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Armie ran his fingers over the five gold-embossed letters on the stiff white card. He had never received an invitation in just his own name before now.
For as long as he could remember it was always ‘Timmy + 1’ or ‘Timothée & Helper’ or more often than not, just ‘Timmy’ and he would be left home-alone waiting for his best friend and ‘master’ to return and tell him all about the birthday party or bar mitzva or some other special event he’d just been to.
Armie didn’t mind at all. That was his role.
“See!” said Timmy. “I told you Charlie had invited you too. Its gonna be fucking epic!” The party tonight was a retirement bash for the father of Tim’s closest school friend and, not wanting to pass up on the chance to show off to the entire neighbourhood, they’d hired an actual travelling carnival complete with acrobats, a ghost train, dodgems and a full-sized free-fall ride.
The dress-code was confusing though and Armie didn’t have a clue what to wear – he didn’t go to many formal events but he knew that his basic wardrobe of denim jeans, chino shorts and plain tees probably wouldn’t cut it. He sat on the bed while Timmy dragged shirts and pants and jackets out of their shared wardrobe and tossed them into a heap on the floor. “Ok, so you’re the clever one Armie. What the fuck does Gilded Glamour mean?”
Armie shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. Maybe if we’d been given the invitations earlier...”
“Umm, ok. Confession time. I found them in the bottom of my book bag. They’ve been there all summer. Crap! None of these things look right!”
Even – or perhaps especially – in his baggy boxer-shorts with his hair stood on end and a frowny look on his face, Armie thought Timmy was just about the cutest thing he’d ever seen. In fact, was ‘cute’ even the right word? Maybe ‘sexy’ or ‘hot’ was closer to what he’d been feeling lately, although those words seemed risky and dangerous somehow. Like he was crossing a line that should never be crossed. But, boy was it getting harder to ignore both the mental and physical reactions his friend stirred in him. Time away from each other might not be a bad thing.
Timmy crouched down and rummaged through the pile of shoes at the bottom of the closet. “I swear a poltergeist steals my left sneakers in the night.” He pulled out a brown cardboard box. “What’s in here?”
“Leave that!” said Armie, sitting bolt upright on the bed. “It’s…umm… private.”
Timmy twisted his head around and grinned. “Ooh. Intriguing. What you hiding? I thought we didn’t have secrets.” He sat down on the floor and pretended to take the lid off.
“Don’t! You’ll spoil the surprise. It’s your birthday present and you’re not allowed to see it until then. I’m trying to get it finished before I go…” Armie stopped himself and pressed his lips together. They’d avoided talking about the massive elephant in the room since Papa dropped the bombshell of the impending Helper Training a couple of days ago. The party this evening would be a welcome distraction for both of them.
Apparently someone – he didn’t know who - was coming to collect him to cart him off to God-knows-where on his sixteenth birthday, which was in exactly four days’ time. It still didn’t seem real. He was scared out of his mind but thought he’d done a pretty good job of feigning nonchalance and confidence so far. But just in case he wasn’t back home in time for Timmy’s special day in December, this year’s gift was extra important.
He was only meant to be away for three months, but… just in case.
The home-made gift thing was a tradition they’d started as small children. Armie would either find or make something unique and personal for Timmy’s birthday each year. Once, he’d made a dozen bookmarks, a different one for every month of the year. Another time he’d taught himself the art of origami and had made a collection of perfectly folded jungle animals from the pages of one of their favourite childhood books. They were still perched on the top shelf now, next to the sports trophies.
This year he was making a desk-clock. He’d designed it himself in the shape of a bicycle and Papa had bought him all the various different components from a craft shop in town. While Timmy was out having his language and piano lessons, he’d spent hours fixing all the tiny, intricate mechanical parts together. All he had left to do was to paint it, and had chosen sky-blue and green with flecks of gold.
“You know you could just, like, buy me something Armie. We’re not kids anymore.”
Armie blinked and flushed a little. All of his basic needs were catered for – food, clothes, toiletries, books – but he’d never had his own actual money. Maybe Helpers weren’t allowed to have money? Or perhaps Momma and Papa Chalamet didn’t feel he needed it - who knew. He never dared ask. Besides, he loved making something special for Timmy each year. He put his heart and soul into it.
