by Anna Carey
The good thing is that I would really rather bash away at my drums than be a guitarist. And besides, Alice is getting really great at the guitar. I mean, she’s had lessons so she was always able to do, like, the fancy classical stuff, but now she’s really good at playing poppy choppy chords. And even though Cass used to act like she’d never be able to play her keyboard in an indie sort of way, she’s a natural at coming up with basslines and cool noises. If we ever get a bass player, she’ll be able to do even more. Even I’ve got better at the drums. It almost happened without my noticing it. I just kept bashing away and eventually I realised that I was able to play beats properly without actually thinking about it (of course, this means that as soon as I actually do think about what I’m doing, I instantly make a mistake. I think this shows that I am an instinctive natural musician).
But even my beloved drums can’t cheer me up too much at the moment. The practice went pretty well today, and everything, but I still feel like a hollow shell of a girl. Since Paperboy left, I can’t seem to feel enthusiastic about anything. And I’m starting to think Cass and Alice might be a bit bored with hearing about Paperboy, which, to be honest, I think is quite selfish of them. I know I’d be sympathetic if either of them met the love of her life and then he went off to the other side of the world after just three weeks. They don’t know what it’s like to suffer.
Cass even said today that the last lyrics I wrote (for a song with the working title ‘The End of the World’) were ‘a bit too gloomy’. What does she know? She’s having a great time! She’s become great friends with Liz from Bad Monkey, the band we met at the Battle of the Bands, and they’re off together practically every weekend.
In fact, I feel like I hardly see her any more. And Alice and I don’t walk to school these days because a few months ago − just after the Battle of the Bands, actually – her mum got a new job and her route to work doesn’t take her near my house now, so now she just drops Alice off near the school instead of near me. So I hardly see any of them. Well, apart from band practices. And actual school.
But still. I feel like our friendship needs a bit of a, I dunno, a kick or something. It’s like I’ve forgotten how to talk to Cass and Alice about anything but how awful I feel. I know I want them to be sympathetic when I’m miserable, but I don’t want them to HAVE to be sympathetic, if you know what I mean. I’m not sure even I know what I mean. I just wish I could get things back to the way they used to be, but it’s like I’ve got stuck in a rut or something. And I want to get out of it. But how?
Still no mail from Paperboy, by the way.
LATER
I have decided to start expressing my woe in poetry. It’s actually easier than writing song lyrics because it doesn’t have to rhyme. Here is this evening’s creation. I am quite proud of it.
Boy of paper
Paperboy
Across the sea
Why did you leave?
Apart from the fact that your dad
Got a job designing bridges?
My life
Now a shell
I think it is very poignant. And ‘boy of paper’ is quite clever if I say so myself. I think I should write more. I used to write quite a lot of stories when I was little, but I’ve sort of got out of the habit. Maybe my broken heart really will fuel my creative powers?
LATER
Can’t think of anything to write now. Hmmm. I think I will go and watch some telly instead.
MONDAY
I now have proof that my heart is broken – Miss Kelly’s terrifying geography classes don’t even bother me anymore. She spent today’s class telling us that because of overpopulation the world won’t be able to produce enough food to feed everyone, and so in a few years we will all have to eat insects and creepy crawlies in order to survive.
‘They’re an excellent source of protein,’ she says. ‘You get more protein per gram from a locust than from a chicken. I’ve tried them myself in Latin America.’
Everyone in the class was going ‘Ugh!’ and looking a bit unwell but of course that didn’t stop Miss Kelly. The more scared we are, the more enthusiastic she gets. After about ten minutes of her raving about how delicious certain sorts of worms were, Jessie McCabe had to run out because she thought she was going to be sick. Normally I would feel the same. I used to have nightmares about tidal waves and water wars after her classes. But today I couldn’t even bring myself to care. If I can’t have Paperboy, I might as well just sit around eating insects.
