- Mabel? said Owen.

- Are you sure you can call her your girlfriend? I asked.

That came out wrong.

- What? said Iain.

- Shouldn't you call her your ladyfriend if she's in her sixties?

Owen and I went into hysterics.

- Fuck you, Iain said, but amiably.

- Anytime, anywhere, I said.

Then he flipped me off.

- So when do we get to meet her? asked Owen.

- You don't, said Iain. - I don't want her to get the wrong idea. She might think I'm a loser too.

- Hey, fuck you! we went.

- Anytime, anywhere.

We were in one of Mr Reginald's science lessons at the time, a practical lesson where we could get away with talking. The three of us were huddled around the same table, heating a test tube in a Bunsen flame.

- I'm going to town with her this Saturday, Iain told us. - Should be going to a film.

- How romantic, I said.

- You want to see what she looks like? Owen asked me later.

It was after the lesson, when Owen and I had French together with Mr Cockthruster, and Iain was in another class. Iain had just gone out of range when Owen asked.

I chuckled. - Funny. I was thinking the same thing.

We grinned.

The cinema was halfway down the high street, on the corner of a road that led to the hospital. Once upon a time the high street had been an actual road, but now it was paved red and only street cleaning trucks and ambulances could come down the high street. For everything else, the cinema was at a dead end. There was always plenty of cars parked outside. Owen and I hid behind them for a while. It was not yet ten o'clock.

- We're too early, I said.

- We don't know what showing they're going to, Owen said.

He was standing behind a transit van, looking through one side window and out the other, at the cinema on the other side of this side road.

- There aren't any showings of any film for another two hours, I said. - They don't even open the frigging front doors until eleven thirty.

- He said they're going to town, and then they're going to a film. That means they might be in town for at least an hour beforehand, more if they're having lunch.

- Or dinner. They could be going to the ten o'clock showing tonight!

- Iain has to work tomorrow.

Iain worked in a newsagents. He had to be there just after five o'clock in the morning for when the Sunday papers were delivered. He got paid extra for the bother.

- Seven o'clock, then, I said.

- If you wanna go, go. But if we wait here, we'll definitely see her.

We waited another twenty minutes, then the transit van's driver returned and gave us funny looks. He drove off and we felt exposed. Owen decided that we should start a sweep of the high street.

- What if we see them? I said. - They'll see us.

- Then we just dive into a shop quickly, said Owen.

- What happens if they go into a shop, too? We'll miss them.

Owen frowned. - If you wanna go, go.

- No, I said.

At lunchtime we were hungry. We'd walked from the bus station at one end of the high street to the multi-storey car park at the other three times. We saw all of Sam, Greg Bentley, Mark, Chris Parsons, Tom, Joe, even Dean Henderson. We didn't see Iain. Neither had the others. We asked. We didn't ask Dean Henderson. We avoided him altogether.

- Burger King, Owen said. - It's almost directly opposite the cinema.

We went in. Owen spotted a table free in the window.

- Get me a Whopper with cheese, he said. - I'll pay you back.

- But I don't -

He wasn't listening. He slipped into the nearest chair, the one facing the window and rested his elbows on the table. I sighed and queued up.

- You better have the money for this, I said as I put the tray down. - I don't have enough for the cinema now.

- The cinema? he said.

I sucked on the straw I'd just popped through the lid of my drink and looked at his blank expression.

- We're going to the cinema, I said.

- When?

- Wait. Don't tell me the whole idea of today was just to see Iain and Mabel and then go home.

- You forgot the napkins, he said.

- They didn't have any.

He ignored me and got up anyway. Obviously they'd replenished the dispenser by the time he got up there. He came back with a wad. He didn't use a single one.

- So what's on? he asked.

- I don't know. It depends what time you want to go.

- Well, that depends when we see Iain.

I sighed. - Look, how about we say if we haven't seen them by two, we give up?

- Why? What's on at two you want to see?

- I don't know!

Owen wasn't even looking at me. He was looking out the window.

- Eat slower, he told me at one point.

- Why? I said, my mouth full.

- Because this is better than hiding behind a car.

I chuckled. I tried to eat slower, but it had been a long time since breakfast. I was already in town at the time I usually got up on Saturdays.

Owen insisted on waiting for his ice cubes to melt and slurping the water. He made a show of it, so that anyone after our table would know he hadn't quite finished. The restaurant was full when we went in. We'd been lucky to find a table free in the window.

- Finished, he said.

There was nothing left to prolong the meal. I even ate all the manky hard chips from the bottom of the paper bag when they were cold.

We got up from the table. Owen announced that another sweep of the high street was in order.

- One hour, he said.

Outside Burger King he turned in the direction of the bus station. It made more sense. Iain lived three miles out of town and would have to catch the bus in.

- The number eleven, said Owen.

We walked slowly, keeping to one side of the high street. We were in a current, a tide. When the high street was crowded, people heading in the direction of the bus station kept to one side, and people heading toward the multi-storey car park flowed along the other. Occasionally you got the odd person trying to go against the flow, or trying to cut across the stream of people to go into a shop. Generally, we were going to be safe from bumping into Iain and Mabel. If they were heading to the cinema, they would be on the other side of the high street. I kept my eyes open.

