Mates, Dates and Cosmic Kisses

by Cathy Hopkins

  ‘No,’ I replied. ‘Do you think I should go to the Lock to see if he’s working there today?’

  ‘NO!’ wailed Nesta. ‘No, no, no. Anyway, Lucy and I had a long talk about you this morning. We’re both worried. What would you say if he’s at the Lock?’

  ‘Well I could say I was Christmas shopping again.’

  ‘No, Izzie. I won’t let you. It’ll be really obvious. You’d look desperate and if there’s one things boys hate, it’s desperate. Honest, Izzie, you’re losing the plot. What’s come over you? It’s usually you telling Lucy this stuff.’

  ‘I know. I hope she’s going to be OK with your brother.’

  ‘Don’t try and change the subject,’ said Nesta. ‘We’re talking about you and how you’re not going to the Lock today.’

  ‘Oh come on, Nesta, come with me. I’d do it for you.’

  ‘No. You’d be all weird if you did see him, wondering if he was going to call or not. You won’t be yourself. He’ll pick up on it. And what if he wasn’t there like the fair last week? You’ll only feel down.’

  ‘So what should we do, then?’ I asked. I knew better than to argue with Miss Know-It-All when she’s in a mood like this.

  ‘Lucy and I are going to meet in Hampstead. See you there in half an hour.’

  ‘OK,’ I said. ‘But I can’t stay long, I have to go to my dad’s later.’

  Nesta and Lucy did their best to cheer me up, but I was sure that I’d blown it with Mark. I’d gone over everything I’d said to him a million times.

  ‘I just know he’s not going to phone. I think I was a bit off with him when I saw him last Saturday. He probably thinks I’m not interested.’

  ‘Relax, Izzie,’ said Nesta. ‘You’re over-analysing.’

  We were sitting in a café on Hampstead High Street and Nesta and Lucy were drinking cappuccinos while I sipped on a camomile tea.

  ‘My life is over,’ I said. ‘I will never have a boyfriend. I will be alone all my life. And I’ve got a big bum.’

  Lucy started laughing. We always played a game when one of us was having a moan. Who could outdo the others with the worst life. ‘Ah,’ she said, ‘but I look twelve when I’m fourteen.’

  ‘Not since you had your hair cut,’ said Nesta. ‘You look at least twelve and a half now . . .’

  Lucy pinched her. ‘Excuse me! I haven’t finished my tale of woe. My parents are mad hippies.’

  ‘I think your parents are cool,’ I said. ‘I wish they were mine. That’s another thing to add to my list. I have the most boring mother and stepfather in the world.’

  ‘OK, my turn,’ said Nesta. ‘I’m five foot seven and all the local boys are midgets.’

  ‘Well, what does that matter if you’re going to marry James Parker Henson? He’s tall!’

  When Nesta went downstairs to go to the loo, Lucy suddenly looked really serious.

  ‘Izzie, I have to talk to you,’ she said. ‘About Tony.’

  ‘What?’

  She shifted uncomfortably. ‘Well, you know what I was saying about him thinking I was too young for him? Well Nesta was right.’

  ‘What, about him wanting to grope you?’

  Lucy nodded. ‘I don’t know what to do. I mean, up till now we’ve just snogged but last night he said he wants to take it further.’

  ‘Oh God,’ I said. ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘Dunno. I don’t want to take it further. I’m not ready. But if I don’t, I reckon he’ll dump me for someone that will. It’s awful because I really like him. But you shouldn’t just do it because you want to keep the boy, should you?’

  ‘That’s the trouble when you go out with older boys,’ I said. ‘Wandering hands.’

  ‘What should I do?’

  ‘I’ve got just the thing,’ I said, as Lucy looked hopeful. ‘Have you got a photo of him?’

  ‘Yes. We had some done in one of those photo booths.’

  ‘OK,’ I said. ‘You do a spell. You cut the side of the photo with him on it and put it into the freezer and it will cool him down.’

  Lucy laughed out loud. ‘Oh come on. Get serious.’

  At that moment, Nesta came back. ‘What’s so funny?’

  ‘Nothing,’ said Lucy, clamming up.

  ‘Lucy was just telling me something one of the dogs did,’ I said, trying to change the subject.

