by Beth Garrod
BUT, OH, THANK GOODNESS. Mumbles missed it by millimetres.
BUT, OH NO, WAY WORSE THAN EVER BEFORE. The same couldn’t be said for the end of the branch, which was sticking diagonally up. And as Mumbles skimmed past, it bashed straight into the statue’s lower half. Stone dust flew everywhere.
And, like a killer shot at Wimbledon, the three of us watched as a large piece of grey rock flew through the air. Spinning in what felt like slo-mo, it headed straight for Adam, and landed with a thump into his lap.
I didn’t need to look to know exactly what the offending piece of rock was.
But I did anyway.
And wished I hadn’t.
Because what was there had knocked Hat Dog into second place in the “weirdest sight in Rach’s garden right now” leaderboard.
In Adam’s lap was a tiny stone penis.
I couldn’t take my eyes off it. And neither could Rach. Or Adam. Not that I could really see faces, as I was too busy staring at the area that shouldn’t be mentioned.
I swear even passing pigeons were looking.
Through the silence, Lis’s voice sang out, “Thiiissss isss whaaaat liiiifeee could be like with meeeeee.”
For everyone’s sake, I hoped it wasn’t.
THWANG.
Mumbles ran headlong into the patio door, finally freeing herself from the tunnel hat.
But Hat Dog was old news.
We were all staring at the liberated peen.
Someone had to do something. And that someone had to be me.
“I AM SO SORRY RACH!!! I WILL TOTALLY FIX THAT.”
But I also had to fix what was happening live.
I edged towards Adam, desperate to remove the appendage from his presence (whilst equally as desperate not to acknowledge it in any way).
The usually unflappable Adam had officially been flapped. His freckly cheeks had gone redder than me when I’d been covered in beetroot face mask.
Nice one, Bella.
I reached out a hand.
“Am I, er … OK, to, er … grab the, er, item?”
He said, “Sure,” in a way that sounded very unsure. Without making eye contact he retrieved it, and held it out.
I really didn’t expect my first time touching a man-dangle for it to be a group activity. Or for it to be happening in Rach’s garden with HOB staring from his room.
But there was no other option. With my thumb and first finger, I plucked it out of Adam’s hand like it was a burning hot carrot.
RELIEF – it was out of his lap.
HORROR – I was now dangling it in front of his face.
Please let this nightmare/daymare be over.
With mutterings of, “I’ll deal with it later,” I stuffed it in my pocket. MUST remember to take it out before I put my jeans in the wash, or I’m going to get the mother of all creepy talks from Mum.
This. Was. Awful. I was going to need at least ten minutes without any human eye contact to recover. I ran over to Mumbles to check she was OK, leaving Rach to deal with the aftermath. But Mumbles had discovered a tasty bit of bird poo and had forgotten the whole ordeal already.
If only the same could be said for any of us three (not the bird poo eating bit).
Desperate to put the statue castration behind us, Rach suggested we all go in for milkshakes. Adam and I both reacted with such enthusiasm it was like she’d suggested we go on a free all-you-can-eat tour of America. Anything to pretend what had just happened, hadn’t. Rach could sense my mortification, so to try and ease the mood, she chatted full on to Adam about who he could get to vote for St Mary’s next weekend. I love this girl.
I let them plan away as I rustled up our drinks.
“Uhhh, hmmmm.” I splodged peanut butter into the blender with a satisfying splat. “Peanut, popcorn and banana. Undisputed queen of all milkshakes.”
Adam smiled and pushed his glass forward. “Bella’s Bananutter Bonanza? I was BORN ready.”
Was it wrong to fancy someone even more cos they named a drink after you?
Rach passed over the ice cream. “Seriously F— erm, Adam, you have NO idea. It’s immense.” She was still trying to keep extra convo going to help me out. “In fact, it needs some sort of patent. Right now.”
She reached out for my phone. “May I?” I nodded, cos hers was charging next door. She brought up Google, Adam watching as I wrestled with trying to get a spoon through the ice cream.
