by Mary Hooper
After about half an hour it began to drizzle, so we went up to my bedroom and put some tapes on. We talked about things, but not the way we usually did. It was like talking to someone on the other side of a glass wall. Neither of us wanted to bring up the subject of Ben, but he was there all the time.
I was still dying to know what had happened on Tuesday, but it was ages before I could bring myself to say anything about it. I wanted it to sound all casual and as if I couldn’t care one way or the other, but of course it didn’t come out like that. I just suddenly just blurted out, ‘So did you go straight home on Tuesday?’
She looked at me and didn’t say anything. Her face was entirely blank and expressionless.
I swallowed. ‘What I mean is, did you … er … chat about anything with Ben? Did you find out where he lives?’
She carried on looking at me steadily. Then she said, ‘You heard what he said – about being a private person. I don’t think he wants anyone else to know where he lives and I think we ought to respect his privacy, don’t you?’
Such a high and mighty tone she took. And the way she said ‘anyone else’ convinced me that she knew more than she was saying. Knew, but wasn’t telling me …
I was so angry I couldn’t bring myself to look at her. I tried to remember my yoga breathing techniques so I wouldn’t lose my temper. OK, I was holding back on something she didn’t know – about Ben’s granny – but that sort of thing wouldn’t interest her anyway.
‘Oh well, I suppose he’ll tell us in his own good time.’ I said.
I hesitated, still niggled because she’d got the better of me, and couldn’t resist adding, ‘Anyway, while we were waiting outside school for you, we found we had loads in common.’ I was surprised at myself as I said this. It was the ‘my dad’s bigger than your dad’ thing, as if we were five again.
‘Mmm?’ she said, and she smiled to herself as if to say that it couldn’t be anything worth bothering about. I was torn between telling her something she didn’t know and keeping a secret. In the end, typical Gemini, I went half-way.
‘As a matter of fact, he’s really interested in astrology and stuff like that. And his granny sounds so interesting.’
‘You don’t say,’ Chelsea said. She picked up one of the magazines she’d brought with her and started flicking through it. ‘Sarah said the other day that she thought Ben and I were really alike in character. I suppose we are, really – don’t you think so?’
I shrugged. ‘Never thought about it.’
‘We get on so well, too. Same sense of humour – that’s really important, isn’t it? Made for each other, I reckon.’
I was stumped for a moment, then I said. ‘OK, if you two are similar in personality, then you might as well say that Ben and I are opposite. And you know what they say – opposites attract!’
‘Huh!’ Chelsea said. Just like that, in a dismissive way, ‘Huh!’
She suddenly held up the magazine. ‘There’s a quiz here!’
‘What about?’
‘How to find out if he fancies you’ she read out.
Well, she didn’t have to say who.
We started doing it, Chelsea reading out the questions and both of us scribbling our answers on pieces of paper. There were ten questions, things like, Do you ever look up to find that he’s looking at you?; Does he say you look nice when you know you look grotty? and Does he laugh at your jokes?
You had to say whether it was: All the time, Sometimes, or Never.
At the end, when we added up the scores, they were both identical: twenty-five points each.
‘Identical scores. There’s a surprise,’ Chelsea said, for she knew, and I knew, that we’d both fiddled our answers in order to get the best possible scores.
‘And the million dollar question: does he fancy us?’ She picked up the magazine again and read out, ‘Mostly “A”s: He’s absolutely nuts about you! He definitely thinks you’re the girl for him. If he hasn’t asked you out yet, he soon will.’
She looked at me hard. ‘So maybe he’s nuts about us both.’
‘But he can’t ask us both out, can he?’ I picked up the magazine and read out the fifth question: ‘Does he notice things about you which no one else does? What’s he noticed about you, then?’ I asked, trying to keep my voice curious rather than resentful.
‘Oh, several things,’ Chelsea said. ‘What’s he noticed about you?’
I smiled to myself, remembering. ‘He said I was nice. Sweet.’
