by Jean Ure
Tuesday
Didn’t get much sleep last night. We had been in bed for about an hour, and Tash was happily snoring (which she said she wasn’t, but how would she know?) when I heard this strange sound, like a sort of … swishing. Slithering. I opened my eyes to see a white shape moving across the room, dragging something behind it. I said, “Ali?”
Tash then gave this enormous snore and woke herself up and said, “Wozzappnin?” I switched on the light and we saw Ali, trailing her duvet cover.
I shrieked, “What are you doing?” I mean, it was practically the middle of the night. Ali said, “This duvet cover smells.”
Well! I’m surprised she even noticed. Tash muttered somewhat sourly that Patricia had probably sat on it. I suggested that maybe Fat Man had had an accident. Ali said, “It’s nothing to do with Fat Man. It’s just been on the bed too long. I expect yours smells, too.” So we picked it up and sniffed it, and omigod she was right! It was putrid. So then we sniffed the sheet and the pillows, and they were putrid, as well.
Tash said, “How long have we been here?”
I unlocked my diary and looked it up. I said, “Six weeks.”
Tash said it was no wonder they stank. “We should have changed them ages ago. Mum does it every week!”
More work. But actually it was quite fun as we decided to have a wash-in and we stuffed both the sheets and all the pillow cases in the machine, and re-made the beds, and had a cup of tea and sat round drinking it and cosily chatting, which is something we hardly ever do. Well, not all three of us together. Certainly not at midnight! It was good that we did cos it made us fond of Ali all over again. We talked about boys (among other things) and Tash said she hoped Ali didn’t think we’d been getting at her the other day, when we lectured her. She said, “We worry about you.” Ali admitted that most of the girls in her class have boyfriends and that they all think she is peculiar. I suddenly felt this strong kind of protective thing. I said heatedly that that wasn’t fair. I said, “You’re far cleverer than any of them are!”
Tash added that she could be far prettier than any of them, as well, if she just took a bit more trouble. She said, “You can still be clever! Being clever doesn’t mean you can’t make the best of yourself.”
We then had this long, intense, girly discussion about what Ali could do to improve herself, with me and Tash offering advice from all our years of experience. As we pointed out, Ali is just starting: we have been at it for ever! Well, since we were about ten, I suppose. I think Ali was grateful. At any rate she listened to what we had to say and she seemed to take it all in. Now perhaps we shall see some improvement!
I was quite tired this morning and found it hard to wake up, but now I seem to have got my second wind. I enjoyed last night’s session! I am so pleased that we have been able to help Ali.
Wednesday
Something so weird! In the middle of the night, bombs started exploding. Me and Tash shot out of bed in a panic. We thought it was terrorists! I crashed into the table, and Tash stubbed her toe against a chair and screamed, at the top of her voice, at which point Ali came rushing out of her broom cupboard going, “What is it, what is it?”
Tash shrieked, “We’re under attack!” and clutched at me with both hands. Then I clutched at her and we both shrieked together. I mean, it was really scary!
Ali said, “It’s somewhere in the room.”
Whatever it was, it was still going off. Bang. Crack! Fizz. Pop! Bang. Like fireworks, except that it seemed to be coming from the food cupboard, where we keep all the tins. I moaned, “They’ve planted something!”
Tash yelled at Ali to “Keep away!”
I don’t know whether Ali is brave or just foolhardy. Me and Tash were already halfway to the door. We implored her to “Get out, get out!” The cupboard was still exploding; quite honestly, we thought the whole thing was going to go. We crouched there, ready to run for our lives. I am not ashamed to say this! I think self-preservation is a duty. After all, how would Mum and Dad feel if we got blown up? I screeched, “Ali! Leave it!” But she wouldn’t. She just had to go and look. We watched, shaking like jellies, while Ali went on tiptoe across the room and ever so, ever so slowly reached out a hand and … opened … the … cupboard … door …
Grapefruit. It was grapefruit! A mouldy old cereal bowl, full of exploding grapefruit!
