Rebecca's Rules

by Anna Carey

  I know he is right. I think I’ve known he was right for a while. But think I might have a cry now.

  THURSDAY

  I told Cass and Alice about Paperboy’s mail (it doesn’t count as moping and whining when something big or new happens). They were very understanding.

  ‘It’s not like he’s broken up with you,’ said Alice. ‘He just knows you haven’t been happy with, you know, the current situation between you and him. And I mean, you haven’t.’

  ‘It’s true,’ said Cass. ‘I know it’s … I mean, I know it makes you feel a bit awful. But weren’t you feeling awful before too?’

  They are both right. Who knew both of them could be so wise? But at the same time I feel very sad. Sadder than I have in weeks.

  Although they do have a point. I still don’t feel quite as miserable as I did before the musical started. But I do feel more miserable than I did yesterday morning. I tried writing some poetry to cheer myself up, but it didn’t work. I think I will just lie on my bed for a while and listen to music. If I lie down, I won’t be able to see that stupid Mulligan kid across the road even if she does start dancing at me.

  FRIDAY

  Had another big chat with John Kowalski today. He doesn’t know anything about the Paperboy business so it is nice and distracting talking to him. Cass had to stay late after rehearsal because the paint wasn’t dry on some of the carousel horses. I have to give Cass credit, she’s turned out to be pretty good at set designing. So her dream wasn’t really so illogical. She came up with a great idea for the ‘Let’s Go Fly a Kite’ scene at the end – they’ve made big cardboard kites painted in cool patterns and put them on sticks, and we’re all going to raise them up and down in formation. A bit like a synchronised dance (one of my own dreams, as you may remember).

  Anyway, the rehearsal went pretty well this evening, even though Vanessa kept asking John to go through lines with her, and we had so much to do I actually didn’t really think about Paperboy at all during it. And then when it was finished, I was halfway up the school drive all on my own (I had kindly let Alice go ahead of me with Bike Boy) when a voice from behind me said, ‘Hello there, Rafferty.’

  Not even a Miss or a Ms. I didn’t mind though. I actually liked it.

  ‘Hey,’ I said. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Oh, you know,’ said John. ‘A bit bored. Counting down the seconds until I never have to sing a song with Vanessa again.’

  ‘Ouch,’ I said. ‘It’s bad enough being her backing singers.’

  ‘Oh well,’ said John. ‘It’s all for the greater good. I think. It’s an experience, anyway. And it’s important to experience lots of weird things if you really want to be a writer. Maybe I’ll write a play about her and what a scary diva she is.’

  ‘She’d probably want to play herself,’ I said.

  ‘Good point,’ said John thoughtfully. ‘And if it showed her in a bad light, I bet she wouldn’t even realise it. She doesn’t really understand criticism, does she?’

  ‘She really doesn’t,’ I said. ‘She’s unstoppable.’ And I told him about her party. He was amazed.

  ‘Wow,’ he said. ‘It sounds hideous. The vulgarity! It’s almost so awful it’s brilliant. Like a sort of pageant.’

  ‘It was just awful for most of it,’ I said. ‘Especially for Alice.’

  ‘What?’ said John. ‘Oh yeah, the wrist thing. Yeah, I suppose that’s bad.’

  ‘We probably would have never taken part in the musical if she hadn’t hurt her wrist, though,’ I said. ‘And I’m glad we did. Not that it’s worth Alice being hurt, obviously. But you know what I mean.’

  ‘I do,’ said John. ‘I think it’s a good thing too. You lot doing the musical.’

  ‘Oh,’ I said. I could feel my cheeks going pink.

  ‘Yeah,’ said John. ‘It’s done Richard good, going out with Alice. I think it’s really enhanced his performance as Bert. It’s like he’s got a new drive, you know? A new vision.’

  ‘Oh,’ I said flatly.

  ‘Yeah,’ said John. ‘And of course, I’m glad I met you.’ He paused. ‘Always good to meet a fellow writer.’

  ‘Oh!’ I said. We were at the corner of Gracepark Road now. John looked at his watch.

