The Parent Problem

by Anna Wilson

  She doesn’t react. She just carries on gawping at Finn.

  ‘Listen to me,’ I insist. I try to stand in her line of vision. ‘Finn is really not a nice guy. OK? He completely ignored me and made a massive mess in our house and when Mum came back she asked him what had happened and he said it was my fault. And Mum believed him AND she paid him fifteen quid AND she asked him to come again next week!’

  At that point the bell rings and everyone starts scurrying past us to get back to lessons.

  ‘Next week?’ says Aubrey, as people push and jostle us. ‘In that case, if you won’t introduce me, I’ll have to come round to help babysit next week – just try and stop me!’

  School is a living hell for the rest of the day. I find myself actually missing the days when all I had to worry about was a bit of cattiness from the twins. That was a picnic with fairy cakes and ice cream compared with Aubrey going on and on about Finn.

  Any chance she gets during the day she is talking about him, dreaming about what it will be like to talk to him, pondering about where he comes from and what he is into. She even gets hold of a magazine at break and consults it as though it is an Oracle of Luuurve.

  ‘It says here,’ she says, flicking through Teen Girl, ‘that you have to play it cool if you want to get the guy of your dreams. Maybe that’s where I am going wrong?’ She looks up at me, her forehead crinkling.

  ‘Can’t see how that’s going to work,’ I mutter. ‘He hasn’t noticed you when you wave at him, so how is he going to notice you if you play it cool? Why don’t you just go up and say hi and get it over with?’

  ‘But that’s the whole point,’ says Aubrey. ‘If he hasn’t noticed me when I am being totally obvious, then I have to use “reverse psychology”,’ she says with emphasis, stabbing her finger at the page. ‘Then he might “realize what he is missing”,’ she adds. ‘It says, “If you love someone, let them go—”’

  ‘Oh yeah, let me guess,’ I cut in. ‘ “If they come back, it means nobody else liked them, so you’d better set them free again”.’ I snigger.

  Aubrey frowns. ‘No, it doesn’t say that,’ she says. ‘It says “If they come back, they are yours”.’

  I let out a heavy sigh. I don’t know why I bother saying anything. Even my sarcasm is lost on her now she is in über-loved-up-mode.

  Thankfully Aubrey doesn’t get another chance to catch sight of Finn. The first day back at school is always pretty hectic with endless assemblies and lessons on how to write your name in your new books and how to walk sensibly when crossing the road for the bus.

  I finally get a reprieve from her love-struck wittering at the end of the day when she goes to get the bus into town to go to the dentist. (I do wonder why she didn’t go in the holidays, but at the same time I am glad she is busy and can’t try and invite herself over to spy on Finn.)

  I get on the bus going in the opposite direction from Aubrey and decide not to turn my phone on, just in case she bombards me with Finn-related questions all the way to the dentist’s waiting room.

  It is a lovely peaceful journey during which I manage to dream up some pretty cool descriptions of the VTs with their crocodile-smile faces. On the short walk from the bus stop to my house, I start planning what I am going to do later once I’ve finished my homework when I realize that someone is walking behind me.

  I keep my head down and pray it isn’t Finn.

  ‘Hey.’

  It is Finn.

  I half turn my head, keeping my face shielded by my scruffy hair. ‘Hey,’ I mutter.

  ‘D’you always get the bus?’ he says. He takes a couple of longer strides to catch up with me.

  I glance sideways at him. ‘Depends.’

  Finn nods. He hoists his bag higher up on to his shoulder.

  We walk along in silence. I cannot believe he is getting the bus too. Am I going to have him in my face everywhere I go from now on? Wait till Aubrey finds out. She is going to love it . . . This is horrendous.

  I try to keep a pace ahead of Finn, but it’s tough as he’s so much taller than I am. I wish he would either fall back or run ahead, as I can’t think of anything to say to him other than ‘Go away’, but I can’t quite bring myself to say that. I actually don’t want to be drawn into any kind of conversation, even one that shows Finn just how much I resent him.

