Truly Madly Awkward

by Beth Garrod

  Sure, I was a bit cross at her for flying off the handle, but I was mainly sad that things weren’t right with us. And I wanted to make it better. Rach and I messaged her and suggested meeting by the Bum tree (the tree that looks like a bum) to walk home. With my shift at GADAC tomorrow it’d be the last time we could all be together before her try-out. As the afternoon dragged on, I got more and more nervous.

  Until finally, some good news: right on time, Tegan was at Bum tree.

  Bad news: things were definitely still weird between us.

  I was so worried about getting my words right, that the first half of the journey was just random chat to avoid talking about earlier.

  I had to be brave. “Teeg.”

  She replied with an, “Uh-huh,” knowing where this was going.

  “I’m really sorry about earlier. The last thing I wanted to do was make this harder for you.”

  But it was met with silence. Just the sound of our steps for what felt like for ever.

  “Look…” Tegan sounded serious. “… I’m sorry too.” OH PHEW. She wanted us to be mended too. “It’s just been so full-on, and I know it’s a bit out of hand, but … but I shouldn’t be taking it out on you guys.”

  She linked her arm through mine. Sealing the apologies in.

  Rach joined in on her other side. “We just want you to know how amazing you already are.”

  But Tegan looked uncomfortable. “Not amazing enough, I think. Have I told you about this new girl, Charlie? Next to her I look like a total beginner.”

  I did a little smile to myself and caught Rach doing the same. So she’d finally mentioned Charlie. We were inner-circle again.

  “Teeg, if you want to see beginner you should try watching me do a handstand. I look like a wild donkey.”

  She laughed, although it soon stopped. “But quickly. While we’re on the subject… Can I ask you something?”

  I squeezed her arm. “As long as it’s not about jumping dogs or the Helicans, fire away.”

  “Do you know what’s up with Mikey? I tried to apologize to him twice this afternoon and he was really off with me.”

  Erm. What should I say? Tell her the truth?

  Would she understand it was a mistake or fully freak out?

  I knew I had to do whatever was best for Tegan, not what was best for me. Shame I had no idea what that was. I looked at Rach but she seemed as confused as me.

  Luckily, Tegan didn’t realize it was an awkward silence, and assumed we just didn’t know what she meant.

  “It’s so unlike him. It was like he didn’t want to talk to me…” She sighed. “Just what I don’t need this weekend – wondering if my boyfriend’s about to break up with me.”

  Hmmm. So Mikey had kept his word and not dropped me in it, but had made Tegan more worried in the process.

  I had two options. Let Tegan sweat it out – which could distract her when she needed to be focused – or come clean – and run the risk of her hating me.

  I knew how much the try-out meant to her. And what I had to do.

  “OK, so promise you won’t be mad?” I took a deep breath. “I mean, it’s kind of funny.”

  She gave me a suspicious “Go on”.

  “Right. Yes. So … after that thing at lunch, Rach and I were wondering how we could make amends. Be better at helping you through this whole try-out.” Yes, start strong.

  Tegan looked confused. “And this has to do with Mikey ignoring me, how?”

  OK. On to the tricky bit.

  “Ah – well, we kind of got talking to him to see if he had any ideas…” Tegan’s eyebrow raised. I looked away. This was already too hard to explain. “Which sort of led to us chatting about your training… Which sort of led to me accidentally thinking that when Mikey mentioned Charlie, he was talking about that guy from the bus stop.”

  Tegan stopped walking. “What guy from the bus stop?”

  I had to carry on or I’d never get to the end.

  “And then I might have said something to Mikey about seeing you with him. Like … in his car last Saturday…” In panic I nervous laughed. But Tegan didn’t look like she was finding this particularly hilarious. Furious was more accurate.

  “Sorry, what?” She dropped her bag on the floor.

  “It was just a mix-up, I promise?!”

  “So Mikey’s being weird with ME cos YOU once saw Liam on a video call and have been spying on us ever since?”

  Ah, Liam. He finally had a name. But it wasn’t really a victory when I could see the expression on Tegan’s face.

  “Not at all! I just saw you together – and meant to ask you about it. But you’ve been so stressed!”

