Double Dare

by Cathy Hopkins

  The blonde waitress from last week came over to take my order. She glanced at my pad and laughed.

  ‘Still drawing those mad pictures?’ she asked.

  I put my hand over the page as I hadn’t meant anyone to see it.

  ‘No. It’s good,’ she said. ‘You should let people see it. So . . . what’s your name?’

  ‘Mac,’ I said.

  ‘You go to Torpoint High?’

  I nodded.

  ‘I used to go there. Left last year.’

  ‘So what’s your name?’

  ‘Sharan. But you can call me Shazza.’

  After she’d gone to get my cappuccino, my mobile rang. It was Squidge.

  ‘Just phoning to ask if you want to do that camping thing this weekend?’ he said.

  ‘Can’t. Got to do these drawings for Roz’s dad. But if I get them done, I’ll be there.’

  ‘OK. Let me know when.’

  ‘Actually, Squidge, while you’re on the phone . . . Girl called Shazza. Blonde. Nice eyes. Big boobs. Do you know her?’

  ‘Works up at the View?’

  ‘Yeah. That’s where I am now and she’s giving me the eye.’

  Squidge laughed. ‘She gives everyone the eye. Haven’t you got enough on your plate?’

  ‘Nothing that’s working,’ I replied. ‘And Shazza looks like fun.’

  ‘She is,’ said Squidge. ‘Got a bit of a reputation, in fact. Used to go to our school.’

  ‘I know. So give me the lowdown.’

  ‘Well, I only know what Dan Hall told me after he’d been out with her. Good-time girl. Likes fun, doesn’t like commitment or being tied down. Seems nice though. Easygoing. A laugh.’

  Sounds perfect, I thought as I flipped my phone shut.

  I decided to try my luck when she came back. Why not? I’m a free man. OK, so she’s not Emily but Emily made it very clear that I’m not wanted at the moment. What was I supposed to do? Wait for her? It might take months, years for her to sort things out with Michael. Becca’s a headcase who dumped me, so no guilt there. Roz is a control freak and I haven’t done anything to lead her on so no guilt there either. Shazza might be just the stop gap I need. Someone to have a laugh with. It wouldn’t be love but it wouldn’t be complicated. Just what I need.

  I put on a big smile when she came back a few minutes later with my cappuccino.

  ‘Hey, Shazza . . .’

  ‘YOU CAN’T ACCEPT DEFEAT,’ said Squidge. ‘It’s a cop-out.’

  We were sitting in the art room on Thursday night after school. I’d told Mr Barnes all about my chance to work for the magazine and he’d been great – really supportive – and agreed to let me work late in the classroom. It was better than at home, as the desks were bigger and there were no interruptions from Jade being annoying, Mum asking me to do something in the house or Gran trying to recruit me to help on one of her library nights.

  I’d spent hours drawing and redrawing the caricatures for Roz’s dad. They were rubbish and I was beginning to think it was a big mistake to think I could ever have been a contender.

  ‘But they’re not good enough. Surely you can see that?’

  Squidge grimaced and flicked through some of my other drawings in my portfolio. ‘It’s hard to say, Mac. These other ones that you’ve done of your mum and Jade and Becca and Roz, they’re brilliant. They have an edge. Like you’d totally let go when you did them. Didn’t think about whether they were good or not, you drew what you felt.’

  ‘Only because I thought no one would ever see them. They’re not for public consumption.’

  ‘So you’re trying to draw what you think people want to see?’

  ‘Sort of.’

  ‘That’s a killer in any kind of artform, you know that. It has to be raw. You have to tell the truth about what you feel.’

  ‘I know. And that’s why the drawings are lukewarm. I don’t feel anything. I hardly know these guys. I can’t let go and draw something beyond my first impression of them. They were OK people so that’s how the drawings are coming out. OK, but nothing more.’

  ‘You can’t give up,’ said Squidge. ‘I won’t let you. The other drawings show that you can do it. Find out more about them. Their dark sides or something and then let go of trying to please.’

  I knew what he meant but it wasn’t happening. I’m a people-pleaser by nature. Don’t upset the boat. Don’t confront. That’s me. Not the best qualities for a caricaturist. And no way would I get the gig if I sent in the half-hearted attempts that I’d done so far.

