Drama Girl

by Carmen Reid

  ‘So now that you’re back, are we going to be in our usual positions?’ Hilary, the goalie, was asking Niffy.

  Amy, Gina and Min suddenly found themselves straining to hear the answer to this question. How was Niffy going to play in a team with Amy if they weren’t even talking?

  ‘Erm . . . haven’t given it much thought,’ Niffy replied shortly, her eyes firmly fixed on her hockey boot.

  ‘OK. Everyone ready?’ Miss McKay stuck her head into the hut. ‘It’s a bit nippy out there,’ she told them, ‘you might need tracksuits.’

  Gina had already pulled on her tracksuit bottoms instead of her skirt, but she could see that Amy, Niffy and a few others were determined to brave the steely November afternoon with bare legs. It was a matter of pride to wear your skort instead of tracksuit trousers. It meant you intended to play hard enough to keep the cold at bay.

  The teams began to fan out across the rough, muddy playing field.

  ‘Luella, great to see you! Your team has missed you sorely. Everyone in their usual positions to start,’ Miss McKay instructed. ‘Then I’ll move you about as the game progresses. Luella, that’s you playing forward beside Amy, just like before. She’ll be thrilled to have you back.’

  Ha!

  ‘Usual positions’ meant Niffy, Amy and Min in attack, together with Gina, Hilary and the others who made up their eleven. It also meant Penny B-H and her gang in attack on the opposing team.

  With a blast of the whistle, the hard white ball was in play and the girls were charging around, wooden sticks at the ready, trying to smack it about the field.

  Soon Niffy had the ball and was rushing up the pitch in the direction of the goal, but Penny was approaching fast, determined to take the ball away from her.

  ‘Over here – pass!’ Amy called out automatically – it was what she would have done in any normal game of hockey.

  But Niffy blanked her. Didn’t even turn her head – didn’t make the slightest sign that she’d heard her – and instead passed to Min.

  The first time it happened, Amy was prepared to let it go. Maybe it had been some sort of mistake, or maybe Niffy had thought it was better to pass to Min at that point.

  But the next time Niffy ignored her and failed to pass the ball, Amy knew that the snub was deliberate.

  Because Niffy hadn’t passed, Penny swooped down to tackle her, scooped the ball up with her stick and began to race towards their goal.

  ‘She’s going to score!’ Amy hissed at Niffy. ‘She’ll score and it will be all your own stubborn, selfish fault.’

  Moments later, Penny was high-fiving her team-mate Louisa: together they had outsmarted Gina, Willow and Hilary, and sent the small hard missile whizzing into the back of the net.

  ‘If you don’t want me to be in your team, maybe I’d better be on Penny’s team!’ Amy hissed at Niffy again, as Penny waltzed past them, grinning smugly.

  Then Niffy did something so horrible and so totally out of character that Amy could hardly believe it. With her hockey stick in her hands, she jogged over to the side line.

  ‘Yes, Luella?’ Miss McKay asked.

  ‘Penny and I both play for the Scottish under-seventeen squad now,’ Niffy began.

  ‘Yes – how’s the training coming along?’

  ‘It’s good,’ Niffy answered, ‘but I just thought . . . maybe Penny and I should play on the same team at school as well. It would give us a bit of extra practice together.’

  As Amy heard these words, her jaw dropped: her once best friend was going out of her way to play with her worst enemy.

  Meanwhile Miss McKay smiled and agreed to the plan straight away. ‘Yes, of course, Luella,’ she said. ‘Why don’t you join Penny as a forward and I’ll move Louisa over to the other team.’

  Amy looked over first at Gina and then at Min. She seemed to be appealing for their help, hoping that somehow they could stop this. But Min and Gina both stared back at her helplessly.

  ‘Are you sure, Niff?’ Min called over from the wing.

  ‘Oh yes,’ Niffy said, then clenched her jaw and walked over onto Penny’s side of the pitch.

  Amy watched her go, and felt as if another line had been crossed. Niffy had now done something unforgiveable.

  Chapter Nineteen

  AMY HAD THE part! She was really going to play Stella! Plus Mrs Parker thought that she showed ‘real promise’.

  She followed the path between the main school building and the boarding house and wondered why she didn’t feel as excited as she’d expected to.

