by Jean Ure
I have said this to her. In spite of being such hugely best friends, we never hesitate to criticise. We take it all in good part! I was not in the least put out the other day, for instance, when Tash told me that “You have a most peculiar walk!” She said she had never noticed it before, but “You lean backwards.” And she showed me what I looked like, and it made me feel so self-conscious! She said, “I hope you didn’t mind, but I thought you ought to know.” And I thanked her for drawing it to my attention, and said that I felt grateful to her, because this is what friends ought to do.
I am now trying very hard not to lean backwards, and Tash says it’s already much better. She has told me that if ever she starts to walk funny, “Or like if my breath smells, or something,” I am to be sure to tell her immediately. So I told her about being too forward and she said rather sniffily that that was “a matter of opinion.” She said that some boys like girls to take the initiative. I said, “Oh! Is that what you were doing?” Personally I would have said that she was monopolising, but there are those of us that can take criticism and those that can’t. I’m afraid Tash is obviously one of the latter. What a disappointment! Just as she was starting to get the tiniest bit on my nerves, however, she fortunately backed down and admitted that I could be right. She then became all humble and wailed that she didn’t have any feminine charms and no boy would ever look twice at her.
“Especially not Gosh! I mean, Gus. I’m too up front, aren’t I? I’m too pushy. Oh, God! He’s bound to prefer you to me!”
I am so relieved that Tash climbed down off her high horse. I was only trying to be helpful! As to which one of us Gus will prefer … well! We shall have to wait and see.
Cooked pancakes tonight, but something went wrong. They turned all grey and leathery, and squeaked when I prodded them. How can a pancake squeak???
Tash and Ali said they couldn’t eat them, so I was forced to open a tin of ravioli. At least it wasn’t beans!
Friday
Everyone at school is hugely excited about the party. We are, too. I suspect it will be a little different from the one we had last year, with Mum and Dad benignly hovering, and not a boy in sight! Of course, we were only just twelve. We have matured a lot since then.
Spent all evening deciding what to wear. Tash thinks her red ra-ra skirt with a halter top and her trainers. I think so, too. Short skirts really suit her!
I am probably going for my floaty gypsy skirt with my new wrap top. Either that or my denim fishtail. I can’t make up my mind!
If I wear the denim it means I could wear my canvas boots to go with it. I just love those boots! On the other hand, the gypsy skirt is more flattering. Also more romantic!
I am going to sleep on it.
Week 3, Saturday
Auntie Jay is so lovely! She has provided all the food and drink for our party.
She said, “I wasn’t sure what you’d want, so I just bought a bit of everything. It should be enough, do you think?”
We were completely knocked out! I said that it would be enough to feed an entire army, and Auntie Jay laughed and said that if teenagers of today were anything like when she was young, they would “go at it like a horde of locusts”. We have spread it all out on the table and can’t stop gloating over it. Tash said it made her feel safe to have it there. She said she had woken up in the middle of the night and started worrying about terrorists again. What worries her now is in case they come on a Friday or Saturday, before we’ve done the shopping. Very earnestly she told me that “The best day would be a Sunday, cos then we’d have stocked up.”
Honestly! I really thought she had got over this obsession. I know it’s frightening, but there is no point in dwelling on it. We have to get on with our lives. That is what they did in New York; they didn’t let themselves be defeated. I said this to Tash. I said, “I think it’s important that we show our utter contempt and carry on the same as normal, otherwise it will mean that they’ve won.”
I expected her to argue, or tell me once again that I was insensitive, but to my surprise she said that I was quite right. She said, “From now on, I am simply going to forget about it. “I told her that that was the best idea she had had in a long time, and suggested that we turn our thoughts to something more frivolous, such as the party. Tash said, “Parties aren’t frivolous … we might meet Gorgeous Boys.” And then she clapped a hand to her mouth and said, “You know what? We haven’t check what Ali’s going to wear!”
