Mates, Dates and Cosmic Kisses

by Cathy Hopkins

  I nodded miserably. ‘Aren’t you going to yell at me?’

  Mum shook her head. ‘Do you want me to see if I can fix it?’

  ‘No, I don’t think so.’

  Mum pulled a bit more hair over my face. ‘I think I could. If I cut a bit more fringe then cut into it, then you wouldn’t see the short bits underneath. Want to give it a go?’

  Mum used to cut my hair when I was little. My gran used to be a hairdresser and Mum had picked up the basics from her so I knew I could trust her not to make it any worse.

  ‘OK.’ I quickly showed her the photo of Dorothy Parker at the back of my book. ‘I was trying to cut a fringe like hers.’

  ‘Dorothy Parker! I thought most girls your age wanted a much more modern look.’

  ‘Not me. I want to look different from the crowd.’

  ‘That’s my Izzie.’ Mum smiled at me. ‘Always has to be different.’

  ‘Will you get me a wig for Christmas if it doesn’t work out?’

  ‘Sure,’ laughed Mum. ‘But I don’t think it will come to that. OK. Wet it a bit then it will cut better.’

  I did as I was told and Mum carefully snipped a bit more fringe then began to cut into it. ‘It’s looking better already. And I’ll take some off the length so it doesn’t look top-heavy.’

  ‘Whatever,’ I said.

  She finished cutting and combing and then took me into her bedroom, got the hairdryer out and blew it dry.

  ‘Can I look now?’ I asked.

  Mum nodded and I went and stood in front of her mirror. I was shocked. It looked really good. Just past my shoulders. More modern. And if I pushed it back it fell in a really nice layer.

  ‘Not bad, eh?’ said Mum, looking pleased with herself.

  ‘Mum, you’re a genius,’ I said and hugged her.

  Now Mark just had to phone. He’d be bound to fancy me more with my new haircut.

  At school the next day, Lucy and Nesta seemed agitated about something. In fact, I don’t think Nesta even noticed my hair until Lucy said she liked it.

  Nesta cornered me in the corridor at lunch-time. ‘Izzie, I know I put my foot in it the other day and I think we need to clear the air. Plus we have to talk about Lucy and Tony. I . . .’

  Then Lucy came round the corner and Nesta clammed up.

  Then Nesta went to get a drink from the machine in the hall, and Lucy started up. ‘Izzie, I need to talk to you.’

  ‘About Tony?’ I said.

  ‘Yes. No. Yeah. About Tony but about you as well. I’ve hardly seen you lately and . . .’

  Then she clammed up when Nesta came back.

  ‘What’s going on?’ said Nesta, eyeing us suspiciously.

  Then I clammed up. Honestly. It’s supposed to be me who’s going slowly bonkers. Now they’re acting all weird and I’ve lost track of who’s not talking to who about what and why. I don’t know what Lucy’s problem is – at least she knows Tony likes her. All I know is Mark still hasn’t called and I don’t know where I stand with him at all.

  As we went back into class for the afternoon, I could see Lucy was looking miserable and I wondered if it was my fault. I suppose I have been a bit wrapped up in myself lately. What a mess.

  When I got home on Friday night, finally, my mobile rang.

  Let it be Mark, let it be Mark, I prayed as I leaped to answer it.

  But it was only Lucy.

  ‘Izzie, it’s me,’ she said. ‘If you’re mad at Nesta, why aren’t you speaking to me?’

  ‘I am speaking to you, Lucy. And Nesta. It’s just I feel like being on my own lately,’ I said.

  ‘Well I miss you,’ she said. ‘Has Mark phoned?’

  ‘Not yet. But I don’t care any more,’ I lied.

  ‘Maybe Mercury’s gone retrograde again?’ she said.

  ‘Nah. I’ve checked. It’s supposed to be a good week for me according to my horoscope. In fact, the print-out I’ve just done says I’ll hear from someone I want to.’

  ‘Meeee,’ said Lucy. ‘That’s me. One of your best mates. Remember?’

  ‘Yeah,’ I said unconvincingly.

  ‘I am sorry he’s not phoned,’ said Lucy. ‘But I think you’re letting it get to you.’

  ‘No I’m not,’ I said. ‘I’m perfectly cool with it all.’

  ‘Then come over for a bit. We could watch the soaps or a DVD.’