“Oh Armie, I’m sorry.” Tim placed the box back carefully where he’d found it and stood up. “I didn’t mean… I love your gifts! I treasure them. I just meant that it would be easier for you if… what? What’s wrong? What’s that face for?”
“Nothing’s wrong.”
Timmy narrowed his eyes. “You’re lying.”
Armie squirmed. “It’s just that I …er… don’t really have any cash to buy you anything.”
“How come? What have you done with your allowance?” asked Tim.
Armie really wished they’d never started this conversation. “I don’t… well, I guess Helpers maybe aren’t supposed to…”
Tim put his hands on his hips. “You saying what I think you’re saying? How do I not know this? Fuck that! Starting from now, you’re getting a weekly allowance like me. I swear I never knew. I thought…”
“Please don’t say anything Tim. Not yet anyway. I don’t want to make a fuss. It’s fine. I have everything I need and I only have to ask if there’s something I’d like. Please.” Ever since the incident in the study where he’d dislocated his shoulder, Armie had an overwhelming fear of becoming a burden - that if he wasn’t good enough he could be sent away, not just for a few weeks, but forever.
“Armie, its ok. Stop worrying. Our folks are loaded.” Timmy sat down next to him on the bed, cupped his hand around the back of his friend’s neck and brought their foreheads together. “But if it makes you feel any better, how about I just share my allowance with you? I waste it on crap that I don’t need anyway.”
Then to Armie’s complete astonishment, Tim quickly pecked him on the cheek before jumping up and saying, “Ok, on that note, let’s get ready and go to the mall! It’s only ten o clock. We can get one of those giant cookies that you like and we’ll try and find outfits that meet this damn stupid dress code. Andiamo!”
Armie smiled and nodded. He daren’t speak. He couldn’t. How did he get so lucky to belong to such a wonderful person? And how was he going to survive without him for three whole months?
He touched the place where the kiss had landed with his fingertips, then set-to putting all the clothes back in the closet.
***
They stood in the large hallway of the house waiting for their ride to the party. Timmy had on a pair of tight black trousers and a loose white T-shirt in a silky, slightly iridescent material. Armie had on dark grey dress pants with a crisp black shirt with white, pearly buttons. They’d both washed and tamed their usually messy hair and had splashed on the same aftershave, although technically only one of them had actually needed to shave.
“Well, well, well! Aren’t you two a sight for sore eyes,” said Papa, coming out of his office. “We’ll drop you off on our way to the deli. Send our apologies to Charlie’s parents. Tell them we had a prior engagement.”
“I’m not lying for you Papa,” said Timmy, turning this way and that in the large full-length mirror in the hallway and adjusting the low neckline of his top and fiddling with his chain.
“It’s only a little white lie,” said his mother as she came down the stairs. “I can’t remember the last time me and your father had an evening to ourselves in the house. I’ve given Vanda and Anchise the night off. You two are out. So for once, we’re having a romantic evening, aren’t we darling?”
Timmy pretended to puke. “Eww! I don’t want to know!”
Armie chuckled. He checked his invitation again then slipped it into the back pocket of his trousers.
“Right, let’s go,” said Papa. “We need to call at the store for champagne and chocolates. How about I treat us to a dozen oysters too, Nicole? You know what they say about oysters…”
“Please! Make it stop!” shouted Timmy, plugging his fingers in his ears as they left the house.
***
The ride to the party only took five minutes, and when Papa pulled up outside the huge property they could already hear the tinkling of the fairground rides and a band belting out soft-rock tunes from the garden beyond. Two official-looking security personnel in dark blue uniforms guarded the wrought-iron gates and another one checked off guests’ names on an iPad before they could enter.
Timmy leapt out of the car. “Later!” he shouted and ran right to the front of the queue of people waiting to get in.
“Oh I do worry about him,” said Nicole. “He’s not sensible like you Armie. And he thinks I don’t know about the beer the other night. Look after him, won’t you? Make sure he gets back in one piece.”
“Of course. I promise. Have a lovely evening. What time should we be home?”
“No later than one, ok?”