  We have reached our houses. I look up at them. They are joined together. Not all the houses on our street are like this. Some of them stand alone. Suddenly, seeing our houses joined like this, it feels like an ominous sign: Finn moving in on my life, pushing into my space. For the second time that day I find myself wishing I possess some kind of magical power. I would so love to be able to split the houses in two and banish Finn and Rob as far away from us as possible. Or bring Mrs Robertson back. That would be the best thing I could do.

  I open our gate, taking care not to look at Finn.

  ‘So, maybe see you tomorrow?’ he says.

  I jerk my head up. I feel the blood drain from my cheeks. There is no way I am going to let him anywhere near me at school. Aubrey would pounce on him like Gollum hunting a mouse. Although with less hissing and blood and guts involved. Tempting as that image is, I shake my head to banish it immediately because Finn is looking at me strangely. I hope he can’t read my mind. That is the only place where I am safe from him.

  ‘Sure,’ I say, then I get my key out and fumble with the lock.

  ‘See ya, then,’ he says, as he lets himself in through his door.

  Not if I see you first, I think.

  GAH! Turns out I didn’t get a chance to see him first . . .

  DOUBLE GAH!!

  Today is going to be the most humiliating day of my life. How do I know this? Because I am sitting in the car next to Finn on my way to school.

  I KNOW! I never get a lift to school, so I should be pleased. But (a) I am being driven by Mum, who is wearing possibly the most insane outfit ever seen on another human being in real life (more on that later); and (b) I am sitting NEXT TO FINN.

  If Aubrey sees us arrive together I will be dead on so many levels I may as well start planning my funeral right now. She texted me last night asking me AGAIN when I was going to introduce her to Finn. I avoided the subject. I am not going to be able to avoid it when I arrive at school with him BY MY SIDE, am I?

  Aubrey also sent me another text before signing off which was a bit bizarre. It said:

  Had a gr8 time this afternoon! C U 2moro!

  When I texted back –

  What do U mean? Did you have a gr8 time at the dentist, you freak?!

  – she replied:

  Oh yeah! Meant it was gr8 to be back at skool wiv U Looking 4ward to seeing you tomoz xxxx

  I was puzzled and thought my best friend was being a bit needy. But hey, at least my thoughts about us growing apart were probably not justified. So I was looking forward to seeing her too.

  UNTIL NOW!

  Let me backtrack to explain . . .

  The day started at 6.30 a.m. with hooting and shrieking and the most appalling music coming from the kitchen, which is right underneath my room. At least it meant that Gollum was not sitting on me, suffocating me again. She was as shocked as I was by the racket coming from downstairs and had taken refuge on top of my wardrobe.

  I shuffled down to breakfast, my face heavy with sleep, to find Mum, Harris and Pongo spinning round and round while Harris twirled something above his head and made loud whooping noises.

  I walked over to the radio and turned the music off. Harris whined and immediately raced over to switch the radio back on again. I put my hand out and pushed it against his forehead to stop him running into me.

  Then we were rolling on the floor, fighting and screaming at each other and Pongo was joining in, wagging his tail and licking my face.

  So far, so normal.

  Mum, of course, did nothing to stop any of this. She merely raised her eyebrows, took a sip of her coffee and said, ‘Oh dear, someone’s got out of the w
rong side of bed this morning.’

  Coming from the woman who looked as though she had fallen into the clothes recycling bin outside the supermarket! She was wearing a lime-green satin dress with black lacy trim. And dancing to ear-injuring 1980s power ballads with her eightyear-old son and a dog.

  At breakfast! On a weekday! What if the postman came and rang the doorbell? What if one of the neighbours popped by? Then she would be seen IN PUBLIC like this.

  She thought I had got out of bed the wrong side? I say she gets out the wrong side every day and smacks her head against the wall. It is the only way to explain her complete and utter inability to behave like a normal human.

  Then, just to put the icing of disaster on my cake of doom, the doorbell DID have to ring, didn’t it? And guess who it was?

  Finn and Rob.

  For one moment I had hoped they were coming to complain about the rumpus Mum and Harris had been making, but no. They wanted to remind us that the bus wasn’t running this morning because of the roadworks in town, so could Mum possibly give Finn a lift to school with me because Rob had just been called to an urgent meeting and had to leave early. They had heard the music and assumed we would be up. (So the music really was that loud. The shame!)