Omigod! So we hadn’t. Left to herself, Ali is likely to be a complete disaster. We immediately prised her away from the computer and demanded that we go through her wardrobe. She spends way too much time on that computer, if you ask me. Getting broadband was a BIG MISTAKE. Surfing the net is not real life! I do sometimes worry about Ali. How can she ever hope to find a boyfriend if she isn’t interested in clothes, or make-up, or how she looks? If she does nothing but watch her Star Trek videos and mess around in cyberspace? She needs to get out there and get a life!
Tash said, “Ali, it’s for your own good.”
Well, it is! I know we’re partly thinking of ourselves, cos it is so utterly cringe-making when she turns up looking like she’s just crawled out of a compost heap; but mainly we are thinking of what is best for her. Surely even Ali must feel better when she’s dressed nicely?
She does have decent stuff in her wardrobe; Mum makes sure of that. She just never wears it! It’s not what you would call ultra chic, cos Mum has no idea and neither does Ali, but at least it’s not cringe-making. The only problem is, she hasn’t brought very much with her. She said, “I didn’t think I’d need it.” Like we were going into hibernation for two months? Of course, if Ali had her way she probably would go into hibernation.
We took out everything there was and laid it on the bed. Then we looked at each other.
“Well! She can’t wear any of this,” said Tash. “Except, maybe …” She pulled out a pair of cord trousers. “These aren’t so bad. The colour’s a bit naff—”
Pink. That was Mum. She has this fixed idea that all young people should to go round looking like maypoles. She just hates it when me and Tash wear black!
Tash said, “What d’you reckon?”
I said the trousers would just about pass, but as for any of the tops – forget it! Saggy vests, droopy T-shirts … In the end, I very nobly sacrificed my wrap top. It’s the only thing I have that even remotely fits her. Even so, it’s a tidge on the small side, but not so’s you’d notice. I think she looks really good in it. Really sophisticated. I said this to her, and in doubtful tones she said, “You’re not just saying it?”
I said, “No! I mean it.”
Ali said, “You don’t think it’s too tight?”
“It’s not too tight,” said Tash. “It’s a perfect fit! It shows off your boobs.”
Well! That was absolutely the wrong thing to say. It took me a good ten minutes to calm her down and convince her that she looked ace. Which she does! Ali can be really pretty if she just takes a bit of trouble with herself. Tash wanted to style her hair, so we looked through Glam Girl until we found something we thought would suit her. It’s really cool! We’ve taken two long bits from the side and sort of twisted them into ropes and tied them in a knot on top of her head. It looks so much better than having it all hanging about like she usually does.
Ali, needless to say, is in a dither and says it feels “peculiar”, but we have given her strict instructions not to fiddle with it. I told her to go and watch a Star Trek while we got dressed, so that is what she’s doing, shut away in her broom cupboard with Fat Man. I’m hoping that Star Trek will take her mind off her hair.
Me and Tash, meanwhile, have prinked and preened and paraded in front of each other and are now ready and waiting. We have sorted out a load of CDs and we have a lava lamp which Auntie Jay has lent us. She said she’d rather we didn’t use candles as she’s scared of the house being set alight. In any case, it won’t really get dark enough, even with the curtains close
d. I wish we could have started later and gone on till midnight, but I know that is too much to hope for. Mum would certainly not let us.
Tash has just been so sweet! She said to me that I looked “mouth-wateringly” gorgeous. That was such a nice thing to say. I told her in return that she looked like a ravishing rock chick (a phrase I read in Glam Girl). I could see that she was pleased by this.
“But he’ll still prefer you to me,” she moaned.
Why does she think so??? I do believe I look a bit more romantic (floaty skirt) but Tash definitely looks more sexy. I told her this, and her face lit up. She said, “Do I? Do I really?”
I said, “Yes, short skirts are always sexy.”