  “And you both thought going straight to my boyfriend to ask him about it was the best way to keep things calm?”

  This was not going how I hoped. Rach looked mortified.

  “It wasn’t like that. I promise!”

  Tegan took a breath trying to compose herself. “So let me get this straight. Now my boyfriend – who FYI I think is amazing – might finish with me cos you’ve made him think there’s something going on behind his back?” She was getting more irate with every word. “With LIAM?! Who – incidentally – is my sports psychologist? Who – oh also incidentally – comes to most sessions with his wife and children!?”

  Ah. This was really not getting any better. And Tegan was in full rage flow, spitting her words out. “Who I didn’t bother mentioning before, as he really was no big deal. LIKE I SAID. Plus, I didn’t want to risk another lecture from you two on how I was overdoing things by having extra sessions with him.” She was now full-on shouting. “But instead I’m starting the biggest weekend of my life justifying myself to you – and the rest of it sorting out your mess?!”

  Well, this felt awful. And like maybe I should have kept quiet after all.

  I didn’t know what to say.

  “I’m sorry – it really was an accident.”

  Rach nodded. “It totally was – I was there.”

  But Tegan looked like she was past caring. “I don’t have time for this.” She looked at me. “For you. So if it’s quite all right, I’m going to leave before you make anything even worse than it already is. Oh – and if you speak to Mikey, can you tell him you’re an idiot?”

  And for the second time that day she walked off.

  But this time I knew I’d really messed up.

  CHAPTER

  NINETEEN

  Friday evenings normally feel like the start of a mini summer holiday. But this one felt like one big fat Monday morning. I was so desperate to take my mind off my argument with Tegan that, as soon I got home, I headed straight to the garden to practise with Mumbles in the last of the daylight, but she spent the whole time eating grass like she was having a cow-based identity crisis.

  By the time Mum called me in for dinner, we’d achieved zero progress. Sunday was going to be a disaster. The only good thing had come out of this mess – Mum had picked up on my miserable mood and had made my fave. Broc ’n’ cheese (a version of mac ’n’ cheese, but with added broccoli). Dinner began with the usual disagreement over whether she should rename it “broc ’n’ mac ’n’ cheese”, but as usual she argued then we’d be listing every single ingredient, and we might as well call it “broc ’n’ mac ’n’ butt ’n’ salt ’n’ garl ’n’ must ’n’ mil ’n’ flou ’n’ cheese”.

  It was delish, but as we ate Mum looked more glum than me – she hadn’t been her usual chatty self for weeks. Next time it was just the two of us I’d ask her what was up. Whatever it was, I didn’t want to add daughter-who-has-humiliated-herself-live-on-radio-so-much-that-she-has-to-live-out-her-existence-in-my-lounge to her woes. So, when Mum answered the phone to Brenda (so could be distracted for four hours plus), it was the perfect time to do what I’d promised Rach. Speak to our Secret Weapon.

  Standing next to each other at the draining board, Shay and I looked like a real-life game of opposites. She was in a structured statement mini dress and
hadn’t taken her heels off, and a foot and a half lower was me, now in my burger pyjamas and horse slippers.

  “So, Shayyyy.”

  “Soooo, Belllaaaaa,” she replied, passing me a bowl. But I wasn’t sure what to say next. “C’mon, I know something’s up. You’ve been starting sentences, and trailing off all evening.”

  “Oh sorry! I didn’t realize…”

  She turned to wipe the table.

  “See?”

  “Ah… OK… Well… It’s errrr, about next weekend… About the final.”

  She chuckled quietly. “Surprise, surprise.”

  I tried to sound as casual as I could.

  “I just wondered if you’d heard from er … the guys at all?” I’d totally overshot Casual Village and ended up in Cringetown. I scrubbed extra hard at a plate so not to see her reaction.

  “If by ‘the guys’ as you say, you mean ‘the band’ then the answer’s no…”

  Oh. I knew that would be the answer, but couldn’t help feel a bit sad she hadn’t said, “Yes, and they said they loved you and will do anything to help you win. And isn’t Letty a total monster?!”

  “I don’t like them to bother them when they’re on tour, you know?”