Rach talked as she typed, “How … to … get … a … patent … for … Bananutter … and …”
But, on word three, my phone auto filled from my search history. And from the other side of the counter, I could. Not. Stop. It.
How to get rid of toe hair?
There was only one thing for it. I grabbed my phone. Turned it off, and blended the milkshakes for as long, and as loud, as was humanly possible.
Note to self: must urgently google how not to let Google show up googles. (Surely it’s an extension of all the weird thoughts you have in your brain, and there’s no way there should be a log of that ANYWHERE.)
I really hoped Tegan’s audition was going better than this. But after the blender noise died down, we were soon slurping overly large glasses of Bananutter, asking about HillFest, looking at pics of Molly, telling Adam all about Tegan’s try-out, and definitely not looking at my phone.
It was weird.
Because I’d so obviously failed at being impressive- and-cool Bella, I relaxed into being my normal, unimpressive-and-uncool Bella. And Adam and I had never got on better. Even when HOB came downstairs and immediately started grilling him. The flying peen must have sapped all of Adam’s awkward, because he took it all with a smile, winning him round with sport chat, and their mutual love of a TV show that said a great way of starting a fire in the wild was to use belly button fluff.
And even though it felt like seconds ago that I was stressing about him arriving, way too quickly it was time for him to head home. As he disappeared into the hallway to get his coat, Rach gave me an encouraging thumbs-up. And a push towards the door.
It was time for the most cringe chat of all. Front-doorstep chat.
Running my hands through my hair to try and look a little better than when he remembered me from three seconds earlier, I headed out after him. And without letting myself have any time to think too much, I blurted out what I needed to say.
“Thanks so much for coming over. I’ve had a really nice day.”
But Adam was bent double pulling his trainers back on.
“Sorry, did you say something?”
And as he stood back up, and looked at me all my confidence poofed away.
“Just, errr, thanks. For today.”
“Thank you. Funniest day I’ve had in ages.”
Well that was one word for it. I shuffled awkwardly. “Fanks.” And remembered I still had to figure out reattaching the item that was in my pocket.
Adam chuckled to himself. “Who knew we both found dogs hurtling around so entertaining?”
Marcus, that’s who.
“I’m sorry – blame the dentist. Her anaesthetic made me do weird things.”
He smiled. Had he, against all odds, had a good time? I couldn’t bring myself to keep eye contact, so stared at the floor like I’d never seen wood before. He shuffled his feet.
“So … how about the next one is up to me?”
I un-stared at the floor.
Next one?!
Next one!!
Adam wanted a next one?! Even my pocket-peen quivered.
“… unless you’re not up for it?” He paused. “Rach could come along?”
But he didn’t need to talk me into it! “No?! As in YES! I am. Up for it. That would be…”
But I couldn’t think of the word that meant all the amount of ‘YES’ that I needed, so instead I grinned at my lack of cool. Adam just grinned.
“Next Sunday then?”
I still had a chance with Adam.
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO
It was Mikey who told us that Tegan’s try-out had only gone “OK”. They’d had a big chat on Saturday and sorted everything out. Now with training back to normal, they were better than ever.
But it was Wednesday now and she was still ghosting Rach and me big style.
I’ve read a zillion articles on dealing with love breakups, but this friendship breakdown felt way worse than any boy ever could. Despite my sheer panic about the live final on Saturday, and worrying about Mum, it was the situation with Tegan that was eating away at me the most.
Yes, she sat with us at lunch, but that’s because she was with Mikey – and he was doing anything he could to glue us back together. The most we ever got from her was shrugs and “uh-huhs”. The only smile we’d achieved all week was when we re-enacted the flying stone peen (Steve the Steen as we’d started calling it) incident. To make her laugh, we even secretly dropped it into Tegan’s blazer pocket for her to discover. We thought we’d all laugh about it later, but that later still hadn’t come.
It sucked. My best friend was blanking me, while every single other person wouldn’t stop trying to make convo. I’d swap all of them for Tegan any day.
