Alice to the Rescue

by Judi Curtin

  ‘… The prize is four months at the world-famous École St Jean in Paris. In other words, the competition winner will go to school in France from the beginning of March until the end of June.’

  Mr Dunne folded up the letter and put it back into the envelope. There was loads of excited chattering.

  ‘Yuck,’ said Sophie out loud. ‘I’m not going to enter the stupid competition. I’d hate to go to school in France. You’d probably have to eat gross stuff like snails and frogs’ legs and things.’

  Joe laughed.

  ‘See!’ he said. ‘I said yesterday that foreign travel wouldn’t improve your life.’

  Mr Dunne put on a very cross face.

  ‘Now you’re both just being very silly,’ he said. ‘The French are a very civilised people. I suspect they would have a more varied diet than that.’

  Joe sulked – he doesn’t take correction very well.

  ‘I wouldn’t want to go anyway,’ he said. ‘I like Kilkee. Who wants to go to stupid old France?’

  Alice turned to me.

  ‘Wow,’ she said. ‘Imagine school in France. How cool would that be?’

  Jane put up her hand.

  ‘We’ve only just started to learn French,’ she said. ‘How would we understand what’s going on in the school?’

  She was right. I could only say stupid stuff like ‘I have a little sister’ and ‘Where is the nearest bank?’

  ‘That’s a good question, Jane,’ said Mr Dunne. ‘École St Jean is really an international school. There would be students there from all over the world, and teachers too. There would be a lot of French spoken, but you’d get plenty of help in the beginning. It really is a great opportunity for the winner.’

  By now Alice was so excited she could hardly sit still in her seat.

  ‘I am so entering that competition,’ she said to me. ‘Four months at school in France – that would be like something from an Enid Blyton book. You could make friends with girls from all over the world. It would be soooo exciting. I’m going to start my essay as soon as I get home.’

  I didn’t answer her. Instead I put up my hand.

  ‘Yes, Megan,’ said Mr Dunne.

  ‘How many prizes are there?’ I asked.

  Mr Dunne had to take out the letter and read it again.

  ‘Looks like it’s just the one,’ he said. ‘Only one lucky winner gets to go to school in France.’

  Everyone was still talking excitedly, but I did my best to tune out the noise.

  I had to think.

  Only one prize.

  But if I won it, would I want it?

  Would I really want to spend four whole months in France on my own?

  Mostly I like being at home. I know Mum is a bit weird at times. (OK, so maybe I mean she’s very weird most of the time.)

  And Dad can be a bit annoying. (OK, so maybe I mean he can be very, very annoying when he tells stupid jokes in front of my friends and pretends to be all hurt when they don’t laugh).

  And Rosie can be a little bit of a pain when she comes into my room and messes up my stuff. (OK, so maybe I mean she drives me totally crazy when she messes up my stuff, and then thinks she can just get away with it because she’s so small and so cute.)

  But whatever. They’re my family, and I love them, and I would hate to be away from them for too long.

  And then there was Alice. Back when I was in sixth class, Alice spent a few months in Dublin with her mother and brother, and that was totally awful. How could I cope with four long months of us being apart?

  Then I remembered Domino. What would I do if I had to go for four months without stroking her soft black fur?

  How could I cope without feeling her sandpapery tongue licking my hand?

  She’d practically be a grown-up cat by the time I got back …

  I put up my hand again.

  ‘Er ……Sir, if I ….. I mean …… a person won the competition … would the person have to take the prize?’

  Mr Dunne scratched his head.

  ‘That’s a very strange question, Megan,’ he said. ‘I think the organisers might be a bit offended if the winner didn’t accept the prize. But anyway, I can’t see that happening. What kind of person wouldn’t want to spend four months in a French boarding school?’

  A person like me?

  Jane put her hand up.

  ‘What if you won the competition, and your parents didn’t allow you to go to France?’