  ‘Real promise . . . real promise.’ She kept whispering the words to herself to try and kick-start the buzz she should be feeling.

  She was going to star in a play. A big audience was going to see her; she was going to have lines to learn and costumes to wear. Hadn’t she wanted to do this for the longest, longest time? Ever since she’d stood on the edge of the stage in the chorus at primary school?

  This was a real starring role. As she trudged along, she wondered why she wasn’t fizzing inside with happiness; why she didn’t want to rush around and tell everyone.

  And yesterday evening Finn had sent her an email: another reason to feel excited.

  Gina had been on-line in the Upper Fifth sitting room, laughing over a school photo which Dermot had emailed her (captioned: V. v. serious, v. v. short hair, collar and tie. Please forward to yr mom asap – it’s my only hope), so Amy had decided to have a little peek at her inbox. Just to see if there was anything at all from Finn. Was there a chance he’d remembered the email address she’d repeated to him seventeen hundred times or so before they’d finally said goodbye that day at Berwick station?

  As soon as she’d opened her mailbox . . . there it was.

  To: Amy

  From: FinFinNB

  Hello Amy

  I’m not writing anything too squishy in case this turns out not to be your email address at all. Or worse – it’s your email address but your housemistress can access it (Hello, Mrs Knebworth, I think you’re wonderful). Great to see you and to get to know you a bit better. I’m thinking of you a little too much . . . and lots of other cheesy lines from pop songs. Can’t get you out of my head (etc.). Lou is finally talking to us again, so that’s good.

  I think we’re going to be able to meet up soon. I’ve put an invitation in the post to you.

  Erm . . . awkwardly struggling for right words to sign off with: devotedly yours? No, too formal. All best? Noooo, too casual. Kiss kiss? Ooooh, so babyish. I’m just going to have to go with: Finn xx. Is that OK?

  PS. Tried to send you that clip of you pretending to be my dad, but not working. Will try sending to Lou’s email address. It’s v. funny.

  Lou is finally talking to us again . . . Amy had gone over that line again and again in her mind. Niffy had obviously made up with her brother, but she still hadn’t made up with her. Far from it . . . Amy thought of the hockey game.

  Her feelings seemed to swing like a pendulum between terrible sadness and incredible anger. Unable to decide where to settle, she was now trying to block thoughts of Niffy from her mind, but since they were in the same class, the same boarding house and the same dorm, this was just about impossible.

  Now that it was all bubbling up in her mind again, Amy turned her attention to food. She was going to lose some weight. She was determined to lose some weight. She’d only had a tiny portion of lunch and was going to wait until supper before she ate anything else, no matter how many images kept floating before her eyes: chocolate cake, toast dripping with butter and strawberry jam . . .

  She could hear someone running along the path behind her now, so she moved to the side to let them pass.

  But then she felt a tap on her shoulder. ‘Amy! I just heard! It’s fantastic! It’s the best!’

  It was Gina, panting slightly because she’d run all the way from the school building to catch up with her friend.

  ‘I know!’ Amy plastered a smile on her face and pretended to be as crazily happ
y and enthusiastic as she knew she should be.

  The two girls hugged, and then Gina told her that Peta had got the part of Scarlett.

  ‘Apparently Mrs Parker had to ask the Banshee’s permission,’ she said, referring to the headmistress, ‘because Peta’s on an exchange. But Peta was so keen – plus there aren’t many words to learn . . . And Mrs Parker’s going to do an audition at St Lennox’s to find Adrian! It is all soooo exciting.’

  Gina gave Amy another enthusiastic hug. Then, glancing at her watch, she exclaimed, ‘I’ve got to run – I promised my mom we’d speak as soon as she got into her office and I think I might already be late.’

  ‘Yeah, fine . . .’ Amy said, and waved Gina on.

  ‘Are you going to the Duke of Edinburgh thing tonight?’

  The Duke of Edinburgh!

  Amy had forgotten all about it. It just didn’t sound like her cup of tea at all. Some sort of awards thing where you had to learn a new skill and do voluntary work and, worst of all, climb a mountain or something. For some reason Gina had got all excited about it. Maybe she thought it would lead to meeting the Queen or something. Gina had a peculiarly American fascination with the royal family.

