Mates, Dates and Inflatable Bras

by Cathy Hopkins

  ‘Not in,’ I called back.

  I heard a knock on the door.

  ‘Lucy,’ said Izzie’s voice. ‘It’s me and Nesta.’

  I hid even further under the duvet as the door opened and they both trooped in.

  ‘Luce, come out. Nesta has an idea.’

  I stuck my face out of the covers as both of them sat on the end of the bed.

  ‘I spoke to Mum,’ said Nesta. ‘She has someone come to the house to do her hair every other week. She’s coming tomorrow. She’s really good, Lucy. She could fix yours.’

  ‘But I haven’t got any money,’ I said. It was hopeless.

  ‘Me and Iz have thought about that. We know you get less pocket money than us and we’ll club together and we’ll pay.’

  Both of them were looking at me with such kindness, it set me off again. Blub, blub. What is the matter with me these days?

  ‘We thought you’d be pleased,’ said Nesta, looking puzzled.

  ‘You’re being nice to me,’ I sobbed. ‘Don’t be nice to me. And I’m so selfish when there are wars and everything.’

  They both laughed.

  ‘You’re not responsible for the whole human race,’ said Iz. ‘Not yet anyway.’

  ‘I wanted to say something else,’ said Nesta, looking embarrassed suddenly. ‘I never meant to take Izzie from you. It’s just, I thought you didn’t like me.’

  ‘But you always seem to want to be with Izzie . . .’ I began. ‘And I know I don’t look old enough for some things you want to do like the cinema and hanging out with Sixth Formers and . . .’

  ‘Those things don’t matter. And I realise we shouldn’t have gone without you that time. I really like you, Lucy. I want to be friends with Izzie and you. If you’ll let me.’

  ‘But what about your brother? I thought you told him to stay away from me because you didn’t like me.’

  ‘NoOO. Only to protect you, Lucy. Not because I don’t like you. You don’t know my brother. He thinks he’s Casanova. A different girl every week. Once the challenge is over, he dumps them. We’ve only been in London a few months and already he’s left a trail of broken hearts. I didn’t want him to hurt you. That’s all, honest.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yeah. I really do like you, Lucy and want to be friends.’

  Tears filled my eyes again. ‘I’m so sorry,’ I said. ‘I don’t seem to be able to stop crying. Just lately, I’ve felt I don’t fit anywhere.’

  ‘My mum says it’s our hormones running riot,’ said Izzie.

  ‘I went through a time,’ said Nesta, ‘where we lived before. I was the only dark-skinned kid in our school. I really felt I didn’t fit . . .’

  ‘So how did you handle it?’

  ‘Decided I’d be proud I was different even if some days I didn’t feel it. I toughed it out. I know sometimes that’s all people see and they think I’m stuck up. But here in London, it’s all been so different. Meeting you and Izzie. I feel I’ve got really good friends for once. And your mum and dad. You’re so lucky . . .’

  ‘But yours are so glamorous . . .’ I began.

  ‘Yeah, they’re OK, but they’re never there. Always working. That’s why I love coming back to yours. It’s so comfy and your brothers are great. I feel at home here. Everyone’s made me feel so welcome.’

  ‘Except me,’ I said. I was beginning to see I’d misjudged her. She’d been trying to be my friend all along and I hadn’t let her near.

  Nesta grinned. ‘I was hoping I’d win you round in the end. I don’t give up easily.’

  Suddenly Izzie spotted the clothes spilling out of the wastepaper bin. ‘What are these?’ she said, pulling them out.

  ‘Actually those are some presents I had for you, but . . .’

  ‘Wow,’ said Nesta, seeing the red sequin top. ‘Where have you been hiding these? Why haven’t you ever worn them?’

  ‘Do you really like them?’ I asked, getting out from under my duvet.

  ‘They’re fantastic,’ said Izzie, holding the clothes up and examining them. ‘Where did you get them from?’

  ‘I made them.’

  ‘You’re kidding,’ said Nesta. ‘They look really expensive. Like designer stuff.’

  ‘Actually,’ I said. ‘I made that red one for you. And the black one’s for you, Izzie.’

  In a second they had stripped off and put their presents on.