“You bet. And thank you again for my new clothes.” Armie climbed out of the car and stood patiently in line, unlike Timmy who had clearly disregarded the normal protocols of actually waiting your turn and was somehow already through the gates and over by the food trucks with a stick of pink cotton-candy in his hand. Some of it had stuck in his hair.
Armie laughed – what a goofball! Oh how he was going to miss him.
When he reached the front of the queue, the short, stocky, brown-skinned security guy peered over the top of his mirrored sunglasses and said, “Name.”
“Hi. It’s Armie, sir.”
“That your first or last name?”
“Umm…both. But you might find me under Chalamet. Spelt with a cee aitch.”
“Ah yeah. Chalamet with a cee aitch, like your brother. Livewire that one isn’t he? Cut the damn line he did. Ran right in.”
“My broth…? Ahh no. We’re not brothers. I’m his Helper.”
The man looked up and pushed his sunglasses onto his forehead. “What d’you say? You’re a Helper? You sure don’t look like one.”
“Yes sir. I am.”
“In that case, I’m sorry buddy, but you can’t come in.”
Armie’s mouth went instantly dry. “Wh…why?” He glanced over to the garden beyond the ornate topiary. Timmy was deep in animated conversation with his school friend Charlie and thankfully hadn’t yet noticed anything was wrong.
“Hosts instructions. No Helpers allowed, see,” said the doorman and he pointed over to the road. Until now, Armie hadn’t noticed the men and women with the vacant expressions, sat waiting in their master’s vehicles or just simply stood motionless at the edge of the property. He felt the first hint of sharp, hot tears prickling behind his eyes.
“Sorry kiddo. I just do what I’m paid to do. Can you step to one side. You’re holding up the line.”
Armie moved away and stood under the shade of a large shrub. This was horrible! What should he do? Then he remembered his special invitation. He fished it out of his back pocket and waited patiently while a large group of ridiculously dressed women were ticked off the guest list. This ‘gilded glamour’ theme was certainly open to interpretation! When they’d passed through the gates, he walked back up to the doorman.
“Excuse me Sir, but I have a card. Look.”
The security guard leaned forward and peered at it. “So you do. But you’re still a Helper, right?”
“Of course,” Armie nodded.
“Then, like I said, you can’t come in, fancy invite or no fancy invite. Look, I’m sorry but I don’t make the rules. I’m just paid to follow ‘em.”
Just then, from the other side of the fence, Timmy shouted, “Armie! What’s taking so long?”
Armie took a deep breath and turned and walked slowly towards him. What would be the best way to break the news? How should he act? He already knew exactly how Timmy was going to react. Oh god! He gestured for him to come up close to the fence.
“You’re going the wrong way,” said Tim, frowning as he met him at the other side of the black iron railings. “The entrance is over there.”
There was no easy way to say this. When they got up close to each other, Armie decided to just come out with it. “So… I guess there’s been some sort of mistake. It turns out that Helpers aren’t allowed in.” He shrugged and tried to muster up the semblance of a smile.
Tim’s eyes opened wide in shock. “What? What the fuck? Says who? Have you shown them your invitation?”
Armie nodded.
“Well that can’t be right,” said Tim, shaking his head back and forth. “Its fucking ridiculous! Hang on, lemme get Charlie. Hey Charlie! Charlie! Over here!”
Charlie ran over to his friends. “Hey there Armie. You ok? What’s up? You not coming in?”
Tim had two little flushed spots high up on his cheekbones and his eyebrows were knitted together in anger. “They won’t fucking let him in. Say that Helpers aren’t allowed. But you invited him, right?”
“Yeah sure. My Mom said I could invite ten people. I don’t get it. Hang on. I see her over there. Mom! Mom!” Charlie ran off to fetch his mother.
Timmy stretched his arm through the iron bars and gently rubbed Armie’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. We’ll fix this.” Armie felt like crying, which definitely wasn’t something a nearly-sixteen-year-old Helper should do. No wonder he was being sent for training - he should have known that special things like this weren’t meant for people like him. He just wanted the ground to swallow him up.
Charlie dragged a flustered-looking woman in a tight purple dress over to them. The feathers around the high neckline had stuck to her bright orange lipstick and she already had noticeable sweat-marks in her armpits. “I don’t have time for this Charles. What’s the problem? Oh, hi Timmy. Hi Armie… Oh... Oh dear.”
