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noises.
    I admit that I quickly became aroused. Helen did not fail to notice, and suggested that we go to her bedroom. I baulked. I hadn’t planned on SEX. Of course, my underpants were clean (Mum was strict about that), but I was sure sex meant getting naked, and even in my drunken state I was not looking forward to displaying my flab. I never did it in school. I regularly forged notes from my mother to the games teacher about my bad knees. My knees would not have been bad if they hadn’t such a huge burden to carry.
    After one more very quick drink, we went up two flights of stairs. I stumbled a bit and then decided it would be a great idea to jump the last few steps. By this stage we were howling with laughter, and it was hilarious when I toppled over and twisted my left foot. It was a bit sore and there was quite a gash on my ankle, but I didn’t make a fuss. I wondered how she was going to explain the blood on the stairs to her mother, but she implied that her mother mightn’t notice. I was pretty curious about Helen’s mother.
    Then we entered Helen’s room. ‘I changed the sheets this morning,’ she said, as she unbuttoned her grandfather shirt. I turned away to give her privacy, but then realized how silly that was and turned back to face her. She stood before me in nothing but a pair of underpants that featured a tennis racket motif on her hip. I didn’t know she played tennis. Downstairs, I hadn’t dared to squeeze her breasts, and I knew shewas thin and I really should have anticipated the reality, but I had expected
some
breasts. She had definitely had breasts when fully clothed. Where had they gone? Mine were significantly larger than hers, and I immediately felt my physical deflation. I began to feel nauseous and hot.
    ‘Get in, then!’
    She was lying under the covers with her arms behind her head.
    ‘There isn’t much room,’ I said truthfully.
    ‘Well, you’re going to be on top, so it’s fine.’ She was very bossy. ‘You’ll have to take your clothes off.’ A pause. ‘I seriously don’t mind about you being fat, you know.’
    I hardly cared myself now. I just needed to get it over and done with. My school uniform dropped bit by bit to the floor, but taking her example, I kept my underpants on until I was in the bed. Then began an amount of unseemly grunting and squealing from the two of us, and copious sweating from me, as we discarded our pants and I tried to negotiate my way up the correct corridor. Helen handled things, so to speak, and guided me in the right direction. It was absolutely brilliant for the first three minutes, but after that it was a struggle not to vomit. I tried to think about Farrah Fawcett, but it was no good. I don’t wish to go into further detail about The Sex. Suffice to say that I didn’t enjoy it. It was uncomfortable and messy, humiliating on my part, and I was glad when Helen said she’d had enough. Pregnancy was not something we had to worry about.
    ‘You haven’t done this before, then?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Me neither.’
    I was surprised. I took some solace from her admission.
    Helen and I parted on awkward terms.
    ‘You won’t tell anyone, will you?’ she said anxiously as we lay in bed after The Sex. She expressed my concern exactly.
    I rootled around the bottom of the bed for my Y-fronts, squashing Helen and pinching the tiny amount of flesh on her skeleton in the process. She winced in pain.
    ‘Never,’ I said, a little too vehemently, as I clambered out of the bed, noting as I did so that my ankle was extremely painful.
    ‘You’d better go. Mam will be home soon.’ It was clear we both wanted to draw a line under the encounter.
    ‘My ankle is swollen,’ I said as I pulled up my elasticated trousers, trying desperately to suck in my belly.
    ‘How can you tell?’
    I thought that was a bit much. Coming from a girl who could potentially be my girlfriend.
    I was sick into a hedge on the way home. My watch registered five past eleven as I