Mates, Dates and Pulling Power

by Hopkins, Cathy

  I was about to try his mobile when Mum came into the room and sat on the bed beside me. She was trying not to, but I could tell she was having a hard time not laughing.

  ‘Nesta,’ she said. ‘Tony’s just been telling me what you think about this boy Luke that you’ve met. Um, listen love, I can’t let you go into school with this on your mind. He’s not your brother, I can tell you that much. As I said on Sunday, your dad does have some history with Luke’s dad and . . . he should have told you what it was all about himself.’

  ‘Well, you tell me . . .’

  Mum hesitated for a moment, then shook her head. ‘Let your dad tell you when he gets back at the weekend. I’ll have a word with him. I promise he’ll tell you the whole story and, in the meantime, I can assure you that what he’ll have to say is not that Luke is your brother or his son.’

  ‘Promise?’

  ‘Promise.’

  ‘Because I have kissed him you know.’

  I could see that Mum was struggling not to laugh and I could hear Tony sniggering in the corridor behind the door.

  ‘Did you tell Dad he’s been a very naughty boy and we know all about his love child?’ he called through.

  ‘You shut up, Tony pig face,’ I called back.

  He opened the door and leaned in. ‘You’ve been watching too many soaps, Nesta. Now the real truth is that Mrs De Biasi is actually a transexual, but when she was a man, she fathered Lucy behind Mr Lovering’s back. TJ is an alien and Izzie, well, we all know that she’s had three babies and is trying to hide them from her mother. And Izzie’s mum, well, she’s actually a lesbian who’s afraid to admit it and Mr Foster is on drugs but trying to reform.’

  I went to throw one of the pillows from Mum’s bed at Tony, but Mum stopped my arm. ‘Now stop it, both of you. Enough of this nonsense. Nesta, you’ve got an over-vivid imagination. Tony stop winding her up. And both of you, off to school NOW.’

  I got up and pushed past Tony, but not without sticking my tongue out at him and standing on his right foot with all my weight.

  ‘Owwwww,’ he cried. ‘Muuuuum.’

  ‘Baby,’ I said.

  ‘Enough,’ said Mum getting up from the bed.

  I went into the kitchen and grabbed a piece of toast off a plate on the breakfast bar, put on my jacket and headed off for school. Sometimes I hate having a brother. I’m glad I haven’t got two, I thought. Ohmigod. What must Luke have thought? Oh dentists. I checked my mobile in the hope that there was a message from him. Nothing. Oh double dentists. I’d better phone and grovel. Apologise. Explain that . . . what will I say? That aliens came to Highgate last night and took over my brain for a couple of hours? Oh dear. I suppose it was a bit mad thinking that he was my brother, but it made sense at the time. Triple dentists. I must work on my excuses and come up with a really good one if I’m to get him back. Oh, knickers. Sometimes it’s very difficult being me.

  Nesta’s Excuses for Having Acted Crazy

  1) Aliens landed and took over my brain for two hours.

  2) No! That wasn’t me. That was my psychotic twin. We don’t usually let her out, but she escaped last night for a short while. Soooooo sorreeeeeeeeeeeeee.

  3) Pretend to be an actress and say: ‘I was researching a role for my new movie where I have to play a mad girl and I wanted to get into the character for a while.’

  Chapter 12

  I dialled Luke’s mobile on the way to school. It was switched off.

  I tried again when I got to school. Still switched off.

  In the break at school, I made my way into the girls’ cloakroom, found a cubicle then dialled his number again. Luckily it was break at his school as well, as he picked up.

  ‘Hi, this is Nesta,’ I said.

  ‘Oh. Yeah. Hi.’ His voice sounded cold. Uninterested.

  ‘I er, just wanted to say three things. First sorry, the aliens got me. Not my fault I was weird last night, they interfered with my brain.’

  There was silence at the other end.

  ‘OK. Not aliens. Um . . . I was researching for a film role where I have to play a schizophrenic. That’s someone with a dual personality. No, you weren’t. Yes, I was. Shut up. No, you shut up.’

  Still silence.

  ‘OK, you got me,’ I said. ‘I have to tell you the real truth. I have an evil and psychotic twin. It was her you saw last night.’