  Suddenly I felt sorry for Jane. She’s an only child, and her parents hardly let her walk to the local shop without them. There was no way they would allow her to go all the way to France on her own. I smiled at her to show that I knew how she felt.

  ‘We’ve thought about that, Jane,’ said Mr Dunne. ‘We’ve prepared a letter for you all to take home to your parents. It explains everything they need to know about the competition, and about the prize. At the end of the letter, there’s a permission slip and a box for your parents to tick, letting us know if they would be willing to allow you travel to France. Everyone has to hand up a first draft, and a signed permission slip by Monday. Your essay will only be entered in to the competition if your parents are happy for you to accept the prize. Do you all understand?’

  Everyone nodded, except for Joe, who was muttering, ‘I understand that whatever happens, I’m not going to go to stupid, stupid France.’

  Mr Dunne gave him an evil look.

  ‘Oh, and by the way,’ he said, ‘you are all to bring back those signed permission slips, even if your parents don’t want you to enter the competition. I want to know that you have all discussed it with your parents, and not made the decision on your own. You never know, Joe – maybe your parents would like the idea of four months without you!’

  Joe stopped muttering and gave Mr Dunne an equally evil look.

  Mr Dunne continued, ‘Anyway, that’s enough about that. Remember first drafts and signed slips in by Monday. Now take out your grammar books and open them at page twenty-two.’

  So that was that.

  I didn’t want to win.

  Now all I had to do was hope that Alice wouldn’t win either, and then we could all live happily ever after.

  Chapter five

  Alice was a right pain as we walked home that afternoon. She kept going on and on about the competition. She didn’t seem to notice that I wasn’t as excited about it as she was.

  ‘I am so going to win that competition,’ she said. ‘I know what I’m going to write about already. I thought about it all through history class. I’ve even got the first paragraph all planned in my head. Will I say it for you?’

  I shook my head.

  ‘It’s OK, thanks.’

  Alice looked kind of hurt, but she didn’t say anything. After a while she spoke again. ‘Have you decided what you’re going to write about yet?’

  I finished my essay last night. It’s the best essay I’ve ever written and I think it might be good enough to win the prize.

  I didn’t say that though. I decided to avoid her question.

  ‘I don’t know why everyone’s getting so excited,’ I said. ‘It’s only a stupid old essay. Since when are essays such a big deal?’

  Now Alice looked really shocked.

  ‘But the competition—’

  I interrupted her.

  ‘I’m not even going to try. I don’t want to win the stupid competition.’

  Alice stopped walking. She stared at me like I was a total idiot.

  ‘But why not? That’s crazy. You heard Mr Dunne describing the prize. Wouldn’t you love four lovely long months in France? It would be like our summer holidays, only better.’ She stopped and giggled. ‘You might even meet Bruno again.’

  Bruno had been really nice, and I wouldn’t have minded meeting him again, but even the thought of that couldn’t cheer me up. I just wished that Alice would stop talking about France.

  Alice didn’t notice that I wasn’t enjoying our conversation.

  ‘Or
maybe you’d meet Pascal,’ she said. ‘Wouldn’t that be a laugh?’

  Pascal was Bruno’s evil cousin, and I certainly would not want to meet him again. Last time I saw Pascal, Alice had dumped a bowl of lentil stew on his head. It was the funniest thing I had ever seen, but now, thinking about it, I didn’t feel like laughing.

  Alice just kept on talking.

  ‘I bet they don’t make you help in the kitchen in École St Jean,’ she said. ‘I bet you just sit down, and they wait on you, like you’re a princess or something. Oh and I bet they have yummy buttery croissants for breakfast every morning. Think of it, Meg, four whole months without porridge. Wouldn’t that be like all your dreams come true?’

  I couldn’t laugh at her joke. I couldn’t even force myself to smile.

  Didn’t Alice get it?

  Couldn’t she see what was happening here?

  I felt like crying while Alice kept on talking.