  ‘Ah,’ he said. ‘I’d better run. My parents are making me go to my cousin’s engagement party, or something. I wasn’t really listening because they’re so boring. Some stupid thing in a tacky hotel on the southside.’

  He smiled. His mouth goes up more on the left side than the other when he smiles.

  ‘Bye, Rafferty,’ he said. And then he was off down Gracepark Road and I just stood there staring after him.

  It wasn’t until I got home that I thought about Paperboy and remembered his mail. The whole musical thing really has been a good distraction. I feel a bit better now, so I am going to watch telly and eat biscuits. Luckily, my parents were feeling lazy tonight and got a posh takeaway, so I wasn’t forced to chop onions or something equally dreadful. For once. I’m sure they’ll be making me slave away as usual tomorrow.

  SATURDAY

  Quite a relaxing day today, which is just what I need after all the emotional upheaval and drama of the last week. Something must have happened to my parents. Not only did they not drag me out of bed at an ungodly hour and force to me to study/go to the shops/visit a baby, but when Alice called in to visit me before going in to town to see Richard, my mother actually produced some biscuits! Nice biscuits too, not boring old digestives or something. It was very mysterious, but I’m not complaining.

  Alice is in a good mood too. We had a good chat about stuff. Richard sounds really nice, so nice that it makes me feel a bit jealous and sad about all the Paperboy business. But Alice doesn’t go on about him in an annoying way. And I made a big effort to stick to the rules and I didn’t go on about Paperboy’s depressing mail. I am surprised to realise it actually made me feel better talking about other stuff, like the musical and how good Bike Boy and John are in it, and school, and, of course, Bike Boy and his ways (Alice says he wants them to try and write some songs together). I told her about my poem writing (though of course I didn’t show her any) and she was very enthusiastic.

  ‘It’s great practice for lyric writing for when we get the band going again,’ she said.

  I told her a lot of the poems were haikus and they are too short to be a song, but she said it didn’t matter.

  ‘You’re building up your artistic skills,’ she said.

  ‘That’s kind of what John said,’ I said. ‘He told me he’s writing a play. Oh, and he also said Vanessa was doing his head in.’

  ‘I don’t think she knows that,’ said Alice. ‘She keeps trying to corner him.’

  ‘I know,’ I said. ‘It’s really annoying.’

  Alice looked at me in a slightly odd way, but then she looked at her watch and realised she was going to be late to meet her true love Bike Boy. So off she went.

  But we had had great biscuit feast. It is amazing what a difference just being distracted can make. I feel quite serene now and ready for a night of reading and watching DVDs. And I’m going over to Cass’s tomorrow for a bit so that will stop me from moping for at least a couple of hours.

  SUNDAY

  Excellent day! I was having a nice quiet drum this morning when my mum, of all people, said something that gave me an idea.

  ‘You know I really support your, um, drumming dreams,’ she said. ‘But I kind of miss the days when all your drums lived in someone else’s house.’

  And that’s when I got the idea (after I had asked my rude mother to get out of my room). For once I had some credit on my phone so I rang Cass straight away.

  ‘Cass!’ I said. ‘Would your parents mind if we took over your front room for a bit this afternoon?’

  ‘Um, no,’ said Cass. ‘They’ve gone to one of Nick’s stupid football matches. I refused to go. But why?’

  And I told her my amazing idea.

  ‘What if I carry over my snare dr
um to your house and we have a mini band practice with your piano? Obviously you can’t make all the sounds from the keyboard, and I’ll only have my snare and not a full kit, but it’d be something. It would be like a mini band practice and it’ll keep the songs fresh in our minds.’

  ‘Ooh,’ said Cass. ‘That is a good idea.’ Then of course she got all dithery, like she does almost every time we suggested doing something new with the band. ‘What if we actually have forgotten all the songs? It’s been weeks and weeks!’

  I told her not to be silly and that I’d be over in twenty minutes. Actually, it took longer than that because once I left the house and started carrying the drum down the road the edges of it kept digging into my fingers, so every so often I had to take a break and let it rest on a wall or something. But I got there in the end. And it’s a good thing I did because it turned out we definitely were out of practice. But it all started coming back to us as the afternoon went on, even though Cass couldn’t play her keyboard noises and I could only do some very basic drumming. And it reminded me of how much I love the band. By the time I lugged the drum home again I was singing all our songs in my head.

