Truly Madly Awkward

by Beth Garrod

  And the high of this new-found 0.000000001% friendship Rach and I now had with them, is probably why, by the time Tegan finished training, she had over a hundred unread messages in our group about it. Luckily, ninety-nine of them were the same thing – imagine if we won?! (The other one was me wondering if we’d get excused from lessons if we did.) As much as I knew chances were small, I couldn’t help but cling on to the thought of something, anything, un-ordinary happening to my very ordinary life.

  CHAPTER

  THREE

  A lot can happen in three days.

  Is what I’ve heard people say.

  However, in three days as me, a surprising un-lot can happen – mainly because my friends are way better at life than me, so I was flying solo. Tegan had two all-day training sessions (two more than I’ve had in MY WHOLE LIFE) and Rachel’s mum took her and HOB (Hot Older Brother, technically christened Dan) to get a late-summer mid-season wardrobe refresh at some posh shops in Birmingham. There wasn’t even any football on so I could accidentally-on-purpose bump (not physically this time) into Adam. Even Mikey seemed to be busy with a hectic schedule of falling into pavements (he calls it skateboarding, but I’ve seen it IRL and have to disagree).

  I’d had to resort to plan E: lying on my bed and thinking about Adam. Luckily I had the stamina to do this for days.

  Ignoring our last encounter, this summer had really notched things up a gear between us. Even if it had just gone from “Reverse” to “Parked”.

  It had kicked off last term with us commenting on each other’s posts, not realizing who we were, and ended with him turning up on my doorstep when I was in my pyjamas with teddy bears on them (as much as I wanted to forget this detail, Jo enjoyed reminding me on the reg).

  Since then we’d had:

  •1 × solo hanging out, aka maybe a date (I had no idea). (We were meant to go bowling, but I’m so embarrassingly bad at it I talked him into milkshake drinking instead, which I’m naturally gifted at.)

  •2 × group hangs aka just being in the same place at the same time. This was mainly playlist wars on the playing field, while Rach and Tegan stood in formations that facilitated my full-on secret-staring at him. (Inventor of reflective sunglasses – I owe you one.)

  •2 × casual runnings-into (that may have involved a less-casual three-and-a-half hours of walking Mumbles to increase the likelihood of this happening. One day it rained so hard I’d had to fashion a dog-umbrella for her out of a crisp packet and twigs).

  •2.5 × us watching him play football. Tegan’s amazing at football – well, all sports, really – so we pretended we went because of her love of the beautiful game (nothing to do with my love of the beautiful man playing the beautiful game).

  •1 × actual accidental runnings-into (I realized afterwards I’d had a piece of hair caught upright in my sunglasses, like an antenna).

  But despite these 8.5 being-near-hims, I had no idea how he felt about me, all made worse by two things.

  •Every second I spent with him, I liked him more and more.

  •Every second I spent with him, I got weirder and weirder.

  Yup, as I seemed to be devolving from human back into gibbering blob, Adam had carried on looking more and more like he could be in the Helicans and still be The Fit One. And The Funny One.

  EURGH.

  I didn’t have a clue if he liked me, or just liked me as one of the gazillion friends he already had? It wasn’t a great sign that he hadn’t suggested any plans since not-bowling (nowling). And not hearing from him at all since Mounting Day meant checking my phone every 0.1 seconds, which made time drag extra hard. BLEURGH.

  Maybe thinking about him wasn’t so fun after all?

  I drifted into picturing his eyebrows that were so cute they made me want to stroke them like baby hamsters.

  Nope, scrap that. Thinking about him was all kinds of fun.

  But Thursday six p.m. finally ticked round. Tegan, Rach and my meet time to find out if St Mary’s had made it through. Right on cue, the doorbell rang and in they walked, not even breaking their convo. Instinctively I joined in without knowing what it was about. I herded them straight into the kitchen as Mum had taken out a tub of fancy-looking ice cream, and I thought we should eat it all to avoid the potential sadness of it melting. She was busy chatting on the phone in the lounge anyway.

  Rach plonked her bag on the table, spilling out an entire Superdrug’s worth of nail varnishes.