  ‘Erm . . . I’m not sure . . .’ Amy replied. Although really what she meant was, I need to find out if Niffy is going first.

  Basically, if she knew Niffy was going to be somewhere or do something, Amy made sure she avoided it. It was just too much stress. Too unpleasant.

  She’d decided that at the hockey game. If Niffy was going to such lengths to avoid her that she would even play on Penny Boswell-Hackett’s team – helping Penny score goals . . . it was still too utterly revolting to contemplate . . . then Amy was going to blank Niffy too.

  She was going to find new friends that Niffy didn’t like and she wasn’t going to make up with her. Unless Niffy offered to make up first . . . obviously.

  Amy pulled open the boarding-house door and was immediately surrounded by a busy throng of St Jude’s girls, chatting, shrieking, scurrying off to the kitchen for the freshly baked treats that awaited them on their return (complete with the notice, totally ignored: ONLY TWO CAKES PER GIRL, PLEASE!).

  Just behind the door was a little table where the day’s mail was laid out by the Neb. There was never much. Almost everyone kept in touch with their family by phone or email. But still, the table always attracted a glance because there was the odd catalogue or dental appointment reminder, or the thin blue airmail envelopes from relatives of the Chinese girls.

  Amy had to look twice – but yes, it was definitely her name on the envelope, in scribbly green biro, in unfamiliar handwriting.

  She snatched up the letter and stared at the postmark, enjoying the guessing game, not wanting it to be over too soon. Inverness-shire? Then it was definitely from Finn. He’d written from Craigiefield, the boys’ boarding school out in the middle of nowhere.

  Carefully Amy tore open the top of the envelope and pulled out a postcard. On the front was a black and white photo of Audrey Hepburn. That was quite cute . . . quite tasteful. On the back, still in scribbly green biro, were the words:

  Greetings to the lovely Amy . . .

  Followed by the date, time and address of a party, a week on Saturday.

  Underneath, Finn had written: I really, really hope you can make it. I can’t wait to see you again. Feel free to invite some of your friends along.

  Amy hugged the postcard to her chest. This was brilliant! He couldn’t wait to see her again! How fantastic was that? Could he be any more keen? Could he be any less like the always unwilling, always elusive Jason? This was soooo exciting!

  She took another look at the postcard: down at the bottom was a little arrow she hadn’t noticed on the first reading, telling her to turn over.

  She looked at the Audrey Hepburn photo again and wondered what Finn meant.

  Then she saw the tiny writing along the side of the card: Pls tell Nifster to come too.

  Well, that was one instruction she didn’t know how to follow.

  Chapter Twenty

  MIN CURLED HER toes into a tight knot inside her shoes.

  These were special shoes, flat and comfy but made of soft red leather with a pointy toe. They belonged to Amy, who had absolutely insisted that Min wear them on this, her very first date with the Gecko – sorry, Greg – which would finally begin just as soon as this excruciating interview with Mrs Knebworth came to an end.

  Amy had, despite Min’s protests, taken over her styling for this date. So she was now in the red shoes, black leggings, a pretty red and black dress which was above the knee but not so far above the knee as to give Mrs Knebworth palpitations, and a grey boyfriend jacket (also Amy’s) with one of Amy’s expensive handbags slung over her shoulder.

  ‘I don’t believe in handbags!’ Min had protested. ‘I’ll just put my purse in the jacket pocket.’

  ‘No, no,’ Amy had insisted. ‘You’re having this nice little handbag and I’m not going to take no for an answer, so shush!’

  ‘So, Greg, where are you planning to go with Asimina this afternoon?’ the Neb was asking as she made a thorough appraisal of this teenage boy through narrowed eyes.

  ‘Erm . . .’ Greg pushed his dark curtain of hair to the side nervously. His thin frame seemed to have been sucked right down into the boarding-house sofa upholstery, and Min was beginning to wonder if he’d ever manage to get out again.

  Maybe she’d have to go over there and pull him out.

  ‘We’re going to the Chamber Street Museum.’ Greg glanced up at Mrs Knebworth briefly, then pushed his hair out of his eyes again. She kept on looking at him as if she expected him to say more.