‘Ah, how touching!’
I stared at Chelsea. I’d always found her sarcasm funny – but then she’d never used it on me before. ‘So what did he say about you?’
‘He said he’d never met anyone so interesting. He said I had fantastic legs. He said I was fascinating,’ she said.
‘Oh.’ I swallowed. Fascinating, with fantastic legs, beat sweet any time. That’s if she was telling the truth, of course.
She picked up her magazines. ‘Well, better be off,’ she said, getting up to go.
Usually she stays until eight or nine, but I bit back saying, ‘Are you going already?’ because quite honestly I didn’t really want her there any more. I wanted to be alone and to think about the things she’d said.
‘I’ll say goodbye to your mum on my way out.’
I nodded.
‘All’s fair in love and war!’ she said from the doorway.
‘And may the best girl win!’ I added.
She paused, ‘Well, as you just so wisely said, he can’t ask us both out, can he?’
She went downstairs and I stayed where I was, thinking deeply. Going out with Ben. An actual date. Could I really allow myself to think about that?
Neither Chelsea nor I had really been out with anyone on our own – not on what you might call a date. Chelsea had been out in a couple of foursomes, and she’d also had a few snogs with boys at parties, but I hadn’t been out on foursomes or had any proper snogs. Nor even a proper kiss, only a silly one when a boy in our class and I had been messing about at a party. Our teeth had bumped and my lips had made a squeaky noise so it had been a bit of a disaster, and I’d already decided that it didn’t count as a first kiss. I didn’t want my first kiss, the one that I’d remember for ever, to have been one that squeaked.
But now I knew who I wanted for my first kiss and my first date: Ben. I wasn’t going to be happy unless it was him. And if I had to lose my best friend along the way, then that was the way it would have to be.
I got up. And now I was just going to sit quietly and think about Ben, visualise him in my mind. They do say that if you think about things for long enough, actually visualise them happening, then they will happen. Well, that’s what I was going to do, I was going to will him to choose me.
I lit one of the jasmine incense sticks I keep for special occasions and picked up my crystal. Holding it tightly in my hand I squeezed my eyes shut and thought about Ben for all I was worth.
Choose me! I urged him with every tiny piece of my body. Choose me – not Chelsea!
Chapter Eight
Sunday, 23rd October
CHELSEA
God, Astra was a drag today. I only went over to her house because I usually do, and because her mum always expects me over there on a Sunday.
She and I did a quiz about how to find out whether a boy fancies you or not, and she completely fiddled the answers so that she got the top score. I got the top score too, but I was being utterly truthful. I really do think Ben fancies me. There’s this link between us, a connection. Sometimes, when I lie in bed and think of him, I just know that he’s thinking of me, too.
Astra started asking me about one of the quiz questions, wanting to know what Ben liked about me.
When I told her, though, she got all humpy. What I say is, why ask if she didn’t want to know?
When I’d had just about enough of her cross-examintions I went home, much earlier than I usually do. It was all a bit awkward when I went downstairs – her mum appeared,
obviously knowing something was wrong between me and Astra. I mean, I don’t mind her mum, but she does like to stick her nose in.
She gave me a little greaseproof-wrapped parcel containing two slices of carrot cake. ‘Something to nibble later,’ she said. Then she added, ‘You’re going home early, aren’t you? Is everything all right?’
‘Oh yes,’ I lied. ‘I’m going early because I’m … er … going out with my mum and dad.’
‘That’s nice.’ She smiled, ‘Somewhere special, is it?’
‘Just to relatives,’ I mumbled, hoping she wouldn’t ask any more. She knew me well enough by now to know that we hardly had any relatives – or none that my mum and dad bothered with, anyway.
She opened the front door and then put a hand on my arm. ‘Chelsea, I hope you don’t mind me asking, but is everything OK between you and Astra?’
I nodded, tried to look surprised at the question. ‘Yes, of course.’
