Boomerang (2002)

Boomerang was my first novel, written between 1998 and 2002. It's rather uneven and somewhat typical of the writings of a twenty-something male with a fascination for pharmaceuticals, but there are some moments I'm still proud of, such as the following extract, one of several flashback chapters.

Chapter 9: The New Year's Eve just after that party of Paul's

1993. I liked the sound of that. In fact, I'd already been accused of saying that I liked the sound of 1993 one too many times on the way up here and was now banned from saying it at all. To me, 1993 had a nice, sort of friendly, yellowy-greenish quality to it, whereas 1992 had definitely been blue, I'd said. And, best of all, the coming year ended in an "eeeeeee" sound. Or at least, it did the way I said it.

We were going to see in the New Year at this place up in London, some big old building up in Kentish Town. Only thing was, we'd been standing outside it for the last two hours and it was getting on for midnight - only a quarter of an hour left of the old year and still no sign of this queue moving. The old bill were inside, sorting things out with the promoters; that was the word that kept going around the queue. I suppose that they'd been in there that long was promising. But still no chance of us getting in before midnight.

No-one actually knew who this event was being organised by. No-one'd seen so much as a flyer. The word had simply done the rounds that tonight there was one huge party somewhere in North London and it was something to do with Spiral Tribe. Then, out of the blue, a number appeared. I'd called the number from Seb's parents' just before we went down the pub. Some caustic techno blasted down the phone, almost blocking out what the voice was saying over it. Still didn't know anything more about the party itself, but at least we'd got the venue.

Now rumours were running riot about what kind of night we were in for. Just about every d.j. I'd heard mention of since Paul's party seemed to be playing. Including Carl Cox, who'd done the tape I'd just bought and was completely obsessed with. The Orb, they were playing, too. So were The KLF. And The Shamen, and that really got my attention, cause I really was into their whole thing. Tapped into that whole Doors vibe. And there was going to be a bunch of ageing acid rockers going by the name of Hawkwind. The bloke who'd told me that last one actually looked hurt I'd never heard of them and promptly stopped talking to me.

We were still on the scrounge for E's. Left it a bit late, to be honest. We'd gone round everyone we knew but they'd stocked up, sold out or just not been in. Now we were taking it in turns to comb the queue. The girls were useless, kept getting stuck into conversations with everyone they asked while the clock ticked ever closer to midnight. I kept telling myself that we didn't really need to do e, that it'd be enough just to be with my mates and the weed and the music, but I knew I was kidding myself. I wanted oblivion. I wanted to dissolve. I wanted to be part of something bigger than me, feel that big, big feeling racing through my body. I wanted an affirmation of everything I called me, my life and my generation. If we didn't score, the evening would be tinted with regret and just that tiniest bit of jealousy of those who had.

'Oi,' shouted Seb, waving at me from way ahead in the queue. 'Trist, over here.' Wicked. This looked promising. I walked slowly up the queue, didn't want to be in too much of a hurry, didn't want to look that desperate. Seb was with a bunch of girls, all smiles and glitter and coloured bobble hats. They'd come all the way from Bristol and said they were the Gnome Posse, then giggled loads after saying that. When I asked them how much they were selling for, they'd started giggling again and Seb'd pointed me in the direction of this tall, stocky bloke, who talked non-stop and shook my hand every time he found something to agree with me on. Off it. As soon as the subject of sales came up, this glazed look came over his face and he started talking out of the side of his mouth. According to him, the E's he was selling, New Yorkers, were the same as what they were all on, which sounded promising. We did our deal huddled behind their mates and via a handshake that must've looked like we were a couple of Masons. We said we'd see them in there, even though we knew we probably wouldn't. Still, you never knew. Eight minutes to go. The girls shrieked with delight when we brought our wares to them. We necked one each and then had a good, long, group hug. 'OK, team,' said Becks. 'You are under strict instructions to enjoy every minute of tonight otherwise you'll have to answer to me.'

