“I’ll be like Bugs Bunny when I eat this lot!” he joked. We laughed hysterically.
“I might just have a few of those potatoes as well,” he said. I picked some up, ready to hand them to him.
At that moment, Nan came out of the minimart to smoke a cigarette and she saw us. She came charging along and shouted, “What’s this then? Have you got a vendor’s license?”
“But it’s for charity!” I protested.
“And the road to hell is paved with good intentions! That lot had better not be from our plot!”
Then I noticed that Hannah and Loops hadn’t stopped to argue—they were halfway down the road with the wheelbarrow! And Creepy Mr. Cooper had run off with his carrots. This is because everybody in the whole of Brindleton is afraid of Nan Williams. Including me. She really is terrifying when she’s in Angry Mode.
I ran after Hannah and Loops but was slowed down since I was still holding Creepy Mr. Cooper’s potatoes. Then, as I rounded the corner, I bumped straight into Thomas Finch. I dropped the potatoes, which rolled all over the pavement.
“Sorry!” I said, and started to pick them up. I expected him to help me. He’s the sort of person who’d usually do that. Only he didn’t. He watched me scrabbling about on the ground.
“Had a laugh, have you?” he said, glaring down at me.
I looked up, puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“You think it’s so funny: ‘Thomas Finch was at the library with a pile of Mills and Boon books. He must love reading romance novels!’ ”
I stood up, feeling terrible, with my armful of stolen potatoes. Hannah must have said something to Neil Parkhouse.
“Listen, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“I only went to get some library books for my mum, who had the flu, and now you’ve got all my mates making fun of me. Thanks a lot!”
And with that, he walked off.
I’ve never seen Thomas angry before. It’s weird, but it made me suddenly really, really fancy him. Which is a pity, as he obviously now hates me. Which is fair enough. I shouldn’t have said anything to Hannah.
6:10 p.m.
I still feel terrible about upsetting Thomas Finch. I can’t stop thinking about him. I’ve realized that if I feel this bad about being hated by someone I fancy, how bad must it be to be brokenhearted about someone you truly love?
Then I got to thinking about Mum. At some point it’s going to be completely over with the Boy Toy and her heart is bound to get another dent in it.
I don’t want that to keep happening. I don’t want Mum to get hurt anymore. That’s why she’d be better off not getting into relationships. She’s better sticking with us, so we can look after her.
7:13 p.m.
I just met up with Hannah and Loops at Hannah’s house and we split an enormous bar of chocolate. I couldn’t enjoy it, so I just came home. I keep thinking about Mandy’s broken heart and Mum possibly being hurt again and about Thomas Finch hating me. And I don’t understand why, but my heart is feeling sore. I think I’ll go to bed early.
I didn’t think I cared about things so much.
Saturday, September 5
LYING MODE
All Grown-Ups are liars. There are two types of lies: White Lies and Filthy Dirty Lies. It’s probably best not to be too hard on your Grown-Up or Grown-Ups if you catch them telling lies. After all, teenagers lie to Grown-Ups at least ninety percent of the time, so we should probably keep quiet and be grateful for everything they don’t know about what we get up to.
My mum tells White Lies all the time, especially to Auntie Julie when she turns up at our house wearing clothes that don’t suit her—like at the picnic. She only does it to save Auntie Julie’s feelings.
But the other week she told Auntie Julie she wasn’t feeling well and was going to have an early night—and then she suddenly felt better again and went out with the Boy Toy! Of course Auntie Julie found out—you can’t keep a secret in Brindleton. That’s a Filthy Dirty Lie, all right! I think Auntie Julie’s still annoyed about it, though she hasn’t confronted Mum.
I think Mum’s been lying to herself recently, when she’s been saying that it’s just a bit of fun with Stuart. And—much more seriously—she’s been lying to us when she said that no, she hasn’t been staying out all night.
We know she’s been lying, Mandy saw her creeping up the stairs one time. She called Mum a “dirty liar” right to her face—and Mum didn’t even overheat! She just laughed.
Yet another reason I should be ringing ChildLine.
