Falling Hard

by Megan Sparks

  First published in 2013 by Curious Fox,

  an imprint of Capstone Global Library Limited,

  7 Pilgrim Street, London, EC4V 6LB

  Registered company number: 6695582

  www.curious-fox.com

  Text © Hothouse Fiction Ltd 2013

  Series created by Hothouse Fiction

  www.hothousefiction.com

  The author’s moral rights are hereby asserted.

  Cover designed by Jo Hinton-Malivoire, original concept by www.spikyshooz.com

  All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  ISBN 978 1 78202 036 3

  1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2

  A CIP catalogue for this book is available from the British Library.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any means (including photocopying or storing it in any medium by electronic means and whether or not transiently or incidentally to some other use of this publication) without the written permission of the copyright owner.

  ebook created by Hothouse Fiction Ltd

  With special thanks to Alexandra Diaz

  Thanks to the Santa Fe Disco Brawlers

  Chapter One

  A doorbell ringing in the middle of the night usually meant bad news. Annie Turner squinted at the unfamiliar clock. 11.46. Something had to be wrong. There was something definitely wrong. She looked at the clock again. 11.46 A.M.

  Then it all came back to her: the long and delayed flight from Heathrow to O’Hare, then the wrong turn her “I know the way” dad took that put them in Indiana. It wasn’t until four in the morning that they had arrived at their real destination: Liberty Heights, Illinois. By that point, Annie couldn’t do the maths to work out what time it was in London.

  Ding-dong. The doorbell. Again. She tumbled out of bed and went in search of the front door.

  Dad, with his brown hair sticking up to one side, met her in the hall. He looked as disorientated as she felt.

  He pointed to the front door and opened it with a flourish. The brilliant sunlight burst into Granny and Grandpa’s old house. Dad cowered and said in his Transylvanian vampire accent, “Argh, eet burns!”

  Annie would have rolled her eyes at him if she wasn’t squinting and holding her own hand out in front of her. It took several seconds to realize someone was standing outside. Two someones.

  A petite woman with perfectly cropped blonde hair wearing a pressed light-blue shirt and white linen trousers. Next to her was a tall girl around Annie’s age with wild brown ringlets that matched her skin. She sported a cool 1950s orange bowling shirt and real tattered jeans, not the kind bought that way. The two didn’t look like they belonged in the same universe, let alone on the same doorstep. Only their hazel eyes were the same.

  Oh, no. People. Annie should have remembered doorbells were usually rung by people and at least put on a dressing gown. Instead she stood there in her faded Winnie-the-Pooh nightie – the one that should have gone to the charity shop years ago but was so comfy she couldn’t part with it.

  The girl’s wearing cool vintage clothes and I’m in Pooh. She must think I’m four instead of fourteen, Annie thought.

  “Hi!” said the woman in a chipper voice. “I’m Marilyn Jones and this is my daughter Lexie. Welcome to the neighbourhood.”

  “Thanks. I’m David, and that’s Annie.” Dad introduced them, yawning.

  Mrs Jones smiled, showing her perfect white teeth. “I work for the real estate agency and I have the keys of that diner down on Main Street you’re renting.”

  Dad perked up immediately as he took the keys from her hand. “Old Al’s. I’m turning it into a café.”

  “What a wonderful idea. Al’s has been empty for so long – we were delighted to find a tenant.” The woman thrust a basket into Annie’s arms. “We brought these as a little welcome to Liberty Heights. They’re blueberry muffins.”

  “Annie’s favourite, huh, Beanie?” Dad said. Annie wanted to pull her Winnie-the-Pooh nightie over her head and disappear. Did Dad have to call her that in front of the new neighbours? Ever since she grew about a foot last year, and became too tall for gymnastics, Dad had been teasing her with a new nickname, String Bean.

  “Thanks,” Annie said to Mrs Jones. She’d deal with Dad later. “That’s lovely.”

  Mrs Jones clapped her hands in glee. “Ooh, Lexie, did you hear her accent? Lovely. Isn’t it the cutest?”