At the end of the class I think Miss Kelly was a bit worried that she’d gone too far because she told us that not all insects were safe to eat and we shouldn’t go out and try eating random bugs. Like any of us were sitting in the class going, ‘Oh yes, Miss Kelly, eating grasshoppers in some sort of post-apocalyptic wasteland sounds brilliant, I think I’ll start doing it straight away!’ I mean, even though I might have lost all faith in the future and I don’t care what happens, I’m not going to start eating bugs until I absolutely have to.
TUESDAY
Cass and I went to the library after school. I love libraries; it’s like going shopping for books only you’re allowed to take away whatever you want for free! As long as you have space on your library card and don’t owe loads of fines like SOME people (Cass). Unfortunately, when we went in to the library today, the first thing I saw was a display of new books with my mother’s stupid teen novel right at the front with a ‘Children’s Book of the Month’ sign on top of it. And next to it was a big coffee table book full of photos of Canada! Even the library has turned against me.
Anyway, I ignored this terrible display and headed for the teenage section, and we both found some good books (Well, they look good. Sometimes I just base my decisions on the cover). Cass took a deep breath and marched up to the desk to check hers out. When she scanned her ticket the librarian looked sternly at Cass and said, ‘Ah, Miss McDermott. I hope you remember to bring these books back on time.’ This is because Cass once took some books out and didn’t give them back for about two years. The fines were enormous. She says once it reached a certain stage she was too embarrassed to give them back so she just didn’t go to the library for a while. The library wrote to her house, but she hid the letters like some sort of criminal. To be honest, I’m surprised they ever let her have a library ticket again after all that, but clearly librarians are a forgiving lot. So once she had given back the books and paid a giant fine, they decided to let bygones be bygones. Well, most of them, anyway. This one hasn’t forgotten. But she did give Cass the books.
In fact, I had a worse time checking books out because the librarian knows who I am too (we’ve all been going to this library since before we could read).
‘Ah,’ she said. ‘I hope you saw your mother’s book in our display! It’s doing very well, you know. There’s a waiting list for it and everything.’
She smiled at me like she thought I’d be pleased, whereas of course the thought of loads of people basically queuing up to read about that terrible Ruthie does not please me at all. Anyway, I just said, ‘Oh, really?’ in what I hope was a polite voice and luckily the librarian left it at that THANK GOD. I am fed up being polite to people about that stupid book, especially now that my life is even more of a tragedy.
On a more positive note, Cass thought of something when we were walking back from the library. She pointed out that if Miss Kelly is right about the future being electricity-free, then it’s a good thing we like reading. At least we’ll be able to amuse ourselves reading by candlelight when all the power has run out, and books will distract us from our insect-eating lives of toil. Cass is surprisingly practical sometimes.
I mentioned this to my mother when I got home and she said, ‘I think your geography teacher is exaggerating a bit. I don’t think we’re going to be living without power or eating bugs any time soon.’
She would think that, though, because she and my dad are so hideously wasteful. They don’t care about the environment at all. When I got home s
he was the only one there and yet the lights were on in practically every room in the house! If we do all end up huddling around a fire without any electricity in a few years, it’ll be all her fault.
WEDNESDAY
Vanessa Finn’s birthday party is on Saturday. And for some reason I am going to it. Even though, just a few months ago, I vowed (in front of lots of people, now I come to think of it, as well as in this diary) that there was no way I was ever going to her ridiculous extravaganza. I think I said I wouldn’t even go if she paid me (which was a genuine possibility).
I can’t believe we all gave in to Vanessa. A month or so ago we were all coming out of school and Cass and Alice were talking about how unfair Mrs O’Reilly had been in history class that morning, and I was thinking about Paperboy and wondering whether I could persuade my parents to move to Vancouver, when we realised that there was a camera crew outside the gates. And before any of us could get away, Vanessa appeared and started handing out giant sparkly invitations to everyone in the class and smiling at us like we were all best friends. We were all so stunned we just took them, and then Vanessa paraded off and got into a big posh car that was waiting nearby, as if this was how she always travels home from school (which is rubbish because she walks, normally).
