by Jean Ure
“What’s the matter?” said Dad. “Who’s upset you?”
Melia wiped her nose on her sleeve and pointed accusingly at me.
“Frankie? What’s she done?”
“She won’t let me go shopping with her!”
“Won’t let you go shopping?”
Melia shook her head, waving it tragically to and fro.
Dad said, “Why’s that?”
Melia hiccuped. “Cos she’s mean!”
“Very mean,” said Dad. He gazed down at me, reproachfully. “Why can’t you take her with you?”
I wasn’t quite brave enough to say, “Because we don’t want her.” I muttered that it wasn’t convenient.
“Not convenient?”
Reluctantly I said, “She messes things up.”
“Pardon me?” Dad cupped a hand to his ear. “Say again?”
“She messes things up!”
“Oh, come on,” said Dad, “it can’t be that bad. Suppose I were to give you…” He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out some notes. “Suppose I were to give you a fiver to buy yourselves a bag of chips, or whatever it is you eat, how would that be?”
“Dad,” I said, “that’s bribery!”
“Well, of course it is,” said Dad. “Nothing wrong with a good honest bribe! Not if it makes someone happy. Stops them crying. Eh?” He gave Melia a hug. “How about it?”
I tried to stand firm, but the sight of Melia’s face got too much for me, and in the end I gave way. I guess I am a bit of a soft touch too. Mum always says that Rags has me under his paw, meaning that he knows how to get round me. And he always knows when he’s won. Melia knew when she’d won. Her tears dried up as if by magic. She came hurtling down the stairs towards me.
“Thank you, Frankie, thank you, Frankie! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
“Well, now,” said Dad. “Doesn’t that make it all worthwhile?”
I didn’t reckon Skye and Jem were going to think so. The door bell rang at that moment, and with deep foreboding I went to answer it. They stood there on the doorstep, their faces wreathed in happy smiles. And then they saw Melia beaming at them, and the smiles faded.
“I’m coming shopping!” cried Melia.
“I couldn’t help it.” I mouthed the words, desperately. “It was Dad!”
“I’ll tell you what,” said Dad, “I’ll give you a lift. Won’t be a jiffy, you wait there.”
Skye was glaring at me like I was some kind of low, creeping thing that had come sliming out from under a stone.
“You promised!” said Jem.
“I know,” I said, “I know. But look! Look what I’ve got!” I held out Dad’s fiver. “We can share it!”
Skye gave me this look; really withering.
“Traitor,” hissed Jem.
Dad arrived with the car and we all climbed in. Skye sat in the front, very stiff and straight. I sat at the back, sandwiched between Jem (scowling) and Melia (wriggling).
“You’re all being very solemn,” said Dad. “Taken a vow of silence, have you?”
Nobody said anything. Dad caught my eye in the mirror. “Cat got your tongue?”
For some reason, Melia found this funny. She went off into one of her great gurgles of laughter, rocking backwards and forwards on the seat.
“Well, at least someone’s happy,” said Dad.
He dropped us off at the entrance to the shopping centre. “OK, girls, there you are. Spend wisely!”
“Where we going, where we going?” demanded Melia. She bounced energetically up and down. “Go back to Boots, do the make-up!”
“No,” I said, “we’ve done the make-up. We’re going to buy a present for Skye’s nan.”
“You just make sure you keep hold of her,” said Skye.
“I will!” I said. And I did. I clamped my arm very tightly through hers so that we were practically glued together. It wasn’t very comfortable, but at least she couldn’t break away or make any sudden lunges. Skye and Jem walked ahead, like they were nothing to do with us, which didn’t stop Melia shouting out after them.
“Hey, Jemma! Hey, Skye! We’re going shopping!”
And then she’d do one of her clumsy twirls and kick me in the ankle or stamp on one of my feet, and Skye would turn round and hiss, like really exasperated, and Jem would pull a face, and I’d say, “Melia, be quiet!” but only half-heartedly cos I mean she wasn’t doing anything wrong. She was just enjoying herself.
We went up the escalator to China and Glass and Skye gave me this look which said, as plain as anything, just watch it! I clamped Melia even tighter, pinning her to me with superhuman force, but still she almost managed to cause disaster.
