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"I was just on my way home from school, and was passing the music shop and thought of you. I knew you lived round here somewhere," I said, a little taken aback by the warm reception I was receiving.

"I was bored out of my brain doing English revision in my room. You rescued me. Listen, do you want to go back to mine or what? We could go down the chippy and sit out the back or I could show you my record collection if you're prepared to brave the weird and wonderful world of the Mitchell household."

The strain of what had just gone on at Em's and the stressful buildup to phoning Darren finally caught up with me, and I found myself shaking a little. I shivered and pulled my coat more tightly around me.

"You look freezing. Let's go back to mine. You'll have to excuse my parents, though. My mum will give you the third degree and try to work out who your family is and my dad will probably flirt with you, so we'll just say hi for two minutes and then make our excuses, okay? Just don't be too freaked out. They're all right really." He grabbed my schoolbag and carried it for me.

We started walking slowly back to his house. I wanted him to kiss me again. I couldn't quite believe the effect he had on me, to be honest. Being with him sent rushes of adrenaline through my body, and I had to stop myself from screaming with happiness. We got to the front door of his house and stepped into the glass porch, where shoes were lined up neatly next to a pottery umbrella stand in the shape of a duck. Their pebble-dashed semidetached house was identical to every other house on the road and beyond. A neat white picket fence bordered an immaculate lawn. There was a shiny beige BMW parked in the small gravel drive in front of the house. We hadn't even got in the hall properly when Darren's mum appeared. She was wearing a tracksuit and trainers and holding a glass of water.

"Oh, hello. You didn't tell me that we were expecting guests, Darren," she said, winking at me and flashing Darren a mischievous smile. She was very tall and slim and was wearing full makeup. She tapped the glass she was holding with long red manicured nails. Her hair was dyed an aubergine color and fell in bouncy curls around her shoulders. I imagined Mum summing her up in an instant: "Nouveau riche. Thinks she's better than everyone else. Her husband does a few dodgy deals, buys himself a flash car, and suddenly she thinks she's made it. Common as muck really."

"Uh, yeah, this is Leyla. She's a friend from school. She's a drummer. We're just going to listen to some music upstairs. Okay?" Darren tried to maneuver me in the direction of the stairs and away from his mum.

"Show your guest some hospitality, for goodness' sake, Darren. Would you like a drink, Leyla?"

"Um, yes please. A glass of orange would be great, thanks." I knew that wasn't the answer Darren wanted to hear, but I felt I had to be polite and not just rush on upstairs as soon as I'd walked in the door. I followed the aroma of expensive perfume into the kitchen.

"Come on through. You'll have to excuse the way I look. You've caught me in a right mess — I've just come back from my weekly aerobics class with the girls." She must have reapplied her makeup when she'd come out of the class, I thought, or else she couldn't have worked up any sweat whatsoever. She chattered away to me as she wandered around the fitted kitchen, fixing my drink and pulling different bits of food out of the fridge. She laughed at her own jokes and used her arms and hands a lot to express herself. I could see where Darren got part of his personality from. His mum was loud and extroverted and obviously liked being the center of attention.

Darren leant against the cooker, looking bored and agitated, desperate to get away.

"Our aerobics instructor was telling us tonight about a couple of young girls, probably no older than you, Leyla, who had come into her class a few weeks back full of energy, raring to go. They really went for it: running around the room at top speed, doing sit-ups at a hundred miles an hour, practically bouncing off the walls. They were in the shower room afterward when one of them collapsed and had to be taken away in an ambulance. It turns out they'd both taken amphetamines before they'd come to the class — just to see what it would be like. It backfired, of course. It's terrible what young kids do these days for a bit of entertainment. They're ruining their lives."

Darren and I looked at each other and just burst out laughing. The idea of these two girls getting off their heads on speed and then doing a full hour of aerobics in first gear was just too funny.

Darren's Mum wasn't very amused that we found her story so hilarious and frowned at us both sternly. I went bright red and wished I could disappear. Sensing my embarrassment, Darren tried to make it up with his mum and gave her a hug to lighten the atmosphere. She seemed to appreciate his gesture and carried on chatting.

"How's about a bite to eat?" she asked. "I've got pizza slices, chicken nuggets — oh, and I might have a couple of spring rolls I could throw in the microwave."

"Mum is the queen of finger food. Her idea of a hearty Sunday dinner is a tube of Pringles and a selection of dips from Marks & Spencer." Darren kissed her on the cheek to let her know he was only teasing. "My dad's definitely the cook in this house."

"Well, that's what all that women's lib stuff was about, wasn't it? Telling us women to get out of the kitchen. I can't be bothered fussing with food anyway. I'd rather let Terry get on with it so that I have more time to make myself look beautiful." She ran her fingers through her curls and giggled.

"Listen, Mum, we just want to go and listen to some records. Leyla will have to go home soon," Darren said gently.

"Yeah, thanks for the drink," I said, and followed Darren out of the kitchen.

As Darren closed his bedroom door behind him, he breathed a huge sigh of relief. "Thank God my dad didn't spot you — we'd never have got away. She's a bit full-on, isn't she? Sorry about all that drugs stuff — she's got a real thing about them. She's terrified that I'm going to turn into some sort of druggy 'cos I'm out DJing in clubs all the time. She reads all that stuff in the newspapers about E and is totally convinced that I'm going to die from popping a pill one night. She was just sussing out your reaction to the speed story, I reckon. Trying to work out if you're some sort of junkie that I've picked up at a club."

"I shouldn't have laughed, should I?"

