Because life can’t get much worse.
Note to self: I MUST remember to stop staying that! I KNOW it only makes things worse when I say “things can’t get much worse!”
I eventually came out of my wardrobe today. I knew I had to face Fortress sometime! Before I left for school, my dad tried to talk to me about “boys”. It was like death.
Like I didn’t have enough stressing me out at the moment without adding Dad’s “Boy Talk” to the mix! I mean, I’d spent the weekend in a wardrobe, my best friend had cursed my stomach and I was about to return to Fortress and have to deal with the inevitable “poo” jokes that awaited me (thanks to Mum).
But Dad WOULD NOT let the “boy” thing go.
Note to the world: I think it’s weird that a word that is so normal and not at all weird can float around, not harming (or embarrassing) you for most of your life … until your DAD gets hold of it!
Examples of Acceptable Uses of the Word “Boys”
Cammy:
Those “boys” in Science class are evil worm-killers.
Miss Morgan:
It’s time for the “boys” to start sharing their feelings with the talking stick.
Mum:
Those “boys” across the road look like vandals.
So why is it that when my dad uses this perfectly normal word it makes me feel like my skin is going to slide off?
Please observe the following terrible encounter:
“So…” says Dad as he mutes the TV.
That “so” sounded a little too chirpy for my liking.
“So?” I reply.
My “so” is delivered with a clear message of suspicion and general “please-don’t-say-whatever-you-are-about-to-say-ness”.
Dad turns the TV off.
This can’t be good.
“How’s … everything?”
I am finding it difficult to judge this situation. He’s smiling, but he clearly doesn’t mean it. Dad’s an eye-smiler. And his eyes aren’t smiling.
Oh! Maybe it’s just my “tummy troubles”. Maybe that’s why he’s being so weird.
“My stomach’s fine now, Dad.”
“Oh. Good. Yes. But how’s everything else going?”
He’s fake-smiling even more now.
Mum has clearly put him up to this. She’s probably behind the couch. I bet she doesn’t even have a job. I bet she just lurks around, constantly looking for opportunities to strike.
“Dad, what’s going on?”
“Nothing’s going on! Why would something be going on? Isn’t a father allowed to ask his only daughter how she’s getting on?”
No.
“Yes, I suppose so.”
“So, how’s everything at school?”
“Fine.”
“And with Cammy?”
How does HE know about what happened with Cammy?
“Fine.”
“GREAT!” he practically screamed.
That was a bit too enthusiastic.
Oh God. His eyes are really wide now.
I have NO IDEA what’s going on.
“Oh. Yes. I almost forgot…”
No you didn’t.
Here it comes.
Whatever it is.
“Your mum said a boy called, yes? Now, what was his name again?”
Like he’d EVER forget.
“Edward.”
“Oh yes! That’s it, Edward. Nice name. Sounds a bit old though. Is he? Is he old? He’s not eighteen or something? He’s not eighteen, is he?! No, I’m sure he’s not. He’s at school with you, isn’t he? Is he in the same year? He’s not older than you, is he? He’s not a sixth-former or anything? No? No, I’m sure he’s not. Why would a sixth-former be phoning you? That doesn’t make any sense, does it? Ha, ha, silly Dad. So how is Edward? Did he say how he was on the phone? Mum said he sounded good. Is he good? Are you in the same class or something? Was he just calling about homework? Yes, he probably was, wasn’t he?”
Wow.
How many questions was that?
This is the weirdest I have EVER seen Dad.
Even weirder than the time Mum tried to go topless in France.
“Dad, are you OK?”
“What? YES! Of course I am! Why wouldn’t I be OK? Are you OK? You are OK, aren’t you? You’d tell me if you weren’t OK, wouldn’t you?”
“I’m fine, Dad. Do you want a glass of water or something?”
“No thanks. So, tell me about this boy, Edward.”
Oh God.
He’s not giving up.
“Is he a nice boy?”
Err, NO!!!
“He’s fine.”
“Was he just phoning to chat?”
Dad almost choked on that last word.
“No. I don’t know why he was phoning, actually.”
“What?! Is this boy harassing you or something?!”
Please stop saying “boy”.
“No, Dad. He was probably just phoning about homework or something, like you said.”
I feel a bit bad lying to him, but if I tell him the truth I think he might actually behead Edward. Which is fine by me, I just don’t want Dad going to jail, because there is NO WAY I could deal with Mum on my own.
“Oh. Yes. So … is this boy Edward your …”
Oh God. Please don’t say it. Please, please pleeease!
“… boyfriend?”
He just used the “b” word AGAIN.
I have actually died of embarrassment.
“No. Definitely not, Dad.”
“I see.”
He clearly doesn’t believe me.
“If he IS your boyfriend, you can tell us, you know?”
Us? Mum IS hiding behind the couch, isn’t she?!
“He’s not.”
This is torture. He is actually torturing me.
“OK. Well, maybe we should have a little talk about boys soon anyway. Especially after that whole ‘unicorn-fiasco’.”