  It’s funny, sometimes when I think of Paperboy I feel all sad. But whenever I am doing something interesting I don’t feel sad at all.

  I think I might be getting … not over him. I don’t even want to do that. I don’t want to have anything to get over. But I think I am getting better.

  MONDAY

  Ugh, every time I think Mrs Harrington has forgotten about my mother she starts going on about her again. It’s not as bad as last term when she was like a crazy stalker, but it’s still quite bad. She obviously had a bright idea over the weekend because today when the class was finishing up she said, ‘So Rebecca, are your parents coming to that musical of yours?’

  ‘Um, yes,’ I said.

  ‘I don’t suppose you know which night they’re coming? The Friday or the Saturday?’ she said.

  ‘I don’t know yet,’ I said. ‘I mean, it’s not for a few weeks. Why?’

  ‘Oh, I’d just love to get to meet your mammy at last,’ said Mrs Harrington. ‘I can tell her about my holiday a few years ago. My husband and I went around the country staying in places mentioned in your mammy’s books.’

  Good lord.

  ‘Did he mind?’ I said. ‘Your husband, I mean.’

  ‘Oh no,’ said Mrs Harrington, looking surprised by the very idea. ‘He’s a big Rosie Carberry fan too!’

  There is no way I am letting Mrs Harrington (and her possibly equally mad husband) loose on my mum if I can help it. Not because of my mum (she deserves it, if you ask me), but because it would just fuel Mrs Harrington’s mania. I thought they were going to come face to face at the end of last term at the parent-teacher night, but, luckily, Mum had a terrible cold so only my dad went. Anyway, I’ll just find out what day my parents are going and tell Mrs Harrington it’s the other one. It’s a bit mean, but it’s for her own good.

  Rehearsals are really heating up again. I was talking to John during the break (I went out for some fresh air while Alice was talking to Bike Boy and there he was. He really shouldn’t smoke. Not only is it bad for him but he’ll get into loads of trouble if he’s caught) and he said he keeps dreaming about Mr Banks’s songs. I can’t believe it’ll all be over in a few weeks. It seems like the musical is just our life now.

  TUESDAY

  Daisy rang my mum this evening and I answered the phone. Because Mum was in the kitchen talking to Maria from round the corner who’d come over to drop over a shears or something (they always talk about gardening, so boring), I decided to ask Daisy about The Pirates of Penzance.

  ‘Was it actually any good?’ I said. ‘I mean, do you remember it at all?’

  I thought Daisy would say ‘Yes, and it was ridiculous.’ But no!

  ‘Of course,’ she said. ‘It was spectacular!’

  ‘Are you serious?’ I said. ‘Did Mum and Dad tell you to say that?’

  ‘What?’ she said, and I must admit she sounded genuinely baffled. ‘No! It really was brilliant! I thought both your parents would go into the theatre professionally afterwards.’

  I couldn’t believe it. But she swore she wasn’t joking.

  ‘Your mum brought real soul to the Pirate King,’ she said. ‘When she flew over the stage on a rope it was like poetry in motion. And your dad’s dance solo was out of this world. He got a standing ovation.’

  I am gobsmacked. I think they must all have been mad in the ’80s. Maybe they were all on drugs. I mean, I’ve seen the photos. Not only that, but I KNOW MY PARENTS. I’ve seen my dad dancing at my cousin’s twenty-first. There is no way anyone ever gave those moves a standing ovation. And I find it very hard to believe that my mum hanging from a rope with huge hair was poetry in motion. I am not sure I can take Daisy seriously as a theatre critic anymore.

  WEDNESDAY

  Miss Kelly has surprised us by telling us she is going to go to the musical. I thought she’d be boycotting it because it’s using up so much energy, but no!

  ‘I have to see what seems to have been distracting half my class for the last few months,’ she said grimly. ‘God knows what useful information you’ve missed when you were thinking about rehearsals instead of listening to me. I hope all this singing and dancing is worth it, girls.’