  ‘Yeah, whatever,’ said Nesta, sitting back down. ‘Now what was I saying about James Parker Henson and me?’

  Lucy looked relieved that she hadn’t caught on.

  After I left the girls, I took the tube to Chalk Farm, where Dad lives now with his new wife Anna and their little boy Tom. Tom’s gorgeous. He’s only three. I like going to Dad’s as it’s so much more relaxed than Mum’s house. I reckon she drove him out with all her constant cleaning and stuff.

  Dad lectures in English at a university and the house is always cluttered with books and journals and papers. I feel at home there, as at least his house looks lived-in, unlike ours which is a cross between a hotel and a hospital clinic.

  I was really heartbroken when Dad first left. I was seven at the time and for ages was convinced it was my fault and that I’d done something wrong.

  One day Mum and Dad sat me down and explained that sometimes people can still like each other but can’t live together any more and that’s what had happened to them. Then they both said that no matter what happened, they both loved me and always would.

  I felt better after that – that is until Angus moved in with my mum a couple of years later. I didn’t like him at all at first. I asked if I could go and live with Dad, but he was living in a tiny flat at the time and there was no room for me.

  Eventually, I decided that there was only one way to deal with Angus, and that’s to pretend he’s our lodger and be polite but nothing else. I mean, he’s not my dad, is he? A lodger that just happens to sleep in the same bed as my mum, but I shut those kind of thoughts out of my head straight away. Yuk. I don’t want to even go there.

  I was looking forward to spending some time at Dad’s and thought I’d spend the afternoon working on my songs.

  ‘Excuse the mess,’ said Dad as he opened the door, paint-brush in hand. ‘We’re doing up the study.’

  ‘You’ve got paint all over your hair,’ I laughed, looking at the white streaks in his normally dark hair. ‘Did you actually manage to get any on the walls?’

  ‘Hi, Izzie,’ said Anna, appearing behind Dad. ‘Welcome to the madhouse.’

  Anna was one of Dad’s students when they met five years ago. A mature student, he told me, in case I thought he was cradle-snatching. But mature or not, she’s still twelve years younger than him, round and pretty with long auburn hair. She and Dad look right together. Dad always dresses in typical lecturer gear – jeans and leather jackets, looking most days like he’s just got out of bed, and Anna still looks like a student, in jeans and sloppy jumpers. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her in a skirt or dress.

  I was glad when Dad met her, as I used to worry about him all alone in his small flat when I went to visit. I got on with her immediately and always found her easy to talk to. When they decided to get married I was the first to congratulate them, secretly hoping that they’d find a bigger house and then I could move in with them. But when they moved to this flat Tom came along and it’s clear there’s no room for me unless I sleep under the kitchen table.

  I stepped over the various paint cans and boxes strewn in the hallway and made my way into their kitchen. Somehow I didn’t think I was going to get any work done on my songs that afternoon.

  ‘Izzie love . . .’ Dad began.

  ‘Yeees?’ I said. I knew that tone of voice. He wanted something.

  ‘First,’ he said, ‘I’ve got a book for you.’

  I laughed to myself. Another for the box at the bottom of my cupboard, I thought. He was always giving me books to read – has since I was tiny. I got War and Peace for my ninth birthday. I don’t think he’s quite tuned
into books for teenagers these days.

  He handed me a book from the shelf in the kitchen. ‘Dorothy Parker. I think you’ll like her.’

  ‘Thanks, Dad,’ I said unconvincingly.

  ‘No really,’ said Anna, who was sympathetic to some of the heavy-going books he gave me to read. ‘I really think you will.’

  ‘OK, I’ll take a look at it,’ I said.

  Then Dad smiled his ‘I want something’ smile. ‘Would you do us the most enormous favour and take Tom out for a while? Anna and I want to finish the painting and it will be best if Tom’s out of the way.’

  ‘Sure, Dad,’ I said as Tom paddled in and hugged my knees. ‘No problem.’

  ‘Izzie, you’re an angel,’ said Anna. ‘I’ll get his coat.’

  ‘What, right now?’ I asked. I’d hardly got there.

  That’s one of the minuses of having two sets of parents. You get two sets of chores.

