The Mixed-Up Summer of Lily McLean

by Lindsay Littleson

  “I’m not sure if we’re going to make it,” she whispers. “My mum says she doesn’t want to waste money on the ferry unless it’s a really sunny day. I asked if David and I could go over on our own, but she said ‘No way’. And what are the chances of a sunny day? Realistically, pretty low.”

  I sink down in my seat, feeling totally dejected. I had been looking forward to them coming, to showing them both around the island, even though I know they both probably know it as well as I do.

  “Oh well,” I mutter. “I’ll cross my fingers for sunshine on Friday.”

  “Lily McLean and Rowan Forrest! I’ve already asked everyone to come and sit at the Smartboard. I did not intend for you two to have an exemption. Will you girls stop rudely whispering and get yourselves over here now! Or do you already know everything there is to know about prepositions? Perhaps you could come over and enlighten the rest of the class?”

  Mrs McKenzie is in full-on sarcastic mode today. The clock hands seem to move extra slowly and by lunchtime I am thoroughly fed up. My last day is not proving to be as enjoyable as I had hoped.

  And then it gets worse.

  ***

  As normal, I go to stand in the queue for my free school meals (I may have mentioned our cash flow issues). Once I’ve loaded up my tray with pizza, potato wedges and pink milk, I go over to join Rowan and David at the table with their packed lunches. Usually I enjoy my school dinner, but today the pepperoni pizza looks rock hard and the wedges are soggy. Only my pink milk looks appealing, and that’s saying something.

  “At least the school dinners should be better at high school,” I say hopefully, jabbing a straw into my milk carton. “We could take this pizza down to the beach and play frisbee with it.”

  “We had better go there by limo then,” jokes David. “It’s the only way to travel apparently.”

  I giggle, but Rowan’s face flushes scarlet.

  “Stop going on about it, you two!” she yells, standing up so quickly that her chair falls over.

  She stalks off to another table and sits down next to Danielle, who looks surprised but delighted.

  ***

  For the rest of the afternoon, I worry about falling out with Rowan and Mrs McKenzie tells me off twice for daydreaming. Rowan isn’t speaking to David or me, and I feel terrible. When the school bell rings, she leaves hurriedly with Jade, Danielle and Georgia. I expect they’re going over to Jade’s house to gasp at the overwhelming gorgeousness of Jade’s new dress.

  I didn’t mean that to sound quite so bitter. I guess I’m a little bit jealous.

  David and I are left standing at our desks, gathering up our blazers and bags.

  “Are you going straight home?” he asks. “Do you want to come into town first so I can see if there’s any new Star Wars stuff in?”

  “Um, ’fraid not, Dave. I’ve got to collect my brothers,” I say, trying to look genuinely sorry. David will be in the shop until closing time, poring over any interesting finds.

  “And I’ve got something to do here first. I’ll see you on Friday, with any luck.”

  David leaves and I linger in the classroom for a moment, adjusting my bag strap.

  “Is everything ok, Lily?” Mrs McKenzie asks, and then her hand flies to her mouth. “Oh, Lily, you should have reminded me this is your last day! I feel awful!”

  I shuffle over to her desk, feeling really self-conscious, and pull a card and small box of chocolate mints from my bag, bought with the change from Gran’s tenner.

  “These are for you,” I say awkwardly, stating the obvious as usual, handing them to her. “You’ve been a really great teacher. I’ll miss you a lot.”

  “Thank you so much, Lily. That’s very kind of you, dear. I have something for you too. I’m so glad I remembered before you left for good!”

  Mrs McKenzie goes into her desk drawer and pulls out a small parcel carefully wrapped in pale-blue tissue paper. She places it in my hand. Then she gives me a quick, awkward hug.

  “Goodbye, Lily. Enjoy your holiday and good luck in secondary school. Come back and see us all some time.”

  ***

  The boys are kicking gravel at each other by the school gates, waiting impatiently for me to come out. Hudson has grass stains on his knees and a sore-looking graze on his arm. Bronx’s polo shirt is smeared in blue paint, tomato from his lunchtime pizza and dribbles of pink milk. Gran will be livid. In his sticky hands, Bronx is holding a junk model of a vehicle – a digger apparently – which is so large and unwieldy that I have to stuff Mrs McKenzie’s parcel in my blazer pocket and help him to carry it.