“Frankie, look!” she cried. “There’s a mug like your mum’s one that you broke!” Her free arm went flailing out. I jerked her away just in time.
“Don’t do that!”
Skye rolled her eyes heavenwards. Jem said, “You broke your mum’s mug? The one I helped you choose?”
She hadn’t helped me choose, but she had been with me. I’d told her about pansies being one of Mum’s favourite flowers.
“How’d you break it?” said Jem.
“I didn’t.” I jabbed a finger at Melia. “She did.”
“Oh.” Jem nodded.
“Frankie!” Melia clutched me, excitedly. “You could buy another one!”
“I can’t,” I said. “I don’t have enough money.”
I had Dad’s fiver, but that was for sharing with Jem and Skye, to make up for me bringing Melia and ruining their shopping experience. In any case, a fiver wasn’t enough. Mum’s mug had been a superior mug. Bone china! I’d had to use nearly two weeks’ pocket money.
“For goodness’ sake,” said Skye. “Let’s go and get Nan’s present before we’re thrown out.”
“Yes, and then we can decide what we want to spend Dad’s money on.”
I kept Melia clamped so tight while Skye was buying her present that she didn’t have a chance to get at anything. She’d even stopped shouting out, so I couldn’t really see that Skye had any reason to complain. I felt quite jubilant as we made our way back to the escalator. We’d been all round China and Glass and Melia hadn’t touched anything, she hadn’t broken anything, she hadn’t even breathed on anything. She was really behaving quite nicely. Maybe I wouldn’t need a career change, after all!
“Let’s go to the Pick ’n’ Mix and spend Dad’s money,” I said.
“Yesss!” Jem liked that. “Let’s buy all the really sticky icky yucky stuff we can find!”
All the stuff our mums wouldn’t approve of.
“Pink stuff.”
“Green stuff!”
“Yellow stuff!”
“JUNK FOOD!”
We chorused it, exultantly; even Skye. She seemed a bit more relaxed now that she’d managed to get her nan’s present and we hadn’t been thrown out.
“Can I have junk food?” said Melia.
I said, “You can have whatever you want.”
“Sticky Fingaz?” Melia clapped her hands, excitedly. “Jem, I’m going to have Sticky Fingaz!”
“You bet,” said Jem.
But she never had them. On our way to the Pick ’n’ Mix she suddenly announced, in ringing tones, that she had to go. I said, “Go where?”
“Go,” shouted Melia. “Frankie, I’ve got to go!” And she did a little clumping jig and clutched urgently at herself with both hands. God, it even embarrassed me! I didn’t dare look at Skye. I gave Melia a bit of a shove and pointed her in the direction of the Ladies.
“Over there! We’ll wait for you.”
I just hoped she went through the door marked LADIES and not the one marked GENTLEMEN. They didn’t have the little ladies and gentlemen figures, and I wasn’t sure how good Melia was at reading.
“Should have gone with her,” said Skye.
Rather crossly, because I knew she was right, I snapped, “I can’t go everywhere with her! She’s got to learn.”
&
nbsp; We all watched, anxiously, as Melia loped off, still clutching at herself. I breathed a sigh of relief as she disappeared through the right door.
“I’m really sorry about bringing her,” I said. “It was Dad!”
“Yes, you said,” said Jem.
Skye just grunted, like, “Hmph!”
We sat on one of the low walls surrounding a flower bed and settled down to wait for Melia.
“You must admit,” I said, “it’s all worked out. You’ve got your nan’s prezzie and now we can go and spend Dad’s fiver.”
“Maybe,” said Skye.
What did she mean, maybe? “We’re going to! Soon as Melia comes back.”
“If she comes back. What’s she up to? She’s been in there for ages.”
“Should have gone with her,” said Jem. “I told you,” I said. “She’s got to learn.”
“I bet she’s locked herself in and doesn’t know how to get out.”
“She might already have come out,” said Skye.
I frowned. “How could she come out without us noticing?” We’d been watching the whole time. Well, most of the time.
