by Beth Garrod
“Surely the most pathetic thing to do is follow someone just to talk crap?” She clicked on the settings icon and looked at Teeg. “May I?”
Teeg nodded and Rach pressed at the screen, smiling sweetly. “B to the L to the O to the C to the K.” She waved at Luke, even though he was busy having a fake scrap with his mate. “Buh byeeee!”
But as she did it he turned round and mistook it for something it wasn’t. He bounded over.
“You waved?”
“I waved bye.” Tegan folded her arms. “Yup. No more school with you. No more comments on our social.”
He smiled. “Oh, that? I was only saying what everyone’s thinking.”
“Not four hundred, and …” Tegan refreshed her screen. “… seven people?”
Yes! It had gone up by three just in the last minute.
He smirked. “Big time?! Sure, you’re going to make some real headlines with that.” He pressed a foot up against the wall to give him extra height, putting his hands up to his mouth and shouting across the groups of people.
“GUYS! ANYONE WHO WANTS TO PUT THEIR NAME TO THE WORLD’S MOST POINTLESS PETITION, THESE ARE THE PEOPLE YOU NEED TO SPEAK TO.” I tried to look stern and powerful but felt my cheeks freestyling with their own brand of bright red. “AND BE QUICK! YOU STILL HAVE AT LEAST A DAY TO TRY AND RUIN OUR UNOFFICIAL END OF SCHOOL BLOWOUT!”
But Tegan wasn’t going to take this lying down. Or even standing-awkwardly-blushing.
She shouted back even louder.
“WHAT HE MEANT TO SAY WAS, ANYONE WHO HASN’T YET SIGNED THE PETITION TO STOP THE TOTALLY SEXIST AND INAPPROPRIATE SESSION PLAYING REBELROCKS, THEN THERE’S STILL TWO DAYS TO DO IT.” No one knew what to say. “SO LET’S SHOW THEM NO ONE CAN GET AWAY WITH TREATING WOMEN AS LESS IMPORTANT THAN MEN AND ADD YOUR NAME TO TEACHTHESESSIONALESSON.COM!”
My old netball friend Sarah whooped a “Yes, gals!” and we got a few other whistley cheers, but the main reaction was confused stares.
I needed to back up my best mate. Show solidarity in numbers. Jump in with a big finish. I took a deep breath.
“I … er…” But nothing came. “WHAT SHE SAID!” I put my arm lamely in the air. “Yeah?”
A smattering of claps punctured the cloud of cringe. And one shout of “Classic ‘Awkward But Acceptable’!”
Oh good. The yearbook wasn’t forgotten either.
“What IS all this commotion?” Mr Lutas’s voice bellowed.
Luke sniggered. “Don’t you know you can’t yell at us now you’re technically not our teacher?”
A disbelieving “Oooh” went up from the crowd. Mr Lutas didn’t flinch.
“And do you, boy who probably doesn’t even rrrealize he has pen on his face, know you are still verrry eligible for detention? Every night for the next thrrrree weeks until the official end of terrrrm?” Luke’s smirk made a sharp exit. “So, any other pearrrls of wisdom you’re keen to share?”
Luke stared at Mr Lutas, but his bushy eyebrows and wrinkly mouth didn’t shift a millimetre. Defeated, Luke turned and walked off.
Yesssss, Mr Lutas.
He turned and glared in my direction.
“You do know you said that out loud?” Rach whispered in my ear.
I did not. I smiled at Mr Lutas. And promptly spun round and scurried as fast as I could away to safety.
“Classic Mr Lutas.” Rach was laughing as she caught me up. “Although, rrrrevelation.” She tried to roll her r’s but sort of just spat quite a lot on my arm. “I almost might miss him.”
I snorted. “I wouldn’t go that far?!” But I only half meant it. Mr Lutas had come through for me and my friends in a couple of ways over the last few years. And although I’d never, ever tell him, and he’d never, ever want me to, I kind of agreed with Rachel. He even let me borrow the proper school camera on the d-low.
She looped her arm through mine. “You never said! What was the life-changing news you were bursting with?”
Tegan looped her arm through my other one. “Yes, Bells. Spill?!”
I took a deep breath. And told them everything about being invited to Adam’s parents for dinner. And as they asked a billion questions – from what I was going to wear, to my talking/chewing strategy, to conversational dead-end rescue tactics, to how firm a handshake I would attempt – my brain re-sorted itself from exam worrying, past Luke-hating, through Session-stressing, and firmly into full-on meltdown about this evening.
CHAPTER
EIGHT
I stood at the end of the path up to Adam’s house. It was time to Meet The Parents. Adam’s mum and dad. Aka, Mr and Mrs We-Copulated-to-Produce-the-World’s-Fittest-Human (although I’ll probably call them Mr and Mrs Douglas to their faces).
They were about to basically put me through a job interview, but the job I was going for was dater-and-snogger of their son.
I stepped up to the door. One small step for Bella Fisher, one giant leap for girlfriend-kind.