And it wasn’t just the students that were obsessed. When Mrs Hitchman saw us on Wednesday morning, she beamed and did the big “H” Helicans hand sign. I was so horrified Rach had to lift my elbow to help me wave back. Even worse, she’d then asked to speak to me at break.
It was the first time I’d ever opened the door to her office and been met with a smile. Unnerving. She gestured me to sit down, but glimpsing her Converse just freaked me out all over again.
“So first up – thank you. From everyone.”
“I haven’t won yet, Mrs Hitchman.”
“Well, when you do” – she made an oops face – “sorry, ‘if’.” She stressed the word like she was doing me a cute favour, not being factually accurate. “There’s going to be a lot of people very grateful indeed.”
She put her hand to the side of her mouth like she was doing a stage whisper. “And I may have already been in touch with the local TV news?!”
With an, “I’ll try my best,” that fell on deaf ears – except for her offering one-on-one practice rehearsals that I politely declined – I made as quick an exit as possible. I couldn’t wait for all of this to be over, whatever happened. Rach was waiting outside to tell me it was going to be OK. But I knew she was feeling as lost as me without Tegan.
We trudged back to class batting away all the shouts and hellos (that had become normal) with halfhearted waves. The only person who wasn’t celebrating early was Luke, who was loudly telling anyone who would listen that I didn’t have a hope of winning. He meant to stress me out, but people getting their heads around this quite strong probability, was exactly what I needed.
The only other person who wasn’t bouncing off the walls was Ava, which was weird, as she’d been the one doing the most to help get us this far. When she saw me sitting on my own in the changing room, killing time before heading to lunch, she walked over. But it was weird. The atmosphere felt like we’d gone back to week one of term. To strangers.
She sat and fiddled with the thumbhole she’d worn away in the cuff of her jumper.
“OK. I’m not sure how to say this…” She hadn’t got any better at her hellos.
“After the week I’ve had? Nothing will surprise me.”
“Yeah, you look like you could do with some cheering up.” Was I that obvious? She chewed her lip. “Not that it’s cheering. More weird, I guess…” Why was she being so shifty? “Anyway, yeah. It was … er, it was my question you answered.”
Mind = blank.
“Soz – I’ve got nothing.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Last show? vavavoom? Or as I would say, V-ava-voom?”
I was so shocked I grabbed her arm, even though our friendship hadn’t reached that level yet. “YOU’RE vavavoom?!??!”
If I was a cartoon, a puff of smoke would have just shot out of each ear.
She shrugged. “I didn’t think I had ANY chance of them picking my one, obvs.”
Woah. It was one thing giving terrible advice, it was quite another being face-to-face with the person you’d given it to – who also knew I was the last person in the world to give life tips. Unless there was any possibility Ava didn’t 100% already know that? She pointed at the side of my mouth.
“Bells – off topic – but have you been chewing a biro?”
She TOTALLY knew.
“Maybe…” I dabbed at the ink. “Slash yes. They taste nice! Anyway, er, well,” I didn’t know what to say. “I don’t know what to say.”
To my relief, she laughed. “Same. But I wanted you to know. So I could say a proper thank you – this last week has been the first one I haven’t spent a single lunch on my own.”
As soon as the words left her mouth, she looked a bit embarrassed.
“Gawd, this is so cringe. Sorry.” She laughed. “Who even am I any more?!”
But she shouldn’t be apologizing. It was the best thing I’d heard all week.
“Oi, I’m the one with pen on my face! And the talking to new people thing? That’s all you. To be honest, I only said what I did cos of what happened in the canteen when you Diet Coke sprayed Tegan. And we got talking for the first time everrrrrr.”
Ava smiled as she put the pieces together. “So you mean, I kind of helped with the comp?”
“Well, you or an exploding can?! Cos I’m sure that ‘you can sit with us’ bit was the only real reason anyone voted for me!”
She flung her arms round me. It was lovely. For 0.01 seconds. Until we both remembered that we don’t really like personal-space invasions. And pulled back, laughing at what weirdos we’d become.
