P. J. Harvey - The Best Last Thing to Do

I ts the first day of January, dry as old bones, hotter than Grace Fountain in her shorts and tank top, and Kendos making us play football on the dead school oval.

Bull!

The ball heads towards me like a nuclear bomb and hits me in the stomach. I clutch at my guts and accidentally hold the ball as well.

Free kick! Charlie shouts but I can see Kendo shake his head so that his blond sweaty hair spins. Play on!

Whatever. I turn towards the nearest goal posts and drop the ball on my bare foot. It zings off my toes, goes somewhere it shouldnt, and Lewis comes from nowhere to sweep it up. I watch in relief as play takes it away from me, and lean on my thighs to catch my breath. Through the sweat pouring down my face, I see Kendo tackle Lewis so they fall heavily on the dirt. Charlie snatches the ball and shoots it lazily through the centre posts.

I walk slowly over to Lew whos still on the ground. Kendo is running after the ball like a crazed man, his body muscled and shiny in the hard light. I sit down on the neglected oval, tug my shirt over my vast stomach, watch Charlie a whole head shorter than anyone on the field - and Kendo fight over the pigskin, and shake my head. I cant believe were friends with those idiots.

Lewis is holding onto his foot. I cant believe were playing football instead of being at the pool. He rubs his toe.

Whats the matter?

Took the skin off. He holds his foot up for me to see. His toe has been skinned so that the top layer of skin is folded onto itself. Blood runs back to his ankle.

You all right?

Itll be fine. Lewis wipes at his toe with his hand, and then cleans his hand on my T-shirt.

Hey! Watch it, this is Kurt.

Lewis pretends to be surprised and leans closer to the faded head on my shirt front. You got any other T-shirts than ones with dead guys on them?

I push him away. What do you think? Anyway, you gave me this last birthday, wanker.

Charlie and Kendo run over. Charlie slams the ball next to Lewis and sits down, pulling Kendo with him. For a moment we roast together in the sun, Kendo thumping the ball to make it bounce, Charlie stretched out on his back, Lewis trying not to let us see how much pain hes in.

I need a drink, I say finally, standing up and moving towards the taps.

No one follows me as I go under the shade of the senior wing building and drink the warm water down greedily. I stick my head under as far as I can and rub at my hair until Im drenched. Even so, Im nearly dry again by the time I walk back to the others. The sky growls, though. Another summer storm is brewing. I think about going home before it rains to do some serious work on a piece I just downloaded from the internet. An old one but new to me, it has tricky chord changes and a bit of fast finger work that reminds me that I need a new plectrum for a sharper sound

Bull!

What?

You deaf? Kendo stands up and knocks at the side of my head. Cant have a deaf musician. Charlie said. Were going to get burgers.

Beethoven, I say.

What?

Beethoven was deaf.

Kendo rolls his eyes and gives me a kind pat on the back with his iron fist that nearly knocks me over. He was also crazy. Burgers!

Not burgers! Pizza.

Actually, yeah. Bull and I, we dont like burgers because we make too many.

Pizza, then. Come on. Charlie rolls himself upright, grabs at Lewis to haul him up too, and we head to town. Anything. Before we fade away.

I point to my stomach. Quick. I really am fading away.

They laugh and I grin. We must look ridiculous together skinny Lewis, enormous me, muscly Kendo and hairy Charlie. Whod believe we were all sixteen?

We walk slowly towards the pizza shop. The sky gradually clouds over but it doesnt get any cooler. If anything, its worse. Were in an oven with the door shut. Kendos still bouncing the ball, Lewis is talking to Charlie about his boring Christmas day, so I take the lead.

Carefully, so no one notices, I go the slightly long way around to avoid the park. We get to the shop to find that the air-conditioner has broken and the main chef has fainted in the heat so we end up sitting in the caf next door (which might not be our normal habitat but has air-conditioning), ordering iced coffees and hot chips.

Lewis flicks idly through a newspaper thats been left on the table while we wait. Kendos texting, Charlies counting out his five cent pieces to see if hes got enough for a vanilla slice, when Lewis slides the paper across to me. Hey, isnt that Janets house?

I look before I can stop myself. The real estate pages are in front of me, neat squares of pictures and lies, trying to entice buyers. Some of them are slashed with SOLD. A stupid thing to do, I think, showing pictures of houses already sold in the For Sale section. I follow Lewis tapping finger until I see what he means. My Aunt Janets house has bold white letters across it. SOLD.

Your house has sold, Josh.

Your mum is leaving.

Your bed and wardrobe and posters and bike will go as well.

Bull, you right? Lewis speaks quietly but Kendo looks up and Charlie stops counting.

Yeah, yeah. I just didnt know. I didnt know

Luckily, the drinks arrive. Lewis shuts the paper, reaches across to put it on another table, and takes a fat chip out of Kendos bowl.

Hey!

What?

Kendo reaches over to Lewis and thumps him. Dont touch the chips!

Charlie takes one as well and gets a battering of punches that makes him growl, Okay, okay, sorry, sorry, have your bloody chips then.

Among my friends and their stupid mucking around, I slowly return to normal.

But when weve eaten and get up to leave, I realize that I dont feel completely normal. I do know that all I want to do is to get home and pick up my guitar and shut the bedroom door and play until my fingers bleed, just like you did that time, Josh. That first mad time, when you played for six hours straight and the strings of your Yamaha were smeared red. It would be different for me, though. You played because you were driven. I play because music is in my blood.

We peel off our separate ways, planning to go swimming the next day and every next day of the holidays if it stays hot and doesnt rain too much.

Happy New Year, says Lewis as I leave him.

Yeah. I watch him briefly before turning away.

A New Year. It should be the start of something new. For a moment I forget what that could be. Then I remember.