  “Say hello to Plan: Distraction.” She stood her iPad up on the table, and opened a gallery of all of the Helicans’ singles and albums. “Thought we could try and recreate these,” she nodded at the artwork, “on these.” She waggled her fingers, nails forward.

  Only in Rach’s world could paying minute, intense detail to the Helicans, as you add them to your own body, be a distraction from thinking about them. But it’s not a friend’s job to point these sorts of things out – that’s what teachers get paid for. It’s a friend’s job to go along regardless. At least she hadn’t asked us to join in with her good-luck ritual of drawing the band’s “H” logo on her ankle, which she’d done every day since the competition was announced. Her white trainer had developed a bluey tint to it.

  Teeg began lining the bottles up in rainbow colour order.

  “Sounds like a plan to me. Even though I’m gonna to have to take it all off tomorrow. It’s non team regulation apparently.”

  Rach and I glanced at each other. What fun did they allow her to have at training?

  “Well, something that deffo IS team regulation – in fact, requirement for qualifying for the national team, I’ve heard – is ice cream. Right, Rach?”

  Tegan laughed as Rach gave a very firm “YES”. I handed out spoons, served up some bowls, and we got stuck in. But, as with everything in this house, it didn’t taste as expected. And by the looks on the others’ faces, it wasn’t my paranoia – it really was an acquired taste. The proof really was in the pudding. And the proof was … oaty.

  Nobody rushed back in for seconds. Except me, as I eat things I don’t like, just because I enjoy eating so much.

  “Knock knock!”

  Mum breezed in from the hallway, verbally knocking on an imaginary door. Ironic since she can’t master the concept with real ones.

  “Girls! How lovely to see you?!” She gave Rach and Teeg each a hug/body press even though they had their arms out wide to avoid getting her jumper fluff in their wet nail varnish. But they were used to her.

  She stood back and looked at them both like a proud mother (of two children who aren’t hers). “Soooooo, what’s the news?”

  I hate it when she tries to get gossip via unfair-friend-pressure routes. I jumped in before they could buckle.

  “The thing on every night on BBC One.”

  Ignoring me, she pulled up a chair. “Tegan Allen. I must say – you get more beautiful every day.” Mum brushed her cheek gently. Tegan didn’t flinch but I knew she was crying inside tears at this personal boundary overstep. “Or is that what luuurve does to you?” Rach snorted. I inhaled a glob of ice cream (still eating it, still not enjoying it).

  DOES MY MOTHER HAVE NO SHAME?!

  (Although I’ve seen the pics of her nude yoga retreat, so I know the answer to this already.)

  BUT SERIOUSLY, AS IF PEOPLE SAY THIS?

  Tegan tried to mask her squirm by putting her hand up to her face.

  “Erm, I wouldn’t exactly say that, Ms Fisher.”

  I wish I’d never told my fam about Mikey and Tegan, but Jo had kind of played a big part in making it all happen.

  But Mum had stopped listening. She’d spotted the semi-eaten ice cream. Annoying. I’d risked a parent rant – pa-rant – on something that wasn’t even that delicious.

  “Bella No-Middle-Name Fisher. Tell me you haven’t eaten that ice cream?”

  “I can honestly tell you I wish I hadn’t?”

  The other two shot me mini-evils. Mevils. I may have forgotten to mention I hadn’t explici
tly got the eating of it agreed by all interested parties, i.e. my mother.

  “And how was it?”

  Tegan and Rachel murmured a combo of “cold”, “creamy” and “icy” – all factually true. It was down to me to be honest.

  “Well, if there was nice ice cream – nice-cream – and not-nice ice cream … it would definitely be nearer the ‘not’ end.”

  “And do you have any idea why that might be?”

  I shrugged.

  “Well … it’s actually part one of my news.”

  Mum had news?! This was news to me.

  She walked over to the freezer and flung the door open. Had she finally thrown away that weird leg of lamb she’d bought before I was born? I got my phone out to message Jo, but stopped as I noticed all that was in the freezer were more pots of the ice cream. Had my prayers finally been answered? (Obvs world peace was first, but I’d take what I could get.)

  “TA-DAAAAAA!”

  Too many seconds passed of us all smiling in a we-support-you-but-have-no-idea-why-you’re-standing-proudly-by-a-freezer way and her standing proudly by a freezer.

