Mrs Shine smiles. ‘We have found over the years that our students work their best when they are happy,’ she tells me. ‘For that reason, we always try to put new pupils with their friends. We work with your primary class teacher to find the right mix. And, of course, you’ll make lots of new friends too!’
‘See,’ Beth whispers. ‘Nothing to worry about!’
I feel a little bit better, but still, I stick to Murphy, Beth and Willow like glue as we are shown around the school. It all seems so huge and so strange, from the cavernous assembly hall to the super-cool art studios, the shiny new science labs to the rolling sports fields.
It all looks great, but I can’t imagine ever being able to find my way around without a map or some kind of personal satnav. I can’t imagine ever feeling relaxed or comfortable here. I can’t see myself fitting in at all.
We eat our lunch at a long table in the modern cafeteria. The food is fine, but the place is crammed with noisy students milling around and I feel scared, small, lost. I forget to help myself to water or fruit juice and there is no way I dare go back up to the counter to get it. I stare down at my macaroni cheese sadly, my stomach in knots.
Beth and Willow are still acting all weird and out of character. Are they anxious too, or is this how it will be from now on? The teen mags Becca reads talk about friends drifting apart during the growing-up years. Is that what will happen to us?
‘Hey,’ Murphy says, nudging my arm, ‘d’you think they do custard doughnuts on special occasions?’
‘Probably not,’ I sigh.
‘Just as well I bought emergency supplies then,’ he grins, handing me a sugar-dusted doughnut under the table. ‘Thought it might help.’
I bite into the sweet, doughy treat, smiling, and Murphy offers a doughnut to Beth and Willow. Their loud, flirty act begins to slip. Soon we are joking around and the fear and worry slowly lift away.
I begin to think that I might just be able to handle secondary school, as long as I have a constant supply of custard doughnuts and Murphy at my side. He has a knack for smoothing things down, bringing us all together, making us laugh.
‘Maybe Brightford Academy wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be,’ I admit later, walking back to Stella Street Primary. ‘It’s scary … but in a good way. Like a whole new stage of life is opening up for us!’
‘Of course it is,’ Willow says. ‘And hey, the French teacher said she’d never seen such a keen and promising class!’
‘I know!’ I grin. ‘Wait till we come back from Paris – there’ll be no stopping us!’
‘I’m glad you asked about the classes, Daizy,’ Beth says. ‘I don’t know what I’d do if they split us up. I can survive without lipgloss and eyeliner as long as I have my best mates.’
That makes me smile. Maybe Beth and Willow act all grown-up and confident, but underneath it all they are the same as always – kind, caring, lovely, loyal.
We turn into the driveway of Stella Street Primary just as the bell for home time peals out, and my world crashes.
Dad’s big green van is there, chugging and groaning and belching out clouds of chip-shop smoke as it drives slowly past us. I catch a glimpse of reddish-orange fur behind the wheel, and I feel my cheeks burning.
‘Did that giant red squirrel just wave at you, Daizy?’ Ethan Miller asks.
I think I might die of shame.
Nightmare. It looks like Dad, intrigued by my tales of lentil stew and kidney-bean custard, actually did phone the school and offer to come in to talk to the children about healthy eating. And Stella Street Primary was foolish enough to accept his invitation – thank goodness it was while we were on our taster trip to Brightford Academy.
Pixie, of course, has not been as lucky. She runs towards me across the playground, traumatized, eyes wide, pigtails flying.
‘There was this big red squirrel telling us about dandelion leaves and organic bread,’ I overhear one of her classmates say to his mum. ‘He danced around and sang a song and gave us carob brownies that tasted like dirt. It was scary …’
I look at Pixie and she looks at me, her cheeks scarlet.
She does not need to tell me out loud that the identity of the giant squirrel must remain a secret. I’d cut my own tongue out rather than tell anyone.
Then I catch sight of Murphy’s puzzled face, and realize that he is probably putting two and two together. He lives just along the road from us and, let’s face it, he’d have to be blind not to have spotted Dad cycling to work in his squirrel suit this past week, or recognized the van just now. My dark secret is out.