We were almost at the bus station. We were past the department stores, past the chain stores, now passing the small local shops. Owen spotted him first.

- There! he said.

Then he promptly dragged me out of the crowd and I tripped over the threshold of a shop. It didn't matter to Owen which. He pointed. His finger moved.

- He's alone, I said.

Owen gave a theatrical gasp. - Do you think he made her up?

- Iain's not that sad.

- We have to follow him!

I grimaced. - Ah, dude.

- What? Come on.

He walked right through the flow of people and waited for me in the middle of the high street. There were less people here, usually just those cutting across. You couldn't walk down the centre. There were raised flowerbeds with wooden benches around the outside, and sometimes there was a continental market set up in the middle. In the end, you always ended up on one side or the other.

Iain was some way ahead of us. Owen felt it was safe to slip into the crowd of people in Iain's wake. Iain was wearing a black jacket and dark jeans. He had had a haircut since I last saw him the day before and he was wearing more hair gel than usual.

- We won't know who she is until we see them together, Owen told me.

- No shit, Sherlock, I said.

We followed Iain all the way back to the cinema, where he turned down the side road. Owen and I sped up. We reached the corner in time to see him go in.

- They must be meeting inside, said Owen.

- Then let's see what's on, I said.

There was a board outside the main entrance with film times. It was a quarter to two. There were two films that started on the hour, then there was a forty five minute wait until the next showing.

Owen hmmed. - "Romeo + Juliet" or "Mars Attacks!". It's got to be one of them.

- "Romeo + Juliet", I said. - Chick flick date movie.

- So we buy tickets to "Mars Attacks!", said Owen.

He led the way inside.

- I thought you wanted to see them, I said.

- See, yes, he said. - But I don't want to end up being stuck in the same row and having to explain what we're doing here.

- Oh. Right.

I spotted Iain heading up the stairs. Both film were being shown on the first floor. Iain hadn't seen us. There hadn't been a queue when he'd bought his tickets, but now someone was buying tickets on a credit card.

- Come on, come on, Owen muttered.

Soon we were at the box office.

- One for "Mars Attacks!", said Owen.

- No, two, I said quickly.

- What?

- You have to pay for me, remember.

Owen groaned and checked his wallet, looked over at the stairs, as if Iain's feet would still be walking up them.

- Two for "Mars Attacks!", he said.

He pushed over the money and snatched the tickets, leaving the 'thank you' to me. The girl behind the desk smiled.

We rushed up the stairs, two at the time. We reached the top, almost breathless; we weren't fit.

- Where is he? said Owen.

- They must have gone in already, I said.

- Shit! Shit and piss!

I laughed.

- Well, we can still go and see the film, I said.

Owen had a stormy look on his face as we handed over our tickets to be torn in two. It didn't register until about thirty seconds later, when we were inside the cinema, but they weren't letting people into "Romeo + Juliet" yet.

It was dark inside the cinema, but the steps were still strip-lit and faint safety lights glowed overhead. We headed down to an empty row in the middle and sat down right in the centre. Owen didn't speak.

- Maybe we'll still catch them coming out, I said.

Owen grunted.

- Catch who? said a voice behind.

Owen and I spun in our seats. It was Iain, standing in the empty row behind, bearing down on us, a hand on the back of our seats.

- Iain! Holy shit! went Owen.

- What the deuce are you two doing here? said Iain.

Owen laughed.

- Were you spying on me?

- We wanted to see Mabel, I said.

- Mabel, Owen said in a silly voice.

Iain snorted. - Well, she's right there.

Then he stepped aside, semi-turned and pointed out a girl in the back row. We craned our necks to see. We could only see her head and shoulders above the seats in between. We couldn't see her very well in the dark, but we saw she was looking at us both, face blank.

- This is why I didn't want her to meet you, Iain said.

Then he headed back along the row. We watched him go. As he reached the steps the lights dipped and the curtains parted. Iain disappeared into the black.

We sat and watched the film.

They were gone by the time we got up again.

- You two really need to get girls of your own, Iain told us in Mr Reg's class on Monday morning.

- Easier said than done, said Owen.

I said nothing.

- You just ask a girl out, said Iain. - Just like I did. Worse she can say is no.

- No, worse she can say is: eww, no, fuck off you hideous phlegm-bag that's been humped by a thousand monkeys, I pointed out.

- Or - began Owen.

- What are you? Men, or mice? Iain said.

Owen and I looked at each other. - Mice, we said.

We both chuckled.

Iain grinned beatifically. - Wrong. You're less than mice. Even mice get laid every now and again.

We all laughed. Mr Reg looked over.

- How long have you been waiting to crack that one, Iain? I asked.

Iain smirked. Owen's smile suddenly fell.

- Wait a sec, he said. - You got laid?

NOTES:
Unlike the last part, this one was indirectly inspired by real events, though it was something just spoken about rather than done. Both "Mars Attacks!" and "Romeo + Juliet" would seem to establish the story as happening in 1997, though I'm not sure if they were out at the same time. That was the heydey of "Friends", hence the narrator's choice of both Jennifer (Aniston) and Rachel (the character she played). Pamela Anderson was also the name on many a teenage boy's lips around then, though not mine. The narrator's not me, remember.