“Mom, Armie says the security guy won’t let him in.”
She flushed a deep shade of pink that clashed horribly with her outfit and makeup. “Look, I’m really sorry Armie but Charles should have never invited you. My husband has several very important business associates here, and they all have damn Helpers and I simply couldn’t be doing with them dilly-dawdling around, getting under my feet and bringing the vibe down. So I made the decision that no Helpers were allowed. Sorry Armie, that sounded terrible didn’t it? But you know what I mean. If it wasn’t for that goddamn tattoo I could maybe… no, sorry. I can’t. You’re welcome around here any other time, ok? Now I really must get back to my guests.”
Charlie watched his mother dash off and turned around to face Armie. He looked mortified. “Oh shit Arms. I’m really sorry. I feel so bad. I had no idea.”
“It’s ok,” said Armie. “I understand.”
“Well I fucking don’t!” said Timmy. He was furious. “If Armie can’t come in, then I’m not coming in. See ya fuckers!”
Armie quickly reached through the railings and grabbed Timmy’s hand. This was exactly what he had feared. “No! Please Timmy. Stay. I want you to stay. I shouldn’t be the reason you miss out on stuff. I’m fine. Honestly. Have fun. You can tell me all about it later.”
Timmy pouted. “It won’t be fun without you. And you were really excited about it and… and you look so good in that shirt and…”
“Timo!” They all looked up at the sound of a loud voice calling from the other side of the dodgems. “Timo! Over here!” Rachel – spin-the-bottle-kiss-Rachel – waved her hands in the air then ran across the lawn as fast as her skin-tight dress and high heels would allow. She threw her arms around Tim. “Ooh Timo you smell delish! But what’s that in your hair?” she said, fingering the sticky pink clump. “Never mind. Come on. We’ve saved you a bumper car. Me and you against Jake and Charlie. Let’s go!”
As she forcibly dragged an extremely embarrassed-looking Timmy away, Armie seized the moment – he turned and walked briskly down the driveway without looking back. Yes, he was sad and upset about not being allowed in, but if Timmy left the party because of him, he would feel a million times worse. It was better this way.
He looked at the other Helpers as he passed by. Were they sad to be excluded from the fun like him? Or did they not care? Were they used to it by now? It was impossible to tell. Is that what he should be doing - waiting outside for Timmy until the party ended? But what would be the point of that? Oh god, it was all so confusing.
It wasn’t until he got halfway down the block that he suddenly remembered something and he turned and ran back to the entrance.
The security guard saw him coming. “Hey kiddo, I’ve already told you. No Helpers…”
Armie caught his breath. “No, its not that. I just wanted to know what time it finished. I promised to get Timmy home safely.”
The guy took his sunglasses off. “Ah, I see. Well, the music stops at midnight and I’m on the clock until half past. Then I’m outa here.”
“Thank you sir. I guess I’ll see you at midnight then,” said Armie. His shirt felt decidedly uncomfortable now and as he walked away, he rolled up the sleeves and unbuttoned the collar.
“Hey!” The security guard called out to him. “I’m sorry this happened to you. You seem like a good kid. Believe me, I know what it’s like to be treated differently around here.”
Armie gave him a little nod and a wave, and headed back home. Then something occurred to him - Momma and Papa wanted a romantic night to themselves didn’t they? Oh shit - he couldn’t go back there now. He looked at his watch – 6:35pm. Damn! Over five hours to kill.
***
By 11pm, Armie was very cold and very hungry. He laid back on the sun-lounger and pulled the slightly damp pool towel over him.
After leaving the party he’d spent an hour or so reading in the library until it closed, and had then walked to the mall and meandered around window shopping for another couple of hours. But when the mall-cops started eyeing him up suspiciously, he decided to come home and wait in the garden. Anchise had locked up the summer-house so that wasn’t an option, and the only light on in the main house was coming from Momma and Papa’s bedroom and there was no way he was disturbing whatever was going on in there. No siree! So he got as comfortable as he could by the pool.