‘Murphy?’ I ask, as we walk home through the park with Pixie skipping on ahead. ‘You know we said a while ago that we’d never keep secrets from each other?’
‘Er … yes?’ Murphy says, looking slightly uncomfortable.
‘Remember I told you Dad had a new job?’
‘Yes?’
I take a deep breath. ‘Well … that was him in the squirrel suit just now. He’s working for the Squirrel & Lentil Wholefood Café and he’s got this dreadful idea of going into schools and preaching to the kids about lentils and beansprouts and nettle soup. It is the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to me. I mean, my life is over – my dad is a giant red squirrel. It seriously can’t get any worse.’
‘Right,’ Murphy says gently. ‘Yeah – I thought that was him … It could be worse, Daizy, he could have been dressed as a lentil instead of a squirrel.’
I swallow, hard.
‘It’s no joke,’ I sigh. ‘Worrying about Dad’s job is the last thing I need just now. I’m kind of worried about starting at Brightford Academy. What if I can’t handle it? What if you, me, Beth and Willow drift apart?’
‘Hmmm,’ Murphy sighs. ‘Actually …’
‘Actually, it happens a lot,’ I frown. ‘We have to stick together, Murphy. Friends forever and all that. I have a squirrel for a dad, so Brightford Academy can’t scare me, right?’
Murphy looks awkward. ‘About that, Daizy … there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.’
‘What?’ I quip. ‘Don’t tell me. Your dad is actually a natterjack toad. Or a wild boar?’
‘I’m trying to be serious, Daizy.’
I blink. Serious? I don’t like the sound of that.
‘OK,’ I shrug. ‘What’s up?’
Murphy looks shifty. ‘It’s about Brightford Academy,’ he begins. ‘There’s no easy way to say this, Daizy …’
I feel cold all over, as if something bad is about to happen. A minute ago I said that things couldn’t get any worse, but suddenly I have a strong feeling that actually, maybe they could.
I start to talk, as if an avalanche of words can stop whatever it is Murphy is trying to tell me.
‘I thought it was OK, actually,’ I blurt. ‘Brightford Academy. Better than I imagined. I am so glad we’ll all be in a class together because I couldn’t stand it if they split us up. We’re friends forever, aren’t we – me, you, Beth and Willow? Nothing can ever change that –’
‘Daizy,’ Murphy interrupts. ‘Can you listen for a minute? It’s just – well – I might not actually be going to Brightford Academy.’
‘What do you mean?’ I ask in a small, shocked voice. ‘Where else would you go?’
Murphy bites his lip.
‘My cousins go to this specialist arts school near Moonleigh,’ he tells me. ‘Mum thought it would be perfect for me, so we went to look at it a couple of months ago. It’s really cool and creative, Daizy, and the facilities are awesome. I had to show them some of my artwork. It’s a private school, but they’ve offered me a scholarship – they’ll pay the fees for me. They think I have real potential.’
A huge lump forms in my throat, as if I have just tried to swallow a tennis ball. I want to speak, but the words are stuck inside me and won’t come out. Brightford Academy is scary enough, but Brightford Academy without Murphy? It doesn’t bear thinking about. The bottom falls out of my world. I sink down o
n to a nearby park bench, and Murphy perches beside me.
In the distance, I can see Pixie on the swings, swooping back and forth without a care in the world.
‘I should have told you,’ he says. ‘I know we had a pact not to keep secrets, but I couldn’t tell you this … I just didn’t know how.’
I nod and smile and try to dredge up the words to say I am pleased, proud of him even, but nothing comes out. I should be happy that my talented friend has been given a chance like this. Design is definitely Murphy’s star quality, and in a school like that he will get his chance to shine – but all I can think about is how much I’ll miss him.
‘It’s not boarding school or anything,’ Murphy is saying. ‘I can take the train every day. We’ll still see each other – nothing will change!’
But everything is changing, I know. Friends go to different schools, make new mates. They drift slowly apart until they have nothing at all in common. A year from now, Murphy may just be a boy I used to know, a boy in a fancy blazer who smiles politely when he sees me pass by.
‘Say something, Daizy,’ Murphy prompts.