  “It’s the stock for my new business. It arrived!”

  WAIT. What in the blessed name of Sir Ben and Lord Jerry was happening?

  “Erm, explain???”

  She pointed to the pot on the table.

  “It’s an idea that came to me while I was relaxing on the cruise. Where I met Paula, my new vet friend? Since then I’ve been working with her, and my supplier … and it’s finally all here.” She pointed at the half-eaten pot again as if any of this made sense. “Yes, girls. You are now looking at the proud producer of…” She closed her eyes and breathed in like she was winning an Oscar. “Doggie ice cream.”

  Thank. Goodness. I. Was. Sitting. Down.

  Why hadn’t she shared any of these details before?!

  She mistook my shock for confusion. “Ice cream – for dogs, Bella! So they can have a summer treat too.” She said it like it was the most obvious statement. But summer treats?! Was this just the tip of the ice(cream) berg?! What was next? Dog bikinis? Bark-inis.

  “Paula’s helped me make a dog-friendly non-dairy recipe with all natural ingredients!”

  Still no words.

  Mum pointed at the circular logo I’d not bothered to look at before. “I’m sure I told you about it.”

  I shook my head. “I’m sure you haven’t.”

  “Didn’t you wonder where I’d been disappearing to for all those meetings?”

  I decided “blank face” was a better response than, “No, cos I was just happy I could have control of the TV remote.”

  “Aaaaand, news two. I’m going to sell it in a shop on the edge of town. I’ve rented a shop!! Can you imagine? It’s called… Wait for it, I’m really proud of this… Give A Dog A Cone!”

  Actual. State. Of. Shock.

  Mum held my hand, looking me right in the eye.

  “This could be it, Bella – our ticket to financial stability. I really think this could work for us.”

  So many thoughts rushed through my mind, I wasn’t sure which one to deal with first. Top were:

  Mum had a new business.

  Mum had a business at all?

  Mum’s business involved dogs AND ice cream?!

  Mum’s business had a really good name, but could dogs hold cones? Unless they were sitting upright using their paws as hands, which seems quite poised for a pooch.

  Had Mum thrown that lamb out after all?

  And a late entry:

  OH MY WHATBALLS? I’d just fed my friends animal food.

  “MUM?! TELL ME IT’S SAFE FOR HUMANS!”

  I ran my tongue over my teeth, trying to remove all traces but just causing an extra-oaty blast. She looked reassuringly at us. Phew. As unhinged as my mother is, even she wouldn’t put non-human food in a freezer. That’s parenting rule number two. Behind “Don’t leave things on the stairs” (despite them basically being shelves you can walk up).

  She smiled. “I … I don’t really know at this stage … but you guys seem fine?”

  Not the words I was hoping for. She picked up the tub we’d (mainly me) just eaten.

  “Ooooh – Cookie Spaniel. Doggie biscuit with dog choc chips. Nice. You could have picked up Live A Little – bone marrow with liver chunks.”

  I gave Tegan a look that said, “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine and I probably haven’t jeopardized your entire gymnastics career with a potential bout of food poisoning.” I think she interpreted it as, “I might be sick on the table.” Also correct. Rach, however, was taking the whole thing in her stride. Maybe it’s cos her legs were so much longer.

  “Congrats, Ms Fisher. That’s amazing news. And as a non-dog, I still thought it tasted pretty good. When does the shop open?”

  “Well, the launch party’s the week you go back to school. You must come along!”

  “Try and stop us!” Tegan sounded like she actually meant it.

  “Totally. Bells, let us know all the deets.” Rach gave me a genuinely excited nod.

  Mum beamed at them before remembering something else. “Oh – and I totally forgot to mention. Each tub sold will support the charity we got Mumbles from. The Bark Shelter. Cool, huh?” Mum ruffled Mumbles’ ears.

  CONFUSION.

  Was the twinge I felt pride, or a reaction to eating dog biscuit? It was kind of a cool (/frozen) idea. I had NO idea her dream of a business had come so far. Her own shop?! That was kind of bad-ass. Especially when she’d never done anything like it before.