  ‘Ohmigod,’ said Nesta, admiring her reflection in the mirror. ‘This is absolutely brilliant. I can’t believe it. It’s perfect.’

  It did look good, the red against her dark skin.

  ‘This is the best thing I’ve got,’ said Izzie, twirling around in the halter neck. ‘Can we really have them? I just love it – and the ostrich feather trim. Mucho sexy.’

  I was glowing with pleasure. ‘I was going to chuck it all out. After today . . .’

  ‘NoOOO, you mustn’t,’ said Iz, seizing the blue dress I’d made for myself. ‘God, this fabric is amazing. All the little pearls. Put it on.’

  I put on the dress and both of them oo-ed and ah-ed. It did look good as long as I didn’t look above my neck.

  ‘It fits like a glove,’ said Izzie, then laughed. ‘See, something fits!’

  ‘Might look better if I had boobs,’ I said, thinking back to the lingerie department.

  ‘Don’t be mad,’ said Nesta. ‘They’ll grow soon enough. And if they don’t, you can always have silicone.’

  ‘Silicone! I’m fourteen.’

  ‘Well what I mean is, at least you can do something about having no chest. Bras, uplifts. Not like my feet.’ She pulled off her trainers. ‘Look. Massive. Horrible. I can never get shoes to fit.’

  I couldn’t believe it. Nesta wasn’t perfect after all.

  ‘That’s nothing,’ said Izzie. ‘Try having my thighs. Both of you have such slim legs and I’ve got great whoppers. And short stubby ones at that. I can never get jeans to fit.’

  I felt so happy. Nesta and Izzie both had complexes. Why had we never talked about it before? I thought I was the only one who felt the way I did.

  Hurrah. We’re all mad.

  Suddenly Izzie and Nesta started grinning like maniacs.

  ‘What?’ I said, suspicious. ‘What are you two up to?’

  ‘Are you feeling better, Lucy?’ asked Nesta, producing a package from her bag.

  I nodded warily.

  ‘Good, because we got you a little present as well,’ said Izzie.

  ‘Something you really want,’ said Nesta.

  Something I really want? My mind filled with images of CDs, books, make-up I’ve had my eye on. What great friends.

  Nesta giggled as she handed me the package in a carrier bag.

  I put my hand in the bag and pulled out ‘the present’.

  Izzie and Nesta collapsed on the bed laughing as I looked at what looked like a bit of wrinkled pink plastic. ‘It’s for your, er, your chest problem.’

  An inflatable bra. I started laughing and Izzie blew into the hole in the bra to inflate it. A perfect 34C.

  ‘Put it on, put it on,’ she said.

  I had to comply and shoved the bra up under my dress then stood in front of the mirror and turned to profile.

  Nesta and Izzie made long wolf whistles.

  ‘Pamela Anderson eat your heart out,’ I said, strutting and wiggling round the room. ‘Hollywood here I come. Yeah, thanks girls, like very funny.’

  Chapter 13

  Pop Star

  Names

  We are The Three Musketeers. One for all and all for one.

  Izzie brought her wet-look gel with her on the bus the next morning and Nesta plastered it on to my head.

  ‘There, that’s better,’ said Nesta, slicking my hair away from my face. ‘It’s stopped it sticking out and you can’t see it’s all uneven any more. Then tonight, we’ll get you sorted at home.’

  When we got off the bus, we headed straight for the corner shop. We had Wacko first lesson and it was hand in
the egg baby day. Half our class were in the store. All buying free range eggs.

  ‘Well done, girls,’ she said, when we all put the eggs on her desk. ‘I hadn’t expected half of you to bring them back in one piece.’

  Everyone looked at the floor so we wouldn’t catch each other’s eyes and start laughing. Then Wacko said she wanted us to get into groups and discuss how far we’d got with our What makes me ‘me’? project.

  Just as things were going well, she brought that up again.

  Izzie, Nesta and me got into a group and stared at our files.

  ‘Let’s put in our pop star names,’ said Nesta.

  ‘Pop star name?’ I asked.

  ‘Yeah, like a stage name. You take the name of your first female pet and your mother’s maiden name and voilà, your pop star name. Boys pick the name of their first male pet.’

  I thought for a second. ‘Our first cat was Smokey,’ I said. ‘And my mum’s maiden name is Kinsler. So Smokey Kinsler.’