My mouth feels like it is full of dust, but I try to be brave.
‘It’s great, Murphy,’ I say, as brightly as I can. ‘I am so proud of you. I’ve always said you were brilliant at all that art and design stuff, and this just proves it. What an opportunity. Cool, totally.’
‘Daizy –’
I glance at my wrist, as if checking out a watch I don’t have.
‘Oh my – is that the time?’ I exclaim. ‘Pixie! Pixie, come on! We really have to dash. It’s dandelion quiche for tea …’
‘Hang on,’ Murphy says. ‘Daizy, don’t go –’
But I am already running across the park, yelling for Pixie, my eyes blurred with tears.
Murphy tells Beth and Willow about his scholarship place a few days later, and they squeal and whoop and tell him they are pleased for him. They seem to take it all in their stride.
‘You can introduce us to all the cool boys at your new school,’ Willow tells him. ‘Brilliant!’
‘Too right,’ Beth chimes in. ‘Can’t wait!’
I wonder if I will ever be cool and grown-up enough not to feel like my heart is breaking at the thought of losing one of my best mates? I doubt it.
Murphy is not going to be the glue that holds my friendship with Beth and Willow together. He won’t even be in the same school. My friendship group is falling to pieces and there’s nothing at all I can do about it.
‘Cheer up, Daizy,’ Murphy says. ‘It’s not like it’s happening yet. It’s not even definite, really. Mum said it was up to me to decide. I think she wants me to, though.’
‘Won’t you miss us?’ I ask sadly.
‘Of course I will!’ he says. ‘But you won’t be getting rid of me that easily, Daizy Star. You’ll still see me all the time – I only live along the road, remember?’
‘I know, but –’
‘But nothing,’ Murphy says firmly. ‘It’ll all work out, you’ll see. And in the meantime, we’ll have the Paris trip – the four of us together. It’s going to be awesome!’
I guess that’s true, at least. The Paris trip could be my last real chance to hang out properly with my friends. Looks like I’d better make the most of it.
At school, Dad’s healthy-eating talk has resulted in some horrific additions to the lunch-time menu, including nettle flapjacks and beansprout soup. This is not good.
With the French trip creeping ever closer, I ask the cook to put French Onion Soup and Tarte Tatin on the menu instead, but she just snorts in a very rude way and asks whether I want Toad in the Hole or not. I shake my head, even though I am pretty sure there are no actual toads in it.
‘The French eat frogs and snails, you know,’ Ethan Miller says helpfully, appearing at my shoulder. ‘Toad in the Hole would be just their style.’
‘It’s just sausages and Yorkshire pudding,’ I tell him briskly. ‘No toads are involved. And I am not having that, anyhow, because these days I am practically vegan. I do not eat anything that comes from an animal.’
‘You’ll starve to death in France then,’ Ethan smirks.
‘I will just eat chocolate croissants,’ I shrug, and hope that Ethan doesn’t realize that they’re not actually vegan either. Luckily, he is too obsessed with football and hair gel to focus on such details.
‘This trip is going to be fun,’ Ethan says, helping himself to mash and gravy. ‘I’m sure we can shake off Miss Moon and the others and have a few adventures on our own. What d’you say, Daizy Star? I’ll buy you a chocolate croissant and we can walk along the banks of the River Seine in the moonlight!’
My jaw drops in horror. Escape from Miss Moon and the others? Walk through Paris in the moonlight with Ethan Miller? Is he mad? I would rather eat one of Dad’s nettle flapjacks and wash it down with dandelion squash, and that is NOT happening, trust me.
‘No, thank you,’ I say primly. ‘I do not want to have adventures with you, Ethan Miller. And I can buy my own chocolate croissants, thank you very much!’
‘I’m joking, Daizy!’ he grins. ‘Didn’t think I was serious, did you?’
Two little spots of colour appear in my cheeks. I grab a plate of quiche and salad and storm away before they flood my face with a tide of crimson. I cannot stand that boy, really I can’t.
I flop down at a table with Willow and Beth, scowling.
‘What’s up?’ Beth asks. ‘Ethan Miller been getting on your nerves again?’
‘Does he ever do anything else?’ I huff.