“You know what she’s like… could be half way up the High Street by now.”
“You’d better go and look,” said Skye. “Me and Jem’ll go on.”
I heaved myself up and went stomping off towards the Ladies. I couldn’t believe that Melia had come out and we hadn’t seen her, but it was true she had been in there for a long time. I stuck my head round the door. The place was empty! Butterflies began swarming in my stomach.
“Melia,” I yelled, “are you there?”
Slowly, one of the cubicle doors opened. In a small voice, Melia said, “Frankie?”
I rushed over. “What are you doing?”
A stifled giggle burst out of her. It sounded uncertain, like she was scared I was going to be cross. “My trousers are broken!”
“What?”
“My trousers are broken!”
She shuffled out, holding the trousers up with one hand.
I said, “What d’you mean, they’re broken?”
“They won’t do up!”
She’d gone and busted the zip. She must really have yanked at it, cos it wasn’t just stuck, it was hanging right off.
“There’s got to be a button,” I said. But there wasn’t. There wasn’t any sort of fastening at all. Now what were we supposed to do?
“Just keep a hold of them,” I said. “Whatever you do, don’t let go!”
She sulked the whole way home, whining, because she’d missed out on her Sticky Fingaz, while I thought glumly, all over again, about being a plumber.
We caught up with Jem and Skye at the bus stop.
“What’s happened now?” Skye said. “Why is she clutching herself?”
Melia said, “My trousers have broken and Frankie won’t let me go to Pick ’n’ Mix!”
Chapter Eight
There was no sign of either Jem or Skye on Monday morning. I waited as long as I could, but in the end I had to give up and go on by myself with Melia. Rather irritably I told her to “Stop hopping! Why do you have to keep doing it all the time? It’s totally stupid!”
I was aware even as I said it that I was being mean. How did Melia know why she did things? She just did them. She just wanted to be happy. When I snapped at her, her face fell. She said, “Sorry, Frankie, sorry, Frankie, s—”
“It’s all right,” I said. “But just walk normally, can’t you?”
She tried; she really did. I could see her lips bunched up and her fingers all stiff and splayed with the effort of concentrating. She still didn’t walk normally. It was something to do with her arms and legs not matching up; one of them always seemed to be moving at the wrong time in the wrong direction. Maybe that was why she hopped. Maybe she found it easier.
She shot me this worried glance, like Rags when he’s not sure he’s doing the right thing.
“It’s OK,” I said. “You can hop, if you want.”
Gratefully, she did a little skip. “Where’s Jem ’n’ Skye?”
“Dunno,” I said. “Obviously late.”
Except that Skye was never late. I guessed she must have gone on ahead, not wanting to be seen with me and Melia. Jem would be late because Jem often was.
“I like Jem,” said Melia. “She’s my friend! Skye gets cross with me.”
“Oh, that’s just Skye,” I said. “You don’t want to take any notice of her.”
We reached Melia’s school and I watched her lollop eagerly across the playground. Two girls ran to meet her, crying, “Melia, Melia!” I was glad she was popular. She didn’t deserve to be picked on all the time, just because she was a bit clumsy and awkward and breathed too heavily. She saw me watching and waved.
“Bye, Frankie!”
I waved back. “Bye, Melia!”
I suddenly found that I was feeling incredibly protective. This was what it was all about! Caring for people. Watching out for them. I was back on track! I didn’t need to be a plumber, after all. I was a people person.
I raced back up the road and swung in through the school gates quite jauntily. If Skye didn’t want to walk with us any more, that was her problem. I reckon it is truly sad to care so much about the impression you are making, and what people might think. I was just glad that one of my friends wasn’t like that. Me and Jem could get on perfectly well without Skye and her snooty ways.
And then I reached our classroom, squeezing in just seconds before the bell, and there was Skye, sitting at her desk, and there was Jem, sitting next to her. She was leaning back, talking to Rhianna Shah, and had all her books spread out ready for history. She couldn’t just have got there. She’d been there for ages! I banged my bag down, next to her.
“What happened?” I hissed. “I waited for you!”