  I set off for the park with Tom and tried to distract him at the shops in Primrose Hill. I spotted an amazing black velvet dress in one of the displays and made a mental note to put it on my Christmas list.

  Tom pulled on my coat. ‘Swings,’ he said, pointing to the end of the road.

  ‘Shops,’ I said hopefully, pointing to the windows which were bright with Christmas lights and tinsel. Sadly, Tom wasn’t impressed. Like most males, he wasn’t interested in shopping.

  ‘OK, swings,’ I said.

  When we got to the play area there were a number of mothers there with their children and all the swings were full.

  I sat on a park bench and wondered how best to keep a three-year-old entertained. Just at that moment, my mobile rang.

  As I fished about in my bag to find my phone, I was vaguely aware of someone walking towards us with a toddler. Whoever he was, he was on his mobile phone.

  Just as I was about to answer my phone, the boy stopped in front of me. He gawped at the phone in his hand, then gawped at me.

  ‘I’ve just called you!’ said Mark.

  My mouth dropped open. ‘I don’t believe it!’

  ‘Neither do I. I call you, and here you are in front of me! It’s so weird.’

  I switched off my phone. ‘Synchronicity,’ I said.

  ‘Right,’ he said. ‘What’s that?’

  I laughed. ‘It’s when something you’re thinking about happens, or something to do with it does. I read about it. I’m not explaining it very well.’

  ‘You’re not a witch, are you?’ asked Mark.

  I thought about the love charm under my pillow. ‘Might be,’ I grinned.

  After that we had the most brilliant time. I might not be a witch, I thought, but the afternoon was magic.

  Mark had been landed with his little sister like I’d been landed with Tom. We spent hours playing on the swings and slides, joining in like kids ourselves. Then we had a go on the roundabouts. Mark was fantastic and knew loads of games that had Tom laughing and giggling.

  We didn’t have a lot of time to talk to each other but it didn’t matter, I thought, as I watched Mark rolling on the grass as his sister and Tom jumped all over him. Just being with him was fantastic.

  After a few hours, my mobile rang.

  ‘We thought you’d be back ages ago,’ said Dad. ‘Where on earth are you?’

  I laughed. I wasn’t on earth. I was somewhere up in the clouds.

  Chapter 7

  Big–mouth Nesta

  ‘So are you going out with Mark now?’ asked Lucy at break-time the following Monday.

  ‘Not exactly, not yet,’ I said. ‘But he said he’d phone this week to arrange something. And this time I know he will because there he was, in front of me, phoning me. You should have been there. It was amazing. Like it was meant to be. And it was another day when my horoscope said that it was a good time for romance.’

  Nesta looked doubtful. ‘How do you know he really was phoning you? He could have seen you then felt guilty and said he was phoning you. I mean, you didn’t answer the call, did you? Did you check your missed calls to get the number?’

  I shook my head. ‘No. I got flustered . . . And you know what a technophobe I am at the best of times.’

  Nesta’s such a killjoy. I think she’s jealous just because she’s not in love with anyone at the moment.

  Nesta shifted awkwardly. ‘It’s just that I tried to phone you on Saturday afternoon and no one picked up.’

  Lucy saw my face drop. ‘But it doesn’t matter. You saw him. That’s what matters.’

  It was too late. The rosy glow I’d been feeling turned into a black cloud. As the bell rang, I turned to go back into class. I wasn’t going to speak to Nesta any more. Now she’d ruined everything.

  ‘Oh Izzie,’ said Nesta, catching up with me. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to . . .’

  ‘You and your big mouth,’ said Lucy to Nesta. ‘Now you’ve put your foot in it.’

  After school each night, I went home alone. I felt such an idiot. Pathetic. I couldn’t face going back to Lucy’s with her and Nesta like normal. I felt mad at Nesta, even though she might have been right. And I didn’t want them being all nice and feeling sorry for me. I didn’t know what to think, and wanted some time on my own to sort my head out. I felt really confused.

  Each night, I had to walk past the pizza shop on my way home. I could really do with one of those right now, I thought – deep pan, four cheese, and I wouldn’t care if it all went straight to my bum. It’s hard staying healthy at times like this when I’ve been feeling so mixed up. I was beginning to think what does it matter? So I am what I eat. A limp lettuce? Pooh.