  ‘Takes all sorts, darlin’,’ said Nesta huskily.

  ‘Hubba hubba,’ said Izzie. ‘Here’s Smokey an’ she’s smo-oking tonight. Mine’s Zizi. Zizi Malone.’

  ‘Mine’s Sooty Costello,’ laughed Nesta.

  ‘But Williams is your name,’ I said.

  ‘Actually my name is Nesta Williams Costello on my birth certificate. Mum’s name is Williams, Dad’s is Costello so I can use either or both. I use Williams usually because it’s too long otherwise and I have to go into this complicated explanation but for my pop star name Costello sounds more glam don’t you think?’

  ‘Perfect,’ I said.

  ‘Let’s put in our Mills and Boon writer names too,’ said Izzie.

  ‘How do you do that?’ I asked.

  ‘You take your middle name and the name of the street where you first ever lived,’ said Iz.

  ‘Suzanne Lindann,’ said Nesta.

  ‘That works,’ said Izzie. ‘Mine’s Joanna Redington.’

  ‘Mine’s Charlotte Leister,’ I said, getting into it. ‘And we could put our death meals in as well. It might come in handy if the aliens ever arrive and we have twenty-four hours before the world blows up.’

  ‘A death meal being?’ asked Nesta.

  ‘Your last meal ever on earth, stupid, like, if you know you’ve only got a few hours left.’

  That set us off dreaming for a while. All the lovely things we could eat and not have to worry about the calories or dieting.

  ‘Chips, burger and Häagen-Dazs pecan,’ said Nesta.

  ‘Roast chicken, roastie tatoes and banoffi pie,’ said Izzie.

  ‘Spaghetti bolognese and treacle pudding and custard,’ I said. ‘And chocolate. Lots of it.’

  Nesta sent a note round class when Wacko wasn’t looking. By the end of the lesson we had everyone’s pop star names.

  A good lesson methinks. And I suppose I’m getting clearer on the what makes me ‘me’ front. I’m Gemini with Cancer rising and the Moon in Taurus. I am an air sign, the sign of the twins. I am Smokey Kinsler, pop star queen or possibly Charlotte Leister, romantic novel writer.

  Well, it’s a start.

  I looked up at Wacko and wondered if she would be impressed with our hard work.

  ‘Lucy Lovering,’ she said, seeing me staring at her. ‘Stop sniggering.’

  She’s picking on me. Do I care? No.

  In the afternoon, we all had to pile on to the school bus for an outing to the Tate Modern. Worse luck, some of the Year Eleven girls had come along to help ‘look after us’.

  As we took our seats at the back of the bus, Josie Riley came down the aisle and stood threateningly over Nesta.

  ‘Hear you’ve been trying to cop off with Michael Brenman,’ she said.

  Nesta immediately stood up. ‘It sounds like English but I can’t understand a word you’re saying,’ she said, going into her Scary Girl persona.

  Now Nesta is definitely someone who doesn’t give anyone permission to make her feel inferior. She’s five foot five and Josie’s at least three inches smaller.

  Josie backed away then saw me giggling and turned to me. ‘What happened to your hair? Whatever look you’re going for, you missed.’

  Izzie stood up next to Nesta. ‘If I throw a stick, will you leave?’

  Josie turned on Nesta again. ‘You think you’re it, don’t you? Well let me tell you something. Michael Brenman is mine and I’d appreciate it if you’d stay away.’

  ‘Thank you, I will,’ said Nesta. ‘And as for Michael being yours, may I say we’re all refreshed and challenged by your unique point of view. Anyway you can have Michael Brenman, I’m not interested, he kisses like a whelk.’

  Josie’s mouth dropped open. ‘He kissed you? What does he see in a kid like you?’

  Nesta stuck her nose in the air. ‘I’m really easy to get along with once you lesser people learn to worship me,’ she said.

  Josie’s mouth shrank to resemble a cat’s bottom and by this time, I was on the floor laughing.

  ‘One for all and all for one,’ I said as she sloped off.

  There are a million things to look at in the Tate Modern. On the bank of the River Thames, it’s an enormous warehouse type building with loads of different floors, each one with room after room of remarkable oddities, some beautiful, some seriously deranged.