  From the look on Rob’s face, he hadn’t assumed that Mum would be practising the salsa wearing a dress which looked like a nuclear-reactive bin-bag.

  And from the look on Finn’s face, he was loving every second of my very obvious mortification.

  At least I am not having to speak to him on the way into school: he has plugged himself into his headphones and turned his back on me. I don’t blame him. Mum and Harris have put the radio on and are singing along to ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ at top volume. Harris is doing the ‘Galileo’ part at a pitch that will soon have all the neighbourhood dogs chasing our car if he doesn’t tone it down a bit.

  I know I say I don’t much want to change and grow up and stuff, but sometimes I wouldn’t mind being able to leave home.

  Oh no, we’ve pulled up in the car park at school and I can see Aubrey and the VTs are walking in together, heading towards the locker area already. Hide me, someone, PLEASE!

  Finn gets out of the car as soon as Mum pulls up at the railings and mumbles, ‘Thank you, Mrs Green.’ Then he slouches off, headphones still on, head down, shoulders hunched.

  ‘Aww,’ says Mum, watching him go. ‘ “Mrs Green”! Isn’t that cute?’

  ‘Pur-leeeze!’ I mutter. I am impressed with Finn’s quick getaway, though, so I attempt the same technique, but I am fumbling too much with my notebook and school bag. I don’t get more than three paces away from the car before Mum has wound down the window and is calling after me.

  ‘Skye, darling!’ she wheedles. ‘Don’t I even get a kiss?’

  I freeze as the group of people in front of me turns to see who’s shouted those cringe-making words. I keep my back resolutely turned on Mum and fix my eyes on the ground, hoping she’ll get the message, shut up and drive off.

  However, as I see expressions on the faces of the people in front of me change from mild interest into full-on glee and amusement, I hear Harris yell:

  ‘Skye! Skye! I can see your knickers – your skirt is tucked into them!’

  Mum decides it is time to leave at that point and the car pulls away. It is too late, though. Everyone is looking at me and laughing. ‘Everyone’ being the VTs and their sidekicks who have miraculously reappeared as if drawn like magnets to my public humiliation. And peeking over their shoulders is Aubrey.

  My stomach falls as though I am in a rollercoaster doing loop-the-loop. I reach back and grab at my skirt and yank it. My face burns while I pray no one saw my knickers.

  My prayer falls on deaf ears. Or rather, it has the opposite effect: there is a pop and a slightly tearing sound as the button pings off the waistband of my skirt. I have pulled at the fabric too hard. My skirt comes away in my hands and falls to the ground before I can stop it.

  I shriek and drop into a crouch to gather my skirt back up again. Never in my life have I wanted to fall through a portal into another world so much as I want to now.

  ‘We can definitely see your pants now, Skye!’ says Livvy.

  I can’t get up. I am curled in a ball, clutching my skirt to me, willing the bell to ring, for a teacher to come – anything to get everyone to move away from me.

  ‘Yeah – what are you doing?’ says Izzy. ‘Auditioning for one of your mum’s Latin dance routines? You’re not supposed to rip your own skirt off. You’re supposed to have a partner to do that.’

  ‘Ha! Maybe she was hoping that hot Finn Parker would do that for her,’ says Livvy.

  Tears are threatening to spill down my cheeks. I blink hard and bite my lip. I can’t let them see I am upset. I’m going to have to style this out somehow. I will get up and calmly walk past them all, holding my head in the air (and my skirt up too, obviously). It’s no good, though, I can’t make my legs work. Why doesn’t the bell ring?

  Then I hear Izzy say, ‘Fat chance. Finn couldn’t get away from her fast enough. What d’you reckon, Aubrey?’

  At the sound of my best friend’s name, I automatically look up. There is quite an audience encircling me now. The VTs are in the front-row seats of course, their thumbs frantically texting while they giggle and smirk. I am surprised their brains are big enough for such multitasking.

  Oh flip. I am never going to get past this crowd. I urge myself to think of a quick come-back, a funny line to distract people from what has just happened.

  Nothing.

  Turns out I have lost the ability to speak as well as run.

  ‘Your face!’ squeals Livvy, pointing at me.

  As if following a cue, everyone erupts into a chorus of mean cackles and hoots.