  “Can we stop at the park, for a minute, Lily? Please, please, please. Harry is going with his mum and we want to see who can go fastest on the new zip wire. Can we? Can we?” he begs, pulling at me with a still rather sticky hand.

  Hudson shrugs and I sigh and agree. To be honest, none of us is in a huge hurry to get to Gran’s house. She is bound to be preparing a large ‘do and don’t’ list for me to ensure I don’t embarrass her in front of her Millport cronies. Do answer politely when they ask how you’re doing at school. Don’t roll your eyes when they say how much you’ve grown…

  When we arrive at the park, it’s already busy with small kids eager to try out the new zip wire. Hudson throws his bag at my feet and rushes to the climbing bars to swing arm over arm like a gibbon, while Bronx shakes off my hand and rushes in the opposite direction, waving frantically at his wee pal Harry. Harry’s mum is standing by the swings, chatting to some other mothers. They are all smartly dressed, with shiny well-cut hair and carefully applied makeup. Our mum is nothing like them, with her weird smocks and legging combos, her pointy suede boots and her long, wild red hair. I wonder if the boys mind.

  I find an unoccupied bench, place our school bags and the junk model digger carefully on it and flop down. It’s a dull, overcast day, threatening rain. We’ll need to leave in ten minutes in case we get caught in a downpour. I figure that Bronx will freak out if his precious cardboard digger is ruined by the rain.

  “I was much faster than you, Harry!” I hear Bronx shriek.

  “You were not, you big liar!”

  I think this game is not going to end well.

  It’s a bit chilly sitting on the bench, and the wood is damp against my bare legs. I’m feeling miserable about the fact that primary school is over, for me at least, and really afraid that I might not see my best friend again until we start secondary in August. And maybe she won’t speak to me ever again. Perhaps David is right and this is the end of our friendship with Rowan. I remind myself sternly that David has a tendency to be dramatic and that I’m doing the exact same thing.

  Then I remember Mrs McKenzie’s parcel and slip it quickly from my blazer pocket. I tear at the fragile tissue paper, find a tiny white cardboard box and prise it carefully apart. Inside, there’s a little silver-coloured charm in the shape of a flower. I turn it in my hands and see that it’s a water lily. Once I’ve attached it to my school bag I sit back on the bench and admire it, feeling really touched by Mrs McKenzie’s thoughtfulness.

  Then I realise there is somebody sitting next to me on the bench.

  Oh, surely not. Could this day get any worse?

  My ghost is perched beside Bronx’s model digger, her face turned towards me. I can see her colourless features as if through frosted glass. She has wide eyes, a small, heart-shaped face and long, wavy hair. Today she’s wearing what looks like a school uniform. That’s weird. Do ghosts change their clothes? Do ghosts go to school?!

  She is clutching something tightly in her hands, but I can’t tell what it is.

  I still can’t place who she reminds me of. I can see that she looks very unhappy though.

  “What’s up with you?” I ask her quietly, trying to speak like a ventriloquist so the parents nearby don’t think I’m talking to myself. I am presuming nobody else can see her and that she is picking exclusively on me, since nobody is screaming and pointing out that there’s a gho
st sitting on one of the park benches.

  “Lily, can you really hear me? Can you really see me? Is this real?”

  Oh great. I’m being haunted by a ghost who doesn’t even know she’s doing it.

  “Well of course I can hear you. I’m not deaf and you keep hissing in my ear! And I can sort of see you, but you’re a bit fuzzy, to be honest.” I’m really going for it now. “And why are you always so flamin’ worried looking?” I snap at her when she doesn’t reply, forgetting for a moment that I’m not alone in the park. “Why don’t you want me to go to Millport? I go every year with my gran, and you haven’t ever interfered before. It’s not really your business, is it, what I do? I don’t even know you. Leave me alone.”

  “It is my business, listen to me,” she replies sadly. “Don’t go to Millport. Stay away from the water, Lily.”

  She looks at me beseechingly and as I stare back into her wide dark eyes, trying to remember where I have heard her voice before, she fades and disappears. I am left on my own, sitting in the drizzle on a park bench.

