Outside was a barn filled with haystacks and hanging lights and a mini STAGE!
Before I could even process what was happening Cara, her mum and dad, and her brothers got on stage and began playing some of the best (and quite weird) folk music I’d ever heard. There was a LOT of spoon action.
I looked around the room to see how everyone was responding. Most people were dancing and having a great time. Except for a crowd of princesses and witches, and a small colony of rabbits, who were pointing and sniggering at Cara and her family as if to say, “What are they DOING up there?”
And then I caught Jessica Clark’s eye. She was standing next to the most ridiculous cat I have ever seen. I mean, if MARGARET tried to leave the house looking like that, I’d ask her to put some clothes on!
I looked away before she could turn me to stone. Cammy seemed to have disappeared. And then I spotted her at the front of the stage dancing like a maniac.
I suddenly felt quite uncomfortable with the poopulars standing at the back judging everyone, so I decided to look for somewhere to stand at the side until Cammy was finished her “I’m possessed” dance.
That’s when I noticed a very odd-looking person at the side of the barn.
I looked closely at the odd-looking person. It was Edward!
He was dressed as, well, at the time I didn’t really know what he was dressed as! His hair was slicked into the middle of his head and he had this weird granddad cardigan on.
But then I saw his feet.
On one foot he had an old greyish sock and a sandal, and on the other foot he had a shiny new shoe! It was HILARIOUS!
I was so impressed that I completely forgot about everything and went running straight over to him.
“You’re Mr Phart! That’s brilliant!” I said.
He looked at me a bit funny for a second.
“Oh, Peri. Hi! I didn’t recognise you.”
(That’s when I remembered I had my mask on.)
I know I should have taken it off at this point, like you do with hats, to be polite. But I didn’t. And I don’t really know why. Our conversation therefore went a bit like this:
“So you like my costume then?” he asked.
“It’s brilliant!”
“Sorry?”
He can’t hear me. My mask is too heavy-duty and the music’s too loud.
“IT’S BRILLIANT!”
I’m pleased I decided to keep my mask on since I just spat all over my face by mistake.
“Thanks. I thought you’d like it!”
“DO YOU LIKE ME?”
NO! OH MY GOD! That is NOT what I meant to say!!
“SORRY! NO! I MEANT TO SAY DO YOU LIKE MOTH? I MEAN, MY COSTUME?”
Aaaaaaarrrrrrggghhhhhh!!!!!!
I can feel my face burning under my mask. I’ll probably set myself on fire in a minute. I can’t BELIEVE what’s happening!
He’s not replying. He’s just staring at me.
Just then everyone started clapping and cheering.
“Before our next song we’d like to announce the prize for the most TERRIFYING costume.”
And then Cara and her brothers did a cool (spoons-only) drum roll for ages, gaining in speed until I thought their hands might fall off.
“And the winner is … JESSICA CLARK!”
Everyone cheered, including the poopulars, as Jessica walked up to the stage to collect her prize.
Jessica was dressed as a BRIDE.
She looked confused as she shook Cara’s dad’s hand and accepted her prize.
She clearly hadn’t intended to look terrifying.
As she stepped off the stage that’s when Cara’s dad said, “In some countries children are married as young as eleven years old. This is terrible and must be stopped. Thank you, Jessica, for choosing to raise awareness of such an important issue this evening.”
And then everyone clapped loudly as Jessica and the poopulars just stood there, stunned.
“Wow,” said Edward. “That was awkward!”
I burst out laughing. I couldn’t help it.
And then Cara’s dad said, “This one is for all the young hearts out there. Live and love, people. Live and love.”
And then they started playing a SLOW SONG!
Note to reader: One of the reasons I hate school dances and parties is largely because of the whole “slow song” thing. It’s horrible. The lights go down, and all the girls basically freeze on the spot and start panicking that nobody’s going to ask them to dance. I tend to start panicking in case somebody actually does ask me to dance since I have NO IDEA how to do it.
Slow songs are pretty much a lose-lose situation for me. I mean, if someone does ask me, let’s face it, it’s probably going to be Max Martin. And as well as demonstrating my complete lack of coordination to the entire school, I will probably catch “unicornitis”. However, if nobody asks me, then I’ll be one of those girls left at the side, examining the sandwiches and generally trying to blend in with the buffet.
One of the major dangers of the slow song is that you can never quite time when it is going to ATTACK. Everyone knows it’s a given that they’re going to play one at the very end of the night (which is why Dad is under strict instructions to arrive no later than fifteen minutes before the end of each school dance) but there’s always another one tucked in there somewhere that they release without warning at some random point during the night (so there’s no time to run and hide in the toilets until it’s over).
So I just stood there next to Edward while people began pairing up and wished that I was in my usual slow-song spot, next to the buffet with my friends (the sandwiches). I also wished I was a little less hairy, and a lot more invisible.
And then it happened.
Max Martin appeared and asked me to dance.
He was dressed as a frog. I do not know why.
I stood there frozen to the spot. How had he even recognised me?!
Before I could reply, Edward took my moth-hands and said, “Sorry, Max, I just asked Peri to dance with me.”