  ‘At least I’ve learnt how hard it is,’ I said, sighing. ‘It’s one thing doing your own private work. Another doing a professional brief and going public.’

  ‘Hi, guys,’ said Becca appearing at the door. ‘You in here again?’

  She came over to look at what I was doing. I quickly hid the drawing of her as one of the four heads of my monster.

  ‘Yeah, still trying to do these drawings for the magazine, but they’re not working out.’

  She flicked through a few at the top then looked at Squidge.

  ‘Er, can I have a private moment with Mac, Squidge?’

  ‘Sure,’ he said. ‘Catch you later.’

  Oh no, don’t leave, I tried to say to him telepathically but sadly my psychic skills were like my artistic ones – useless – and a moment later, he’d disappeared out of the room.

  Becca sat down opposite. ‘I’ve reconsidered your request,’ she said. ‘Squidge told Lia that Roz has been bugging you all the time with texts and phone calls and acting like she’s your girlfriend so I’ve decided to help. If you want to say that we’re still an item, then go ahead. I’ll play along. I want you to know that I’m here for you.’

  I carefully scrutinised her face to see if there was any hidden agenda but no, she seemed to be on the level.

  ‘Right. OK. Thanks.’

  ‘No problem,’ she said, then got up. ‘That’s what friends are for. I know this cartooning thing means a lot to you and I want to help. So how’s it going?’

  ‘To tell the truth, I’m thinking of backing out. I should have something ready to send by now but my drawings just aren’t good enough.’

  ‘Let’s have a proper look.’

  I handed her a pile I’d done of Otis, Amanda and Alistair. I kept the one of Emily to myself as I didn’t want Becca asking about her – she’d suss me out in no time, especially as I’d drawn a big heart round her.

  Becca glanced through. ‘I think these are OK . . .’

  ‘That’s it. OK. No one wants OK. OK is mediocre. They want brilliant.’

  ‘You can do it, Mac. I know you can. So, these aren’t your best work. But I’ve seen the one of your gran and that’s brilliant. And I’ve seen the one of your family as the witches in Macbeth and that’s brilliant. So I know you can do it. You can’t give up, Mac. Not now. You can’t.’

  ‘That’s what Squidge said. But I know I’m not cutting the mustard.’

  ‘I felt like that loads of times when I went in for that Pop Princess competition. Loads of times. Giving up isn’t the answer. You’ll regret it. I know you will. It’s your dream to be a cartoonist and if you back out at the first hurdle, you’ll never get anywhere. I remember when I felt like giving up at one point in the competition, I saw a quote that my dad had in his office. “No failure except in not trying,” it said. You’ve at least got to try, give it your best shot.’

  You don’t understand. I have tried and my drawings are crap.’

  ‘Then do some more. I believe in you.’

  So many people were behind me. It only made it worse. Mr Barnes was being great. Squidge was being great and now Becca was being great. Gran. Mum. All of them saying how much they believed in me, but I knew the truth. That I was a failure. And I felt lousy that I was going to let them all down.

  When Becca had gone, I did have another go. I tried letting go and giving myself permission to just draw but still all that came out was bland, bland, bland. Nice sketche
s of four nice people. That’s not what they were about and apart from Alistair, they deserved better. In the end, I drew a team of cheerleaders: Squidge, Becca and Mr Barnes in a line with little ra-ra skirts on and T-shirts saying ‘Mac’, then me bent over with exhaustion, looking weedy and knock-kneed on a racetrack coming last in a race. After an hour or so, the school caretaker came round to lock up, so I got up to go.

  Squidge and Becca didn’t understand. I wasn’t good enough. As I made my way out towards the bus stop, I racked my brains for a way of bowing out gracefully and without making them feel like I’d let them down.

  Back at home, Mum was listening to Radio 4 in the kitchen. I didn’t feel like talking much so I sat and listened with her as I ate my supper. It was some book programme and an author was talking about the stress of meeting deadlines.

  ‘Once, I actually considered breaking my arm,’ the author said, ‘so that I had a good excuse not to finish on time.’

  The author and the interviewer laughed, but I didn’t. She’d given me my get out.

  At nine o’clock, when Roz phoned for her nightly chat, I was ready for her.

