didn’t hit Will that day. He didn’t even speak. Instead he turned and marched across the schoolyard, his hands no longer balled into fists but shielding his face from the crowd.

  CHAPTER 28

  Krystal laughed when Danny stood on her foot the first time. She even smiled when he did it the second time. The third time she rolled her eyes, the fourth time she quietly cursed, and the fifth time she cursed so loudly that Fanny stuck her head around the door to check that everything was okay.

  “What are you doing?” said Danny as Krystal abandoned him midroutine and angrily turned off the music.

  “What am I doing?” said Krystal. “What are you doing, Danny?”

  “Er… dancing?”

  “Yeah, all over my fucking feet. These right here are delicate instruments. They’re what I use to make money.”

  “Really?” said Danny doubtfully. “People pay to see your feet?”

  “One guy does, actually, smart-arse. And he pays pretty well too, but he won’t if my feet look like the cobbles of fucking Pamplona, will he?”

  “I told you already, it was an accident. Accidents happen.”

  “Yeah, you’re living proof of that. But five times isn’t an accident, Danny. Once is an accident. Twice at a push. But five times? Five times is not an accident. Five times is a fucking joke.”

  “I said I was sorry.”

  “What are you sorry for exactly?” said Krystal. “Are you sorry for standing on my feet? Or are you sorry for wasting my time this morning when I could have been in bed watching Bargain Hunt?”

  “I’m just a little rusty today,” said Danny in a tone that failed to convince even himself.

  “Rusty? Danny, watching you is giving me tetanus. Some of our regulars move better than you and they’ve had multiple hip replacements. You do realize the competition’s in five days, don’t you? Five days, Danny, so why the fuck are you dancing like you’ve got another five months? Seriously, if this is all you’re going to give, then you may as well just go ahead and break your own legs now, spoil the fun for your landlord at least. I’ll give you a hand if you want.”

  “Look, you’re right, and I’m sorry. It’s just… Will started talking again after all this time, and things have been going really well, but this morning we had this fight and—”

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, Danny, but I don’t give a shit about whatever domestic bollocks you’ve got going on right now. Not during the hours we’re in this room together. And you shouldn’t either. All you should care about is winning this fucking competition. You’ll have plenty of time to worry about all that other stuff later, but for now, chuck it in the backseat, give it an iPad and a Capri Sun, and focus on the road in front of you. Got that?”

  “Got it.”

  “Great. Now, get in position and dance like your life literally depends on it, and if you step on my feet just one more time, I swear to God I’ll stick one of them so far up your arse that you’ll be able to tell me what my nail polish tastes like.”

  * * *

  Danny kicked off his sodden shoes and flicked on the kettle before hanging his coat on the chair to dry. He was soaked right through to his underpants, but in a weird kind of way he was glad—not so much for the soggy bottom but for the downpour itself, which had started sometime aroun
d midday and hadn’t let up since. Instead of going to the park after his session with Krystal ended, which he wasn’t in the mood to do, and instead of going straight home, which he also didn’t want to do because he knew he’d waste the afternoon moping about the fact that he and Will were back to square one, Danny had taken the rain as a sign from the Big Man that he should stay at Fanny’s and keep practicing, so that’s what he’d done. Only later, when he’d emerged from the club in the late afternoon to find a monsoon where the downpour had been, did he realize that shitty weather and celestial signals were not necessarily the same things.

  Will’s bedroom door was closed, slammed shut with such force that the nameplate had fallen off and now lay facedown on the carpet. Danny knocked so gently that it almost defied the purpose of knocking.

  “Will? You there, mate?”

  He placed his ear to the door and thought he heard something, a faint and almost imperceptible sound like the slightest contraction of a bedspring or a sleeve-smothered yawn, but it was hard to determine if the sound came from Will or from the rain on the windows or the kettle in the kitchen. He briefly considered entering uninvited, justifying his intrusion by imagining that Will wasn’t in fact ignoring him but simply unable to hear him through the headphones he often wore when playing on his iPad. Then again, it was just as likely that his son was currently burning two holes in the door with the same angry eyes that had burned into him that morning, hearing everything but saying nothing in the way at which he’d become so wearyingly adept. Reluctant to take the gamble, Danny let go of the handle and backed away from the door, telling himself, despite the wealth of evidence to the contrary, that Will would talk when he felt like it.

  It was only when he returned with dinner a few hours later that he started to panic a little. His plan had been to lure Will out with his favorite pizza, even placing the box on the floor and fanning the smell beneath the door, but Will still hadn’t taken the bait, so Danny decided to bring the bait to him.