  Still silence.

  ‘Oh Luke, listen, I guess, I . . . I wanted to say, sorry. I guess I acted a bit strange last night. This thing with our dads has got to me more than I thought and my mum always said I had an overactive imagination. I guess it ran away with me. I know what I thought was mad especially now in the light of the day, having slept on it and . . .’ I realised that I was doing all the talking. ‘Are you still there, Luke? Join in anytime . . .’ There was a very loooooooooong silence. Oh dentists, I thought, I’m going to be dumped before we really got started. And it’s all my stupid fault. ‘Are you still there, Luke?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Right. So . . .’ But I didn’t have anything else to say. My flow of bad apology and mad excuses had dried up. ‘Um, OK then. See you around maybe . . . Sorry, sorry . . .’

  ‘Look, Nesta,’ said Luke, ‘I think you have to make up your mind what you want. I felt a total idiot last night, being left in that café with two of your mates watching it all . . .’

  ‘Not my mates. They’re in my class . . .’

  ‘Whatever.’

  ‘Yeah. Sorry. Whatever.’

  ‘And what were you on about? Me being your brother?’

  ‘I know. Oops. Big mistake. Velly solly.’

  I heard the bell go in the distance at his end. ‘I have to go to class. Look, Nesta. I think we got involved a bit fast. Let’s slow down a bit and take some time. Think about what we want, OK. You think about what you want. I get the feeling that you don’t really know.’

  ‘Oh . . . OK.’

  ‘Just take some time . . .’

  ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘I heard you. Take some time. OK. One, two, three. OK. Ready.’

  At last Luke laughed. ‘Bit longer maybe. Look. Call me later,’ he said. ‘Maybe we could meet up tomorrow?’ This time his voice sounded warmer.

  ‘OK. Later.’

  Hurrah, I thought as I switched my phone off and went to find the girls. Once again, life never closes a wotsit without opening another wotsit.

  Tomorrow, he’d said. That’s Friday. In that case, I decided, I was going to take full advantage of the next twenty-four hours and put myself through a mental makeover and crash course on films and all I could find to do with them. When I saw Luke next, I was going to astound him with my tip-top knowledge of everything to do with movies and not just the entertaining kind that I liked. I was going to be Miss Film Critic of the year.

  At lunch-time, I went to the library and piled all the books about films that I could on to the desk. I poured through them trying to remember who’d directed what and who’d produced what, so that I could name-drop and impress Luke. In the evening, I pulled all Dad’s movie books out on to the dining table and continued my swotting up.

  ‘What’s going on?’ asked Tony when he found me nose to page with Halliwell’s Film Guide.

  ‘Need to know about movies,’ I said, indicating the books.

  ‘But you do already,’ he said. ‘Don’t tell me that having a director as a dad hasn’t rubbed off on you? I think you know more than you realise.’

  ‘Not as much as Luke. He knows about ones I’ve never heard of.’

  ‘And you probably know about ones he’s never heard of. Don’t put yourself down, Nesta.’

  ‘But there’s so many, hundreds, thousands, I’m beginning to think that there aren’t enough hours in the week to mug up on it all. I don’t know where to begin.’

  ‘Well what genre are you looking at?’ he asked. ‘You do know what a genre is, don’t you?’

  ‘Yeah. Course,’ I said. ‘It means type. Like romance or comedy. T
here are loads of different genres. Like thriller, horror, detective, sci-fi, war, cartoon . . .’

  ‘See. You’re not as stupid as you look,’ said Tony.

  ‘But I’ll never have enough time to swot up on all of them,’ I said, groaning. ‘It’s so complicated.’

  ‘So why are you looking at all this stuff? For a school project?’

  ‘No way. For Luke.’

  Tony laughed. ‘Ah well, there’s only one film you should talk to him about,’ he said.

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘The Coen brothers movie. O Brother, Where Art Thou?’

  ‘Oh ha ha, you’re so funny,’ I said. ‘I’m trying to forget about that minor brain blip. But seriously, I need to impress Luke with my knowledge of movies.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It’s his passion and I think I blew it the other night by dismissing him when he was talking about them.’