  She always said “y’know” when I really didn’t.

  Her arm went round my shoulders. “Bells. It is going to be OK.”

  I dropped my head. She didn’t even know about the Tegan situation. Or the Adam one. Right now things felt very far from OK. “Look, I’ll chat to them when we’re at the studio. Keep it informal.”

  I smiled. At least there was a glimmer of hope in all this rubbish. Just having her around, on our side, was going to be such a boost.

  My phone beeped. Had Tegan come round?

  I’m at my little sister’s Year 3 Spelling Bee. Someone just got thrown out for not being able to spell misspelt. Am so glad I’ve got Sunday to be thinking about x

  Oh my broccoliballs – an unsolicited Adam message. I was so excited I didn’t even not-reply immediately to try and look cooler than I am.

  It’s going to be something! Prepare for slobber!

  Followed by an emergency clarification:

  From Mumbles.

  Which, despite staring at my phone for the rest of the evening, he didn’t reply to. Thinking of the thousand different things I should have replied with, I crawled under my duvet, promising myself I’d take off my make-up and clean my teeth in a second. But instead I got sucked into an internet hole trying (and failing) to find pics of Letty, studying recent photos of Tegan to see if she looked happier with her new training friends than with us, looking at Luke’s new girlf’s holiday pics from two years ago (She’s so pretty! She has SO many followers! She really does have outstanding wrists!), and watching vids of small animals with hiccups.

  But my bed must be like the Tardis, and seconds later it was nine a.m. and I’d woken up to the sound of a baby mongoose sneezing on my laptop screen.

  The most important weekend of my life had begun.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY

  I started Saturday like I meant to go on – total power woman. YAS, BELLA.

  I sprang out of bed, ate cereal that was brown (not rainbow), blasted the Helicans on repeat and said confident hellos to everyone I saw (including a confused bin man).

  But sadly I soon discovered that the battery that powered my newfound power-woman status only lasted approximately forty-five minutes. And by the time I was halfway through another slow day at GADAC, I was on emergency power-save mode.

  Maybe launching an ice cream place in the autumn wasn’t the greatest idea? Still, as Mum always pointed out, “Anything keeps in the freezer!” (Followed by a more business focused, “And it’s always the season for a treat”.)

  Today I’d brought Mumbles with me – maximizing bonding time before our big moment tomorrow – and discovered she was surprisingly good at smiling with her eyes. But after two hours of uploading hilarious pics – complete with more hashtags than I’d #everusedinmylife #cringe – we’d only added two new followers (and one of them was a naked lady “looking for good man fun”. Not dog ice cream).

  The shop was so quiet I FaceTimed Jo. She’d been in a mood with me after I chose Shay to give us a lift to the final. I wasn’t surprised. Ever since the GADAC launch Jo had had it in for her. She blamed Shay for the fiasco and kept telling me she couldn’t be trusted – and that she wasn’t Team Fisher like she said. Even when I told her how nice Shay’d been with all her advice, and lifts, and help with the comp, Jo wouldn’t have any of it. So I reckoned she was just jealous.

  Jo’s mood had upgraded into epically bad when she’d discovered Mum was away at a business workshop the day of the final, so she’d been drafted in to cover my GADAC shift.

  So I thought I’d ring and clear the air. And it worked, cos when I told her about being patted by Adam leading to somehow now having to perform dog agility for him – she was too busy laughing at me to remember to hate me. A result – I think? I then fully repaired any damage by letting her enjoy a ten-minute mega gloat that Mum had said yes to paying for her athletics trip. Job done.

  The afternoon was even quieter than the morning. It was pouring down and I only had four customers – so packaged up some online orders to pass the time. When Mum arrived to pick me up, I/Gary was sitting cross-legged on the floor by Mumbles.

  “Hello, Little and Large.” She gave us both a kiss. And a pat behind the ears.

  “Maybe people’ll think I’m her Patronus?”

  “Maybe they’ll think you’ve lost the plot.” Mum opened up the till. “Have you already cashed up?”

  I shook my head. “Nope. We just didn’t get many people in today. Must be the rain.”