  I grinned at Mum, then noticed my friends were one step ahead and smiling already. Trust them to twig on to the brilliantness of this before I did.

  “Thanks, girls. That means a lot.” Mum gave my knee an affectionate squeeze under the table. “Now, seeing as you’ve taken that so well, how about part three of my news?”

  My stomach sank (again, maybe eating-animal-food related). If parts one and two were anything to go by, was I ready for another instalment?

  I attempted a guess. “You’re launching Deep Pan Purrza – a pizza chain for cats?” Only a half-joke.

  Rach laughed. “With Paw-purr-oni toppings?”

  Overexcited, I threw another one in.

  “And Miaow-garita?” OK, that didn’t work as well as I thought it would.

  Mum shook her head. “Sadly not. It is something that’s going to affect the family … through hopefully in a great way.”

  She smiled at the three of us. Had she forgotten only one of us had come out of her vagina?

  Tegan raised an eyebrow at me. Did she have insider info?

  OH. MY. DOG. ICE CREAM.

  Was she eyebrow-reminding me of when her mum and dad made their “family announcement”?

  IF MUM’S HAVING A BABY I AM LEAVING RIGHT NOW AND MOVING TO JO’S COMMUNE.

  Although then Mum wouldn’t feel guilty about converting my room into a nursery.

  IF MUM’S HAVING A BABY I’M DEFINITELY STAYING IN THIS HOUSE IN PROTEST. FOR EVER.

  Mum’s grin got bigger. “We’re going to have a new addition.”

  Rach clapped her hands together. I slammed mine down on the table. We sounded like the world’s worst percussion band.

  HOW HAD I GOT THE DEFINITION OF MENOPAUSE SO WRONG?!

  Mum leaned back in her chair. “I’m so happy you’re pleased!”

  Pleased? This conversation was the kind of emotional rollercoaster I didn’t have the height requirement to be on. Undeterred by my hyperventilating, Mum carried on.

  “I really hoped you’d be into the idea of a lodger.”

  WAIT. A lodger! No one was pregnant!

  I relief-exhaled so hard I blew over one of Rach’s nearly empty nail varnishes.

  “MOTHER???? I THOUGHT YOU WERE TELLING ME YOU WERE HAVING A BABY?!”

  Mum chuckled, but even my pancreas was sighing with relief (and I don’t know where it is). A lodger? I could maybe get my head around a lodger. (Although I guess a baby’s a lodge
r, just one with really bad table manners.)

  We’d just need to be really careful who we chose.

  “Jeeez, Mum. You had me worried. When did you even make this decision?”

  “Well, you know things have been a bit tight since the old people’s home closed down.” It was where she’d worked part-time for years. “And the costs of setting up the business means we’re not going to have a lot of money coming in for a while. I thought it could be fun!”

  As much as I didn’t want a stranger in the house, the only contribution I made to our finances was making sure biscuits never got wasted, so I couldn’t really argue. I tried to channel my inner Jo. Be rational.

  “OK. Guess we just need to figure some stuff out. Like how will we choose someone? And what if we don’t like them? And where will Jo stay when she’s back?” Mum blinked blankly at me. “And how can we make sure they like Mumbles? And will it be too much when you’re trying to launch the shop? And have you definitely thought this through?”

  Her extra blink meant both, “Don’t question me, I’m your mother,” and, “Of course I haven’t; I never think things through, so don’t ask again.”

  “And how soon are you thinking of finding this person? And where?”

  “Well, that’s an easy one.”

  Finally. Some answers.

  “She’s in the lounge.”

  CHAPTER

  FOUR

  Was this a joke?

  Even Rach and Tegan looked completely freaked out, and they don’t live here?! Mum leaned across the table and whispered. “She’s my friend Brenda’s friend’s neighbour’s hairdresser’s niece, and she couldn’t find any flats that would do short-term rents, so I thought this would be perfect.”

  Oh, well, that’s OK then?!

  Rach untucked her hair from behind her ears to prep for new person meet-age. But I couldn’t stop my mouth from hanging open like a fish.

  Rach’s first impression = the dream. Mine = a bream.

  Mum walked to the door, hissing a quick, “Be. Nice.”

  This really wasn’t a joke.

  “Shay … meet the girls.”