Girls in Love

by Jacqueline Wilson

  ‘I don’t know,’ I mutter madly.

  ‘Hi, Ellie!’ Dan shouts above the disco music.

  ‘Well, he knows you!’ says Nadine.

  ‘Oh no,’ I say, and I turn, desperate, wondering if I can make a run for it.

  ‘Ellie? Hey, wait! It’s me, Dan!’

  ‘Dan?’ says Magda.

  ‘Dan?’ says Nadine. ‘How can it be Dan? You said you made him up.’

  ‘Well this guy looks all too real,’ says Magda, giggling. ‘He’s your boyfriend, Ellie?’

  ‘No!’ I insist, but he’s got to me now, trampling past everyone in his awful trainers, a silly grin still ear to ear.

  ‘Hi, Ellie. Surprise!’ he says, as he lunges forward.

  I’m so terrified he’s going to put his arms round me in front of everyone that I step back sharply and spear Stacy with one of my killer heels. She squeals.

  Dan’s arms are stretched out. They stay empty, clutching at air. The grin fades from his face. He swallows. He doesn’t know what to say, what to do. And everyone’s still staring. He’s going red right to the tips of his ears. They stick out so with his new silly haircut. His glasses are starting to steam up. His eyes look agonized. Oh, poor Dan!

  ‘Hello,’ I say weakly. ‘Meet my best friends, Magda and Nadine.’

  They are still staring at him as if he’s just arrived from Planet Nightmare.

  ‘This is my friend Dan,’ I say.

  Magda and Nadine give him a little nod, both struck dumb.

  ‘So . . . what are you doing here?’ I say.

  ‘I wanted to surprise you. I’d set it all up for this weekend, and even when you said your stepmum wouldn’t stand for it I thought I could maybe just turn up and sort of sweet-talk her because I thought she was really nice on holiday and she is nice, she said she didn’t mind a bit if I stay the weekend, even though it’s going to be a bit of a squash with your friends staying too. And your dad gave me a lift here and so . . . here I am.’

  ‘Yes. Well. You’ve certainly surprised me,’ I say.

  ‘Shocked, more like,’ says Dan.

  ‘I hope you realize you’ve just about crippled me, Ellie,’ Stacy says, still rubbing her foot.

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘So. Is this your boyfriend?’ Stacy says, and her eyes are gleaming.

  ‘No!’ I say.

  ‘Yes!’ says Dan.

  Oh, God. Stacy isn’t half enjoying this. So is everyone else. No-one’s even dancing now. They’re stopped for the cabaret. The comic turn. Ellie and Dan.

  ‘Well, is he or isn’t he?’ Stacy persists.

  ‘Dan’s a boy. And Dan’s a friend. That’s it,’ I say. I look at Dan. ‘Come and get a drink, eh?’

  We walk over to the drinks table together. I go tock-tock-tock in my killer shoes. Dan goes squeak-squeak-squeak in his tatty trainers.

  ‘Everyone’s staring at us,’ Dan says.

  ‘I know.’

  ‘This maybe wasn’t such a good idea,’ says Dan.

  ‘Well . . .’

  ‘I bet you’re wishing I hadn’t come. I’m showing you up in front of all your cool mates,’ says Dan.

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ I say – but I don’t sound very convincing.

  ‘You’d better kiss me quick,’ Dan says.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Then I’ll unzip my frog-suit and step out this hip handsome prince,’ says Dan, running his fingers through the lethal stubble of his hair. He tugs at it ruefully. ‘The new hairstyle doesn’t help, does it?’

  ‘You said it,’ I say. ‘Well, what are you going to drink? There’s not much selection actually. Coke. Or red wine punch.’

  ‘My favourite tipple,’ says Dan. ‘I’ll grab some sandwiches too, I’m starving. We drove straight down south, no stopping at any motorway caff. I was just so desperate to see you.’

  ‘Oh, Dan.’

  ‘True. I might be the last boy on earth you want as a boyfriend but I’d give anything for you to be my girlfriend. You look fantastic, Ellie.’

  ‘Rubbish.’

  ‘Look, I’m doing my best to be dead romantic. Like Romeo and Juliet. Only if I came to serenade you at night you’d come out on your balcony and tip a bucket of water all over me, right?’

  ‘Probably.’

  ‘I don’t know. I’m at a bit of a loss as to how to impress you. Travelling long-distance to see you is a no-no. Sweet-talk turns sour. There’s not much point trying to dazzle you with my brawny body.’ He flexes his puny arm so that his baggy sleeve flaps.

  ‘Did you say brawny – or scrawny?’ I say.

  ‘Cruel! OK OK, Arnie Schwarzenegger can relax for the moment. So – what about my ready wit?’