Mandy has reached new levels of Angry Mode, and the fact that the Boy Toy is back on the scene (and coming round on Saturdays) is only making it worse. Mandy’s taking it out on everyone. She even called me the worst Filthy Dirty Liar in the world, due to a recent incident concerning her favorite nail polish.
Yesterday, we were at breakfast and I swore that I had not borrowed Mandy’s nail polish and not forgotten to put the lid back on properly (which ruined it). Then I realized that I was wearing the very nail polish—I’d forgotten to take it off!!! I didn’t know what to do, so I just kept denying it, even though Mandy was pointing at my hands, unable to speak for rage and shaking her head in disbelief.
But despite Mandy’s anger-management issues, we are somehow having a temporary truce while we work together to get rid of Stuart.
Mandy seems to be treating it as her life’s mission. It’s as if she’s taken all her anger and disappointment about Joshua Weston and directed it at Stuart. Sometimes we talk about the Stuart problem at night before we go to sleep. We rack our brains to think up how we can annoy him and put Mum off him. In some ways, it’s the best we’ve got along in ages.
Mandy called a third Council of War meeting with Jack and me last night.
“So the Boy Toy’s got back in with Mum,” she said, her brow furrowed, “which is his plan. His ultimate goal is moving in and taking over.”
Mandy was pacing up and down the Cupboard (which is difficult; you have to do one step and then immediately turn and pace the other way). Jack and me were huddled in my bottom bunk.
“I think he’s okay,” said Jack, who still thinks Stuart’s fantastic due to the piggy bank (which means, for anyone that’s interested, that the price of Jack’s lifelong approval is $7.99).
“Jack, do you know what will happen if Mum marries Stuart?” said Mandy. “Let me tell you. He won’t take us to Disney. No, that’s the last thing he has in mind for us. When he is in charge, we’ll have to spend all day every day recycling and making compost. He’ll probably make us throw out the TV. Tell me, Jack, is that what you want to happen?”
Jack looked scared.
“No,” he said in a small voice.
I thought Mandy had laid it on too thick with this massive Filthy Dirty Lie, so I said, “It probably wouldn’t be as bad as that, but we still don’t want him ordering us around, do we?”
“So are we getting rid of him?” Jack asked.
Mandy gave an exasperated sigh. Obviously we do still want to be rid of him, but it would be dangerous to admit this to Jack, who’d announce it at the next family mealtime.
“We just want to be sure they’re right for each other,” she said, in Lying Mode, “and you can help us. You have to tell us anything that might be useful, anything you overhear or that Mum or Stuart tells you. Can you do that?”
“Yes,” said Jack. “I’m a brilliant spy. I’ve got my spy kit, I’ll use that.”
10:45 a.m.
I got back from Hannah’s to find Mandy waiting for me in the hall, wearing her T-shirt with the giant logo on it.
“Stuart’s here! Go up and get into your T-shirt with the logo on it!” she hissed. “I’ve got Mum wearing hers.”
I ran up and changed, then sauntered into the kitchen, where Stuart was happily drinking a cup of coffee as if it was his kitchen. He noticed my T-shirt but didn’t say anything, just blinked a couple of times. Me, Mum and Mandy looked like a logo convention.
> “Don’t worry, Katie,” he said, in Friendly Mode. “I’m not here to monopolize your mum, I just came round to see if Jack would like to go fishing! The stuff’s in the car.”
FRIENDLY MODE
This is not a bad mode for Grown-Ups to be in. It means they are doing their best to make you and other people like them … which makes your life a whole lot easier.
So there was Stuart, in full Friendly Mode. Yeah, right! In full Lying Mode, more like. As if he really wanted to spend time alone with Jack, the burping boy of Brindleton. It’s so obvious he’s just doing it to get in Mum’s good books.
“You’ve got a car?” Jack pushed past Stuart and ran outside, where there was a little red vintage sports car, a Triumph Spitfire with its top down and some fishing rods sticking out of the back. I couldn’t believe it! Normally Stuart gets the bus. He’s been keeping this from us. More lies! And how hypocritical—going on about the environment and secretly keeping a gas-guzzling sports car!