I felt better with the E dissolving in my stomach. I was in a funny space, had been since we left Sevenoaks. First off, I'd had to lie to Mum and Dad about tonight. They didn't even like the idea of me going clubbing after seeing a Panorama about drugs, so I'd said we were just going to a party at someone's house and left it at that. I didn't actually mind lying to them, I mean, it's a teenager's right, after all. No, I was worried I might be wearing that excuse out. All of a sudden, there was a party at someone's house every weekend and, back when it was actually the truth, it'd only been every few months. Mum'd given me one of her looks when I told her my plans. There'd be questions once I got home. But she'd let me go, anyway. The other thing was what'd happened down the pub. It didn't seem to have bothered the others, but it really got to me. Back then, we always used to drink down the Kentish Yeoman, a pub where you used to get the kids from school who weren't exactly rebels but weren't exactly swots either - the kind of kids already practising their parents' drinking habits. Still, it had a decent jukebox and we knew the staff pretty well, so we'd adopted it over the last year.

Thing was, a lot of the guys we knew down there were totally anti-drugs, totally anti-dance music, just like we'd been, so it was like we'd transgressed some unwritten rule or something now we were going out. Dave was one of them and so was Eddie, who played bass for us every once in a while. Eddie was a little more outspoken than Dave and when I'd tried to get both of them to come along, Eddie'd started into his "not real music" tirade. I'd got all defensive and then Eddie'd started on about how I'd treated Lizzie, who, according to him, I'd effectively dumped so I could take drugs. I'd told him that me and Lizzie'd been on the rocks for ages, but, even so, he'd had a point and he knew it.

But that wasn't what'd really hurt. Eddie'd then gone on to ask us why we'd come down to the Yeoman in the first place, shouldn't we be up The Vine with all the other druggies. Thing was, most of our new friends were up The Vine, we were going on there after here to pick up Beck and Nat and her new bloke, floppy Frank, before going down to the station. We'd both been in two minds about coming here at all. The place felt like a cast-off for us, now. I began to wish we hadn't come at all. We sat there, me and Seb, for a little bit longer, trying our best to join in everyone else's fun, but it all seemed so half-hearted now, so low-key. Like this lot were just here because they had nothing better to do rather than because they actually wanted to spend New Year's at the Yeoman.

When Seb and me left, it felt like we were leaving something behind. We didn't talk much on the way up to The Vine and it'd taken till now for me to put that feeling behind me. I'd broken up with my girlfriend and pissed off my friends, probably meaning The Palmer Violets, our band, was in its death throes. I'd lied to my parents, used money my Nan gave me to buy drugs and given up the opportunity of a cosy night down the pub with a bunch of people I'd known for years, all for what?
To stand in a queue in the freezing cold.

Only, it was so much more than that. This wasn't the same as going in to a gig, this was an excuse for a party. All around us, people reaching out to each other, buying and selling, trading information, wit, clothing. A community in snake formation. We weren't waiting for anything. Hell no. We didn't need any band to come onstage to tell us we could let go now. Didn't need anyone to idolise. Tell us how to feel. Who needed that?

I often thought it and often said it and no one ever disagreed with me when I mentioned my theory that if everyone in the world dropped an E at the same moment, the world would change forever for the better. Wars would end. Family disputes would end. Famine and hunger would end. Everyone would see the love inside them and the love inside all people, all things. Those little tendrils that bind all of us together. But there was still too much ignorance, so much resistance. So for now, we'd just ride the crest of the wave, sweep through the land, waking people up one by one. The future was bright, in the hands of a generation born of sweat and rhythm. Something to be proud of.

Two minutes to midnight. People were blowing whistles down the front. Some were cheering. The old bills walked right past us and jumped back into their vans and cars, not looking at anyone, blind to this tide of drug-takers and law-breakers all around them. And then they buggered off. The night was ours.

And then I got why everyone was roaring and honking on air-horns and doing Latin-type "rrrrrrra-haah" noises. About ten people in front of us, the queue started to move. And then it was us moving. 'Bong bong bong bong, bong bong bong bong...'

Everyone started up singing the chimes of Big Ben. Fuck knows how accurate the timing was. 'Bing bong bing bong, bing bong bing bong'

Didn't matter, though, this was our New Year. Out with the old. In with the new. My crew, me, Seb, Nat, Frank, Becks, Frank's best mate Nobby and his brother Stevo, we all of us huddled down for a love scrum. 'Bong.' The queue surged forward and I could feel the first inkling that somewhere a very fine E was feeling its way round my system.
'Bong.'