  ‘Er . . . wit or twit?’

  ‘Ouch. God, you’ve got a wicked tongue.’ He raises his glass and drinks to me. Then shudders. ‘What is this stuff? It tastes like undiluted Ribena.’

  ‘I think it’s the key ingredient.’

  ‘Oh well. I’ll have another slug or six to get up some Dutch courage before I dare ask you to dance.’

  ‘Maybe it might be better to put that request on hold,’ I say.

  I’m proved right. Someone starts playing the naughty version of that old Alice song and everyone starts dancing again.

  ‘Come on, let’s give it a go,’ says Dan.

  Major mistake!

  Dan has a whole new dance style all his own. Bouncy-bouncy in his squeaky-squeaky trainers. With head nodding, arms whirling. One arm catches someone on the shoulder, another on the chest.

  ‘Sorry, sorry!’ he shouts and moves away from them. Nearer me. He bounces again and lands straight on my killer shoes.

  ‘Oh, God, I’m sorry, Ellie. Have I hurt you?’

  ‘It’s OK. I think I’m just crippled for life – but I’ll get used to it. So. Maybe we’d better sit this one out.’

  We sit at the side, sipping our drinks, watching the others. Magda and Nadine are dancing together. They glance in our direction rather a lot.

  ‘Your friends are very striking girls,’ says Dan.

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Nowhere near as striking as you, though.’

  ‘Come off it!’

  ‘You’re supposed to simper sweetly when I pay you compliments.’

  ‘Simper – or whimper?’

  ‘Look, you’re the princess I released from the tower, right? You’re meant to be in my thrall.’

  ‘In your what?’

  ‘Perhaps I’d better perform some other princely feat. Kill a dragon or two. Rescue you from a fate worse than death.’

  ‘I don’t think there’s a clamouring horde queueing up to ravage me right now,’ I say.

  As I say it there’s a sudden shout, raised voices, stupid laughter, swearing. People stop dancing, turn and stare. There’s a whole crowd of guys over by the door. Strangers with real skinhead haircuts and real tattoos and real cans of Tennants in their hands.

  Stacy’s brother and her boyfriend and some of the other boys are arguing with them, trying to get them to go.

  ‘Nah, we’re staying, right? We’ve come to join the party, have a little drinkie, have a little dance,’ says the biggest boy, tipping his can. He looks round, staggering a little, obviously already out of his head. His mates follow him, egging him on.

  ‘So which bird shall I pick, eh? Where’s the bleeding birthday girl?’

  Stacy bobs behind her boyfriend, her face white.

  The skinhead doesn’t see her. There’s only one girl not up on the dance floor. It’s me.

  ‘Hey, what are you sitting down for, darling? Little bit of a wallflower, are you? Come and dance with me,’ he says.

  I freeze.

  ‘She’s with me,’ says Dan. His voice is as squeaky as his trainers.

  ‘You what?’ says the skinhead. ‘Who the hell are you, creep? Now, come on, darling, dancie-dancie. He grabs me by the wrist and pulls me up. ‘Woooaa! Up you get.’

  ‘She doesn’t want to dance with
you,’ says Dan.

  ‘Yes she does, don’t you, darling?’ says the skinhead, hanging on to me. ‘You come and have a little dance with me and my mates.’

  ‘Are you deaf or something?’ Dan says desperately.

  ‘Dan! It’s OK. Don’t argue with him,’ I hiss, because I’m so scared there might be a fight. They could have knives.

  ‘There! She wants to dance, don’t you, sweetheart?’ he says, and he puts his arms round me, his horribly beery breath hot on my cheek. ‘That’s it – let’s get cosy, eh?’ he says, his hands on my bottom.

  ‘Leave her alone!’ Dan shouts, jumping up.

  ‘Shut him up, eh, Sandy,’ the skinhead says.

  The heaviest of his mates lumbers over to Dan. There’s a thud, a squeal, and then Dan is sprawling on the floor.

  ‘Dan!’

  ‘Shut up or you’ll get it too,’ says the skin. ‘Did you pop him one, Sandy?’

  ‘Help!’ Dan screams, staggering up. His white T-shirt is stained dark red. ‘He’s stabbed me! I’m bleeding, look!’

  Screams echo right round the room as Dan lurches forward and then sinks to his knees.

  ‘What you done now, Sandy? Quick! Run for it!’ the skinhead yells, shoving me aside and taking to his heels. The others follow him. No-one dares stop them.

  ‘Dan!’ I say, bending down, clutching him, trying to prop his head on my knees. ‘For God’s sake, someone dial 999, and get an ambulance!’

