BooksBarbecue
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Chapters (75)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise
  3. About the Author
  4. Title Page
  5. Intoroduction
  6. ONE
  7. TWO
  8. THREE
  9. FOUR
  10. FIVE
  11. SIX
  12. SEVEN
  13. EITHT
  14. NINE
  15. TEN
  16. ELEVEN
  17. TWELVE
  18. THIRTEEN
  19. FOURTEEN
  20. FIFTEEN
  21. SIXTEEN
  22. SEVENTEEN
  23. EIGHTEEN
  24. NINETEEN
  25. TWENTY
  26. TWENTY-ONE
  27. TWENTY-TWO
  28. TWENTY-THREE
  29. TWENTY-FOUR
  30. TWENTY-FIVE
  31. TWENTY-SIX
  32. TWENTY-SEVEN
  33. TWENTY-EIGHT
  34. TWENTY-NINE
  35. THIRTY
  36. THIRTY-ONE
  37. THIRTY-TWO
  38. THIRTY-THREE
  39. THIRTY-FOUR
  40. THIRTY-FIVE
  41. THIRTY-SIX
  42. THIRTY-SEVEN
  43. THIRTY-EIGHT
  44. THIRTY-NINE
  45. FORTY
  46. FORTY-ONE
  47. FORTY-TWO
  48. FORTY-THREE
  49. FORTY-FOUR
  50. FORTY-FIVE
  51. FORTY-SIX
  52. FORTY-SEVEN
  53. FORTY-EIGHT
  54. FORTY-NINE
  55. FIFTY
  56. FIFTY-ONE
  57. FIFTY-TWO
  58. FIFTY-THREE
  59. FIFTY-FOUR
  60. FIFTY-FIVE
  61. FIFTY-SIX
  62. FIFTY-SEVEN
  63. FIFTY-EIGHT
  64. FIFTY-NINE
  65. SIXTY
  66. SIXTY-ONE
  67. SIXTY-TWO
  68. SIXTY-THREE
  69. SIXTY-FOUR
  70. SIXTY-FIVE
  71. SIXTY-SIX
  72. SIXTY-SEVEN
  73. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
  74. CLIMATE EMERGENCY
  75. Copyright

‘Josh! Wow!’ He almost spills his drink as he jumps down from the counter he’s sitting on – it was Jamie’s mum who used to tell us not to sit up there. Quite a lot of childhood is learning where you can’t sit. To my surprise, Jamie throws his arms around me in an awkward hug that I’m too slow to return properly, knocking him on the knee with my carrier bag. The people Jamie was talking to – Louisa, Harry and Kyle – all look as surprised as I do.

Jamie takes the bag, lifts out a bottle and gives me a knowing smile. Of course it’s the same, dodgy euro-brand beer we used to steal from Dad years ago.

‘Did you leave the coke in the stack?’

‘Of course.’ And I laugh, the weight lessening slightly.

Jamie puts his soft drink down, cracks the top of one of my bottles and passes it to me, then opens another for himself. We tap bottles. I look around and notice there isn’t much alcohol here except what I’ve brought. I begin to think that maybe I’ve made a mistake, misjudged the party. The weight comes back again.

I don’t remember the first time I had beer. Probably when I was really young, like eight or nine. But the first time I got drunk started out a bit like this. It was Jamie and me in my kitchen. My parents had gone out for the day and left us to our own devices. We were in the garage looking for the coke, or something more drinkable than water, and when we saw the stack of beer we had the same thought at the same time. We did the coke-switch trick, thinking ourselves criminal masterminds, and must have only had two bottles each. It was enough though, and when Mum and Dad came home, I’d fallen asleep in the lounge under a pile of DVDs, and Jamie was passed out in the toilet, his head underneath the bowl. I’d expected Dad to find it more amusing, but Mum drove Jamie home while I cleaned up the mess Jamie had left – he’d missed the toilet. Dad watched sternly from the doorway and made sure I didn’t miss anything. I could smell the antiseptic for days and it made my head spin.

‘It’s good to see you,’ says Jamie. He seems to have forgotten the group behind him as we wander outside, where it’s a bit quieter.

I smile, and the first beer goes down easily as we talk. About school, football, how his dad used to coach us until he left Jamie’s mum and moved away, about holidays, about everything. Before I know it, we’ve been talking for nearly an hour. Which means I’ve been talking for nearly half an hour.