Ali, in disgusted tones, said, “This must have been here for weeks! When did anyone last eat grapefruit?”
Sheepishly, as we edged back into the room, Tash said, “That was the day we were going to be late for school and I didn’t have time to finish breakfast.”
I said, “You mean that day when we’d already been late the day before?”
“Yes, and Miss Selby caught us trying to sneak in and almost went ballistic.”
I couldn’t believe it. I said, “That was way back before half term!”
Tash said, “Yes, I know. I shoved it in the cupboard and forgot all about it.”
We were standing there, watching the grapefruit as it fizzed and popped, when there was a knock at the door. It was Gus! Oh, dear, so embarrassing! We were in our nighties!!! He seemed as embarrassed as we were. He gave this little smile, like sort of half bewildered and half apologetic, and said, “What’s happening?”
Tash assured him, in her brightest and breeziest tones, that it was quite all right. “Just a few problems with a grapefruit.”
I giggled and said, “It’s exploding!” I guess this confused him even more. He said, “Exploding?” Like he had never heard of such a thing. (Well, who has?)
I said, “Oh, yes, they explode all the time, you know.”
Ali, picking up the bowl, said, “Only if people put them in cupboards and forget them.” She held out the bowl for Gus to see. “It’s been there so long it’s fermenting.”
Gus peered at it and said, “Way out!” I think he was quite impressed. I was impressed! I had no idea that grapefruits could turn themselves into bombs. Upon reflection, this is probably how most of the world’s great discoveries have been made i. e. by accident.
Gus said, “Dangerous stuff! Doesn’t exactly make you feel like eating grapefruit again, does it?” He then added something which I thought was truly witty. He said, “Kind of gives a whole new meaning to grapefruit cocktail.”
And then he said goodnight and went back downstairs, and we let him go. Why didn’t we ask him in??? I know it was three o’clock in the morning, but we could all have cosily sat round with cups of tea, like we did the night before. We might have got to know him properly at last. Oh, I do wish we had! He looked so cute in his dressing gown and pyjamas. It’s not like me and Tash to be slow on the uptake, we are usually alert for every opportunity. (Like it says in Glam Girl: WAIT, WATCH AND POUNCE!)
“I thought it was – you know!” Tash looked a bit shamefaced. “Terrorists.” I had to admit that so did I. Of course it all seems funny now – now that we know what it really was. But to be woken up in the middle of the night by guns going off is actually quite frightening, and has made us far more in sympathy with all those poor people that live in places where it happens the whole time.
We sat there, gravely discussing it, while Ali cleared up the mess. I said, “You’re our bomb disposal expert!” which made Tash giggle.
Ali said, “I’m glad you find it amusing.”
“Well, you must admit,” I said, “grapefruit cocktail …”
Tash giggled again. Ali glared.
I said, “What? What’s the matter?”
Tash said, “What have we done now?”
Ali snapped that it was what we hadn’t done that was the matter. “You didn’t either of you care about Fat Man!”
It took us a second or so to get over our surprise. I mean, Ali almost never snaps. Tash was the first to recover. As Ali disappeared into her broom cupboard she yelled, “I didn’t notice you caring that much, either!”
Ali stuck her head back round the door. “I knew it wasn’t gunfire,�
�� she said.
Tash said, “How? How could you possibly know that?”
Ali gave us this really pitying look. “Why would anyone be sitting in our food cupboard firing a gun?”
Tash, blustering a bit, said, “Well, they could have been hiding.”
“Not in our food cupboard,” said Ali.
Tash and I are agreed, Ali simply has no imagination.
Thursday
Today I fell asleep in PSE. I was just so-o-o tired. Unfortunately, it is Miss Selby who is taking us for PSE this term. Wouldn’t you know it! Dear Mrs Meek was so woffly and woolly, she probably wouldn’t even have noticed. But the old spring-loaded eyes came shooting out and spotted me. I wasn’t even snoring! Just sitting there, quite quietly, snoozing in the corner and not disturbing a soul.