  Every evening seemed soo loooong, like each minute was eternal as I sat in my room, willing the phone to ring. And it didn’t. I wished I had his number so I could call him but I didn’t even know his last name.

  One night I decided to distract myself by reading my Feng Shui book: Each room is divided into different areas, each area representing a different part of your life: creativity, wealth, knowledge, family, friends, relationships. Each area falls in a positive or negative space depending on whether the room faces north, south, east or west.

  I got my compass out and did some calculations. That’s what was wrong, I realised. I’d got my wastepaper bin in my relationship corner! Disastrous. It meant I was putting rubbish into my relationships. Duh. No wonder Mark hadn’t phoned.

  I rearranged my room according to the book then started on the bathroom.

  ‘What on earth are you doing?’ said Angus, finding me kneeling in the corner trying to Blu-Tack the rose quartz crystal I bought for Mum for Christmas to the waste-pipe.

  ‘Nothing,’ I said.

  ‘Nothing,’ he said, then stood hovering at the doorway. He looked as though he wanted to say something but eventually just shrugged. ‘OK, suit yourself.’

  I wasn’t going to waste my breath explaining that in the bathroom, our loo was in the relationship corner in a negative zone so we were flushing all the good relationship energy away. The book said a crystal on the plumbing would help direct the energy back up again. But Angus would never understand that. All he understands is the Financial Times and insurance policies.

  Another night, for want of anything else to do – or eat – (Mum still hadn’t got the message about buying more healthy stuff) I munched my way through half a packet of choc chip cookies. Before I ate the other half, I decided to use my time more positively and do an exercise DVD. It’s called ‘Bums, Tums and Thighs’, and promises you a whole new body in four weeks.

  What it doesn’t tell you is that the next day, you’ll be so stiff you probably won’t be able to walk.

  Another night and there was still nothing to do. I’d done my homework and there was nothing on the TV so I had a quick look at the book Dad gave me by Dorothy Parker. She sounded pretty cool. She was a writer who lived in New York around the 1920s and it sounded like she had a rotten time with some of her boyfriends, but she managed to be really funny about it. She used to meet up wi
th other writers of the day at a round table in a place called the Algonquin Hotel and would have them all rolling in the aisles with her poems and sayings about love going wrong and stuff. It sounded like a brilliant time and I thought I’d like to be like her when I grow up. We’ve got a round table downstairs in our dining-room so Nesta, Lucy and me could have meetings like she did. There was a photo of her at the back of the book and it gave me an idea.

  I went into the kitchen, got the scissors, then went into the bathroom, the one room in this house where I could lock the door. My hair is all one length and I thought it might look more interesting if I cut a fringe like Dorothy Parker’s. I pulled a short section up at the front and snip, off it came. I combed it out and it looked pretty good. Except it was a bit uneven on one side. So I snipped a bit more off. Oops, a bit too much. I’d better even it out. Oops. OOOOPS. Oh no. Now that was uneven. I chopped off a bit more then stood back to look at my reflection. Tears filled my eyes. I’d managed to cut it down to a stubble. I tried to comb it under the long bits. But it kept sticking out again.

  Oh God, what had I done? Stupid. Stupid. I’d just ruined my hair. Now I knew how Lucy had felt when she had a bad haircut earlier that term. What on earth had possessed me? Now I couldn’t go out. It’d takes weeks to grow back. It was all Mark’s fault. If he had phoned none of it would have happened. Could life get any worse? I could hardly walk from doing all those exercises and now I looked like a mad person. All because of a boy. I was seriously beginning to wonder if they’re worth the trouble.

  And I was getting a huge spot. On the end of my nose.

  ‘Izzie, what are you doing in there?’ said Mum’s voice on the other side of the door. ‘You’ve been in there ages.’

  There was nothing else for it. She was bound to see sooner or later. I opened the door and waited for the telling off. I didn’t care. I felt numb. Sometimes I can be so stupid.

  ‘Oh Izzie,’ said Mum. ‘What have you done?’

  ‘Only ruined my hair!’ I wailed. ‘Now I can never go out again.’

  She gently pushed me back into the bathroom and took a closer look. ‘Got a bit carried away, didn’t you?’