  “Mo-om,” Lexie said under her breath. She gave Annie an apologetic look, which Annie greatly appreciated. She liked Lexie already.

  Mrs Jones turned to Dad. “But you don’t seem to have much of a British accent.”

  “Wha-aat?” Dad looked at her in shock.

  No, Dad. Please don’t do your cockney accent. It’s horrid, Annie pleaded silently.

  But there went Dad with his ridiculous cockney accent.

  “’Ave oi los’ me accent, ’ave oi?” He sounded like Dick Van Dyke in Mary Poppins.

  Annie covered her eyes with her hand, though the sun wasn’t to blame this time.

  Seeing that he’d embarrassed his daughter enough, Dad put his arm around her and returned to his normal voice. “I grew up here, in this very house.” He nodded at the faded, floral wallpaper. “Still looks pretty much the same, in fact. I met Annie’s mom in London when I was a student.”

  Mrs Jones peered over their shoulders. “Is she awake? I’d love to meet her.”

  Annie and her dad looked at each other. Right now Mum was probably at work at her law firm, even though it was Saturday. Without Annie and Dad living there any more, Mum might never come home from work. A knot tightened in Annie’s stomach.

  Dad squeezed Annie’s shoulders and kissed the top of her head. “Philippa is staying in London.”

  Mrs Jones’s eyes widened as she understood what Dad was saying. “Oh, I’m sorry. Well, if you need anything, anything, you just let us know, OK?”

  Dad assured her they would as Lexie grabbed her mother by the elbow. “We should go. They need to unpack and stuff.”

  They all waved goodbye. Lexie mouthed, Sorry. Annie grinned in return. Definite friend potential.

  Dad closed the door before wrapping Annie in a hug and kissing her forehead. Annie pressed her head into his chest.

  “I’m glad you’re here with me,” Dad said.

  “Me too,” Annie said and squeezed him tighter. Dad had always been the one there for her while Mum worked as a lawyer; Annie couldn’t imagine living without him. On the other hand, it was going to be weird living without Mum. It had been the hardest decision she’d ever had to make.

  Dad must have known what she was thinking.

  “We’ll call your mom in a bit. Tell her we’re here and all. But first,” he dangled the keys Mrs Jones had brought, “let’s check out Rosie Lee’s.”

  “Yes!” Annie said. It had been her idea to call the café Rosie Lee’s, which was cockney rhyming slang for tea. A reminder of home so far away. “But I want to shower and get dressed first.”

  Dad rolled his eyes and gave an exasperated sigh. “Girls. Always want to look their best.”

  Annie mimicked him. “Dads. Always in a hurry.”

  She ran a hand through her brown hair slowly and examined her fingernails for a few seconds while Dad tapped his foot impatiently. With a laugh, she dropped the act and sprinted to the shower. She was as eager to see the new café as he was.

  For years Dad had impressed family and friends with his cooking and baking. He never followed a cookery book and yet he always seemed to know just how much to use and what flavours went together. When he’d seen on the internet that his old hangout, Al’s, was up for rent, he’d decided it was final
ly time to put his kitchen skills to use.

  “Growing up, Al’s was the bomb,” Dad said as they walked down to the café eating Mrs Jones’s muffins. “Used to go there after basketball games for burgers and milkshakes. Even kissed a girl or two in the corner booth. No wait, that only happened to the other guys.”

  Annie listened to his stories as she checked out the small city. There was so much space! Every house they passed was detached and had a large front and back garden. Still, kids played on the quiet streets, moving out of the way when an occasional car drove along. Main Street, just a few blocks from her grandparents’ house, with its rows of shops, had more traffic, but mostly just people looking for a place to park.

  Outside the diner formerly known as Al’s, Dad took a deep breath. “Wow, it’s exactly how I remember.”

  Glass lined the whole front of the diner and a black and white canopy offered shade over the pavement in front of it. It looked cool and inviting. On nice days like today, Annie could imagine people sitting at tables enjoying a cream tea with scones and strawberry jam.

  “Here, you do the honours.” Dad handed Annie the keys. She drew out the moment, building the suspense, before finally turning the lock to the soon-to-be Rosie Lee’s.