  ‘Can’t,’ I said. ‘I’m having an early night.’

  I could hear Lucy sigh at the other end. ‘OK. I’ll call Nesta and see if she wants to come over.’

  I felt a bit rotten after I put the phone down, and hoped that Lucy would understand.

  I waited in all night. But the phone stayed silent.

  On Saturday morning I checked my horoscope and it said it was a good day for confrontations so I decided I’d go to the Lock and if Mark was there, I’d have it out with him. Ask him why he hadn’t called this week and if he really was phoning me last week when we met.

  Unfortunately Big-Mouth phoned just as I was ready to leave.

  ‘I’m so sorry about Monday, Izzie,’ said Nesta. ‘I can’t bear it when you’re mad with me. Come to Hampstead. Lucy and I both want to see you. We think you need a break from thinking about Mark.’

  ‘Can’t,’ I said. ‘Busy.’

  Nesta went quiet on the other end of the phone. ‘I hope you’re not thinking of going to the Lock.’

  ‘No. Anyway, why?’ I asked.

  ‘Because you mustn’t,’ said Nesta. ‘You know boys don’t like it if you chase them or get heavy. They don’t like hassle, especially when it’s early days.’

  ‘What makes you think I’m going to get heavy with him?’

  Nesta paused at the other end of the phone. ‘Well, you have been kind of intense lately, even with me and Lucy.’

  ‘No I haven’t.’

  ‘OK,’ Nesta sighed. ‘But you haven’t been your usual self. You might think I don’t understand but I do. And I can see that Mark has really got to you. Trust me, Iz. It’s really not a good idea to go to the Lock. You need to chill out a bit before you see him again.’

  ‘Fine,’ I said.

  ‘Fine,’ said Nesta.

  Then I hung up. I wasn’t going to listen to her. Killjoy.

  I made my way to the Lock, praying that Mark was working that day. I went over and over in my head what I planned to say but Nesta had got me worried. I didn’t want to be ‘heavy’ but I really wanted to know where I stood. We’d had such a good time last week. I couldn’t have imagined it. Oh, I wished I could feel normal again.

  I was feeling really nervous as I went into the market. Was this a good idea? Should I turn back now?

  ‘Izzie!’ called Mark. He was there at the stall and had seen me coming up the stairs.

  ‘Oh, hi,’ I said, forcing my voice to sound casual. ‘I forgot you worked here.’

  He looked at me strangely. ‘Really?’ he said. He looked hurt.

  We both stood there looking awkward. All my carefully prepared words deserted me. I didn’t know what to say.

  ‘Er, better be going then . . .’ I said finally.

  ‘Oh.’ He looked disappointed. ‘I was just going to take a break. Can’t you stay a mo? We could get a cappuccino.’

  I felt as if someone had poured concrete in my brain and I’d turned to stone. I was torn. Should I go, should I stay? Perhaps he’d explain. Perhaps I could ask my questions. Either way, I wanted to know what he had to say.

  ‘OK,’ I said.

  We made our way downstairs and Mark bought two cappuccinos at a take-away stall.

  ‘Sugar?’ he asked.

  I shook my head. Perhaps this wasn’t the best time to say I wasn’t drinking coffee. He might think I was a weirdo.

  We sat by the canal sipping our drinks. Lovely. Bliss. Oh I’d forgotten how nice and creamy and frothy these could be. Perhaps I could do my healthy eating but have the occasional treat. Balance, I told myself, that’s what it’s all about.

  ‘
Er, Mark . . .’ I began.

  ‘Yeah,’ he smiled back at me.

  ‘You know when you said you’d phone me . . .’

  ‘Oh yeah. I was going to tell you. My mobile got nicked. I was going to phone you.’

  Suddenly he looked uncomfortable. Had I gone too far? But if his mobile had been stolen maybe that explained it. Not really, I thought. There are other phones. I decided to jump right in. I didn’t want to spend another week agonising over whether he was interested or playing games. I had nothing to lose.

  ‘You know when we saw each other last Saturday and you were phoning me?’

  ‘Yeah,’ he smiled and put his hand over mine on the table. ‘That was amazing, wasn’t it? Synchronicity, like you said.’

  A lovely tingling feeling went right through me. I cast about in my head for how I could ask him without sounding like I didn’t trust him.