“Yes,” said Stuart proudly, “meet my other girlfriend. Been off the road a few months, you know what these old cars are like. But now she’s running like a dream.”
Mum stood in the door of our house holding Rascal and looking worryingly impressed by Stuart’s cool car.
“Can I go fishing, Mum?” Jack turned to Mum, his eyes shining. At this point Mandy made a harrumph noise and stomped into the house.
“Of course you can,” said Mum, “just be back for lunch. I’ll make something special—you’ll be hungry with all that fresh air.”
Stuart tried to look pleased at the thought. Lies upon lies upon lies!
“Now we can have a morning with just the girls!” started Mum, but at that moment Mandy reappeared in the hallway.
“I’m off to Lucy’s house,” she said, bad-temperedly pushing out of the door. “I’ll be back at lunchtime.”
“But, Mandy …”
It was too late. Mandy was gone.
“Looks like it’s just the two of us,” I said.
“Great,” said Mum, in Friendly Mode, “how about painting our toenails?”
USEFUL HINT
If your Grown-Up is in Friendly Mode and wants to spend some time with you, humor them. The useful bonding experience should make them much easier to operate to your advantage.
12:30 p.m.
So we painted each other’s toenails and agreed that it was a miracle Jack had agreed to do something that wasn’t on the computer and was outdoors, and that he even looked like he might actually enjoy it.
Then Mum had to get serious. Ha! I knew she hadn’t really wanted to spend quality time with me. After all, apart from when I was sick, she hardly ever does anymore. What a Filthy Dirty Lie!
“Katie, you may be wondering why Mandy’s in such a bad mood,” she said.
“I thought she was just being normal,” I said. I mean, it’s true. Grumpy and Angry Modes are Mandy’s default settings these days.
Mum shook her head.
“It’s because I told her that Stuart’s going to stay over, just occasionally, on the sofa, of course. It’s silly for him to go all that way home to Oxford only to come back on Sunday, isn’t it?”
“I suppose so,” I lied. I smiled at her and she looked relieved. But inside I was feeling a rising panic. I made my excuses and came upstairs to write this, in the hope I could get things clear in my head. This is not good at all.
And I’ve remembered Mum said you should only have sleepovers with someone you love. So does that mean she might love the Boy Toy? I don’t think she can, but now that there’s a danger of it, we have to act fast. Love Mode is the hardest one to switch a Grown-Up out of.
Saturday, September 5: 10:05 p.m.
DISAPPOINTED MODE
If your Grown-Up is in Disappointed Mode it’s probably because you have let them down in an enormous way. This is the worst mode your Grown-Up can be in. It is even worse than Angry Mode because it can’t be treated with the Avoidance Technique. The only way your Grown-Ups can be switched out of Disappointed Mode is if you do something, anything, that will make them proud of you.
I’m writing this on my bunk, with antiseptic cream all over my right cheek. Mandy and I are confined to the Cupboard—we’re officially in loads of trouble with Mum. She is in Disappointed Mode, and nothing we do will be enough to snap her out of it … she may never be proud of us again. This could last for years!
After we painted our toenails and had our little talk, Mum was so relieved that I didn’t kick up a fuss and so relaxed that—miracle of miracles—she forgot to cook, so when Jack and Stuart and Mandy got back we had beans on toast. Jack was on a high after the fishing trip and Stuart was making such an effort I almost felt sorry for him. (I must stop these thoughts, I have to focus on the fact that Stuart has evil motives for anything nice he does.)
“Do you like our new T-shirts?” asked Mandy innocently, over lunch.
“I’ll be honest with you,” said Stuart. “I don’t see the point of paying extra to give some rich corporation free advertising.”
“I don’t know why Mandy spent so much money,” said Mum. “We usually pay much less for our T-shirts, don’t we, girls?”
Stuart looked concerned.
“When clothes are very cheap you have to make sure they’re not made in sweatshops—” he started.
“Anyone for ice cream?” said Mum, in her overly bright voice.