  As far as our class was concerned though, there was only one room worth looking at. After an hour of trooping around and trying to make sense of it all, we all jammed ourselves into a tiny dark space where there was music playing. On the wall, a film was playing of a man with a beard. A naked man, sort of hippie dancing in slow motion. His willy was flopping up and down in time to the music. Everyone was falling about laughing and Candice Carter went up to the wall and started dancing along with him. That made us laugh even more.

  ‘Is this art?’ said Mo Harrison.

  ‘Well it beats The Hay Wain,’ said Nesta.

  ‘I thought you had to be able to draw to be an artist,’ I said.

  ‘Not any more,’ said Nesta. ‘My dad said anything can be art if you say it is.’

  Then Mr Johnson came in and caught us. He took one look at the film and said, ‘Move along, girls, come on, move along. Plenty more to see.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t think so,’ said Izzie, trying not to laugh. ‘I think we’ve seen it all.’

  Sometimes school is great.

  Year Nine

  Pop star

  name

  Mills and Boon

  name

  Lucy Lovering;

  Smokey Kinsler

  Charlotte Leister

  Izzie Foster:

  Zizi Malone

  Joanna Redington

  Nesta Williams:

  Sooty Costello

  Suzanne Lindann

  Candice Carter:

  Duchess Black

  Rebecca Park Mead

  Joanne Richards:

  Muffin O’Casey

  Emily Belmont

  Gabby Jones:

  Lucky Nolan

  Lavinia Rosemount

  Jade Wilcocks:

  Roxanne Bennie

  Rosemary Milton

  Mo Harrison:

  Flossy Cable

  Gabriel Westerly

  And: Nesta went up to Miss Watkins and said she was doing some research into old names for her history project so we also have:

  Miss Watkins:

  Mango Malloy

  Violet Laurier

  A class full of potential pop stars and Mills and Boon writers. Excellent. Most excellent.

  Chapter 14

  The Mystery

  Contestant Revealed

  My hair is fantabuloso. At last. Can life get any better?

  Betty, that’s the hairdresser, is my new best friend. She looked more like a mum than a trendy hairdresser and at first I had my doubts as to whether she could repair the damage.

  Nesta’s mum was just off to do her newsreading shift having had her hair done. She looked ever so sm
art in a navy suit and silver jewellery and I thought I’d be intimidated by her like I am by Izzie’s mum but she was really friendly. She took one look at what Kate had done and said to Betty, ‘Oh no, she wants it softer, feathered, layered, don’t you think?’

  I nodded but just to be on the safe side, I showed them the picture I’d cut out of the magazine.

  ‘Exactly,’ said Mrs Williams, looking at the photo. ‘Something to show off your lovely bone structure. And, Betty, run a few highlights through.’ She turned to me before going out of the door. ‘My present, Lucy. I know what it’s like when your hair gets ruined.’

  Nesta’s family is f. f. fab.

  And off Betty went. This time I didn’t look in the mirror until she’d finished, then when I did . . . Wow. It was fantastic. Spiky and short at the front and layered all over. Then she put some white blonde highlights through the top. Even I had to admit that this time the cut really suited me.

  ‘You look gorgeous,’ said Izzie. ‘It really shows off your cheekbones. Amazing.’

  ‘Yes. Very elfin princess,’ said Nesta.

  After Betty had gone, we had another look through Mrs Williams’s interior design mags and I saw the room I wanted. Pale lilac. With powder blue paintwork.

  ‘Très chic,’ said Izzie.

  It was all coming together. My hair, my room, my friends.

  It was time to ask Nesta my burning question.

  ‘Nesta,’ I said gravely.

  ‘Yes, oh gorgeous one?’ she replied.

  ‘You know Tony?’

  ‘Yes,’ she laughed. ‘He’s my brother.’

  ‘Why doesn’t he live with his mum?’

  Nesta went quiet. ‘She died. In a road accident when he was six months old. He never knew her. A year later, his dad met Mum and, well, my mum’s the only mum he’s ever known, even though she’s not really his mum physically.’

  ‘Where is he tonight?’ I asked. I wanted him to see me with my new haircut. Looking fantabuloso.

  ‘Some class after school, I expect,’ said Nesta. ‘He often stays late for one thing or another.’