  ‘Was that your dad who answered the phone?’ said Mark, interrupting my confusion.

  ‘What do you mean? My dad?’

  ‘When I phoned you.’

  I was more confused than ever. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘When I saw you, remember? I’d just called you when there you were in front of me.’

  ‘Yeah. And I was just about to pick up.’

  ‘Yeah. But I wasn’t phoning your mobile. There were two numbers on your card. I called the first one and some bloke answered.’

  He must have phoned my home number. And Angus. Angus must have picked up.

  ‘So you didn’t phone me on my mobile? You called my house.’

  ‘Yeah, was that your dad? He sounded very posh.’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘It must have been the lodger that picked up.’

  ‘Anyway,’ said Mark, playing with my fingers, ‘there you were in front of me.’

  Suddenly the rosy glow came back. Nesta had been right. It must have been her on my mobile and that’s why she said no one picked up. But he had phoned. Hurrah. It was going to be all right after all.

  When I got home later that day I stormed into the kitchen to find Angus. He was sitting with my mum at the table, drinking a cup of tea.

  ‘Hi, Izzie,’ they chorused.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me someone called last Saturday?’ I demanded, turning to Angus.

  Angus looked startled. ‘What? When? What are you talking about?’

  ‘Don’t you even remember?’ I said. ‘It’s really important.’

  Angus scratched his head. ‘When did you say?’

  ‘Last Saturday?’ I had to know if Mark was telling the truth.

  ‘I don’t know. Did someone leave a message and I forgot to pass it on? Let me think.’

  ‘They might not have left a message. A boy. A boy’s voice.’

  Mum and Angus gave each other a knowing look.

  ‘Oh yes, I think the phone did go at some point,’ said Angus. ‘But no one was on the other end. I presumed it was a wrong number.’

  I wanted to kill him. ‘You should have told me!’ I cried.

  ‘Izzie, don’t speak to Angus like that. He wasn’t to know it wasn’t a wrong number, especially if no one even spoke! He’s not psychic.’

  Tears pricked the back of my eyes. ‘You don’t understand, do you?’ I turned back to Angus. ‘You almost ruined everything.’

  ‘Sit down and have some lunch with us, Izzie,’ said Mum softly. ‘Tell us what you’ve been up to.’

  ‘You wouldn’t understand!’ I wailed. ‘And anyway, there’s never anything I can eat in this house. Nobody cares about me . . .’

  Mum’s expression clouded. ‘I’m getting really tired of your selfish attitude, Isobel. Go to your room. And don’t come down until you’re ready to apologise.’

  I stormed out and slammed the door. Go to your room. That’s all I ever heard these days. I couldn’t do anything right. Mums. I give up.

  Song For Mum

  by Izzie Foster

  Hey Mum, I want you to know,

  So sit down and listen,

  No please don’t go,

  Things are different since you were a girl,

  Pressures today put my head in a whirl.

  Life’s moving faster, we’re all in the race

  That’s accelerated to a damaging pace.

  Sometimes it’s too much to bear,

  So when I come home and seem in despair

  Don’t ask what’s wrong, leave me alone.

  I’m good, I’m bad,

  You’re nice, you’re mad.

  I love, I hate,

  But it’s never too late

  To say sorry.

  It’s tough to say about your man,

  So please forgive me if I’m not a fan

  But he’s not my dad and that’s a fact.

  Yes I know, I know I’m lacking tact,

  Blame my ignorance, my stupid youth.

  You always said to speak the truth.

  I share your guilt and feel your pain,

  I just hide mine in a secret place.

  Chapter 8

  Mobile Madness

  I couldn’t believe what happened the next week.

  When I left Mark on Saturday, my plan to ask him for his number went out of the window as once again, he promised to call me. I told him not to phone my home number as Mum and the lodger were hopeless at passing on messages. So he said he’d call on my mobile. Simple.

  Or so I thought.

  I checked my weekly horoscope and it said a slow start to the week but things would liven up around Thursday when Pluto was square to Mars, causing some confusion. Hah! Understatement.

  On Thursday evening, Mum took me to Lucy’s house to have my guitar lesson with Lucy’s dad. She said she’d wait for me and as she got settled with a magazine in the kitchen, Mr L and I went through to the sitting-room. We’d just got started on some chord exercises when my mobile rang.