“I’m not sure,” said Mandy. “Are we allowed to eat ice cream, Stuart? Or is it made by exploited orphan Eskimo children out of polar bear fat?”
“Mandy!” warned Mum.
“It’s okay,” said Stuart, smiling. “She’s funny.”
This annoyed Mandy even more.
As the day progressed, I realized Mum and Stuart were making an effort to have sort of a “family weekend.” Which included Saturday night together, with Stuart supposedly staying over on the sofa. It was an unlucky coincidence that Mandy and I were both around.
Usually when that happens, Mum takes the chance to go out, knowing she’s got double babysitters for Jack, but in recent weeks she’s obviously been thinking that we all need to “bond.” Tonight she even suggested we play a game! How deluded can she be? In the end we all watched TV.
Mandy collared me in the kitchen about halfway through the evening.
“They’re testing out how it would feel if we were a family, now that he’s planning on staying over,” she whispered. “So this is our chance. What can we do?”
I thought for a moment; then I had another flash of Evil Genius.
“Let’s have a fight! You know, like when Mum says we’ve ‘ruined the evening’?” I said.
Mandy’s face lit up at the idea.
“Brilliant,” she said. “I’ll start it!”
We went back into the living room and sat down. Jack was on the sofa between Mum and Stuart (on orders from Mandy), so Mandy was in the armchair and I was cuddled up on the giant beanbag with Rascal—who was looking longingly at Stuart, as if he’d rather be cuddling him.
“You stole my eyeliner again,” said Mandy casually.
“Did not!”
“Did too. Mu-um, Katie’s always stealing my stuff.”
I didn’t like the way this was going. I’d agreed to have a fight, not have my good name and character called into question.
“That’s not true.”
“What about the nail polish, then?”
She had me there. I decided that the best means of defense was attack.
“It’s not me who stole money from Mum’s purse.”
This was below the belt. It only happened once and Mandy was going to pay it back; the problem was that we don’t live in the sort of house where there’s enough money for some to go missing.
Mandy flushed bright red. I knew I shouldn’t have brought that one up.
“Well, at least,” she said, “I’m not writing a guide on how to operate Grown-Ups. How pathetic is that? Did you know Katie’s doing that, Mum?”
>
Enraged, I looked over at Mum and Stuart. Mum looked like she was in Irritated Mode, whereas Stuart seemed to be trying to hide the fact that he was finding our conversation hilarious.
“You know what you are, Mandy?” I said, with as much dignity as I could summon. “You’re a boring, moany old cow. No wonder Joshua Weston doesn’t want to go out with you.”
Suddenly Mandy was flying toward me, before I’d even finished the sentence! I felt her nails scrape painfully down the side of my face. I grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled as hard as I could. She had me pinned to the ground.
“Take it back!” she screamed.
“No, you take it back!” I screamed back.
Jack was dancing about in excitement.
“Fight! Fight!” he cried, his eyes shining.
Mum jumped to her feet and pulled us apart.
“Stop it! Go to your room, both of you!!”
As we slunk out of the room, I caught sight of Stuart, who no longer looked so amused.
When we got upstairs, I braced myself for an earful from Mandy, but she was disconcertingly cheerful.
“That was excellent!” she said. “Sorry about your face.”
I looked in the mirror in the Cupboard to see three bright red scratches down my cheek. First the chin incident, then the giant sunburned nose and now this—yet another episode of freakdom sent by the gods to ruin my miserable existence.
“Thanks for poking into my stuff,” I said, with some bitterness, as I rubbed antiseptic cream into my scratches.
“Well, you poked into mine, remember? And if you leave a notebook lying around for weeks, what do you expect? If you think writing ‘Difficult Math Equations’ on the front in black marker fools anyone, you are even stupider than I thought.”
REMINDER TO SELF:
Keep guide under lock and key. Major breach of security.
10:32 p.m.
Something bizarre’s just happened. Jack came bursting into our bedroom, wearing his night-vision goggles, all out of breath.
Diary of a Parent Trainer Page 10