He stared into the night sky. There were thousands of stars up there somewhere, but tonight he couldn’t see a single one of them - the sky was as dark and cloudy as his current mood. How come there were so many shitty things to worry about all of a sudden? Like would Timmy make the track team while he was gone? Did he have time to finish the clock? Would Tim be able to sleep without him? And what exactly did ‘Helper Training’ mean? Papa had said he was perfect, so what exactly was he being trained for? The short video he’d watched didn’t give much away – there was a gym and classrooms and a large dormitory where all the boys slept, but apart from that, he didn’t have a clue. He wished he could remember more about his life before he became Timmy’s – it might help him understand what to expect - but the memories were so vague.
The sound of a distant church clock striking half-past the hour roused him from his reverie. He stood up and stretched, draped the towel over the chair and left through the back garden gate, careful not to make any sound. The mile-long jog back to Charlie’s would warm him up.
Fifteen minutes later, he stood sheltering from the rain under the boughs of a large tree in the front garden of the house watching as the party wound down. He saw Timmy’s school friends getting picked up by their parents, and acquaintances of Momma and Papa’s being chauffeured away. He saw fairground rides being dismantled and the band packing up their instruments. What he didn’t see was any sign of Timmy. None.
He spotted the security guard from earlier and walked over to where he was ushering guests out of the large gates. “Excuse me Sir. Remember me? I’ve come to collect my friend, but I can’t find him. Have you seen him?”
“Sure, I remember you. Lemme think… skinny kid. Curly hair. Mouthy. Yeah, he left on his own a while ago. Saw him walking off in that direction.” He pointed towards home.
Armie ran faster than he’d ever run before. Please let him be safe. Please let him be safe. Please let him be safe.
When he burst in through the front door five minutes later, he was almost knocked off his feet as a tearful Timmy practically launched himself at him. “Armie! Thank fuck you’re home! Momma, Papa he’s back! I’ve looked everywhere for you. Where did you go?”
Armie was drenched through to his underwear, but he didn’t care about that – all he cared about was that Timmy was safe. He hugged him against his chest – he felt so small and warm and fragile, and a sudden rush of tears spilled from Armie’s eyes. They mingled in with the rainwater that dripped from the front of his hair for which he was almightily grateful. “I… I went back to the party to collect you. I don’t understand…”
Momma and Papa were stood at the top of the stairs in their nightgowns and it looked like every light in the house had been turned on. And not for the first time that night, Armie was completely befuddled.
He wasn’t the only one. Papa shook his head. “Right, so I have no idea what’s going on but if you’re ok Armie and you’re ok Timmy, can we all please just get back to our beds. Goodnight boys. We can talk about this in the morning.”
Timmy and Armie suppressed their giggles until the master-bedroom door had closed. “Shh,” said Armie. “It looks like I’m already in trouble. Where were you? I was so worried. If anything had’ve happened to you, I…”
“I’m ok, now.” Timmy held his friend at arm’s length. “But look at you. You’re all wet! Yuck!”
Armie laughed and whispered, “Well I’ll let you into a secret, rain is sort of wet you know. And if I’m gonna be wet… then so are you!” and he rubbed his wet face and hands all over Timmy’s neck and ribs and stomach, tickling him until he squealed. “Shush!”
“Stop tickling me then!”
They went around the house turning all the lights off, then went up to their bedroom, dried off and pieced together what had happened.
It turned out that at the exact same time that Armie was leaving through the back garden gate to go collect Timmy, Timmy was in fact coming in through the front door having left the party early because, in his words, “Rachel was creeping on me and I couldn’t handle it.”
The truth was that he really wasn’t having a good time without his best friend. Every time something funny happened he would turn to tell Armie about it, only to find he wasn’t there - especially in the fairground section where all the time he just kept thinking how much Armie would have loved the shooting gallery and the walzers and how he might have won him a honey badger like last time.
And how they could have perhaps snuggled up together on the ghost train. Only because it was dark and cold and a little scary of course. No other reason.
Having walked home alone and finding their bedroom empty, Timmy had systematically searched for Armie in every room of the house, thinking that he might be reading in the study or perhaps watching TV in the den. When he realised that he wasn’t there and noticing that their bed hadn’t even been sat on let alone slept in, he went into full-on drama-queen mode and bellowed, “Armie’s missing!” at the top of his lungs. This of course resulted in his parents frantically rushing out of their bedroom to see what all the commotion was about, mere minutes before a drowned-rat Armie came bursting through the front door.