  And then, all of a sudden, I didn’t feel like crying any more, because suddenly I felt really, really cross.

  ‘I don’t get you, Alice O’Rourke,’ I said. ‘I really don’t. Remember all the crazy plans you made me help you with? Remember hiding under my bed? Remember that stupid thing with your mother’s life coach? What was all that about? You spent half a year plotting and scheming to get back to Limerick, and now all you want to do is to leave again.’

  Alice looked at me in surprise. She’s not used to me getting cross like that – that’s usually her job.

  ‘But that was different,’ she said.

  ‘How was it different?’ I asked.

  Alice shrugged.

  ‘Well, it just was different.’

  I wasn’t letting her away with stupid answers like that.

  ‘Tell me how it was different,’ I insisted.

  Alice thought for ages.

  ‘Well, that time, I didn’t want to be away.’

  ‘And this time you do?’

  ‘Well, like I said, that time was different. I missed Dad, and—’

  I felt like stamping my foot.

  ‘But won’t you miss your dad if you go to France? And your mum? And Jamie? And …’ I hesitated before saying the next words, and then I whispered them so softly I was afraid Alice wouldn’t be able to hear them, ‘…… and won’t you miss me?’

  Alice turned and hugged me.

  ‘Of course I’d miss you,’ she said. ‘I’d miss everyone, and especially you. I’d probably even miss Domino!’

  I pulled away from her.

  ‘Then why do it? Why enter the stupid competition?’

  Alice took a step away from me, and looked at me like I was the crazy one.

  ‘I’d miss you, but not so much that I’d turn down the chance to live in France for four months. I might never get that chance again. I have to go for it.’

  She smiled at me, and that made me feel even worse.

  Way back in primary school, Alice was the one who always came to my rescue when my old enemy Melissa bullied me.

  When we started secondary school, Alice was the one who helped me to stand up to Marcus.

  If Alice went away, who would stand up for me, and say smart things if I met more people like Melissa and Marcus?

  What would I do without her?

  I started to walk again, and Alice walked beside me, saying nothing.

  Thoughts raced madly around, like they were fighting for space in my brain.

  Was it that Alice didn’t like me as much as I liked her?

  Maybe she was fed up of me?

  Was she tired of being my friend?

  I could feel tears coming to my eyes.

  What would Alice say if she saw me crying?

  Would she laugh?

  Would she think I was just a sad loser?

  I quickly wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, and started to prepare a story about dust in my eyes.

  And then Alice started to talk again.

  ‘Even if I won, I’d only be away for four months. That’s not so long. Maybe you could come and visit me for a long week-end or something. And you’d be OK here. You’d still have Grace and Louise and Kellie.’

  Everything she said made perfect sense, but that didn’t matter.

  All I could think of was that Alice didn’t care about going away from me.

  ‘Anyway,’ she said at last. ‘It’s stupid to fight about this. We’re fighting over something that’s probably never going to happen. There are almost a hundred kids in first year. Why would I be the one to win?’

  I didn’t answer.

  There were two big problems with what she had said.

  First, Alice is really, really good at writing essays.

  And second, Alice is the most determined girl I know. Mostly she gets what she wants because she keeps on trying until things turn out the way she wants them. If Alice wanted to go to France for four months, I had a horrible feeling that was going to happen.

  We were on our road by now.

  ‘Want to come in for a while?’ I said as we got to my house. ‘Maybe Mum has made some organic flap-jacks.’

  Alice shook her head. ‘No thanks. I’d better go on home. I’ve got to … well, I’ve got to do my homework.’

  I stood there and watched as she went up the drive of her own house. She opened the front door, then turned around and waved.

  ‘See you later?’ she called.

  I knew exactly what she meant.

  See you later, when I’ve finished writing the best essay in the history of the world.