  ‘Ah. You’ve forgotten the rules.’

  ‘What rules?’

  ‘How to be a brilliant conversationalist.’

  ‘I know how to be a brilliant conversationalist, least no one’s ever complained before. Why? Do you know something I don’t?’

  ‘Actually, yes I do,’ said Tony. ‘Or something you’ve forgotten.’

  ‘OK, Mister Know It All. What?’

  Tony shook his head and looked at me sadly. ‘Wow. This guy has really got to you, hasn’t he? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you lose it like this before. It’s like your brain has gone dead. You don’t talk, you listen. Ask a few pointed questions, then listen some more.’

  ‘Duh? Explain?’

  ‘What’s the most flattering thing in the world?’ asked Tony.

  ‘To be told you’re totally beautiful, I guess.’

  ‘Wrong. Well, that’s OK, but actually, it’s when someone is like, totally interested in what you have to say. Often in conversations, people don’t listen to each other. Not really. Often, all the time one person is talking, the other person is planning what they’re going to say, often not even really listening . . .’

  I couldn’t resist. ‘Sorry. What were you saying? I was too busy planning what I was going to say next.’

  ‘If you’re not going to pay attention . . .’

  ‘No, Tone, I was just having a laugh. Sorry. Listening.’

  ‘Well, that’s it really. There’s nothing more flattering than someone really listening to you. People love to talk about themselves and what they think. Course, this tactic won’t last for ever, as you might get bored out of your brains listening to someone else’s opinion all the time, but in the beginning it can really sway things in your favour. I do it all the time. Makes girls feel really special. A lot of boys haven’t cottoned on to it yet. Ask girls what they think about things they’re into and really listen like you’re fascinated.’

  I pointed to all the books I’d been studying. ‘So you’re saying that I don’t have to study all this stuff?’

  ‘You can if you want to but, if the only reason you’re doing it is to have a conversation with Luke about movies and make him feel good, then you don’t need to read up. All you need to do is listen to what he thinks, ask him his opinion about a few films and really listen to his replies. If you do it right, he won’t even notice that you haven’t said much.’

  ‘Thanks Tony, you’re a star,’ I said. How could I have forgotten the golden rules, I asked myself? I already knew what he’d told me. Clearly falling in lurve had not made me blind but stupid. But then, I guess this is the first time that the tables have turned on me. Usually it’s boys who are trying to impress me. I’ve never felt that I had to work hard to impress one of them before. And now Tony’s reminded me how easy it is. Just let them talk and I listen. I put away the books and settled down to watch EastEnders. Bliss.

  The Bluffer’s Guide to Good Conversation, by Tony

  1) When you can, bluff it.

  2) When you can’t, don’t be afraid to say that you don’t know about a subject or else you can end up looking a prat.

  3) Third option is to feed lines to the person you’re interested in and listen to their replies. Remember it only works in the short term. If you’re really interested in someone for the long run, it’s best to be honest, as communication has to be two-way for it to work.

  4) Before you try option 3, practise until perfect, the kind of facial expression that says that you know exactly what he/she’s talking about (a cross between glee and constipation).

  5) Study your subject and start off with a few general openers that will spark off areas of interest eg, for film: ‘And who do you think should win Best Actor at this years Oscars?’

  6) Learn to feed lines that get him/her going on his favourite subject.

  For example, for a boy who’s into movies:

  Right approach:

  He: Are you into movies?

  You: Oh yes. What are your top three favourites and why?

  Him: Ten minutes animated reply.

  You: Mmmm. Fascinating. Tell me more.

  Him: Another ten minute animated opinion.

  You: Exactly!

  He: (thinks) What an impressive girl!

  Wrong approach:

  He: Are you into movies?

  You: I prefer telly. Let me tell you what I think . . . (ten minutes of you talking.)

  He: But I don’t watch those things . . .

  You: Really? Well let me fill you in on what you’ve been missing. (Ten minutes about the soap.)

  He: (thinks) We have nothing in common, plus I can’t get a word in. I’m outta here now.

  Note from Nesta: Of course, true communication is two-way with talking and listening on both sides, but this is an excellent method when you are trying to pull, especially if you have a brace in, as it means you can just nod and look interested (and beautiful).