The only reason I’m not wearing one is because of my horrible thighs. They are all thin, like drainpipes. No shape at all! Tash’s are nice and round and plump, and if she whirls about really fast you get a glimpse of her knickers. (Calvin Klein, natch!) Dad would be horrified. But he’s not here, and Auntie Jay has been up to inspect us and has said that we both look “very pretty”.
Now it’s nearly time. I have butterflies in my stomach! Which of us will he go for???
Full report tomorrow …
Sunday
He didn’t go for either of us. Not me or Tash. And Ali disgraced us utterly. She brought shame on us! We just wanted to die. Apart from that, it was a great party; everybody said so. Even Shauna Bates, who considers herself “a cut above” just because her dad is a TV producer. She told us it was one of the best parties she’d been to in a long time. It was just me and Tash that couldn’t enjoy it properly. And it was all Ali’s fault!
We are so cross with her. We are absolutely furious with her. After all the trouble we went to! She was still in her broom cupboard when Gus arrived (the first one to do so). We didn’t mind that as it meant we could have him to ourselves for a bit. We were getting on quite well, telling him all about Mum and Dad, and school, and how we were doing all our own shopping and cooking. He was really impressed, you could tell. Then the door of the broom cupboard opened, and Ali came out, and we nearly sank through the floor. She was wearing her baggy trousers with a horrible old dishrag of a T-shirt! As if that wasn’t bad enough she’d gone and undone the whole of our beautiful hair arrangement, so that all these limp strands were now hanging like a pair of shredded curtains round her face. What did she look like??? A total MESS.
Gus said, “Oh. Hi.” Me and Tash just stared. We couldn’t believe it! All our hard work for nothing.
Ali said she didn’t realise that Gus had arrived. She said, “I’ve been watching Star Trek.”
Like anybody cared! Gus, being polite, said, “Next Generation?”
It doesn’t do to encourage Ali. Before we knew it she was off and running. “DS9. It’s really exciting, they’ve just mined the wormhole! Captain Sis—”
We had to put a stop to it, she’d have bored him to death.
“Ali,” I said. I clawed up a load of papers that she’d left piled all over the computer table and shoved them at her. “I thought you were going to clear this junk away?”
Ali said, “Oh. Yes. Sorry,” and promptly scattered the whole lot on the floor. We all got down on our hands and knees to pick them up. I was seething with fury, and I could tell that Tash was, too. I was specially seething because I had sacrificed my wrap top, all to no purpose! (I wore my green embroidered waistcoat, instead. It actually goes quite well with the floaty skirt.)
As we stood up, Gus said, “Is this a red dwarf?”
I couldn’t think what he was talking about. He was holding out a sheet of paper, with some messy kind of picture on it. Tash snatched it from him and thrust it at Ali.
“It’s some of her astrology stuff. She gets it off the computer. Are you going to go and put it away?”
Quite honestly, we just wanted to be rid of her. I’d have been happy if she’d spent the whole evening in her broom cupboard. She wasn’t fit to be let out! Specially not when me and Tash were trying so hard to create a good image. I mean, you have to work at these things. It’s no use expecting boys to take notice of you if you’re not prepared to make some kind of effort.
Ali took the papers, but she didn’t go and put them away. She said, “It’s astronomy, not astrology.”
“Whatever,” said Tash.
“Astronomy is stars,” said Ali. “Astrology is rubbish.”
I beg to differ! I always read my horoscope, and quite often what it says has come true. I’m sure there is something in it. But Ali can be so obstinate at times! She must have known she was putting us to shame, but nothing would budge her. She just went on standing there, clutching her papers to her chest and mouthing on about red dwarves, as if anyone was in the least bit interested. Poor Gus must have wondered what he had got himself into. I mean, this was supposed to be a party, for heaven’s sake! You don’t expect some lunatic in baggy trousers and a shapeless T-shirt to start lecturing you.
It was a good party, in spite of Ali, but we are still very angry with her. It’s simply not worth trying to help some people.