Thank God I had the mask on. Otherwise he would have seen me smile uncontrollably.
My head felt weird as we danced. Like I’d had ten Cokes and no sleep.
“Sorry, I hope you don’t mind dancing with me,” said Edward as we danced to my new favourite song of all time (who would have guessed I’d have my first dance with a boy to the sound of Cara playing the spoons?).
“No, it’s great!” I said, too enthusiastically.
Once the song ended, we went to get some juice and sat down on one of the hay bales.
My legs felt weird and shaky, but in a good way. The juice helped a lot! As soon as I felt cooler I took my mask off and we chatted for ages. Edward was actually easy to talk to and I began to stop being so nervous around him and relaxed. It was going brilliantly. Edward was telling me all about how he learned to play the guitar, and how he used to live in Australia and before I knew it I was talking LOADS and answering his questions and we were chatting like we’d known each other all of our lives. But then something terrible happened.
Edward asked about me and Cammy and how we met and became best friends and before I even REALISED what I was saying, I told him about our first week at Fortress and the register, and Cammy’s DEEP, DARK SECRET just slipped out!
I put my hand over my mouth in horror, and that’s when I saw Cammy staring at me. She’d overheard everything.
And then she turned and ran, knocking the entire buffet table over as she left.
The next day at school, word had spread about Cammy’s dramatic departure. EVERYONE was talking about it.
And I couldn’t find Cammy anywhere. I finally spotted her in the lunch queue and ran over.
“Oh my God, are you OK?”
“I’m fine.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes.”
It was obvious that Cammy wasn’t really speaking to me.
This was awful. Poor Cammy. I was her BEST FRIEND and I’d gone
and betrayed her trust and blabbed her secret to Edward.
“I’m so sorry, Cammy. I didn’t mean to tell him.”
I was terrified. I mean, I didn’t know if she was going to forgive me or not. I was hoping she would and that she would also understand that it wasn’t really my fault, and that it was all Mum’s fault for passing on her talking disease to me.
I was just about to explain that her secret was still safe and that Edward wouldn’t tell ANYONE when someone shouted, “EEEEErrrggghhhh! What’s that STINK?!”
I turned round to see Jake Jones standing right behind us holding his nose.
“Can anyone else smell CHEESE?”
Everyone around us started giggling and whispering.
And Cammy gave me the worst look EVER.
Oh God. No. Edward must have BLABBED. And now Cammy was going to think it was ME!
“That’s your real name isn’t it, Cammy?” said Jake. “CAMEMBERT THE SMELLY CHEESE!”
I could feel my heart racing.
Cammy put down her tray and walked out.
How could Edward do this to Cammy? To ME?
I turned and saw that Jessica was looking right at me. She was smiling.
I couldn’t believe that Edward had told someone. Possibly even Jessica. He’d promised not to tell! And now the poopulars knew! What a vom-face. I was never going to talk to him EVER again. This was ALL his fault.
That night I phoned Cammy like a MILLION times, but she wouldn’t pick up her phone. She was probably in her mum’s crystal room, lying on the massage bed surrounded by candles and soothing music.
I was just about to ask Mum if I could go over to her house when my phone beeped:
I couldn’t believe it! I couldn’t BELIEVE IT!
I didn’t know WHAT was going on. Why would Edward blab Cammy’s secret? Especially to JESSICA! And WHY would Cammy believe it?!
I wasn’t surprised that Jessica had got involved and was trying to turn Cammy against me. She’d obviously seen me dancing with Edward at Cara’s party and was fuming with jealousy.
It was right there and then that I decided there was NO WAY I was going to let Jessica get away with making up lies and turning Cammy against me. NO WAY!
I texted Cammy and explained what had really happened, but she didn’t reply. And when I tried to call her, her phone was switched off.
I lay on my bed, miserable, thinking about all the times Edward had obviously only been talking to me in the first place and acting all “human” and “awesome-like” so that he could gain my trust, find out all my secrets and broadcast them to the world!
And then ANOTHER realisation popped into my head. Our GIG! It had been EDWARD who had set it up. EDWARD who had picked the rubbish venue. Oh God. It might have even been EDWARD who STOLE THE SPOONS and put them in Cammy’s BONGOS.
And I bet he never fell off his bike! I mean, his hair wasn’t even a mess when he turned up. What if he just joined our band and then didn’t turn up for our first gig because he wanted to sabotage us, and wreck our band. Maybe he was one of them after all. A poopular!
I wondered if he’d actually been at the gig the whole time, watching and laughing, until it was all over. And then I realised that he and Jessica must’ve KNOWN the head teacher would be there, and that’s why they picked such a weird place for our first gig, because THEY had been the ones to steal the spoons, and THEY wanted to frame US for it!
It was unbelievable! I wondered if that’s what they had been plotting when I’d seen them in the library at Parents’ Evening.
I couldn’t wait to tell Cammy all of this tomorrow in registration. There was NO WAY she wouldn’t be able to believe me with THIS much evidence.