  Instead, he felt himself shrinking shyly back into the sofa. She was scary, this lady – seriously scary.

  ‘The museum?’ she asked, raising her eyebrows and peering at him, as if her suspicions had been aroused. ‘And just what are you planning to get up to at the museum?’

  ‘Erm . . .’ Greg shyly shuffled his hair about again and gave a shrug of his shoulders. ‘Take a look at the exhibitions . . . maybe have a milkshake?’

  ‘So you don’t drink coffee?’ was Mrs Knebworth’s next question.

  ‘Er . . . no.’ Greg didn’t sound too sure of himself – had he made a mistake here? Was he supposed to drink coffee? Was this a test and had he somehow failed?

  ‘Excellent!’ Mrs Knebworth suddenly smiled. ‘Off you go then.’ She stood up to indicate that this brief and horrible little meeting was over, before adding, ‘And I’d like Asimina home in a taxi by six p.m. please. Is that OK?’

  ‘Oh yes, of course!’ Min said breathlessly, feeling a churn of nerves now that she and Greg were being directed towards the front door.

  She was about to be left on her own with him!

  Yes, they had chatted by email almost every day, and they had once spent half an hour on a school bench talking their heads off . . . but this was scary. She was going to be on her own with him. For hours. It was only two o’clock so she would be with him for four whole hours! What on earth would they talk about for four hours?

  As soon as they were out of the boarding-house grounds, Greg turned to her and smiled. ‘Phew!’ he said. ‘That was terrifying. I can’t believe you have to cope with her all the time.’

  ‘I know.’ Min smiled back. ‘I just try and keep my head down and stay out of her way.’

  As they walked along the pavement together, Min felt Greg’s hand brush against hers and she was so surprised – plus it was so tickly – that she pulled her hand away abruptly.

  Then Greg stuffed his hand into his pocket, and that was that. They continued towards the bus stop with a gap of nearly half a metre between them.

  This wasn’t what Min had planned. When she’d thought about this date – and, oh my goodness, how she’d thought about it – she’d pictured them walking along hand in hand, and she’d also wondered what it would be like to kiss Greg for the first time . . . Well, in fact, kiss any boy for
the first time. Because that was something Min hadn’t done yet.

  It wasn’t the kind of thing you could ask people like Amy about either. She might have asked Gina or even Niffy for just a little bit of advice there, but the atmosphere in the dorm was so bad and everyone seemed in such a grump that she hadn’t dared to.

  So now what was she supposed to do?

  She looked at Greg’s hand, firmly stuck in his pocket, but it felt too stupid to say, ‘It’s OK, we can hold hands, you know. I didn’t mean we couldn’t.’

  Oh . . . and now here was the bus. They’d have to get to the museum and worry about hand-holding and kissing later.

  ‘There’s the number twelve!’ she shouted. ‘Run for it!’

  Looking round the museum with Greg was really good fun, Min couldn’t deny it. He was full of interesting stories and told silly jokes too. Her churn of stomach nerves slowed a little, but she felt a sense of sparkly excitement all afternoon long.

  Every time he looked at her, every time he told her something funny or a little personal, every time she got to know a little bit more about him, Min felt a hit of excitement pulse through her.

  Finally (!) she got what all the fuss was about boys: it wasn’t just like making a new friend or a meeting of interested minds – there was so much more to it than that.

  She fancied him.

  There, she’d admitted it to herself. She liked the way his hair slid down against his angled cheekbone; she even liked his slouchy back and the way his stomach was so flat, his trousers seemed to sag at the front.

  Every time he laughed at something she said – or listened closely and followed up with: ‘Really? That’s interesting, I hadn’t thought of it like that before . . .’ – then she could feel her heart swell up and her head go kind of giddy in a way she didn’t think she’d experienced before.

  Oh yes – her first very, very big crush. It was like being at the dentist’s in Durban when she was little and taking in a gulp of gas and air. It tingled and made your head swim.

  ‘So, are you about ready for your milkshake?’ Greg was asking her – but before she could answer he added, ‘Do you think it was the milkshake that did it? Do you think she only likes boys who don’t drink coffee? Do you think that in Mrs Knebworth’s book, drinking coffee is a sign that you’re a baaaaad boy?’