  ‘It’s OK,’ says Dan, trying to sit up. ‘I don’t need an ambulance.’

  ‘Are you crazy? You’ve been stabbed!’

  ‘No I haven’t,’ says Dan, grinning. ‘Those thugs have gone, haven’t they? I thought they might run for it if they thought I was bleeding to death. I don’t think that guy even had a knife. He just punched me in the stomach and I fell over.’

  ‘But the blood!’

  ‘Smell it,’ says Dan, holding out his sopping T-shirt.

  ‘Yuck!’

  ‘It’s the wine punch. I spilled it all over me.’

  ‘Oh, you idiot!’ But then I think about it. ‘Though it worked. They did go.’

  ‘That was real quick thinking, pal,’ says Charles. ‘It could have got really nasty with those louts.’

  ‘Thank you so much, Dan. You’ve saved my birthday party from being an absolute disaster,’ Stacy gushes.

  ‘Yeah, well done, Dan.’

  ‘Great thinking.’

  ‘Really cool.’

  ‘Hear that, Ellie? I’m cool,’ says Dan.

  ‘You’re wet and sticky, I’ll say that,’ I say, shifting him off my lap. ‘Get up then, I don’t want wine all over my new skirt.’

  ‘After I’ve seriously rescued you from a fate worse than death? I’m heartbroken. You were supposed to tell me you love me and beg me not to die,’ says Dan, gingerly getting to his feet and rubbing his stomach.

  ‘Dream on, matie,’ I say, because I’m not going to say anything else in front of everyone.

  I wait till later, when there’s just him and me in a corner. Which is much much later, because everyone keeps clustering round, wanting to talk to Dan and congratulate him.

  ‘Your head’s going to be so swollen you’re never going to squeeze out of the door,’ I say.

  ‘Just as well I’ve had my new haircut then,’ says Dan.

  ‘You are a nut,’ I say, and I rub my hand over the bristles. ‘But . . . you’re a brave nut. You stuck up for me when they were really scary blokes.’

  ‘They’ll be pretty scared themselves, thinking they’ve murdered me,’ says Dan.

  ‘I hope they’ve really cleared off, and they’re not hanging round outside waiting to get us,’ I say. ‘Lucky job my dad’s coming to collect us in the car.’

  ‘Hey, Ellie. Nadine and I were thinking,’ says Magda, coming over. ‘We’ll go home to my place, right? You won’t want us sleeping over with you if you’ve got Dan.’

  ‘Ooh, am I sleeping with Ellie then?’ says Dan, grinning.

  ‘No you are not! I guess you’ll be tucked up with my little brother Eggs, which serves you right. No, Magda, Nadine, do come back with me, please. It’ll be fun.’

  And weirdly, it does turn out to be fun. Dad arrives dead on twelve and when the four of us thank Stacy she’s still being ever so gushingly grateful and she gives me a hug and then she gives Dan a hug too.

  ‘Wow,’ says Dan. ‘This is definitely my night.’

  ‘You certainly look as if you’ve been celebrating,’ says Dad, taking in Dan’s dramatically stained T-shirt.

  ‘Dan’s the hero of the hour,’ says Magda.

  ‘He fought all these skinheads to protect Ellie,’ says Nadine.

  ‘Well – not exactly,’ I say.

  ‘See, Ellie? All your friends appreciate me,’ says Dan. ‘Come on, Nadine and Magda, I’ll squeeze in with you two in the back. Ellie can sit in the front with her dad. Then she’ll maybe get all jealous.’

  ‘You wish,’ I say.

  When we get back home Eggs wakes up even though we try to be quiet and he’s ecstatic when he sees Dan. He runs to him and gives him a great hug and a slobbery kiss. When he realizes Dan will be sharing his bed he goes really bananas, leaping up and down until his pyjamas fall down round his ankles.

  ‘Hey, no indecent exposure in front of the ladies,’ says Dan, yanking his pyjamas into place and picking him up. ‘Come on, little guy, let’s go to bed.’

  Anna has been great sorting out pillows and cushions and duvets and sleeping bags so we’ve all got somewhere to sleep.

  ‘I’m sorry about Dan arriving out of the blue,’ I whisper.

  ‘It’s OK. In fact he was tremendously sweet, arriving with a battered bouquet of flowers and a crushed box of chocs. He practically went down on his knees to me to beg to stay here. Almost as if he felt I was some utterly unreasonable ogress who had to be appeased.’

  ‘I wonder what gave him that idea,’ I say guiltily. ‘Anyway, thanks Anna.’

  ‘No problem. I like Dan, he’s a sweet boy.’