“Why did you do it?” shrieked Tash, when everybody had gone.
Ali said, “I didn’t feel comfortable … I didn’t feel like me.”
Absolutely no remorse! No acknowledgement that she had embarrassed us in front of other people. Fortunately most of our friends know about her, they know that she is what Mum calls “a one-off”. She has a sort of reputation at school for being brilliant but weird. I mean, it is weird, it is seriously weird to appear at a party in grungy old washed-out clothes when you know that everyone else is going to be dressed up. It is weird not to care how you look or what people think of you. We didn’t so much mind about Meg, and Zoella, and the others seeing her, but I could just dig a hole and bury myself right now at the thought of Gus knowing she is my sister! It is one of those times when I would like to disown her. I know that I can’t, because of promising Mum that we would watch out for her, and I do love her, deep down, but why oh why can’t she be more like the rest of us?
Tash and I are still conducting a post mortem. We have discussed at great and satisfying length what everyone was wearing, and how everyone behaved, and who hit it off with who, or whom, or whatever it is, but always, in the end, we come back to Gus. It wasn’t like he wasn’t friendly, but you can tell when a boy is interested and when he isn’t, there are signs that give it away. It’s called “body language”. I read about it in Glam Girl. Like, for instance, if you’re talking to a boy at a party and he keeps his eyes fixed on you, that means you can score three points cos he’s definitely attracted. If on the other hand his eyes start to wander – forget it!
Gus’s eyes didn’t exactly wander, but they certainly weren’t fixed on me. I just had this feeling that he was being … polite. Tash said she had the same feeling when she tried talking to him. She swears she wasn’t too forward, and I believe her.
“So what did we do wrong?” she wailed.
I said glumly that we didn’t do anything wrong. “He just doesn’t fancy us.”
“Neither of us?”
I said it looked that way. The only consolation is that he didn’t seem to fancy anyone else, either, so we reckon we are still in with a chance. At any rate, we do not intend to give up!
Monday
Everyone at school has been talking about the party and saying how good it was. Meg wanted to know where we had found “the yummy boy”. She said she could have gone for him big time if he hadn’t already been spoken for.
“I mean, like, he belongs to one of you, right?”
Kim immediately pounced and said, “Which one? Who’s going out with the yummy boy?”
Me and Tash sort of hummed and hah’d and said that we hadn’t yet decided. Kim said, “You haven’t, or he hasn’t?” Tash pointed out that we had only met him a few days ago.
“We’ve hardly had a chance to speak to him properly yet.”
Kim did this exaggerated rolling thing with her eyes. She said, �
�How long do you need?”
Rather sourly, cos I did resent her tone, I said, “I s’ppose you’d have eloped with him by now?”
Kim giggled and said, “Something like that!” It put me in a bad mood for the rest of the day. That girl can be so positively annoying at times. Tash agrees with me. We talked about it on the way home.
“Considering she doesn’t have a boyfriend at all,” said Tash.
“Not unless you count that weedy thing she brought with her.”
“That wasn’t a boyfriend,” said Tash, “that was an exchange student.”
I said, “Yeah, right. She’s got some nerve!”
All the same, we think perhaps she has a point; you can’t just sit around waiting for things to happen. There comes a time when you have to take action. We are now going to take it! As from tomorrow we are going to make a concerted effort. That is, both of us together. We are not sure yet what we are going to do, but we are certainly going to do something!
Tuesday
Day one of our concerted effort. It has not quite gone according to plan, but through absolutely no fault of ours.
Tash said that we had to find some way of drawing attention to ourselves. “But not obviously. You know? Like just by chance. Accidentally.”
So I put my brain to work and I came up with this cunning notion, a scheme, I suppose you would call it, of how to get ourselves invited in to the O’Shaugnessy abode. It was totally my idea! I was the one that thought of it. Tash merely put the finishing touches. She was the one responsible for the ice cream: I had been going to use butter.