  ***

  “It’s getting wet! My digger will be ruined!” screams Bronx. “Cover it up, Lily!”

  He runs over to rescue it from the rain, which is now falling hard.

  “Ha! Your model’s all mushy,” taunts Hudson as he skids up to us.

  Ignoring both of them, I scoop the digger and our school bags into my arms and we start to race out of the park and up the road towards Gran’s house. Our hair is getting soaked and our clothes sodden. We will all be a crumpled, soggy mess by the time we get there, digger included.

  “Harry says he was fastest, but it was definitely me,” Bronx shouts as he runs. “Did you see me, Lil? Sure I was faster than Harry?”

  “Yes, you were fast as an asteroid heading straight for Earth!” I call back, and Bronx grins happily.

  I glance down at my school bag with its water lily charm. “Stay away from the water, Lily.” Were the ghost’s words some kind of code? Or is she a figment of my imagination? Gran is always telling me that I have an overactive imagination. But if I am inventing a ghost, and managing to scare myself with it, there’s definitely something wrong with me.

  I think that, on balance, I would rather she was real.

  Chapter 9

  Today’s major events:

  Millport! Yay!

  Gran is a nightmare. An embarrassing nightmare.

  I meet a girl on the ferry, and she’s real, for a change.

  My holdall doesn’t do anything of the kind. There are loads of other things I want to pack and there’s no more room in the stupid thing. And anyway, I’m out of time. Gran will be here any minute to whisk me away to a tropical paradise. (I wish.)

  I stand at the window, bulging holdall at my feet, and wait. The holdall looks good: black and glossy, with my water lily charm attached to the zip. I’m wearing a Peanuts t-shirt, my new skinny jeans and my bright orange shoes.

  “You look great, Lily,” says Mum. “Really cool.”

  I wish my mum would not try and use words like ‘cool’. It’s just embarrassing.

  Mum is on the couch, holding Summer firmly on her lap while she struggles to dress her. Summer has learned some new words and is using them all at once.

  “No, no, no, no!” she yells furiously. “No socks. No shoes. Feet!”

  Mum sighs deeply.

  “Come on, Summer, co-operate with me. You can’t walk about in your bare feet.”

  “No socks! Bad socks! Bad Mum!”

  “It was easier when she couldn’t speak,” grumbles Mum, as Summer pulls the tiny socks off her feet and stuffs them down the front of Mum’s jumper.

  “No socks,” she burbles happily. “Socks gone ’way. Bye-bye socks.”

  Bronx and Hudson come charging in, throw themselves on the couch and almost catapult Summer into the air.

  “For goodness’ sake, be careful,” shouts Mum, but Summer just laughs and bounces up and down on Mum’s knee. She seems happier since she started to talk. Life is probably a lot less frustrating when you can explain what you want. I hope she isn’t too lonely this week without me. I’ll miss her.

  “Lily, will you bring me a present from Mapes?” wheedles Bronx, tugging at my hand. Mapes is the toy shop in Millport – the boys are obsessed with it. “I’d like a lightsabre, or a sword, or a gun that shoots foam discs. Or one with real bullets would be better.”

  “I’m sure you would, Bronx, but I don’t have enough spending money for a big present. I’ll get you some sweeties or maybe a lucky bag from Mapes, as long as you’ve been a good boy for Jenna and Mum.”

  “Me, too?” pleads Hudson. “Can I have an ice cream with a flake and raspberry sauce?”

  “I think that might melt by the time I get it home on the ferry,” I laugh. The boys are quite funny when they’re not rampaging around, causing havoc.

  I worry suddenly that a week is quite a long time for them to manage without me.

  “Right lads,” I say sternly. “What are the Three Unbreakable Rules?”

  Bronx waves his arm in the air, as though he’s in the classroom, but Hudson shouts out excitedly.

  “We must change our pants and socks every day cos else we’ll get smelly!”

  “Yup. And Bronx?”

  “We need to brush our teeth twice a day cos if we don’t they will get yellow and disgusterous.”

  “And the Third Unbreakable Rule?”

  “I know, I know!” screeches Hudson. “We must never cross roads on our own, even if there’s a zillion pound note on the other side.”