  The sight inside was enough to make Annie wish they could run back to London. The photos they had seen online hadn’t been taken recently. At least three different bug species scurried across the floor as Dad and Annie took tentative steps. Mouse droppings covered the greasy counters. The booths were gone (probably a good thing or they’d be mouse mansions) and the floor looked raw and naked. Dust, dirt, and grime covered everything. The glass display case housed so much mould it looked like it had been taken over by a furry green monster.

  Scenes from the play, Little Shop of Horrors, ran through Annie’s head. If they were eaten alive by mould or insects, how long would it take for someone to discover their remains?

  Dad ran a hand through his brown hair, making it stand straight up like it had this morning. “Let’s not tell your mom how bad it is. I don’t want to hear her say, ‘I told you so.’”

  That was exactly what Mum would say. When Mum had found out he wanted to open a café, she’d said food businesses were a waste of money. Annie didn’t know if Dad was finally following his dreams or rebelling against Mum when he decided to rent his old hangout sight unseen. Either way, Annie couldn’t bear to see her dad fail. He was a fabulous baker and if Mrs Jones’s gooey and tasteless muffins were any indication of the rest of the town’s cooking, he’d be an instant hit.

  Annie took a deep breath. So what if Dad rushed into getting the place? It was still pretty cool. And cheap. They could renovate it and make it exactly what they wanted it to be. It was going to rock. Eventually.

  “Well,” Annie said. “Let’s crack on, then.” She turned on the 1980s boom box which had been left behind in the kitchen and found a station playing The Clash.

  Dad grabbed a broom and was soon half sweeping, half singing into it as a microphone. When he’d lived in Liberty Heights, Dad not only played basketball, but was also in a garage band. The photos of Dad as a head-banging teen with long hair always made Annie laugh. Still, it was listening to his old CD collection that gave Annie her taste for classic rock, especially punk.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” Dad said between broom-guitar solos. “It’ll be good for you to finally experience life in the States.”

  “I’ve visited Granny and Grandpa in Florida loads of times, remember?” Annie teased as she sprayed cleaner on the front windows.

  “Trust me, Liberty Heights is nothing like Disney World and retirement communities. We don’t go around with mouse ears here.”

  Annie squirted some spray in his direction. “I was five when I did that, and you bought a pair too.”

  “Rubbish,” Dad said in a hoity-toity voice.

  “So what is there to do in Liberty Heights? Besides clean and help out in this fab place?” Annie added quickly.

  Dad looked at her mischievously. “I was hoping, now that you’re too big for the uneven bars, you might enjoy basketball, like me. You’re tall enough.”

  True. At five foot eleven (and a half), she was one of the tallest at her old school. But basketball? The last time she played netball during PE, the ball almost broke her nose. It was one thing to do a cartwheel on the balance beam, it was completely different to try catching a ball while running.

  Dad set down the broom and leaned into it. “Well, how about cheerleading? It’s kind of like gymnastics.”

  “Cheerleading might be fun. The routines they show on the telly seem cool.” Annie finished with the windows and threw the dirty paper towels in the bin. The difference clean windows made was astonishing. Looking through them, everything on the outside seemed to sparkle. On the inside ... well, it still needed a lot of work.

  Like attacking the green monster in the display case. Mum would have rung a professional team or thrown the whole case away but Dad wasn’t a “house husband” for nothing. He sprayed it with bleach first (“So it won’t bite back,”) before pretending to wrestle it out of the display case. Once it was gone, lying dead in the bin, they disinfected the case again. No mercy.

  After several hours, the place was beginning to shape up. Dad straightened his back with a few loud pops. Annie could feel a blister forming on her hands from all the scrubbing.

  “Why don’t you take a break, check out the downtown area if you like.” Dad groaned as other parts of his body creaked. “And remember to look both ways. Cars drive on the right here.”

  Annie didn’t need to be told twice. The sun was still shining and she couldn’t wait to learn more about the place she’d be spending the next year.