  ‘So how’s it going?’

  ‘Oh Roz, hi,’ I said. ‘I’m so glad you phoned, I was going to call you but I’ve just got back from the doctor’s. I . . . I’ve had a bit of an accident.’

  ‘Ohmigod! Are you all right?’

  ‘Yes. Bit shaken. But I’m afraid I’ve broken my wrist. Such a bummer. I can’t use my hand.’

  ‘Which hand?’

  ‘My left one. My drawing one. I’m so sorry to have let you down like this but it will be weeks before I can use it again. Please can you explain to your dad. I feel really bad about this but I can’t even pick up a pencil, so there’s no way I can draw.’

  ‘Oh, Mac,’ said Roz. ‘I’m so sorry. You poor thing. That’s just so unfair. What happened?’

  ‘Oh . . . um . . . bike. Someone drove in front of me and I had to swerve and I hit the side of the kerb and came straight off.’

  ‘I so wish I was there and could kiss it better.’

  ‘Thanks, Roz. I’ll be OK. Anyway, got to go. Bit tired. Shock and all that. Look. I’ll be in touch and thanks for everything.’

  And that was the end of that, I thought as I put the phone down a minute later. I felt bad about lying to her but it was my only way out without losing face. Probably for the best, I thought as I trudged upstairs. Better than submitting work and having it rejected.

  Half an hour later, as I was doing my homework and listening to a CD that Squidge had lent me, Jade burst into my room.

  ‘What?’ I asked.

  ‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘Er . . . can I borrow a pen?’

  ‘Sure. Over on the desk,’ I said and went back to my work.

  Ten minutes later, the phone rang downstairs.

  ‘For you, Mac,’ Gran called up the stairs.

  I went down and picked up the receiver.

  ‘Mac, it’s me,’ said Roz in a sad voice.

  I sighed. I thought I’d finally got rid of her.

  ‘I called Jade after we’d spoken, as I was afraid that you were putting on a brave face about your accident. I wanted to know how you really were. She didn’t seem to know anything about your hand. And . . . she just called me back . . .’

  Bugger, I thought as Jade appeared at the top of the stairs, held her wrist as though it was painful and stuck her tongue out.

  ‘Ah . . . yes . . . I can explain . . .’

  ‘You don’t have to,’ she said. ‘I understand.’

  ‘You do?’

  ‘Yes. You wanted to get out of the cartooning job.’

  ‘How did you know?’

  ‘Silly. I know you. I could hear it in your voice earlier in the week. I could tell that you were having doubts about your drawings.’

  ‘That’s it exactly, Roz. They’re not good enough and I didn’t want to let you down. I thought this way . . .’

  ‘Silly boy. But no, Mac, it’s not an option. I know that you lack confidence. I knew that when you got Jade to call and ask me to come and visit. And I could tell by the way you were so nervous when you were up in London. But I think it’s so sweet. I hate people who are full of themselves and you being a bit shy is one of the reasons I like you so much. Like you don’t realise how attractive you are, and you don’t realise how talented you are. It’s so common with artists. They aren’t good at selling themselves and that’s why they have agents to do it for them. That’s what you need. An agent. Do some copies of what you’ve done so far and let me have a look.’

  I couldn’t believe it. I’d blatantly lied and she was acting all motherly and understanding. I really don’t get women, more than ever.

  ‘Oh, right. Is that what I need?’

  ‘Yes. Someone who is there for you, who really understands and cares for you . . .’

  I had a feeling that I knew what was coming next.

  ‘Someone like me . . .’

  ‘TOOOOOM,’ yelled Jade. ‘It’s for you again . . .’

  I got up from my desk to go downstairs. Roz had only just phoned but knowing her, she’d probably worked out a game plan for the rest of my life in the last ten minutes.

  ‘Who is it?’ I asked as I reached the hall.

  Jade shrugged. ‘Dunno. I’m not your secretary.’

  I took the receiver from her and I felt my chest tighten when I heard the voice at the other end.

  ‘Mac. It’s Emily. I hope you don’t mind me calling so late but I had to speak to you.’

  ‘No. Course not. How are you?’

  ‘Good. Well, better than I was. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking this week and . . . well, I wondered if your offer was still open.’