Miss Selby was most unpleasant. As usual. Tash tried valiantly to come to my rescue. She said, “Excuse me, but it’s not Emily’s fault. We haven’t had much sleep just lately.” She then went on to explain, in some detail, all about exploding grapefruits, and gunmen in the food cupboard, and people rushing upstairs in droves. I must admit, she did go on rather, but that is just Tash, she gets carried away. There was absolutely no reason for Miss Selby to tell her to “Stop this inane burble.” I thought that was really rude. Really uncalled for.
Miss Selby is obviously psychotic, and I don’t believe that she was smiling at me the other day, when she stretched her lips. I think she was trying to bare her teeth, like, “You just watch it, Emily Love! I’m going to get you.”
I wish someone would get her. Maybe one day she’ll drive herself completely mad and they’ll lock her up. And a good job, too! The world would be a safer place without her.
Friday
When we went downstairs this morning, there was a postcard waiting for us on the hall table. My heart leaped – my knees went wobbly – I broke into a sweat. The classic symptoms of Lovesick Anticipation. (There was an article about it in Glam Girl.) My one thought was, “Wackeen!”
Tash, needless to say, went barging ahead and snatched it up before I could get there. “Ooh,” she goes, “who’s this from?”
I yelled, “Gimme, gimme!”
Tash said, “Why?”
I wailed, “Oh, Tash, lemme have it!”
So she did, but it was from Mum and Dad. I am, naturally, very happy to have a card from Mum and Dad – well, actually, it was to all of us – but I do begin to wonder if I shall ever hear from Wackeen. I can’t write to him as I don’t have his address. But I gave him mine, and he promised faithfully that he would keep in touch.
I said to Tash, as we walked up the road to the bus stop, that I thought I would have to reconcile myself to the fact that it had obviously been one of those intense holiday romances which fizzle away to nothing once the holiday is over. Tash – stupidly – giggled and said, “Intense? You only knew him for two days!” Ali, who was with us, also giggled. What right Ali has to giggle, I really do not know, considering she must come way up the top of the list of World’s Most Ignorant People. In matters of personal relationships, that is. Has she ever had a holiday romance? No! Has she ever had a boyfriend? No! Is she ever likely to get a boyfriend? No! Not unless she starts to pay a bit more attention to the things that matter.
She doesn’t even know any boys! She has absolutely no idea what interests them, or how to talk to them. And there she was, daring to snigger at me!
They could obviously tell that they had upset me. They both apologised, sounding quite contrite. I was just starting to unruffle myself and feel calm again when Tash had to go and point out that “You didn’t actually properly know him, though, did you?” Some people just always have to have the last word. Except that I didn’t let her!
A bit snappishly I said, “Do you actually properly know Orlando?” (Which is how we have been referring to the Orlando Bloom look-a-like in the pizza restaurant.) Tash had to admit that she didn’t. Ali then wanted to know who Orlando was. I said, “Orlando Bloom, and Tash has been mooning over him for the past week. Haven’t you?” Tash nodded; very pink and excited. At the mere mention of him, she’d gone all gooey, like a big sticky meringue. Triumphantly, I said, “Well, there you are, then! And you’ve never even spoken to him … you don’t even know his name!”
Ali, sounding puzzled, said, “I thought you said it was Orlando Bloom?”
I said, “He looks like Orlando Bloom … which is why she’s gone all gushy!”
Tash moaned, happily. Ali said, “But who is he?”
I told her that he was a waiter in the restaurant we are going to tomorrow evening with Auntie Jay. Ali said, “What, Orlando Bloom? He’s a waiter?”
I said, “No, his look-a-like!”
Ali said, “Oh.” And then she thought about it a bit and said, “So who is this Orlando Bloom guy?”
It is unbelievable. Tash howled, “Gimme a break!”
I said, “Ali, you have to get your act together!”
Ali said, “But who is he?”
We explained that he was “just some actor that everybody in the world has heard of except you.”
Tash added that, “There is life outside of Star Trek, you know.”