Together we headed to the canteen. Rach was nowhere to be seen. It wasn’t like her to leave me hanging on my own. When she finally came through the doors, she was running. And waving a bunch of paper in her hand.
“I did it!” She slapped the stapled sheets on the table. “I got an A! I’m NOT being put down in English!”
Well this was excellent news. I gave Rach a massive hug (she always had a VIP pass to my personal space).
“Congrats, muggle!”
Adam would be happy too – he’d been asking about Rach last night when we were chatting online. Apparently he was planning a surprise for our next date. EXCITEMENT.
Rach shimmied her shoulders, so chuffed it was wiggling out of her. But someone was incoming on her right. Mikey – followed by a glum-looking Tegan. He stuck his finger straight into my custard. In retaliation I pulled the stool he was heading for towards me, tripping him into the table.
“Crimes against food must be punished.”
I wasn’t going to tell him he now had custard on his nose.
“You’ve got custard on your nose.” Tegan was a better person than me. She sat down next to him without a hint of a smile towards us.
Mikey did his usual power-enthuse through the awkwardness. “Custard bonus!” He wiped it off and ate it. “So Bells, what’s it like being the most Fay Mousse person around here?”
I blew on my nails. “Exhauuusting, but I’m holding up.”
I looked to see if I’d made Tegan smile – nothing.
Rach fake pouted.
“AnddidImention I totally nailed my English essay too?”
She swished her long red hair with an OTT hair flick. Luke wolf-whistled from across the room. He had a knack of sensing where he wasn’t wanted, and turning up right there.
Mikey glanced at Luke, then back to us, and lowered his voice. “Did you see what he did last night?” I shook my head. “He was all over social media encouraging people to vote for one of the other schools.” Mikey scrolled on his phone. “See?”
Under Luke’s username was a big pic.
A black square with big white letters.
VOTE LETTY
TEXT 84040
&nbs
p; GO JOGS!
He really was such an idiot.
“Jay and I reckon it’s his way of trying to get in with the JOGS girls.”
Ava looked grossed out. “Well his personality’s certainly not going to do it.”
This was normally the joke Tegan would have made, but she was busy staring into middle distance. I was also distracted – thrown by the amount of likes Luke’s post had. Over a thousand. A “Vote Bella” one would get nowhere near that.
“Go back to his profile, Mikey…”
Mikey brought up the grid of pictures. A real bumper selection of snaps of BMXs and his mates doing moonies (aka a normal person’s deleted folder).
But something was niggling at me.
Luke had 4.6k followers.
Surely not even 4.6 people could be interested in badly framed pictures of bikes?
I asked Mikey for his handset and scrolled down as Ava fessed up her vavavoom revelation, and they moved on to talking about getting votes for Saturday. This nagging feeling about Luke’s profile was exactly the kind of thing I’d normally talk to Tegan about. She always knew when I was overreacting – and when I was on to something. But right now she wouldn’t even make eye contact.
Whoever said “Time heals” lied. This felt worse every day.
“Bleeee!” Rach was peering over my shoulder.
“I know, right? And does this seem weird to you?” I showed her his follower number.
“Reckon they’re all bots?”
“I’d bet my final mouthful of sponge they are.” She shoved her spoon in her mouth.
She stopped chewing. “Who’s that mega bayyyybe?” She was pointing at a pic of Luke and Ska. How had he managed to not put her off yet?
“Ahh – that’s Ska I was telling you about.” And like prodding a bruise, I couldn’t help but click on it. The two of them were arm in arm, sitting on a posh sofa, black-and-white pics behind them, both smile/pouting/smouting up at the camera.
I put on my best Luke voice to quietly read what he’d written.
NBD when your girl signs her biggest modelling contract yet #fit #rich #fitandrich #shesmine #london #youknowit
I checked Luke wasn’t listening.
“I mean, as if his face and personality weren’t sufficient to put her off him, surely this comment alone would be enough?”