  “Because a zillion pounds is no use if we are squished flat, like that hedgehog you showed us,” finishes Bronx.

  I might even miss my wee brothers this week. They are quite cute looking, with their floppy fair hair, big grey eyes and freckled noses.

  “Can I use your bed as a den while you’re away, Lil?” asks Bronx.

  “No, I’m having it!” yells Hudson and he flings himself on Bronx and starts to pummel him with his fists. “I need it for Swampfire.”

  I have no idea what he’s talking about, but it doesn’t sound good. My brothers are aliens. Not cute at all.

  Bronx bawls and aims a flying kick at Hudson, who crumples, wailing and clutching his stomach.

  I take it all back. I won’t miss them one bit. Not one tiny subatomic particle.

  “If either of you lay one finger on my bed, or on any of my stuff, the television remote will magically dissolve and you will never be able to find it again,” I warn them and then quickly shoo them to the side as the doorbell rings. Gran’s here!

  I rush to the door and fling it open. She is standing on the step, wearing her beige raincoat and carrying her enormous patent-leather handbag. Her battered brown case is propped at her feet, and she already looks puffed out from the effort of carrying it.

  “Right, Lily. Are you ready to go?” she asks brusquely. “I’m not coming in. So get a move on.”

  I rush back into the living room and grab my holdall and anorak. Mum puts Summer down and gives me a big hug.

  “I hope you have a lovely time, pet,” she says, kissing my forehead. “Take care of yourself. Be good for your gran.”

  “I will, Mum, promise,” I say brightly, and bounce backwards towards the door, waving frantically.

  Bronx and Hudson are now sitting together on the couch, smiling sweetly and waving, a suspicious picture of grey-eyed innocence. As soon as the door closes behind me, I know they will be dragging the covers off my bed to make their den. I click an imaginary remote to remind them of my threat.

  Jenna is standing at the foot of the stairs. She reaches out, grabs my hand and shoves a five-pound note into it.

  “Have a good time, Lil. Better you than me,” she whispers, waving at Gran, who is still standing in the doorway, her face grumpy with impatience.

  Jenna runs back up the stairs and I stand dumbly watching her, too astonished to shout thanks.

  The walk down to the pie
r takes a long time, as I am lugging both my heavy holdall and Gran’s case, which I can barely lift. We have to keep stopping so I can have a wee rest. My arms feel as though they are being wrenched from their sockets.

  “Come on Lily. Get a move on, girl,” urges Gran as she strides ahead, her big bottom wobbling as she walks. “We haven’t got all day.”

  When we finally arrive at the pier, the ferry is just coming in. Gran goes to buy our tickets and I watch the big bow door clank like a monster’s jaw onto the stone ramp and spit the cars out one by one.

  There are a lot of foot passengers and cyclists waiting to hand over their tickets and Gran is determined to be at the head of the queue.

  “Hurry up, Lily. Follow me!” she shouts. “I need to get a seat on the ferry, or my old legs will swell up like balloons.”

  She shoves her way to the front and I cringe with embarrassment. Then she drops her tickets in the man’s outstretched hand, and stomps down the ramp. I scuttle after her, dragging both bags. Once on board, Gran finds a seat downstairs and I plonk the bags down beside her.

  “Oh, I’m shattered,” she gasps, fanning her face with one plump hand. “That walk was exhausting. The ruddy case weighs a ton.”

  I shake my head in amazement and rub my sore arms.

  “I’m going to sit up top, Gran. Is that ok?” I ask, and she nods in agreement, clearly keen to engage the elderly lady in the seat across from her in conversation. The poor old woman is trapped, wedged in by Gran’s heap of bags and jackets. I hope for her sake she has a hearing aid she can switch off.

  “You wouldn’t believe the trouble I have with my digestion,” confides my gran, in a stage whisper. “I’m a martyr to migraine, too. And as for my blood pressure. The doctor says he’s never seen such…”

  I shake my head again in disbelief at Gran’s idea of a conversation opener. The old woman tries to edge closer to the ferry window.

  It’s only when I’m standing at the railings, the sea breeze whipping my hair and salt spray splashing the sides of the ferry, that I remember the ghost’s warning to stay away from water.