‘Only she’s been a bit funny lately. Edgy. I wondered if maybe you’d had a row or something.’
‘Nope. No row!’ I smiled at her brightly. ‘See you in the week, I expect!’
‘Yes, see you soon, Chelsea,’ she said. ‘Mind how you go.’
She waved to me all the way down the road, until I turned the corner and escaped.
Honestly, I thought. Talk about being on trial. First Astra, then her mum. It was just as well she didn’t have a dad or he would have been there as well, probably quizzing me about my exam prospects.
I walked home. There was no one in, of course, the only sign of them was a note saying: Darling – we’ve gone for drinks to the Kennedy’s. Do come round if you want to.
Oh yes, I thought. But how was I supposed to get there? The Kennedys lived miles away, out on the other side of the town. Besides, I hated them. They had a horrible horse-riding daughter and two stuck-up sons who played rugby.
I hung around the house for a bit, had a bit of a try of some of Mum’s expensive new make-up, and then decided I might as well go out for a walk.
I suppose at the back of my mind I was thinking of Ben all the time, so when I set off walking I just automatically headed in the direction where he’d said he lived. There were about eight big, posh houses up on the hill, and I reckoned he lived in one of those. I had this vision of them all: Ben, his famous father and his elegant mother, entertaining lots of other TV stars. There would be drinks by the pool, champagne of course, and everyone would be dressed in the latest designer clothes and be incredibly glamorous. The fact that it was October and too cold to be standing around by a pool didn’t matter. As far as I was concerned the vision was standard showbiz stuff; the sort of world Ben moved in. The nice thing about him, though, I thought as I walked, was that he wasn’t a bit snobby or spoilt. Loads of showbiz kids are brats – you read about them in the papers all the time – but Ben wasn’t.
I had him in my mind so much: the way he walked, the way he held his head, the way he looked at me with those slanty green eyes, that when I turned a corner and actually saw him walking towards me I was hardly surprised. It somehow seemed as if it was meant to be. It was that destiny business that Astra was always on about, but it was working for me this time.
My face broke into a smile when I saw him, and I just felt smilier and smilier the closer he got.
‘So where are you off to, then?’ he asked when we reached each other.
I shrugged, trying to sound casual. ‘I’m just walking,’ I said. ‘I’ve been round to Astra’s and I didn’t fancy going home just yet.’
‘Know what you mean,’ he said. ‘Parents get on your nerves sometimes, don’t they? My dad’s got some director over today and all he wants to do is talk shop.’
‘So where were you going?’
He shrugged in an imitation of my shrug. ‘I’m just walking,’ he said. And he smiled.
My heart gave a great leap and all at once I felt fantastic. Of course it was me he liked. It couldn’t be any other way. I couldn’t feel like this without him feeling like it too.
We started walking towards the park. We talked about acting and about films and Soaps, about different boys at school and boys I’d been out with, about music we liked and – oh, everything. When I thought about our conversation afterwards, though, I couldn’t remember much that he’d said about himself, so I suppose I must have dominated the conversation a bit. He was just so interested in me, though, he kept asking questions and was fascinated by it all: my childhood, my friendship with Astra, my family – everything.
When we got to the park he said he’d buy me an ice cream, but he hadn’t brought any money out with him so I bought him one, and we sat together on a seat by the pond and ate them. When we’d finished and thrown bits of wafer to the ducks, he put his arm around the back of the seat. By moving closer to him, I could feel his arm all along the back of my shoulders and I knew that when I thought about it later, I’d be able to feel the warmth of his arm again, and imagine it was right around me …
He said he’d buy me an ice cream next time, and then we started talking about money and he said a bit more about his dad keeping him short.
‘It’s ridiculous when you consider what he gets for a TV series,’ he said. ‘It’s his way of trying to control me, though.’
‘What d’you mean?’ I asked.
‘Well, for ages he’s wanted me to go to some boarding school, where he went when he was a boy,’ he said. ‘I’ve always refused to go, though, so now he’s making me do without my allowance while I reconsider.’