  “Don’t work too hard.” Annie kissed her dad on the cheek before racing back to the house. Her Rollerblades were easy to find; she had placed them in her hand luggage, so they wouldn’t get lost. The clothes she had put on to clean in were dirty and sweaty so she changed to the first things she could find: a Sex Pistols T-shirt and jeans. She pulled her long brown hair into a ponytail and was ready to roll. When she got back, she’d unpack and start thinking about how to change the old-fashioned bedroom that had once been Aunt Julie’s into something a bit cooler.

  Taking a deep breath of the fresh air, Annie felt great. Jetlagged? No idea what that was. Sore hands from cleaning? Not any more. The sun beat down on her and there was a breeze coming from the river making it the perfect rollerblading temperature. Annie whizzed past Rosie Lee’s and checked out the rest of the downtown. It didn’t take too long. Post office, pizza place, chemist’s, a few shops, the usual. Nothing like the hustle and bustle of London streets. She passed a small playground with swings and a slide – worlds away from Hyde Park where she and her friends had spent hours rollerblading.

  Still, Dad had said Chicago was only a two hour drive away.

  It’ll be brilliant living here, she tried to convince herself.

  She did crossovers as she turned a corner. A loose shaggy black dog darted right in front of her. Too close to stop, too sudden to think, Annie leaped over the knee-high mutt. She cleared him easily, but when she landed on the other side, the skates almost shot out from under her. Almost. Crouching low and waving her arms like a train conductor, she only just managed to keep her balance.

  Phew, that was lucky. Annie straightened up and glanced around at the dog. Not so lucky. As soon as she turned, Annie crashed into a blonde girl who suddenly emerged from a shop. Annie, the girl, and her large frozen yogurt landed hard on the pavement.

  Well, some of the frozen yogurt did. The rest covered the girl’s blazer and miniskirt.

  “You freak!” the blonde girl screamed, looking down her front at the mess.

  “Sorry, so sorry.” Annie got back on her skates and offered the girl a hand. “Are you all right? I didn’t see you. Or the dog. I’m really, really sorry.”

  “You should be.” The girl refused Annie’s hand and got up slowly
on her own. “You could have killed me. And my clothes are totally ruined, thanks to you.”

  Surely a good wash would be all the blazer and skirt needed, but Annie still felt bad. She could definitely feel a bruise on her bum so the girl must have one too. “I really am so sorry.”

  Annie dug out a tissue from her pocket (she was pretty sure it was clean) and offered it to the girl. “Can I get you another frozen yogurt? I’m really sorry.”

  The girl swatted the tissue away with a look of disgust. “Sorry. Is that all you can say – sorry?” Every time the girl said “sorry” she said it in a very bad English accent. “If you’re really sorry, why don’t you go back where you came from?”

  Annie didn’t know what to say. She thought Americans were supposed to be friendly, even to the point of being overly so like Mrs Jones. Obviously this girl hadn’t read the American Stereotypes Handbook.

  Annie was saved from apologizing again by two brown-haired girls wearing similar outfits to the one now covered in yogurt.

  “Oh my god, Kelsey. Are you OK? Can you believe her? Totally could have killed you.” The two new girls gave Annie the dirtiest look before helping their friend into a gold Volvo four-by-four and screeching off.

  Annie squatted down on her skates and cringed. First Winnie-the-Pooh, now Yogurt Girl. What a way to make a great first impression.

  Something furry brushed up against her. Startled, Annie looked down to find the mutt mopping up the yogurt from the pavement. From the dog’s neck hung a black lead and a skull-shaped tag with the name “Sid”. She picked up the lead and looked around for Sid’s owner. She didn’t know what Dad would say if she brought Sid back to Granny and Grandpa’s house, with its doilies and lace curtains and knick-knacks on every surface.

  A tall black-haired skater boy about her age ollied and grinded the curb in front of her. Black-chequered Converse, black skinny jeans, and black chequered shirt over a black Ramones T-shirt. Good taste. And cute too.

  He flipped the skateboard into his hands and blew his hair out from his bright blue eyes. “Sorry ’bout that. Sid Vicious doesn’t know any manners yet.”