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
OOOOO!
When I EVENTUALLY got to school, something bizarre was going on. Nobody was talking about my tummy troubles OR shouting “poo” jokes at me. It was weird.
Then during morning break, I found out why. My bowels were clearly old news because Cammy had just been crowned UGLY PIGEON!
I stood there (probably with my mouth hanging wide open) as everyone laughed and pointed at Cammy’s locker. It had a huge U.P. sign drawn on it and horrible fake feathers taped everywhere. Jessica was one of the people laughing too.
I ran over, actually grabbed Jessica by the arm and said, “You are literally the WORST human being I have EVER MET. Your mother must be ASHAMED!”
I was so shocked by what I’d done and what I’d said. I was absolutely furious, and I could feel my whole body shaking. Jessica looked shocked (she was probably scared in case I decided to bite her or something). I dropped her arm and turned to look at Cammy, but she was running down the corridor.
I ran, full-force, after her and eventually caught up with her outside our music cupboard.
“Cammy! Are you OK?” I said, putting my hand on her shoulder.
She spun round. She looked absolutely furious.
“No, Peri, I’m NOT OK. This is ALL your fault!”
“Cammy, please listen, it wasn’t ME! Yes, I told Edward about your real name but it was by COMPLETE accident. You have to believe me, Cammy! I had no IDEA that he was going to blab it to other people and that Jessica would find out. It was Jessica, she set us all up. I think Edward’s in on it too! They’re proper EVIL, Cammy!”
Cammy just stood there, still looking furious, and that’s when Miss Carrigan appeared and ushered us into the music cupboard.
“Girls, what on earth is going on? Are you OK?”
Cammy slumped down on one of the chairs and started cr
ying.
So I told Miss Carrigan about what Jessica had done to Cammy’s locker, and she sat with us for a while to make sure we were OK before going off to see the locker for herself.
Once Miss Carrigan was gone, I began explaining everything to Cammy.
I said I thought Edward hadn’t fallen off his bike and that he’d not turned up to the gig on purpose, because he’d been in on Jessica’s plan to sabotage our band. And that Edward had been the one who organised the bowling club for our gig because he knew the head teacher went there, and that they had stolen the spoons and framed us for it in front of the head (since we were called The Spoons).
Cammy just sat there and listened to everything, and she didn’t interrupt me once.
When I was finished I expected her to say, “I can’t believe this!” or “Peri, I’m so sorry!” and give me a hug or something, but she didn’t.
She started blaming ME!
“This is still YOUR fault, Peri!” she started shouting. “Even if it was an accident, YOU’RE still the one who told Edward!”
Before I could reply, she stormed right out of the music cupboard and ran down the corridor.
I didn’t go looking for Cammy after that, I just went to class. My head was spinning and I had no idea what to do or what I’d actually say to Cammy if I saw her.
By the end of English I’d decided that I was going to win Cammy back. I had a plan. I was going to make it up to Cammy and it was going to be AWESOME!
THE PLAN!
STAGE 1 – Cara
Even though Cammy hadn’t said it, I knew myself that I’d treated Cara badly. I’d become jealous when I’d seen her and Cammy getting close.
So I texted Cara and asked if I could meet with her that night. Cara texted back right away saying that she was at a debating competition in the assembly hall and that she couldn’t meet me.
So I packed up my stuff and went down to the assembly hall to see if I could speak to her there for a minute.
When I arrived, I spotted Cara up on stage. There were loads of people sitting down watching, and then someone announced that the debate was just about to start. So I sat down and watched. I’d never seen a debate before. It was pretty interesting actually!
When it was Cara’s turn to speak, she absolutely SMASHED the competition. It was awesome! Every time the other girl gave an argument in favour of capital punishment, Cara waited until she’d finished and then absolutely wiped the floor with her!
I stayed and watched the whole thing, and I’m glad I did because Cara’s team won the championship trophy!
I waited around at the end, and managed to get Cara’s attention before she left with her family.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, looking mega-surprised to see me.
“I came to say sorry,” I said. “I shouldn’t have shouted at you like that after the gig. It wasn’t your fault Margaret got away. I mean, even if it had been your fault, I still shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. I’m sorry.”
Cara looked surprised. She clearly hadn’t been expecting that.
“Why are you apologising now?” she asked. “Is it because of what happened to Cammy?”
So I asked Cara if we could please meet tomorrow in the music cupboard at break so I could explain everything that had happened, and she agreed.
“You were AWESOME by the way!” I told her before she left. “I had no idea you could do that!”
“I know,” she said, and smiled loads. “See you tomorrow.”
The next day, once I’d explained everything to Cara, she said that she forgave me for shouting at her.
Cara said that she could tell that I didn’t want her there, and that I didn’t really like her, and that she’d felt that way since the day of the spoon audition when I hadn’t looked very happy to have her join the band (which made me feel awful).
I explained to Cara that I DID like her (and I DID!) and that I’d just been stupid and jealous, and that I really wanted to keep getting to know her and be friends.