As soon as she and her camera crew went off, everyone started talking about how mad she was and how there was no way any of us were going to her ridiculous party because she’s always made it clear how awful it is for her having to slum it with us in a state school. She acts like we’re all hardened criminals and she can’t put her bag down for five seconds in case one of us nicks it (I have no idea why she thinks like this, by the way. She lives in a big house, but it’s not, like, a castle. It’s in Glasnevin surrounded by people who also go to state schools). Why would we want to go to a party for someone like that? Also, none of us wanted to risk being caught on camera again by the ‘My Big Birthday Bash’ people, who would be filming it all for the reality show.
And then, a few days later, we were sitting in the cloakroom, drinking hot chocolate which Emma’s big sister had kindly made for us with the sixth-year kettle, when Ellie said, ‘You know, Vanessa’s party could be kind of funny.’
‘Funny peculiar, you mean,’ said Cass.
‘No, think about it,’ said Ellie. ‘I mean, it’ll be completely mental. She’s going to have a tank and a pony and God knows what else. It might be … you know, fun.’
‘Ellie,’ I said. ‘This is Vanessa. Remember when my mum’s book came out and she pretended to be friends with me in a really creepy way because she thought it would impress the ‘My Big Birthday Bash’ people? She’s crazed. And then she wanted me and Cass and Alice to play at her party and had a tantrum when I fell off the stage because she thought it had spoiled her chances of getting on that awful show.’
‘She is pretty crazed,’ agreed Cass.
‘I know,’ said Ellie, ‘but that’s what could make the party funny. I mean, don’t you want to see what she looks like riding around in a tank? It’ll be hilarious!’
Hmmm,’ said Cass. ‘Good point.’
‘But if we all turn up it’ll only encourage her!’ I said. ‘She’ll think it’s okay to carry on like that!’
‘To be honest, I don’t think she’ll even notice,’ said Ellie. ‘I mean, she thinks it’s okay anyway. I bet even if only three people turn up, it wouldn’t make any difference to her.’
‘She’s pretty good at ignoring reality,’ said Cass. ‘Remember when you kept trying to tell her you weren’t going to her party and she just acted like you were agreeing with her? And let’s not forget that she’s still convinced that all of us are from the slums because our parents are teachers and guards and stuff, instead of, I dunno, royalty.’
‘True,’ I said.
‘But isn’t it a bit mean?’ said Alice. ‘I mean, we don’t like Vanessa.’
‘We certainly don’t,’ I said.
‘Well, if you heard of people going to the party of someone they didn’t like just to laugh at it, you’d think that was mean, wouldn’t you?’
We all paused. When you put it like that, it did sound pretty horrendous. Except …
‘The thing is,’ said Cass, ‘there’s a big difference between going to laugh at the party of someone who’s invited you because she, y’know, actually likes you and wants you to be there, and someone who’s inviting absolutely everyone and doesn’t care about any of them and has also, let’s not forget, shouted at some of them in public.’
‘Hmm,’ said Alice. ‘I suppose. But still …’
Sometimes Alice is just too good. She’s definitely gooder than me. So anyway, we all thought about it and gradually, over the next week or so, it turned out that we all sort of wanted to go. Even though it’s being filmed. We figured we can manage to avoid the cameras. It’s worth going just, as Cass said one night when we talked on the phone, ‘to see the tank. And the pink pony. If that’s still happening. I always thought that sounded a bit too ridiculous, even for Vanessa.’
‘I wouldn’t put it past her,’ I said. ‘She said she was going to get it dyed specially.’
‘But where?’ said Cass. ‘I mean, who can you ask to dye a pony pink? A vet? I can’t imagine a decent vet would do it. Imagine if you took Bumpers down to the vet and asked them to dye him pink.’