It was all still a little confusing. And Armie deliberately left out the part about wandering around the town aimlessly and hiding out in the garden – he knew Timmy would worry. They were both safe and together again – and that’s all that really mattered. Sleep came quickly and deeply for both of them that night.
Timmy awoke early the next day. He carefully extracted himself from under the warm, heavy weight of a left thigh and tiptoed out of their room – he had an early morning date with Vanda in the kitchen.
Even before the drama of the previous evening, he had planned to surprise Armie with a breakfast spread of all his favourite things every morning this week, up to and including his birthday when he hoped the addition of silly-string and shiny paper hats would make it even more special.
The rain clouds had gone and the sun was shining. By the time Armie had showered and dressed and come out into the garden, the patio table had been laid out with large jugs of apricot juice, dishes of soft-boiled eggs, bowls of fruit salad and Italian croissants - and Armie’s all-time favourite, chocolate chip pancakes with whipped cream.
“Ta-daa!” declared Timmy with a flourish. “I hope you’re hungry.”
Armie beamed. “Wow! This looks amazing. And yeah, I am so hungry.” His stomach made a loud grumble right on cue. “See?”
Timmy laughed. “Come and eat. Let me get you an egg.”
They sat together at the back of the table facing the garden and piled their plates with the wonderful food. Nicole appeared wearing a silky dressing gown and with a newspaper tucked under her arm just as Armie’s stomach growled loudly again. “Morning boys. Somebody’s hungry.”
“Oh goodness me, I’m sorry. I haven’t eaten in like, twenty-four hours,” he laughed.
Timmy, who’d gorged himself on corn-dogs and candy the night before, momentarily paused his Nutella-spreading and frowned. “How come? What do you mean, you’ve not eaten for twenty-four hours?”
Armie sliced the top off his egg and scooped out the yoke and ate it like a starving man. “Ah, I tell a lie. We shared a giant cookie at the mall, didn’t we? I forgot about that.”
Nicole sat down opposite the boys and poured herself a coffee. “Wasn't there food at the party?”
Before Armie could answer Timmy jumped in. “Charlie’s mother wouldn’t let him in the party, the fucking bitch!”
“Language Timothée!” said his father from the kitchen doorway.
“Sorry Papa. But its true! Tell them Armie. He went to the gate and… hang on. How come you two don’t already know this?”
“Let Armie speak Timmy. You have a very annoying habit of speaking for him.” Marc kissed his wife on the cheek and sat down next to her.
Timmy did the motion of zipping his mouth up – but he was puzzled and he knew he wouldn’t be able to stay quiet for long. Why hadn’t Armie eaten since the cookie in the mall? Had he not just come home after being turned away from the party?
Armie wiped his chin with a napkin where yellow egg yolk had dribbled down it and scooped a pancake onto his plate. “Well… basically there was a ‘no helpers allowed’ door policy, which was a bit lame. But I’d promised to make sure Timmy got home safely so that meant I had almost six hours to kill. I ended up going to the library first, and then when it closed, I went to the mall until I got mistaken for a shop-lifter. So then I wasn’t sure what to do, so I just… Vanda, these pancakes are so good! Thank you.”
“I don’t understand,” said Momma, lighting up her cigarette. “Why did you go to the library and the mall?”
Armie’s fork paused in mid-air. “I’m sorry. Should I have waited outside the party for Timmy?”
Timmy and his mother simultaneously said, “No!” and Nicole said, “What I meant is, why didn’t you just come home? Why were you trying to find ways to kill time?”
Timmy was confused too. He was under the impression that Armie had come back here and that they’d just missed each other by chance, using different doors.
Armie looked sheepish. “Well, I didn’t want to… er…”
Timmy plonked his glass down on the table. The truth hit him. “Ah I get it! He didn’t want to spoil your manky date night. Right Armie? You two were all like ooh, we’re having oysters, and ooh we’re having a romantic night. It’s a wonder we haven’t been put off food for life!”
He knew he was being extremely rude but he couldn’t help it. He was on a roll now.