  And amazingly Magda and Nadine think he is too. We stay awake for ages, whispering and giggling. I have to tell the entire Dan story right from the beginning, explaining how I embellished the original Dan into this super dishy hunk based on the fair boy I bumped into on the way to school.

  It’s not really such a big deal telling them, though it maybe helps that we’ve all drunk several glasses of wine punch. It’s dark too, so I can go as red as the wine and they can’t see. Magda and Nadine say I’m seriously screwy, but don’t act that surprised. Magda gets interested in the dream man.

  ‘He’s real, isn’t he, Ellie? Is he really-really-really ultra-tasty? Maybe I’ll walk your way before school to see if I can spot him.’

  ‘Hands off, you! I saw him first!’

  ‘But you’ve got the real Dan,’ says Nadine. She adds wistfully. ‘He’s obviously nuts about you.’

  ‘He’s obviously nuts, full stop,’ says Magda. ‘What’s up with his hair, Ellie?’

  ‘I know, I know.’

  ‘I thought old Greg was a bit dodgy, borderline Anorak Nerd – but Dan is Star Geek of all time. Though he is sweet, I must admit,’ says Magda.

  ‘You can have a good laugh with him,’ I admit.

  ‘Yeah, but what about a good snog?’ says Magda.

  I think of snogging Dan. Magda and Nadine are imagining it too. We all burst out laughing simultaneously, and have to dive under our duvets or we’ll wake everyone up.

  I don’t surface until gone eleven in the morning. Magda and Nadine are still fast asleep. Magda’s on her side, both arms wrapped round her pillow, her mouth in a sexy pucker. She is obviously snogging someone in her sleep. Nadine is lying on her tummy, her black hair a cloak across the pillow. I can’t see her face at all but I can hear little sucky sounds. I think she’s sucking her thumb.

  I sit up and smile at my two friends, and then I pad off to the bathroom. I take my time getting washed and dressed because I
want to look halfway decent. But when I get downstairs at last there’s no sign of Dan.

  Anna gives me a mug of coffee. ‘Poor Dan. Eggs was wide awake at six o’clock and begging him to get up and play with him.’

  ‘Where are they now? And Dad?’

  ‘They’ve gone swimming. I don’t know how Dan will manage for a costume. Your dad’s old trunks will be far too big and yet Eggs’s stuff is far too little. Maybe he’ll just wear his underpants.’

  ‘Please, Anna! You’re conjuring up an all too graphic image,’ I say, sipping coffee.

  ‘So I take it you and Dan aren’t going to be the romance of the century,’ says Anna. ‘And if your dad and I wanted to go out tonight, say, and leave you two here in the house, you’re not likely to start up any X-rated bouncing on the beds?’

  ‘I solemnly promise that Eggs will be the only one to bounce on the beds,’ I say. ‘So, you want Dan and me to babysit?’

  ‘Your dad did wonder . . . There’s this jazz concert up in town. And we could maybe have a meal out first. But it’s a bit of a cheek asking you. You and Dan probably want to go out somewhere.’

  ‘You go. You and Dad. Anna . . . How are things with you two?’

  Anna crosses her fingers. Things certainly seem OK when she and Dad go off together at six. Anna is wearing her new skirt. Dad seems to appreciate it enormously. He gives her a little pat on the bum when he thinks I’m not watching. Yuck. Dad is a really sexist pig at times. He’s offered to take her to an Italian restaurant so she can try out her newly acquired conversational skills on the waiters. This sounds a bit patronizing if you ask me. But Anna seems happy enough. Love is blind.

  I am not in love. I see Dan all too clearly. Anna’s washed his T-shirt for him so he’s clean – but that’s about the only positive thing I can say about his appearance. And the chlorine at the swimming pool has increased the scrubbing-brush tendency of his hair.

  But so what? He’s really quite good fun to hang around with. When he gets back from swimming and Magda and Nadine crawl out of bed at long last the four of us play a crazy game of Scrabble until Eggs tips up the board accidentally-on-purpose because he can’t bear not to join in too.

  We listen to my CDs for a while and Magda and Nadine are a bit scornful because Dan isn’t very hip in his musical tastes. But then we get cracking on some of Dad’s seventies stuff and Dan comes into his own. He does a brilliant Freddie Mercury imitation, prancing round the living room until we’re all in stitches – and then we get going on ancient strutting Stones stuff, and then right back to Elvis. Dan teaches Eggs to flip a quiff of hair and wiggle his hips. Then the boys say it’s our turn so I dig out my Beatles compilation. I sing ‘With a Little Help from My Friends’ (with a little help, etc.) and Nadine does her version of ‘Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds’ and Magda chooses ‘All You Need is Love’, and then we all sing ‘Hey Jude’ over and over and then ‘Hello, Goodbye’.