  ‘Turn that off for the lesson,’ said Mr L.

  ‘Can I please take this call, just this one?’ I begged. It might have been Mark and I didn’t want to miss him.

  ‘Well, just this one,’ said Mr L. ‘Then I want your full concentration.’

  ‘Izzie, it’s me,’ said Nesta’s croaky voice. ‘I really need to talk to you.’

  ‘Can’t at the moment,’ I said. ‘I’m in the middle of a guitar lesson. Speak later.’

  I was feeling a bit rotten about Nesta. She’d been off with flu all week and I hadn’t even called her. And I knew she hadn’t meant to be mean about Mark and I knew I owed her an apology but I wanted to pick my time. Not when Mr L was listening in.

  I put my mobile on the table where I could see it.

  ‘Off,’ said Mr L. ‘Switch it off for the lesson.’

  ‘Ohhh, do I have to?’

  ‘You do. I know what you girls are like on your phones and I’ve got another pupil straight after you so I don’t want us wasting time.’

  I could see he meant it so reluctantly I switched the phone off and turned my mind to the guitar.

  ‘You’re getting better,’ said Mr L at the end of our hour. ‘Now did you bring me some of your songs to look at? Next time, we could start putting them to music.’

  ‘Er, yes, no,’ I squirmed.

  ‘Er, yes, no. Did you or didn’t you?’

  I had brought my lyrics with me but I didn’t want to show them. Not since that lesson when everyone laughed at my rap song.

  ‘I did bring them,’ I said. ‘But I don’t want to show them.’

  ‘Ah, a songwriter who doesn’t want anyone to hear her songs?’

  ‘I read a few lines of one of them in class and everyone laughed,’ I said.

  Mr L looked at me kindly. ‘It’s hard, Izzie, when you do anything creatively. There will always be people who like what you do and those who don’t. You mustn’t take it personally. But if you’re going to succeed, and I’m sure you will, you’ve got to be ready to take constructive criticism. Don’t be afraid to stick your neck out. Just be careful who you show
your work to in the beginning. Some people will criticise because they’re jealous but others can give you feedback that you can learn from.’

  ‘Well, will you read them when I’m not here? Then I don’t have to see your face if you don’t like them.’

  Mr L laughed. ‘Sure. Leave them on top of the piano there. You needn’t be afraid, I’m sure I will like them.’

  ‘Well promise you won’t show them to anyone. Promise, not Lal or Steve or even Lucy. I’ve never shown them to anyone.’

  ‘Promise.’

  As I left the room, I noticed my mum chatting to a boy in the kitchen. She looked up as she saw us coming in.

  ‘Er, can I have a word?’ she said to Mr L.

  ‘Sure,’ he said.

  ‘In private,’ she said and went off into the living-room with him. What’s all that about? I thought.

  I looked across at the boy. He looked familiar. ‘Hey, don’t I know you?’ I asked.

  The boy nodded and smiled. ‘Yeah, Ben. From your sister’s wedding.’

  ‘Stepsister,’ I corrected.

  He looked really different from the way he’d looked at the wedding, cute almost, and in the same school uniform as Lucy’s brothers.

  ‘You go to the same school as Lal and Steve?’

  ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘That’s how I heard about the lessons.’

  ‘Where are they all? Lucy and Steve and Lal?’

  ‘Gone to the vid shop, I think,’ he said.

  ‘So you’re the next pupil?’

  ‘Yeah,’ he said.

  At that moment, Mum came back out. ‘Ready? she asked.

  ‘Who was that?’ she asked as we drove away.

  ‘No one,’ I said. ‘He was at the wedding playing those awful songs.’

  ‘I thought I recognised him,’ said Mum. ‘Of course, he’s Jeremy’s younger brother. He was rather good on the piano, wasn’t he?’

  ‘Oh Mum, the music he played was totally naff. I’m surprised he’s bothering to have lessons. He clearly hasn’t a clue about decent music.’

  ‘What were you talking about?’ she asked.

  ‘Nothing,’ I replied. ‘Why, what were you talking to Mr L about?’

  Mum got a really cheeky look on her face. ‘Oh nothing,’ she mimicked then we both burst out laughing.

  It was only when we got home that I realised I’d left my mobile on the table at Lucy’s. And it was switched off.