He's After Me by Chris Higgins Page A

‘Over my dead body.’
    ‘Don’t tempt me,’ I mutter.
    ‘Which college is it?’
    I tell him.
    ‘Never heard of it.’
    ‘It’s got a great reputation.’
    ‘What for? Drugs? Anarchy? The number of students who drop out?’
    ‘If you’re going to be childish I’m not going to talk to you. It’s a good college.’
    ‘Who says?’
    I don’t say anything.
    ‘Oh, I get it.’ His mouth curls up into a particularly unattractive sneer. ‘It’s him, isn’t it? The boyfriend. He’s the one who’s pulling your strings.’
    ‘Nobody’s pulling my strings,’ I protest, my face aflame.
    ‘I can see it, Anna, even if you can’t. He’s in Oxford, you’re in London. Bit closer than Newcastle, isn’t it? He can keep an eye on you there.’
    I’d forgotten Dad thought James-not-Jem was at Oxford. If he found out Jem-not-James was in London, he’d go totally ape-shit.
    ‘He’s got you exactly where he wants you!’ he says bitterly. I don’t deign to reply. ‘What does your mother think of this idea?’ he adds.
    ‘She’s fine with it.’
    ‘She would be. She doesn’t understand the opportunities you’re throwing away.’
    I stare at him in disbelief. He knows all about opportunities all right.
    Golden Boy. Scholarship to grammar school, a university degree, a career in law. Somewhere along the way he’d returned to marry the pretty girl-next-door, who’d been waiting patiently for him. She’d stayed at home and brought up the kids, he’d worked his way up to senior partner. Perfect arrangement. Till he dumped her for Golden Girl.
    I’d hated him for updating my mother for a newer, streamlined model. But until this moment I’d never thought he was ashamed of the old one.
    ‘ She doesn’t understand … How patronizing is that?’
    He has the grace to look embarrassed. ‘I didn’t mean it like that.’
    ‘Yes you did!’ I let him see how angry I am. Because it makes him feel bad. And because it distracts him from the effect his words have had upon me.
    Deep down I know I’m throwing away my dream. I don’t need anyone to point this out to me, least of all my father. But it’s too late now to do anything about it. I’m miles behind with my work and I’m never going to get the grades I need to do English at Newcastle anyway.
    I want to get away. I’m not hanging around here for another year to watch my father fawning over The Bitch, my mother fading away and my sister making a fool of herself, while Zoe zooms off to uni and Jem goes back to college without me.
    And Jem’s suggestion of studying Art – it’s a great idea. A gateway into a whole new world. Art is so much more than conventional painting and drawing. It’s about exposing yourself to whole new cultures.
    Like graffiti for example.
    Jem says, it’s not just an art form, it’s an attitude.
    And now I’m with him, I’m discovering I’ve got plenty of that.

The anger was bubbling up inside him again. She belonged to him. What right did that tosser have to steal her away?
    It was all his fault he was stuck here like this in this half-life. Neither here nor there. Just watching and waiting for her to get tired of the idiot and notice him again.
    Well, he was getting fed up with it. There was a limit even to his patience.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
     
    D espite my good intentions, I allow my father to get to me. It’s not surprising really, he won’t let up. He takes me out for a meal to a posh restaurant and tries to convince me over four courses and two bottles of wine that I’m making a big mistake.
    It’s like it’s a personal affront to him that I’ve deviated from the grand plan. At one point he even says to me, ‘Jude thinks this is your way of punishing me for being with her,’ and I snap, ‘This is not about you, Dad! It’s about me!’ I’m furious at the thought of The Bitch and him discussing me in such a condescending way like I’m a child who’s spat the dummy out of the pram. What does she know? She’s