She was saved from having to reply by the arrival of Mrs Datchett, who has ears like a bat and goes totally ballistic if anyone dares to so much as whisper. It wasn’t till break time that they told me.
“We’re really sorry—”
“Really really.”
“But we just can’t take Melia any more!”
They’d been talking about it behind my back. Arranging to meet up without me. They were obviously feeling guilty; even Skye. Pleadingly she said, “If it was just once or twice, it wouldn’t be so bad, but it’s all the time.”
“We know it’s not her fault,” said Jem.
“We know she can’t help it.”
“It’s just the way she is.”
“You mean, you’re embarrassed to be seen with her,” I said.
“No! Well – y-yes. Maybe. Just a bit. I mean, Saturday…” Jem’s voice trailed off.
“You promised you wouldn’t bring her,” said Skye.
“I told you! It was Dad.”
“Yes. Well. Anyway.” Skye pulled a face. “We’re really sorry.”
“We are,” said Jem. “Honest!”
“So what am I going to tell Melia? When she wants to know where you are?”
They fell silent at that.
“What am I s’pposed to say?”
“Could just say we’re busy,” mumbled Jem.
“What, like every single day?”
Jem stuck a finger in her mouth and nibbled at a nail. Skye stared down fixedly at her feet.
I said, “Well?”
“Well…”
Skye shuffled, uneasily. Jem tore off a chunk of nail.
“Oh, don’t worry,” I said. “I’ll just tell her the truth… they don’t want to be seen with you any more. They’re ashamed! Cos you do stupid things all the time and it embarrasses them. It’s OK, she won’t mind, she has learning difficulties. Won’t matter to her. She doesn’t have feelings same as the rest of us.”
Jem removed her finger from her mouth and squeaked in protest. Skye, in shocked tones, said, “Frankie!”
“We don’t want her to be hurt,” whispered Jem.
“Oh, I expect she’
s used to it by now,” I said. “It probably happens all the time.”
With that I went marching off across the yard. I spent the rest of break on my own, simmering in a corner. Daisy Hooper saw me and said, “What’s up with you?” to which I smartly replied, “Mind your own business,” so then of course she immediately knew that we’d had a falling out and went round telling everyone.
At lunch time the others tried to make it up. They came and sat next to me, like nothing had ever happened. Skye said, “This is so ridiculous! Just because we don’t want you bringing Melia with you wherever we go.”
“I have to take her in to school,” I said. “I can’t do anything about that.”
“That’s OK,” said Skye. “You can tell her we’re having to go in early.”
“Yes, you don’t have to tell her we don’t like her,” said Jem. “That would be unkind. And anyway,” she added, “it’s not true. We do like her!”
“You just don’t want to be seen with her.”
They shoved the food round their plates and didn’t say anything.
“What about in the afternoon?” I said. “I s’ppose you’re staying late, then.”
Jem brightened. “Yes, we could be staying for music lessons, or – or detentions, or – or choir practice, or—”
I felt like picking up my plate and dumping it on her. Jem obviously realised she’d said the wrong thing.
“Well, anyway,” she muttered.
“Look, we don’t mind occasionally,” said Skye. “Just not all the time. I don’t think that’s being unreasonable. Do you?” She nudged at Jem, who immediately swallowed and choked on her food.
“You mean, like, maybe once a week?” I said.
“Yes!” Skye nodded. “Or even twice. Just not every day.” She smiled, encouragingly. “Is that OK?”
I speared a Brussels sprout and sat for a moment, looking at it. I loathe Brussels sprouts. “I don’t really want to talk about it any more,” I said.
“Probably wisest,” agreed Skye.
“Yes, cos whatever happens –” Jem said it earnestly – “we don’t want to quarrel! We haven’t quarrelled, have we?”
“Absolutely not!” said Skye. “Well, I haven’t.”
I hadn’t, either. I don’t believe in quarrelling, it makes you all cross and bothered, and somebody has to say sorry before you can make things up, and if you’re the one that says it you get to feel resentful, cos why should it be you and not one of the others, ’specially if you weren’t the one that was in the wrong? Which in this case I wasn’t. It wasn’t my fault I’d had to take Melia with me.