  Chapter 13

  By Friday night, I was ready to try out my tip-top conversation skills on the lovely Luca. He called me on my mobile at lunch-time and asked if I’d like to go over to his house that evening.

  ‘Mum will be here for a while,’ he said, ‘then she’ll go to join Dad at the restaurant and Marisa’s out with her mates, so I thought we could watch a movie or something.’

  I’d like to do ‘or something’, I thought and almost said so, but I managed to restrain myself and put my ‘How to be a brilliant conversationalist’ into practice instead.

  ‘I have to work for an hour or so at Lucy’s dad’s shop after school, but I could come over after that. A movie sounds great. But what genre? Sci-fi, Horror? War? Which do you prefer?’

  Woah! Did that get Luke going! He was off and didn’t pause for breath for five minutes.

  ‘Mmmm. Exactly,’ I said when he’d finished.

  ‘I’m really looking forward to seeing you again,’ he said. ‘It’s not often I meet a girl who knows about films and who I can talk to like this.’

  Bingo, I thought. Hoho haha, yep yeppity yes.

  After my shelf stacking stint at Mr Lovering’s shop, I dashed home to get changed to go to Luke’s. Black jeans, black polo neck, black kohl on my eyes, so that I looked like one of those Frenchie bohemian intellectual types. I made sure that I wore my high black boots though, so I didn’t look too brainboxy.

  I was ready to leave at the same time as Mum, who was going to pick up Dad from the station, and she offered to drop me on her way. She wasn’t too happy when I gave her Luke’s address.

  ‘What’s all this about then?’ she asked as we followed the directions he’d given. ‘I thought your dad asked you not to see him.’

  ‘I know, but you haven’t forbidden me, have you? And anyway, it doesn’t make sense. Surely you can see that?’

  ‘I guess.’ Mum shrugged as if to say she didn’t understand Dad’s ultimatum either.

  ‘Don’t tell him where I am, will you?’ I asked as we reached Luke’s road and Mum stopped in front of a semi-detached house with a neat lawn in the front.

  ‘Not if you
don’t want,’ she said, ‘but I think you two have got some talking to do over the weekend. I don’t like all this going behind each other’s backs and not telling the whole story . . .’

  ‘He started it.’

  Mum sighed. ‘He has his reasons.’

  ‘So why doesn’t he tell me them?’

  Mum sighed again. ‘Just be back around ten, OK?’

  ‘OK. Luke will probably drop me.’

  ‘Well, give me a ring if he can’t.’

  Two minutes later, a smiling Mrs De Biasi opened the door of their house, then showed me into the sitting room. It was a Mediterranean-style room, modern with marble floors and light sofas dotted with turquoise and sea blue cushions. I did ‘Polite Visitor’ for a while and asked questions about the décor, how her week had been and so on, then she went to call Luke and get us some juice. As soon as Luke came down, I quickly asked if he had any update on the story of our two dads.

  He shook his head. ‘Not really, the time hasn’t been right. There’s either been people around or, I dunno . . . we don’t exactly communciate very well at the best of times and I thought it might be weird if I suddenly asked about his past, especially if it’s something awkward. How about you?’

  I shook my head. ‘Dad’s only getting back this evening and I didn’t think it was a question for the phone. But Mum said she’d make him tell me the whole story. I’ll let him have a lie-in tomorrow then see how it feels . . .’

  Luke nodded. ‘I know. Waiting for the right time can take forever sometimes . . .’

  Suddenly I spotted a group of framed photos on the bookshelves at the back of the room and got up from the sofa to go and have a closer look. One of them was of a boy, who looked about ten. ‘Ah sweet,’ I said to Luke. ‘It’s you, isn’t it?’

  ‘It is,’ said Mrs De Biasi coming back in with a tray of drinks and almond biscuits. ‘He was such a sweetie.’ She showed me another photo of a baby. ‘And this is him as a baby.’

  Luke looked really embarrassed. ‘Muuum,’ he groaned. ‘What time are you going? I’m sure Nesta isn’t in the least bit interested in looking at photos of me.’