I swear, if I only had one nerve left in my whole entire body, Ethan Miller would find it and manage to get on it.
‘Are you sure we are talking about the same person?’ Willow asks. ‘He’s so cute!’
I decide not to answer. Beth and Willow are hopeless when it comes to Ethan Miller, its’ a lost cause.
‘He’s gorgeous,’ Beth sighs, starry-eyed. ‘And we are going to be in Paris with him. The city of romance. Anything could happen!’
I pull a face. ‘Ethan Miller doesn’t have a romantic bone in his body,’ I huff. ‘I worry about you two sometimes, seriously!’
‘Well, don’t,’ Willow says. ‘I happen to think he’s cool, OK? And if it took a little bit of Parisian romance to get the two of us together … well, what could be wrong with that?’
‘Nothing,’ Beth says. ‘Except that he will fall for me, not you, Willow. I have been in love with him for years now. So, if there is any romance in the air –’
‘Hey, you two,’ I cut in. ‘Don’t fall out over a boy! Especially not Ethan Miller. He is so not worth it!’
‘He so IS,’ Beth argues. ‘But we won’t fall out about it, Daizy, don’t worry. Willow and I have talked this through. If Ethan decides he likes me best, then Willow will be totally fine with it; if he decides he likes Willow best, then I will try to be happy for her.’
I wonder if I should tell them what Ethan just said to me, but decide against it. He may have been joking, but I am not sure my friends would see the funny side. I definitely didn’t.
‘All’s fair in love and war,’ Willow shrugs. ‘May the best girl win!’
‘Exactly,’ Beth agrees. ‘And romance is in the air, I’m certain of it. Paris … I am counting down the days. I have sneaked some make-up into my suitcase, and Mum says I can buy some new clothes specially. I want to make sure I look my best in Paris.’
‘Me too,’ Willow says. ‘Maybe the three of us should go shopping together?’
I bite my lip. Money is still ultra-tight at home, even now that Dad is working. I won’t be going shopping with Beth and Willow, I know – there is no cash to spare. Besides, their fashion taste just lately is scarily grown-up.
‘French girls are very chic,’ Beth muses. ‘We definitely need new clothes. We don’t want to look like schoolkids!’
‘We are schoolkids,’ I point out, but my friends just laugh.
‘I know, but we’re
practically at secondary school,’ Beth grins. ‘And we are going on a trip with the cutest boy ever … to PARIS! It’s a dream come true!’
More of a nightmare if Ethan Miller is involved, I think darkly, but Beth and Willow are miles away now, fantasizing about Paris.
‘Sunset over the Seine,’ Willow is saying. ‘Starry nights above Sacré-Coeur. French kissing under the Eiffel Tower …’
‘Willow!’ I gasp, shocked. ‘There won’t be any kissing under the Eiffel Tower, especially not the French sort. Yuk!’
My best friends smile and look at me in a slightly pitying way, as if I am five years old and way too young to understand. Actually, I understand a whole lot more than they know. I am not crushing on Ethan Miller, and that means I can see things a little more clearly. The only person he is in love with is himself, and I don’t think any amount of Parisian romance will change that.
My daydreams of hanging out in cool French cafés and sharing fun, freedom and heart-to-hearts with my very best friends are fading fast. When it comes to the Paris trip, it sounds like Beth and Willow have very different plans …
Miss Moon has our group passport all ready. We have practised our French until it is très, très bon, plotted our journey on a big wall map and had a family meeting in the school hall to go over all the details.
Finally, it is actually happening.
‘Tomorrow is the big day,’ Miss Moon announces. ‘I will see you all in the playground at eight o’clock sharp. Set those alarm clocks and be on time – the coach won’t wait! Au revoir, mes enfants!’
‘Au revoir, Mademoiselle!’ we chorus, and when the bell goes we stampede out of there as if our lives depend on it. I want to get home so I can check through my suitcase again. I have been packed for approximately seventeen days now, but I want to make sure my clothes for tomorrow are ironed and ready, and that Mum remembered to get secret supplies of non-vegan custard doughnuts for the journey.
Daizy Star, Ooh La La! Page 3
