Beatles Read Free Page B

was on his mind. Now and then illustrative texts appeared on the board –
When you sally forth into the great wide world, be prepared – Fight for your country and the Norwegian language – Practice makes perfect – Turn your left cheek and always ask first – Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
. And just before the bell rang, I knew he was happy. He was so happy because for the first time, and the last, we had handed in our essays on time. Lue was happy and he was happy with us. Then the bell rang and everyone raced to the door even though Lue was in mid-sentence and, recalling him now, I see a small, grey figure wreathed in an over-sized smock, with thinning hair falling over his forehead and a face shiny with his exertions and happiness. He is still speaking without sound as twenty-two crazy boys charge out, stampede, and he is still standing there, in his own world, as lonely as Jensenius must be, but he is happy because irony has finally released its grip on him, and he is sincere and warm and likes us.
    But that is now and not then. At that time the silent movie came to a sudden end when the bell rang. Lue was gone in an instant, like a technical fault, and I clung to Gunnar. The trail led straight down to the toilet where eventually ten to fifteen boys had gathered, so someone must have had a big mouth and that mouth belonged to Ola, who had the world’s worst face for playing poker, his whole mug began to twitch as soon as he had a pair of threes in his hand.
    ‘Where is it!’ Dragon hassled.
    ‘This isn’t the circus, you know,’ Gunnar said.
    ‘You’re havin’ us on,’ Dragon said. ‘You haven’t got it!’
    Gunnar just glared at him, without wavering, and Dragon felt ill at ease. He was fat and sweaty and shifted weight from foot to foot.
    ‘When’ve I ever had anyone on?’ Gunnar asked.
    I remembered the time with the IFA pastilles and looked away, for everyone knew that Gunnar would not deceive anyone, and Dragon was slowly but inexorably pushed out of the circle, ashamed, red and breathless.
    Gunnar regarded us for a while. Then he pulled up his sweater and shirt and produced a large white envelope. And the circle around him closed in as at last he opened the envelope and took out the magazine. Then, as though he had lost interest, he gave me the magazine without a word and disappeared into a cubicle and locked the door.
    So I became the centre of the circle and everyone moved towards me, pushing and shoving, because the break would soon be over. I flicked through it. I could feel the agitation at once, I was agitated myself, it wasn’t as I had imagined. The first pictures were close-ups of shaven twats and there was not a sound to be heard, no one laughed, no one grinned, it was as quiet as a burial chamber. I flicked through faster. There were twats from above and from below, whole pages of huge slits spread diagonally from corner to corner. But, at last, towards the end some normality began to return, whole women, huge knockers, loads of hair, but then there was a picture of a guy lying down with his whole face between a woman’s thighs.
    ‘What’s he doin’?’ a voice asked.
    ‘He’s lickin’,’ said another, and it was Gunnar’s, he was out of the cubicle and grinning.
    Everything went quiet for a while, completely quiet.
    ‘Lickin’?’
    ‘Lickin’ the woman’s cunt, can’t you see!’ another voice said.
    ‘Lickin’ her cunt?’
    Dragon stood on the outer perimeter, his eyes rolling.
    ‘Yup.’
    ‘What…what… does that taste like then?’
    ‘It tastes of grass,’ I said, quick as a shot. ‘If you’re lucky. But if you cop a bitter ’un, it tastes like stale salami and gym shoes.’
    Someone was coming down the stairs. A shudder ran through the great flock of white faces. Gunnar threw me a bewildered glance, thrust the envelope in my hand and moved towards the exit with the others. I stood there with my back to the steps and put the magazine in the envelope. The senior