“Good!” said Cara. “Because I think you’ll find I’m sort of awesome.” And then she laughed and hugged me, and I was MEGA-relieved!
Stage 2 – Re-form the spoons.
Between the two of us, we absolutely perfected Stage 2 of my plan to make Cammy happy and get her to be my best friend again. And in a couple of days, we managed to:
1 Find Cara’s missing spoon at the bowling club (I hadn’t realised that they were special playing-spoons she’d ordered from Bulgaria for the gig).
2 Practise LOADS.
3 Get awesome badges made with Margaret’s face on them (Cara managed to use her debating skills to get the guy in the shop to make loads of them for us FREE! She’d kept on saying stuff about “Big businesses showing their support for youths and the arts”. It was brilliant!)
4 Get a gig at an actual REAL music venue!!!
In just a few days I’d MEGA-improved on the keyboard, thanks to my dad (surprisingly!). He’d come into my room while Cara and I were practising to see what I was up to and, as it turns out, Dad is actually kind of awesome on the keyboard, and he loves all the effects like I do. He even showed me how to use the laptop to “layer” music, which meant that I could record stuff and then play it back while I played more stuff over it – it sounded amazing!
Then me and Cara had the BESSSSSSSSST idea. We could RECORD Margaret and then play it as a kind of backing track while we all played so that Margaret could be part of the band without actually having to be there (because we were pretty sure Cammy’s mum wouldn’t let us take her to any more gigs).
Dad said that he’d come along if we wanted, and do all the sound engineering, and link up the laptop, and make sure there were enough mics, and check that the lights were right, etc. I didn’t even know he could do all that, but he said that he used to do it all the time when he played keyboard in a band years ago.
Then he started telling us about that for ages and I had to try REALLY hard not to ask him to leave because he’d been speaking for almost half an hour.
Miss Carrigan was the one who managed to get us the great gig, in a REAL music venue that LOADS of people go to. She’d been even more supportive of our band since the whole Ugly Pigeon thing. She even let us use the Music department’s photocopier to make loads of flyers (when Mr Fry had gone home!).
A few days before the gig, there were only a couple of things we still had to sort out:
1. We hadn’t finished making new bongos for Cammy (it was really hard!).
2. We had to get her to rejoin the band!
Cara said that she’d tried to speak to Cammy a few times that week, but Cammy hadn’t been at school much since everything that had happened on Monday.
So the night before the gig, Cara said that it would probably be best if she was the one to speak to Cammy, so she arranged to go over to Cammy’s house.
That night I was getting ready for bed when my mobile beeped. It was Cara. And all it said was:
I literally started jumping up and down with happiness when I read it.
Within seconds both my mum and dad were at my bedroom door asking me if I was OK and trying to stop my wardrobe from toppling over.
I grabbed them both and gave them a big hug (which I realised I probably hadn’t done for months).
“I’m fine!” I said (still jumping up and down). “I’m just really excited about our gig on Saturday! Mum, will you come too?” I said before I’d even realised it.
And that’s when Mum started crying (in a good way).
On Saturday me and Dad were all packed up, sitting in the living room waiting for Mum to get back from the shops so we could leave for the gig.
“Dad, where is she?” I asked, getting nervous. I was dying to get to the gig and see Cammy, and really worried that we weren’t going to have enough time to set up.
“Don’t worry,” said Dad. “We’ve still got plenty of time.” But then he kept looking at his watch so I didn’t really believe hi
m.
Just then Mum literally BURST through the door with a big shopping bag.
“I got something for you!” she gasped.
I was ready to scream because Mum had obviously picked me up some horrendous outfit and was happily making me late for the gig while she went shopping for nonsense that she should have KNOWN I would never wear!
“Mum, please! Can we just go?”
And that was when Mum pulled a brand-new set of bongo drums out of the bag.
“I had to drive out of town to get them,” she said. “I hope they’re OK.”
I couldn’t believe it. Cammy would be thrilled!
When we arrived at the venue, Cammy wasn’t there yet.
Cara had made a little bow for the bongos out of paper, and we hid them backstage for Cammy.
Dad got to work setting everything up and doing the soundcheck, while me and Cara practised backstage.
“WOW!” I heard a wonderful voice say. “Are these for me?”
I turned to see Cammy standing with her new bongos.
“Yes,” said Cara. “Otherwise you’d have had to use these!” She held up the pair we’d tried to make and laughed.
“My mum got them for you,” I said.
“Wow, that was really nice of her,” said Cammy.
Then Cara muttered something about needing to fetch her laptop, and disappeared out the front.
“Look who I brought…” Cammy said, and then she went back behind the curtain and brought Margaret in on her lead.
“I’ve been training her,” said Cammy. “Haven’t I, Margaret?”
Margaret meowed just like she always does when Cammy asks her a question.
Then Cara came back in with her laptop and said, “Listen,” and that’s when I heard LOADS of Margaret’s sounds.
Petunia Perry and the Curse of the Ugly Pigeon Page 13