  What Miss Kelly doesn’t appreciate is that we are learning other skills at rehearsals. Who would have thought a few weeks ago that Alice and I would turn into exemplary members of the chorus? We have become much more disciplined since the long-ago days when Cass could make us laugh just by looming up behind a cardboard car wearing a cactus on her head. Today when we were singing ‘Spoonful of Sugar’, Mrs Limond marched into the hall and flung off her giant fur coat and it landed on top of poor Ellie’s head. She was completely covered in coat and it took about five minutes for her to get out from under it. And I barely laughed at all. I have clearly grown up a lot recently.

  Mrs Limond really is kind of terrifying, I don’t know why Ellie loves her so much. Ellie says that Mrs Limond is teaching her the ways of fashion, but I’m not sure how chucking coats over her is going to teach her anything. Weirdly, Mrs Limond seems to love John Kowalski and Bike Boy. ‘You two young men have excellent posture!’ she cried today. She was so loud we could hear her all the way over on the other side of the hall. ‘You were born to wear suits!’ She doesn’t think I have excellent posture. Every time we have a fitting she tells me not to slouch.

  ‘You’re short enough as it is,’ she said. ‘I don’t see why you want to make yourself look even shorter.’

  She has a point, I suppose, but still.

  Even though Mrs Limond is mad and rude, the costumes are looking pretty good. I’ve got a sort of generic olden-day dress because it works for being a nanny and a person at the races and all that, and an excellent hat which somehow fits over my stupid mad hair. I love my costume. And Bike Boy and John Kowalski really do look dashing in their suits. Much better than in boring old school uniforms. I wish we could just wear our costumes to school instead. I think it would make school much more interesting.

  THURSDAY

  Oh my God, I think the downtrodden minion uprising may have begun at last!

  Today, at lunchtime, Karen and Vanessa were going on in their usual annoying way about how hard they were working and how they needed to practise every hour of every day.

  ‘My boyfriend Bernard has been a godsend,’ said Karen, sounding about forty-five. You’d think she’d been married to Bernard for twenty years instead of going out with him for about two minutes. ‘He really understands the work that goes into playing a leading role.’

  ‘We still need to work on our lines,’ said Vanessa. She turned to Alison and Caroline who were sitting there eating their lunches quietly.

  ‘Hey,’ she said. ‘I’ve got an idea. Why don’t you two help us with our lines now? It’ll help me and Karen and give you two something fun to do. Let’s go to the cloakroo
m now and go through the nursery scenes − you can have our scripts.’

  ‘Great idea,’ smarmed Karen. She and Vanessa got up to go.

  But Alison and Caroline didn’t move. They just looked at each other and then Caroline said, in quite a nervous voice, ‘Actually, I think we’re going to stay here and finish our lunch.’

  Vanessa just stared at her.

  ‘What?’ she said.

  Caroline looked even more nervous. But then Alison said, ‘Yeah, we’re just going to have our sandwiches. You go and practise, though. We’ll see you later.’

  Karen and Vanessa looked as if, I dunno, a chair had started speaking to them. I have to admit that Karen looked a bit awkward. Maybe she was remembering the time Alison defied her at the Battle of the Bands and knew she couldn’t go too far. But Vanessa just looked annoyed. ‘God, I can’t believe you’re both so selfish. You’d prefer to eat sandwiches than help the stars of the school make the musical even better. Well, we’d better practise anyway. Come on, Karen!’ And off she marched. Karen looked like she was going to say something, but then she put her nose in the air and marched out after Vanessa.

  I wanted to give Alison and Caroline a round of applause, but I didn’t. I just looked at them and nodded in a pleased sort of way. In retrospect, I might have looked a bit odd. But I couldn’t help it. I was delighted. The musical is truly bringing out the best in everyone. Even people who aren’t actually in it, which is especially impressive.

  Actually, now I come to think of it, it’s definitely bringing out the worst in Karen and Vanessa. So maybe my theory is not correct. But still. It’s bringing out the best in some of us, and that has to be good.

  FRIDAY