  She gave me the kind of smile that makes you feel awful, as you know it’s done to comfort you, even though the smile-ee looks like they feel way sadder.

  “Oh well, I’m sure it’ll pick up, won’t it, chickadee?”

  I tried not to notice how little money she was emptying and took off Gary’s head. I hung it on a peg, freaking out Mumbles, who stood and growled at it.

  “Everything OK, Mum?”

  She sighed. “Do you want the mum answer?”

  “The real one, please.” I didn’t really, but without Jo around, sometimes I had to step up.

  She leaned against the cupboards, weighing up what to say.

  “C’mon. I’m fifteen. I can handle it.” I couldn’t, but this week couldn’t get a whole load worse, so she might as well.

  She took a deep breath. “I just don’t think we’ve got more than a couple of months left here.” She looked around the shop. “We’re just not making enough to break even.”

  WOAH.

  I had to fully concentrate on not looking as shocked as I felt.

  I had no idea things were that bad?!

  “I know you’re doing your best on the internet with all your socializing.” Not the time to explain social media again. “But it’s just not enough.”

  Oh, man. She was on the verge of tears. And I didn’t feel far away myself. I mustn’t let her see. I put an arm round her.

  “Thing is, Bella, I put all my savings in here. Our savings. And Shay’s going back to London in a month. And … and, if things don’t pick up, I’m just not sure … sure what to do.” As soon as she said it she buried her head in her hands. “Sorry. Bad Mumming. I shouldn’t have told you that.”

  But she should. Because as terrifying as it was hearing things were falling apart, at least it meant now I could try and do something to help stop it.

  I gave her the biggest hug.

  “GOOD Mumming. I’m SO proud of you.” I used Gary’s paw to wipe away a tear. I felt like the parent. Well, a parent dressed as a dog. “We’ll figure this out. You’re not on your own, you know? You never are.”

  She held me extra tight. “Wonderful, wonderful Bella. I knew that from the moment I first clapped eyes on you.”

  That made me sound slightly
adopted, but now wasn’t the time to check.

  “Better than Jo?”

  She rolled her eyes. Normality had resumed.

  “Joint wonderful.”

  And, despite my terrifying date being less than eighteen hours away, my best friend hating me, and my entire school life hanging in the balance of next week’s final, when Mum and I headed home, we enjoyed the best evening I’d had in ages.

  Snuggled up under a sofa-duvet, we watched Saturday night TV, ate so much popcorn I had to undo my jeans, and best of all, both pretended everything was OK.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-ONE

  Mistake one was the home-made face mask I’d let Mum talk me into last night. There is a reason beetroot is a food and not make-up.

  My look was fifty shades of pink.

  Mistake two was THIS WHOLE DOG AGILITY THING.

  I stood in Rachel’s garden, looking at the course we’d created. I’d wanted “glorious sporting triumph”. I’d achieved: “looking like the outside bit of a garden centre had sneezed on Rach’s lawn”.

  Even if Mumbles did miraculously manage to impress Adam with an award-winning performance, I’d still be the girl who’d spent her weekend lugging around bits of decorative log and statues of small boys having wees (if that’s not acceptable in public, why is everyone so into immortalizing it in stone?!).

  For the first few hours, I’d been pretty proud of our ingenuity. Right up until HOB yelled out of the window, “What the HELL is that?!”

  Turned out answering, “A dog-agility course,” wasn’t enough to stop him following up with, “What goes on in your head?!”

  He was right. This was the worst idea I’d ever had. And I’d once thought it would be an OK idea to use Jo’s razor to shape my eyebrow. I’d never been more grateful Rach’s parents had gone shopping in Paris for the weekend and weren’t here to witness it.

  The pièce de résistance (retrospectively, pièce I should have resisted) was the “Tunnel of Terror” constructed from the big hoop Mum had bought, covered with a sleeping bag, all staked out into the ground.

  We’d done it when I was sugar-high on three bags of Haribo, but now a slice of normal thought had returned, I realized I had to take it down. I pulled at the poles we’d used to wedge it in, like this was all their stupid fault. But they weren’t budging. Damn Rach for putting them in with her superior upper body strength.