The next day at school, Cammy was back. She completely and utterly IGNORED me in registration, and when I tried to just tell her everything anyway, she asked Mr Burton if she could move seats.
I had no idea how I was going to get her to listen to me about what was really going on. I HATED not being able to speak to my own best friend.
I tried to talk to her again in Food Technology, but she just ignored me and continued to make what I’m pretty sure was a “Peri voodoo doll”.
After class, I almost fainted with shock when Edward tried to talk to me! Can you believe it?! What a snake-snot. I just stopped dead and gave him a “look”. I think he got the message.
It seemed to work.
At lunch, Cammy was nowhere to be seen.
So I took my tray and sat down at an empty table, and prayed that Max Martin wouldn’t take this as an open invitation to come and sit with me.
But I couldn’t really eat anything because my stomach was hurting, and had been since the night before. I was also put off my food by the disgusting sight of Jessica sitting at the poopular table, probably coming up with more evil plans to ruin people’s lives. I took pleasure in imagining she was munching cat-poo satay sprinkled with dinner-lady sneeze.
Then later, during Miss Morgan’s class, Edward tried to talk to me AGAIN! But I just looked away and ignored him completely.
After school, I just sat in my room and thought about the horrific-ness that was my life.
My best friend had made a voodoo doll of me, I was banned from seeing Margaret, and Mum and Dad were probably sitting downstairs right now flicking through Every Parent’s Guide to Total Offspring Humiliation – Part 2 for inspiration. Oh … and the boy I’d liked was a complete snail-trail.
I realised that all of this might be the reason my stomach was hurting so much (it also crossed my mind that this could be the work of Cammy’s voodoo doll).
I decided to ask Mum for help. That was a grave mistake. Mum dragged me to the doctor’s right away.
On top of everything else, I REALLY could have done without this terrible experience:
The doctor felt my stomach with her jaggy fingers.
“Does it hurt when I do this?” she asked.
AAAAARRRRRGGGGHHHHHH!
“Yes, a bit.”
The brutal knife-fingered doctor then told Mum that she thought I was constipated (can you believe my life?) and wrote me a prescription for something that would “loosen my bowels” and “significantly reduce the faecal compaction”.
Lovely.
I just wanted to get out of there and go home for a lie-down, but then Mum made us stop at the supermarket to buy prunes. She also got some prune juice, some herbal tea and a bag of figs. Apparently (in her non-expert opinion) these most disgusting fruits were the answer to all my tummy troubles.
After the concoction Mum made me eat/drink, I spent the rest of the night in the bathroom.
Dad had to drive back to the supermarket to use the toilet there.
I was humiliated.
My dad took this decision after what I believe to be the worst conversation that I have ever had with him (or possibly any human being).
It went like this (if you can bear to read it):
“Are you going to be long in there?”
“Yes.”
“Do I have time to finish my tea first?”
“Yes.”
Five minutes later.
“Are you almost done in there?”
“No.”
“Can you give me an idea of how long you’ll be?”
“No.”
“It’s just I think that curry your mum made was a bit on the spicy side for me.”
Please stop talking.
Enter Mum.
“What are you two saying about my curry?!”
“Nothing, love.”
“So, do you think you’ll be out soon, Peri?”
“NO.”
“Steve, leave her be. Her bowels have loosened!”
Kill me. Kill me now.
“Peri, darling, would you like me to bring you a cup of herbal tea? Or maybe some more prunes?”
Oh God. No. No more prunes.
“No, Mum. I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Wonderful. Just not in a
very chatty mood right now.”
“Well, there’s no need to be cheeky!”
Seriously? Surely there is.
“Well, I guess I’ll just have to drive round to Tesco and use the toilet there then?”
Was that a question?
Is my father trying to guilt me into coming out?
What does he think I’m doing in here? Reading War and Peace? Holding the dog hostage? Having a PARTY?!
The phone rings.
“Hello, Peri’s slave speaking.”
If I ever get off this toilet, I swear I’m phoning Childline.
“Erm … no. She’s a bit … busy at the moment.”
Oh no…
“She’s been very ill, you know.”
OH NO.
“I had to take her to the doctor’s…”
Oh my God. Did she just say FAECAL COMPACTION?!
“I think it’s all that cheese she eats.”
PUT THE PHONE DOWN! PUT IT DOWN NOW!!
Once I eventually left the bathroom, I found out that it had been EDWARD who had phoned.
I was humiliated.
I mean, even though I obviously didn’t like him any more (and in fact probably HATED him) I was still mortified that he had been involved in a conversation with my mother. A conversation with my mother about my bowels.
And how did he even get my phone number anyway? I mean, do people even still call landlines these days?
And why exactly was Edward “stalking” me now?
I was considering how to best report Edward’s “stalker-ish” behaviour to the police when a TERRIBLE thought entered my head.
So this is when I decided to lock myself in my wardrobe and start writing my memoirs (since I was concerned that I might actually die of embarrassment when I go back to school on Monday and wanted toto leave something of significance behind.)
And here I am.
I’ve been in here for most of the weekend.
Petunia Perry and the Curse of the Ugly Pigeon Page 12