‘It’ll be hard enough getting the vet to give Bumpers his booster shots after the last time,’ I said. ‘She said she’d never met such a loud cat. But maybe ponies are different. They’re not as wriggly and bitey.’
‘Well, there’s only one way to find out,’ said Cass cheerfully. ‘Come on! It’ll distract you from mooning around moping over Paperboy.’
‘I don’t moon!’ I cried. ‘And I definitely don’t mope.’
‘Okay, okay,’ said Cass, but I don’t think she was telling the truth. I think she really thinks I’ve been mooning and moping.
Anyway, that moping and mooning conversation was about two weeks ago. A few days later, we all e-mailed our RSVPs to Vanessa, which was when we started realising that deciding to go her party may not have been a good idea after all because she spent the next fortnight parading around the school boasting about how brilliant the stupid thing was going to be and how she had to hurry home after school every day (like anyone cared) to meet the film crew and show them her stage set and her outfits. She’s being even more obnoxious and rude than usual. And then we all got sent back forms for our parents to sign, saying it was okay for us to appear on ‘My Big Birthday Bash’, and promising that we wouldn’t put anything about the party online before the stupid programme aired. It was ridiculous.
But despite all this, I know that on Saturday we’re all going to be waiting outside the school for the bus Vanessa’s parents have hired to take us to some castle in the middle of nowhere that they’ve rented for the party.
Mum says this is ‘morbid curiosity’ and that we are all just going because we think it’s going to be a big disaster. She may have a point. Oh well, maybe Cass is right and it will take my mind off Paperboy and stop me wondering why he didn’t even send me a Valentine text. And I have to admit, I do kind of want to see the tank.
He still hasn’t mailed or messaged me.
THURSDAY
I am the worst friend ever!
I am wracked with guilt. I had a big … well, not quite a fight, but definitely a ‘scene’ with Alice today. And Alice doesn’t really do fights. Or get really angry. But she was properly angry today. And it was my fault. And I feel really bad.
It all happened just after school. Cass was off sick today (she texted me this morning to say the entire family had got food poisoning. They went out to dinner yesterday as a special treat for her dad’s birthday and they all ended up puking all night. Which must have been pretty disgusting because there’s four of them and only one loo) and so it was just me waiting with Alice at the gate for her dad to turn up and collect her. And we were sort of talking about the old days when we used to walk to
gether and then I said, ‘Hey, guess who I saw today on my way in? Bike Boy! Remember him?’
Bike Boy’s real name is Richard and he is a boy who has always cycled past us on our way to school and then turned up with his band at the Battle of the Bands. Alice used to fancy him a bit and then got talking to him at the Battle. But about a week later she stopped walking to school so she didn’t really get to see him again (I think we saw him in the distance cycling ahead of us down Calderwood Road one day, but that was it and then she started getting a lift straight to school). I still see him every so often and sometimes we nod at each other in greeting, but I don’t really notice him or indeed any other boys because my heart belongs to Paperboy and always will.
So anyway, when I said, ‘Remember him?’ Alice looked a bit funny and said, ‘Of course I remember him.’
And I said, ‘Oh. I wasn’t sure if you did because you haven’t really mentioned him in months and months. So I didn’t know if you’ve really thought about him much since the whole Battle of the Bands thing.’
There was a bit of a pause and then Alice said, ‘Oh my God, of course I have.’
I just stared at her and said, ‘What? Really?’ in a surprised sort of way.
And Alice looked really annoyed and said, ‘I’ve been thinking about him ever since the Battle of the Bands. I thought something might happen, but then I stopped walking to school with you so I didn’t see him. And I’ve been really, really sad about it, but I haven’t said one word to you about it because I knew it wasn’t a big deal in comparison with your wonderful new romance with Paperboy and then him going off to Canada, so I didn’t feel like I had a right to be so upset. But you never even asked whether I was upset or not! You never even thought about it!’