  I swallow hard. How do the VTs know about the ballroom dancing? How can they do this to me? What have I ever done to them? I can’t bring myself to look at their pinched, sneering crocodile smiles. I finally manage to get up, my skirt firmly held up with one hand. I search out Aubrey, who is standing just behind Izzy. I plead with my eyes that she will come to my rescue. She doesn’t say anything; just shrugs and looks away, her cheeks pink. With what? Surely she’s not feeling embarrassed?

  Or guilty?

  Did she tell them about the dancing? No. I can’t believe my best friend would do that when she knows how I feel about Mum going to the classes. What would she get out of telling them that, anyway?

  I swipe at my tears with my free hand and am finally about to form some words when the bell goes. At last.

  Izzy, Livvy and their groupies give me one last look up and down before bursting out laughing again and turning to go to class.

  ‘Mind you,’ I hear Izzy say, as they walk away. ‘I wouldn’t want to be seen dead with any of that family. Did you see what Skye’s mum was wearing? Talk about a walking car-boot sale! It’s enough to make you turn GREEN. Hahahaha!’

  Aubrey mouths ‘Sorry’ and waits while the toxic twins and their gaggle of gargoyles walk past her. Then she comes up and puts her arm around me.

  ‘Come on,’ she says. ‘Let’s go to the nurse and get you a safety pin for your skirt. You mustn’t listen to them. They just think they’re being funny.’

  ‘Yeah. Hilarious.’ Tears are rolling down my face now.

  ‘You OK?’ she asks softly.

  I don’t trust myself to speak. I don’t want the tears to get the better of me. What would I say in any case? I think about challenging Aubrey over how the VTs knew about the ballroom dancing, but she is being so nice to me now and I just want to get out of here. Fast.

  Maybe she didn’t tell them.

  But if she didn’t, then who?

  My eye falls on Finn who is making his way to the Year 9 block.

  It was him, I know it.

  I will kill him.

  ‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ I say to Aubrey. ‘Thanks for sticking with me,’ I add with a watery smile.

  Aubrey leans into me an
d gives my arm a squeeze. ‘No worries,’ she says. ‘What are friends for? Besides,’ she adds, ‘now that I’ve saved you from the VTs, you owe me one.’ There is a glint in her eye that I don’t like the look of.

  ‘I do?’

  ‘You do . . .’

  ‘Okaaay,’ I say. ‘So, what do you want from me?’ The answer is already forming in my mind, but I am not going to be the one to say the words. I raise my eyebrows at Aubrey and wait while she clasps her hands together, grins from ear to ear and makes a funny little squeaking voice.

  Here we go . . .

  ‘Pleeeeease can you introduce me to Finn? I can’t speak to him on my own. I can’t!’

  She certainly should get a prize for not giving up.

  I let out a long, slow breath. ‘Maybe,’ I say finally.

  Anything to shut her up.

  Except it doesn’t.

  ‘Oooooh! She begins clapping her hands and squealing and jumping up and down, just like Pongo when you hold a doggy treat just out of his reach.

  ‘I LOVE you, Skye Green!’ she cries, giving me a monster hug.

  And, somehow, that makes everything seem OK.

  For now.

  The minute I have made the sort-of promise to Aubrey I begin to regret it. I already have visions filling my brain of Aubrey and Finn becoming a couple. I am perfectly aware of the saying ‘Three’s a crowd’, and I can just see myself being left out in the cold while they build their little love nest together. (EEUUW!)

  I decide I have to make a plan to divert Aubrey from any further thoughts of Finn.

  I promise myself that the next time she tries to bring him up in conversation, I shall think of a startlingly interesting thing to say to distract her. I am not going to be tongue-tied again.

  So when, after registration, we are scrabbling in our bags for our French books, and Aubrey leans over to whisper to me, I think to myself, I will be ready for this.

  ‘So, when is Finn next coming to babysit? Because I think it would be better if you introduced me to him at yours rather than at school. So, what I thought was, I could come round and say I had to do my homework with you – which wouldn’t be an entire lie, as we sometimes do that, and who knows, we might be given some homework to do in pairs anyway? And then I could offer to make Finn a cup of tea or something and that way we could get talking and I could maybe tell him The Hogs are looking for a new drummer and then maybe—’