It just goes to confirm what I said a few minutes ago about Ali being top of the list when it comes to ignorance. She must be about the only person alive that hasn’t heard of Orlando Bloom! Well, apart from a few odd folk that live under stones or at the North Pole. I guess she felt our disapproval as she deliberately stayed downstairs on the bus while we went on top. Tash was all of a fizz and a bubble at the thought of seeing the Beloved tomorrow night. She confessed to me that even if you don’t “actually properly” know someone, you can still have “extremely intense” feelings about them, and she said she shouldn’t have laughed about me and Wackeen. Of course I said that I forgave her, and within seconds we were the best of friends again.
It is such a comfort to have someone like Tash, knowing that you can confide in each other and tell each other things that you wouldn’t tell another living soul. I could never confide in Ali the way I can confide in Tash; Ali just wouldn’t understand. I couldn’t even confide in Meg or Zoella. They would probably understand, but I would be just too embarrassed. With Tash and me, there are no secrets. We discussed our feelings for Wackeen and Orlando all the way to school. It was very satisfying.
At break, Kim showed us some special stuff she had got which sprays gold dust over your hair. Tash is now determined to go into town first thing tomorrow morning and buy some. It’s rather expensive, in fact it is outrageously expensive, but I guess nothing is too good for Orlando!
Week 8, Saturday
Tash has bought her gold dust and sprayed it in her hair. I have told her that it looks très sophistiqué. It ought to, the amount it cost! But Tash is happy, and that is what counts. She says there is a whole range of colours, including emerald, which she thinks would suit me. I may perhaps get some for Shauna’s party, but it’s not worth splashing out just for going to the pizza restaurant with Auntie Jay. I don’t remember noticing any other famous look-alikes waiting table! In any case, it is Tash’s evening and I wouldn’t want to spoil it for her by trying to compete.
Tash has just emerged from the bathroom and given me a twirl. She looks stunning! She’s wearing a stripy vest top, black and gold, with her black skirt that Mum always says is too short, and cowboy boots like you sometimes see Madonna wearing. Plus, of course, the very expensive gold dust in her hair. If Orlando has any taste at all, he will take one look at her and that will be it. Wow! Smitten! I’ve told her this and she has gone a bit pink and said, “D’you reckon?” She seemed anxious about something. It’s only now that I have noticed … she’s gone and sprayed gold dust on her eyelids! It’s kind of stuck on to her eye make-up, which is what I would call green but she says it’s “aqua”. Green is naff, aqua is cool. She’s obviously not quite sure about it, though, cos she has just asked me whether I don’t think it’s a bit too bling? I have assured her that
it isn’t. But I have told her that she will have to keep blinking, and batting her eyelids, if she wants Orlando to get the full effect. So now she has gone back into the bathroom to practise.
I am not wearing anything special as I think it would be unfair to Tash; well, on this particular occasion. Not when we go to Shauna’s party! Then it will be no holds barred!!! But today I have just got on an old top and a pair of washed-out jeans. I think
Goodness! Ali has just appeared. She has really taken our lecture to heart. She has pulled her hair back, tight, into a pony tail, so that it’s all lovely and swishy, and she has actually put on some lipstick and eye shadow. Ali! It is amazing what a difference it makes. She is also wearing a pair of trousers that I swear I have never seen before, with a shirt and a waistcoat that I didn’t even know she had. Can she have sneaked out and bought them without telling us? It’s just the sort of thing she would do!
Tash has re-emerged from the bathroom and her jaw has dropped open. She is every bit as knocked out as I am! We have both assured Ali that she looks “really nice” and I can see that she’s pleased to have our approval. I’m thinking to myself, however (though I am certainly not saying so to Ali) that it’s a bit excessive to go to all this trouble just to sit in a restaurant and eat pizza with Auntie Jay, and me and Tash. Unless maybe she thinks there are likely to be more Orlando Blooms hanging around? If that is the case, I’m afraid she is going to be disappointed, but it is a good start and it would not do to discourage her.