"No way — she's a total hypocrite. She's reaching for her Prozac every five minutes. I learnt to say 'Valium' before I could say 'Mummy' or 'Daddy' when I was little."

"You seem very close to her, though. She's very glamorous for a mum."

"She's bricking it about getting old and losing her looks. She spends hours on her makeup and going to the gym and all that stuff. My dad had an affair with a twenty-one-year-old woman about five years ago and they nearly got divorced over it, but my mum decided to take him back. So now she's completely paranoid about her looks and is convinced that Dad's going to dump her for a younger model when she's past it. It's really sad, when you think about it. She'll probably end up being one of those hideous plastic women who has had so much surgery done to her face that she'll barely be able to talk."

"God, how did you cope with your dad having that affair?"

"I just hid away from it all in my bedroom and buried myself in music. That's when I started to learn to play the guitar. I used to spend hours up here practicing chord changes to drown out the rows that were going on downstairs. I suppose it made me and Mum quite close, though. I sort of looked after her." Darren had absentmindedly picked up his acoustic guitar and was strumming out a few chords. "Anyway, that's all depressing shit. We're young and free and won't be making the same mistakes as those idiots, so who cares?"

Darren walked over to his Technics decks and put a record on. I was stood in the middle of the room taking in his books and his posters and especially his records when he took me by the hand and pulled me down to lie next to him on the bed. My heart was pounding by now, and I was convinced it was so loud that Darren must be able to hear it. I couldn't actually believe that I was lying with Darren on his bed. He ran his hand down my back and rested it on my thigh. He pulled me closer to him so that our faces were inches apart, and we sank into each other's eyes. I trembled with excitement as he brought his hand up to touch my face, and brushed against my breast as he did so. He gently stroked my cheek and kissed me, first on each of my eyelids and then on my lips. I was in heaven.

How on earth had this all happened? Two and a half weeks ago we'd bumped into each other at a gig and next thing, we were tickling each other's tonsils in his bedroom. It seemed to have happened so fast, and so naturally. I hadn't stopped thinking about him and fancying him from afar ever since we'd met at the gig, and he'd made every effort with me whenever we'd seen each other, so it just felt right. It felt fantastic, in fact.

"So are we... you know, seeing each other properly like, or what?" Darren asked, propping himself up on his elbow after we'd kissed in silence for ages.

I was shocked at how direct he was. There was no messing about or playing any games. I was used to all the crap you usually have to go through with boys: pretending that you don't really fancy them, having a snog and then acting like it never happened, never saying what you're really thinking, pretending not to care when you see them with their hand up someone else's skirt.

There was none of that with Darren, so far at least. He was being totally straight with me. And I wasn't complaining. This was obviously the advantage of falling for an older guy. I stumbled over my answer to his question. "I, urm, guess so if that's what you want. I mean, it's what I want too, it's just... God, this feels weird, but then it doesn't, either, it feels completely normal, but weird as well. Oh no, stop me, I'm rambling." I covered my face with my hands and fell back on the bed.

"Listen, I really like you a lot. You've got a total mind of your own, like you're making up your own rules as you go along. You're really sorted. All the girls I've ever been out with before have just been bothered about their weight, their hair, and who's snogging who at school. It's boring, you know, and you're the opposite of all that." He leant over to kiss me, and it felt brilliant.

"So is that it? Are we, like, 'an item'?" I asked.

"Yes, you are now mine. You are forever in my power." Darren reached over to the amp at the side of his bed and picked up a thin plain silver bracelet. He slid it onto my wrist. "You will wear the slave bangle and remain in my control."

I twisted it around on my wrist, admiring it. "God, it's lovely. Where did you get it?"

"I found it when I was DJing one night. Keep it, it suits you."

I glanced at my watch and noticed how late it was getting. Mum would be phoning Sarah's to find out where I was if I didn't get home soon. "I'd better get going, Darren. I don't want to walk home too late," I said, and eased myself reluctantly off the bed.

"I'll walk you home. It's too dark for you to go walking around here on your own."

As we walked and talked, I kept sneaking glances at the bracelet he'd given me. I was overwhelmed by my feelings toward him. I was practically seeing stars. It was all I could do to stop myself from jumping up and down with excitement. I was going out with the fittest bloke in school. I could hardly believe it.

"Have you started going to that music workshop you told me about yet?" Darren asked, snapping me out of my reverie.

I'd completely forgotten that I'd told him about the workshop, and it made me think about Em again. I hoped she was all right and wasn't feeling too freaked out by the emotional scene that had taken place at the flat. "No, not yet, but I'm going next Saturday actually. Any tips?"

"Always look like you know what you're doing. Winging it is half the challenge."

When I got home I sneaked up the stairs and called from the landing to let them know I was back. I ran into my room and flopped down on my bed, twisting my brand-new bracelet round and round my wrist. I let out a small yelp of delight.

"Are you all right in there?" Mum shouted from her bedroom.

Our stupid paper walls — you could hear everything. I was annoyed that Mum had invaded my private thoughts, but I couldn't take the grin off my face. "I'm fine," I shouted back curtly. I'm fine, I thought. I'm fantastic.

Copyright © 2001 by Adele Minchin

Tags: Sexually Transmitted Diseases (STDs)

About the Author

Adele Minchin has worked in public relations for four years, first at Campaign Against the Arms Trade and currently in publishing. She is a volunteer at Body and Soul, the self-help organization that supports adults and young people living with or affected by HIV/AIDS. The Beat Goes On is her first novel and, shortly after its first publication, won the Branford Boase Award for fiction in the UK. Adele Minchin resides in London, England.