Armie blushed. “Well… I sort of did come home. But just in the garden. I sat on the sun-lounger until it was time to collect Timmy. It was a little cold and I was hungry but apart from that, I was fine. The worse bit was when the security guy said you’d already left. Boy did I panic! But all’s well that ends well. No harm done. I guess I should have realised that special parties weren’t meant for me.” He smiled and tucked into another gooey pancake. “Oh this is so nice. I could eat the whole lot!”
Timmy looked down at his own half eaten pancake. His appetite had vanished in a flash. He loved Armie with every fibre in his body and he wanted him to have every special thing that life had to offer. So all the time that he was stuffing his face and driving the bumper cars and dancing to the band, his best friend – his brother – was cold and hungry and alone, hiding out in the garden of the only home he’d ever known because he was scared to come inside?
Oh god, oh God, oh GOD. He felt sick.
And because he was only fifteen and not able to process such strong emotions, he took it out on the person he loved most in the whole world. “All’s well that ends well? No harm done? Is there something actually fucking wrong with you Armie?”
“Timothée, I’ll not tell you again about using that sort of language at the table!” said Papa.
Armie’s smile faltered and he reached out to place his hand on top of Timmy’s. “I was fine. Honestly. You don’t need to ever worry about me. It’s my job to worry about you.”
Timmy snatched his hand away, clenched his jaw and clattered his cutlery down on his plate. “So let’s get this right. You’re banned from a party, you’re picked on by mall-cops, you don’t feel welcome enough in your own home to actually come inside, you’re cold and alone and…” His voice broke. “… hungry… and you think that’s fine? That’s some seriously fucked up shit right there!”
Armie placed his fork gently down on his plate. “I’m sorry everyone. I thought I was doing the right thing. I’m trying so hard to be a good Helper and…”
Timmy stood up. His chair tipped backwards and crashed to the floor. “I never asked for a Helper! I wish you’d never got me one!” He turned to his father. “This is all your fault!”
Papa was furious - but not with either of the boys. “The only person to blame for all of this is that damn woman who’s party it was. How dare she ban Helpers. Its disgraceful! I’ve a good mind to call her right now.”
Armie blinked away tears. “Oh no please don’t, please. I don’t want to cause any trouble. Please. I’m sorry.”
“And stop saying sorry!” shouted Tim. “You sound like a fucking idiot!” The look of hurt and agony on his best friend’s face was the last thing he saw before he turned and ran into the house.
Oh god, what had he done?
Not long after, Timmy heard oh-so-familiar footsteps coming up the stairs. He had thrown himself face down onto their bed to try and muffle the sound of his sobs. It didn’t work and he could be heard all over the house.
“Go away!” His face was smushed into the pillows and it came out muffled and with no conviction at all - the last thing in the world he wanted was for Armie to actually go away.
He felt the bed dip near his feet and then a warm hand resting on his ankle. Then softly and quietly, Armie began to talk...
“I remember how scared I was when I first came here. All I’d been told was that I now belonged to a sweet, clever little boy and that I was to look after him for as long as he needed me. I gripped onto Papa’s hand so tightly that my knuckles were white. We came into the house and I could feel everyone’s eyes on me but I daren’t look up. Then you stood in front of me, and I plucked up the courage to lift my head, and I saw your face for the first time. You smiled at me, and that smile sticks in my mind, because I knew then that I had no reason to feel scared anymore. That I was home.”
He started to gently rub the back of Tim’s thigh as he spoke. “I’d learnt the names of all the different colours ages before, and I thought that I knew them all. Even ones like violet and aquamarine. But I remember being so confused because the colour of your eyes was one I didn’t know. And I wanted so much to be good and perfect and to know the right word. I know now that there isn’t one. Apart from beautiful, maybe.”
Timmy spun around and flung himself across Armie’s lap. “I’m a horrible person. Please forgive me. I wanted this last week to be so special.”
“Shh, its ok, its ok.” Armie stroked his hair. “You’re not horrible. You’re lovely. And this week is special. We’ve got three full days left. One shitty night won’t spoil it.”
Tim sat up and scrubbed away the tears and looked into the blue, blue eyes of the best person he knew in the whole world and said, “I don’t want you to go.”