‘God!’ I said. ‘Can’t your mum say anything to him?’
‘She wants to keep out of it,’ Ben said. ‘I mean, she slips me the odd tenner when she can, and that keeps me going.’
‘What about clothes and stuff? How d’you manage?’
‘That’s just it. I used to have a store account and I bought whatever I wanted, but a few months ago my dad cancelled my card. Tell you what – I can’t even buy anything decent to wear to that party of Sarah’s.’
‘I’ll lend you some money!’ I said, straight away. ‘You can pay me back any time.’
He shook his head. ‘No, don’t be crazy. I couldn’t do that.’
‘Honestly!’ I said. ‘We’ve always got money hanging about at home. And I’ve got birthday money I haven’t even spent yet.’ I paused, ‘They give me money all the time,’ I said, and added bitterly, ‘They give me money instead of being around for me.’
‘I’m getting some money from my uncle,’ he said slowly, ‘but that won’t be for a couple of months.’
‘You could pay me back then. Go on – please!’
‘No. It wouldn’t be right.’
‘Oh, please.’ I really wanted to do something for him. And I also wanted him to come to Sarah’s wearing something that I’d paid for …
‘Well …’
‘Let’s go home right now and I’ll get some! Will twenty pounds do?’
He didn’t say anything so I added, ‘Or have more! You might as well. I’ve probably got over forty pounds in my desk.’
‘No, really. I don’t want that much. Maybe just enough to last me until my uncle’s money comes. But I’ll give you a receipt or something …’
I jumped up and, taking his hand, pulled him up. ‘Come on. Let’s go!’
When we got to my house my dad’s car was back in the drive, so they were obviously home. I got Ben to wait at the end of the road and let myself in.
Mum and Dad were in the sitting room with the TV blaring out.
‘Hi. I’m home!’ I called, and I went straight to my room and got out the little cash-box I keep in my desk. I took out forty pounds in ten pound notes, and put it in an envelope. I was just going to stick it down when, on an impulse, I picked up one of the notelets Astra had given me. She’d bought me a CD for my birthday, but as a little extra she’d also bought some plain white cards and decorated them with rainbows and clouds and stuff like that. They weren’t really my sort of thing, but they we
re quite cute; I used them for odd notes I had to write to people.
I hesitated, wondering what to write to him. I didn’t want to be too sloshy, but I did want him to know how I felt. In the end I just wrote: For Ben: This is our secret! All my love, Chelsea. And I put three kisses and a little heart.
I put the card in the envelope, too. I looked in the mirror, put on some more lipstick, and hung my head upside down so that my hair was really big and frazzled, then ran down the road to where Ben was waiting.
As I gave it to him he began to protest.
‘No! Don’t say a word,’ I said, and I put my finger on his lips. ‘You can give it back to me any time.’
He looked inside the envelope, saw the card and took it out.
‘This is terrific artwork,’ he said, examining it closely. ‘Did you do it?’
I was just going to say no, but he looked so impressed that I found myself nodding. ‘Just a little hobby of mine. I really like drawing.’
‘You’ve got talent!’
‘Oh, it’s nothing,’ I mumbled.
‘Beautiful, clever, funny, artistic,’ he counted off on his fingers. ‘Is there no end to your talents?’
I laughed. ‘Nope!’
He put the card back in the envelope without reading it, and then put the envelope in his back pocket. ‘I’ll read it when I get home,’ he said. ‘And thanks a million. You’re a really special girl, you know that?’
Usually when someone says things like this they’re being clever or sarcastic, and I can usually come back with a smart retort. This time, though, I knew a clever reply wouldn’t have been right.
He bent his head and kissed the end of my nose. I closed my eyes and waited for him to kiss me on the lips, but he didn’t.
I opened my eyes, disappointed.
‘See you at school,’ he said, and he smiled and turned away.
