Alexander the Mate - Chapter 4
It's almost as if a party game had become a literary adventure. The next 'consequence' in our Tag Team Tale, about how not to achieve greatness, is uber enjoyable...
Got the hang of what what we are up to? If not, please see our attempt to explain it all at the end, and a link back to Chapter 3.
Chapter 4 brought to you by Valeria Vescina
Can he even hear himself, Roxy thinks. ‘Conquering’ someone! And, of all people, Andy Adlington: none other than the answer to the rowing coach’s lifelong prayers; the teachers’ hope for that Oxbridge placement they yank out of a hat once a decade... Roxy pictures Andy in twenty years’ time: wearing his Olympic medals, and delivering an inspirational speech to rows of spotty teenagers in the school’s assembly hall. She doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the idea of Golden Boy ‘falling spectacularly’ into Xandy’s arms.
Roxy decides that, actually, screaming at Xandy is what she’d really like to do. Thankfully, however, she’s a national champion at keeping her emotions in check. Call it a survival instinct honed by enduring one disaster after another in the years she has lived – which feel like seventy compressed into seventeen.
She scrutinises Xandy with nonchalance, sensing his unease, before replying, ‘Whereas you are more of…’
Now that’s a question: more of what? Xandy lacks self-awareness, yes, but there’s also something else. His talk about conquering, overcoming... It couldn’t be further from love. That’s what’s riling her. Not that she imagines the crushes of hormone-fuelled teenagers – among whom she still counts herself, notwithstanding feeling ancient in other respects – come close to love with a capital “L”. But still. There’s something of the power-hungry raider in Xandy’s expressions – his words couldn’t be more at odds with even the palest shade of love.
If only her father hadn’t been killed in that car accident seven years ago, he’d be the one tending to Mum. He was caring, and fun, and... well, a great dad. Roxy’s parents made the expression ‘joined at the hip’ seem almost literal. Her father would have ‘been there’ for her mother these last few years – ‘in sickness and in health’ and all that. These clichés (that Miss Reynolds tells the class to avoid in their essays) pop into Roxy’s mind at the thought of her parents because those two could have invented them. Now it’s for her to look after her mother. Much as Roxy dreams of a life in which she doesn’t carry the burden of daily caring duties, she loves her mum. And if there is such a thing as Karma, one day Roxy too will hopefully find someone of her own to love and who loves her.
‘More of...?’ Xandy, of course, is pressing for an answer.
She has one. She’s done with giving him the adulation he craves.
‘I don’t know. A marmoset. A coypu.’ Now for the final stroke. ‘A… llama?’
His face falls. ‘Oh my God, Roxy, you’re obsessed.’
She shrugs. ‘I thought you liked llamas. All the stuffed ones you gave me…?’
He gapes – mouth open, closed, open. Should she add ‘goldfish’ to the list of animals he resembles?
*
The red Ford Focus has taken no time to arrive and pulls up a little ahead. At the front door, Xandy’s mum takes Roxy’s hands in hers. ‘Off you go. So sorry my boy kept you – but he’s a riveting talker, isn’t he? I hope the Uber gets you home quickly, so you’re not late for your mum’s routine. Come back soon – you’re a good influence on Xandy. If only he had more friends like you.’
Roxy feels the heat rising to her cheeks. ‘Thank you, Mrs Magnus. Too kind.’ She wasn’t expecting Mrs M to show her such warmth, nor to treat her to a cab ride home – just when Roxy has lost patience with Xandy. At least the Uber is for her mum’s sake, not her own.
She gets into the car, fastens the seat belt, and exhales. The driver is observing her through the rearview mirror. She sees his eyes reflected in it.
‘Going to Theban Way, right?’ he says.
‘Yes. Yes.’
Funny. Where has she heard his voice before? She sneaks a peek at the man. Difficult to judge his height when he’s sitting and has his back to her, but it’s safe to say he’s tall. Whenever streetlamps brighten the car’s interior, they reveal a full head of blond hair, short and wavy. The hands gripping the steering wheel are young.
‘How long have you been driving an Uber?’
The man clears his throat. ‘Long enough. How about you? How long have you been taking Ubers?’
The tone is charming, light-hearted. And that’s when it occurs to her. No, no, it cannot be. She leans forward, her face in the space between the two front headrests.
‘Andy?’
He turns abruptly towards her, and the car swerves for an instant.
‘Shit. Mate, you want to kill us both? Look at the road!’
‘Sorry. It was the surprise. You’re… Hmm…’ He pauses. ‘You’re in Year 11, right?’
‘Yep. Roxy.’
‘That’s it. Roxy. I remember you. Gwendolen in The Importance, couple of years back. You were incredible. Haven’t seen you in any other school plays since then. Why?’
‘Yeah, well. The stage will have to do without my talents for a little while.’ No point explaining why she can no longer reliably attend rehearsals. ‘But why are you driving this thing? I thought Uber drivers had to be at least twenty-one. You can’t be more than nineteen.’
‘Roxy, please.’ His voice quivers with anxiety. ‘Please don’t tell.’
As a matter of fact, she happens to know that one must also have a private hire licence to work for other cab companies. Melissa’s dad had to get one.
‘Of course I wouldn’t.’ Who does he take her for?
Andy carries on as if he hadn’t heard her. ‘This is my old man’s job. But he’s unwell, right now, and we need the money.’
‘Your dad’s ill too?’
‘Why? Is yours? Mine’s fractured his ankle.’
‘Ah. Mine is… erm… dead. My mum’s the one who’s ill. MS.’
‘Dear God. Sorry.’ He turns towards her again.
‘Keep your eyes on the bloody road, will you?’ she shouts.
They may well be gorgeous eyes, and she might quite like to be his friend, but she’d rather stay alive.
(link back to Chapter 3 and from there to 2, etc. Link forward to Chapter 5)
For more about Valeria Vescina, please below the notes.
The next instalment will come to you from Jamie Chipperfield.
Tag Team Tales: Welcome to a special kind of serialised short (well, quite longish actually) story, in which 10 authors from The Breakthrough Book Collective have collaborated to compose a chapter of between 500 and 2000 words and then pass the narrative along.
Each author had a free hand — within certain guidelines — to let their imaginations run, in their voice and style, from any character’s point of view and introducing new characters and plot twists if so inspired. Each contributor had one week to add their chapter (circumstances permitting) and could also share input when it came to the final edit.
The story was kicked off by an initial prompt drawn from a non-fiction book, opened at a random on a page which happened to mention Alexander The Great in the context of modern neuroscience and, bizarrely, jet fuel.
We will be posting a chapter a day over 11 days (one author who was holding the story thread topped and tailed).
Valeria Vescina is from Puglia, has lived in England most of her life, and is now based in Switzerland. She retains strong links with her native region, which provided the setting for both 'That Summer in Puglia’ and her forthcoming 'Habit of Disobedience', both from Breakthrough Books. Valeria is also a creative-writing tutor and a literary reviewer.