  Chapter six

  Domino was sitting on her favourite plant in front of our door. When she saw me, she got up and stretched, arching her back like a cat in a cartoon. Then she came over and rubbed her soft fur along my legs. I bent down and stroked her and she gave a soft miaow.

  Did she understand that I was upset?

  Was she trying to make me feel better?

  Or did she just want me to feed her?

  Sometimes cats can be very hard to understand.

  I let myself into the house, and found Mum and Rosie in the kitchen. Rosie was chewing on a rice cake like it was the yummiest thing she had ever tasted.

  ‘Want some, Megan?’ she said, holding the soggy chewed side towards me.

  I shook my head, hoping I’d never be hungry enough to want to eat something like that.

  ‘Thanks, but no thanks,’ I said.

  ‘How was school?’ asked Mum.

  ‘Fine,’ I said.

  Mum so didn’t need to hear the truth about my day. (And I so didn’t need to hear her going on about how I should be more independent and not rely on Alice so much.)

  ‘Would you like a glass of carrot and beetroot juice?’ Mum asked. ‘I’ve just made some.’

  As she spoke she held up a glass full of frothy red stuff that looked like a science experiment gone very, very wrong.

  I shook my head.

  ‘No thanks. I’ve got loads of homework to do, so I’d better get started.’

  I went into my room, sat down and opened my history book.

  I looked at the same page for a very long time.

  I couldn’t think about history.

  All I could think about was that Alice might be leaving again, and that this time it would be her own choice.

  How could she do this to herself?

  And how could she do it to me?

  Alice wasn’t my only friend anymore. Grace and Louise had been my friends for ages now. And Kellie, who I’d met during my first term in first year, was turning into a really good friend. She’d come to my house to see Domino lots of times, and she never once laughed at my crazy mum.

  Grace, Louise and Kellie were lovely, but Alice was different. Alice was the one who made my life fun.

  And I knew was that if she went away, nothing would be the same.

  * * *

  After a while, I closed my history book and pulled my essay from the drawer where I’d hidden it the day before. I read it again. It
was really quite good – maybe even good enough to win the competition.

  I couldn’t take any chances. I took a deep breath and then I tore my precious essay up in to tiny little pieces, and threw them into the small waste-paper basket at my feet.

  Then I quickly scribbled off three pages of stupid stuff about foreign travel. I made sure the page was really messy, and I made a few deliberate spelling mistakes. Then I shoved my copy in to my school bag, and lay on my bed to think about stuff.

  I wasn’t going to win the competition, and neither was Sophie, or Joe. I’d just better hope that, in some one of the first-year classes, there was a very clever boy or girl who loved writing essays, and who would love to go to France for four months.

  And then Alice and I could stay together.

  * * *

  I stayed in my room for ages and ages.

  A few times I took my phone out of my pocket. I kind of wanted to call Alice, but I couldn’t do it. I sooo didn’t want to hear her saying ‘Sorry, Meg, I can’t come out, I’ve got hours more work to do on this essay.’

  So I just lay there doing nothing

  In the end, Mum came to look for me.

  ‘Why are you just lying there?’ she asked.

  I shrugged.

  ‘I just am,’ I said. ‘Is there a law against it?’

  Mum made a face.

  ‘Hmmm,’ she said. ‘If there isn’t a law against it, there should be. I can see you’re bored. Come into the kitchen, and I’ll find a few jobs for you to do.’

  I jumped up, and started to tidy my dressing-table.

  ‘No,’ I said quickly. ‘I’m not bored. I’m not even the tiniest little bit bored. Look, I’m tidying my room.’

  It was too late by then though. I should remember not to be cheeky to Mum, because she always gets me back in the end.

  Mum folded her arms.

  ‘You can do that later,’ she said. ‘Now come with me and you can help me to clean out a few of the kitchen cupboards. A bag of brown rice burst open this morning, and the grains have gone everywhere.’

  I sighed and followed her.

  Sometimes I really wished that just for one day, I could be the mother, and she could be the daughter.