  ‘What, to come down here?’

  ‘Yes. One of my friends is driving down to Penzance with her parents on Saturday and said that they could give me a lift. I asked Mum and she said I could go if she can speak to your mum at some point. It seemed to be . . . I don’t know, sounds silly, but too good an opportunity to miss . . .’

  ‘Not silly at all. Wow . . . so . . . but what made you change your mind?’

  ‘Oh, lots of things. Mainly, that I’ve been a complete idiot. I can see that now. I waited all week for Michael to call, going mental. I’ve been such a fool sitting in, waiting for a call that never came and I realised that you were right. I need to move on. Make a fresh start – and I can’t do that up here at the moment, always watching the phone, willing it to ring. I can’t bear another second here. So change of air. New experiences. No stupid phone to stare at all night.’

  ‘I . . . no, wow, that will be brilliant. Let me just ask Mum.’

  I quickly put the phone down and ran to find Mum. She was in the living room with Gran, watching TV.

  ‘Mum, can a friend stay this weekend? One of the people from the magazine? The writer girl. Emily. She’s passing through. It will help with my drawings. And will you OK it with her mum some time so that she knows I’m not a mad person?’

  Mum glanced at Gran and she nodded. ‘Sure. We haven’t got any other guests booked in so far, though I’m still hoping. She can have the blue room unless we get a coach load of rich Americans booking in at the last minute.’

  Not much chance of that, I thought as I raced back to the phone and told Emily the good news. I felt like dancing round the house. Squidge and Becca had been right. Don’t give up. Don’t give up.

  I went back up to my room, taking the stairs two at a time and almost knocked Jade over as she was lurking at the top of the stairs.

  ‘You look happy,’ she said.

  ‘I am,’ I said. ‘Lesson one in life Jade. Never give up.’

  ‘Humpf,’ she said and flounced into her room.

  I spent all day Friday daydreaming about where I’d take Emily, the sights I thought she’d enjoy the most.

  ‘Earth to planet Mac,’ said Squidge as we rode home on the bus after school. ‘Earth to planet Mac.’

  I laughed
. ‘Bank Holiday weekend. Three whole days off and Emily for company. The forecast is for more early summer sun. It couldn’t be more brilliant. Even Jade’s being cool about it. Apparently, she knows Emily’s book and likes the idea of having a celeb in the house. Something to show off about to all her friends.’

  ‘Typical,’ said Squidge. ‘But I thought we were going to go camping.’

  ‘Oh. Sorry. Yeah. Can we do it another time?’

  ‘Sure . . . but what about Shazza? I thought you were going to be seeing her.’

  ‘Oh!’ I’d forgotten about her. ‘Oh, no worries. I said I’d give her a call. We didn’t have anything definite planned. And you said she wasn’t into heavy commitments. I’m sure she’ll understand.’

  ‘Well, I hope it all works out for you,’ said Squidge.

  ‘Oh, it will, it will. I’ve got a feeling things are going to go my way for a while.’

  When I got home, I helped Mum change the bedlinen in the blue room and picked some roses from the garden to put by Emily’s bed.

  Mum smiled. ‘Seems you like this girl?’

  Normally I didn’t like to discuss my love life with Mum, but it was hard not to, seeing as Emily was going to be staying under the same roof.

  ‘Early days,’ I said. ‘But she did seem . . . well, kind of special.’

  Mum smiled again. ‘Oh, and Mac . . .’ she said as she plumped up the pillows, ‘I’ve been thinking about your dad. What you said. If it really means so much to you, I won’t object to him coming. I . . . I know I can seem a bit harsh sometimes but . . . well . . . I know he’s still your father and it’s important that he’s involved in your life down here.’

  I gave her a huge hug. Women, I thought. They don’t half change their minds a lot. First Becca, then Emily and now my mum. I must remember this for the future. That no matter how fixed they are about something, give them a bit of time and they’ll do a total turnaround.

  At nine o’clock on the dot, Roz phoned. She’d been with her dad along to the meeting with the new faces and the prospective cartoonists.

  ‘As your agent,’ she said, ‘I thought I should be there to represent you. And I got the copies you sent of what you’ve done so far and I know what you mean. They’re almost there. You can do it. I know you can.’