Rach had FaceTimed to help me pick my outfit, but now I was wondering if the necklace saying “I Can’t Even” was too much. I mean, I Could Even. I was right here. Make-up-wise I’d gone for black eyeliner, clear lip gloss, and extreme coverage of a forehead spot which was almost at the flaky stage. Not ideal, but other than wearing a low-brimmed hat, which isn’t traditional meet-the-parents attire, I had no other option.
Deep breath, Bella. You’ve been alive for sixteen years. You’ve met loads of old people. You know how to make conversation. They are the people most like Adam – your favourite person.
Although. FEAR. If Mr Douglas looked too much like Adam was I going to auto-fancy him by accident?! Same for his mum?!
My heart sped back up. I flicked my phone on for a final look at my emergency conversation topics list. Tegan had helped compile it, based on all the times she’d met Mikey’s parents.
It was short, but to be deployed at key points.
•You have a lovely house.
•You look lovely, Mrs Douglas (ONLY IF SHE LOOKS LIKE THE KIND OF PERSON WHO WANTS TO BE TOLD THAT SHE LOOKS LOVELY). If not, compliment a random thing like a vase.
•Say the food is delicious (even if so terrible you can hardly swallow).
•Try and drop in key life achievements:
°Successfully completed GCSEs (kind of – leave till last in case).
°Grade 3 Piano – merit (don’t mention you haven’t played in four years).
°Young entrepreneur (Aka, job against my wishes at Give A Dog A Cone).
°Winner of both Year Nine art AND maths prize (although they might take it back after today’s performance).
°Once made a pencil sharpening 62cm long that is on the noticeboard at home (ONLY IF DESPERATE).
°Once grouted half of our bathroom (ONLY IF DESPERATE AND CONVERSATION HAS STRAYED INTO DIY).
•Say nice things about Adam. Unless they seem like the kind of parents who enjoy it when you tease their child (WARNING: don’t commit to this too much in case they think you actually hate him, and are only going out with him due to a personality disorder).
I’d tried to hint to Adam that this might be the most terrifying evening of my life, and did he have any tips, but all he’d given me was, “It’ll be ace.” (In fairness, all my message had said was “See you later” – but I was expecting him to understand the true meaning as I hadn’t added a single kiss due to intense panic.)
My phone lit up. Probably Tegan or Rach reminding me it’s no big deal. Not to panic.
JO: Mum says you’re meeting the parents?!
WHAT A MASSIVE MOMENT!!
Or not.
MUM: LuckYy them! Just BEYour usual wonderful self!!!
My sister then messaged me direct.
JO: Remember…
Did she have some calming words of advice?
JO: If they don’t like you, this could RUIN
EVERYTHING. DON’T MESS IT UP!!!
I typed back.
ME: Thanks for that.
JO: Anytime.
JO: Just think – what would your big sister do?
ME: Hand out totally unwanted advice at completely the wrong moments???
JO:
I wasn’t joking.
JO: Srsly though. Don’t stress. Be yourself. You got this
I waited for the mickey-taking follow-up, but nothing came.
Tucking my phone back in my pocket, I took a deep breath and pressed the bell.
And waited.
Nothing happened.
Which was a relief, as I felt some rogue crisp stuck in my teeth. I lifted my phone up and used the front camera for a quick mirror check. It looked like I was taking a really close picture of their door. But it was worth it because there WAS a tooth morsel. I wiggled my tongue out to try and nudge it away.
“So the moment is finally here.”
Oh. My. God.
The door was talking!
I looked up.
Even worse/more logistically possible – a man was talking! A man who had opened the door. A man with a confusing facial hair configuration. Who looked like Adam. And I was frozen. Tongue out.
I was face-to-face with Adam’s dad!
“I’m not taking a picture of you!” Was I shouting?! “I was looking at myself.” Please stop talking. “And I didn’t think the bell had worked…” Someone stop me. A rogue pigeon. Anything. “Maybe I just can’t use one properly?!” I was still holding the camera in the air. “Which is bad considering my name is Bella. Bell … a.” Should I call it quits and go home already?
Adam Dad, Dadam, mustered the bare minimum of smile.
“I see.” He opened the door ever so slightly wider. “You must be the ‘The Girlfriend’.” He did air quotes. Did I need air quotes after seven months? “Probably best you come in.”
My first impression = someone who is bad at first impressions.
I followed Dadam into the hallway, trying to think of something to say to win my first proper smile. But nothing came. Except facts about triangles.
I’d been in Adam’s house a couple of times before, but it had always just been the two of us. Now it looked all different. Felt all different. Like an obstacle course I had no idea how to navigate.
As my fear began to spiral I heard something that calmed me right down. Adam’s laugh. His dad looked in the direction it came from, the kitchen.
“Ready to meet the clan?”
Real answer: No.
Suitable fake answer to appease parentals: Yes! I cannot wait!
Actual answer: Terrified nod.
This wasn’t going well. I tried to muster something from Tegan’s emergency list, but it was all jumbled in my head. “You have a lovely…” I looked around for an end to a sentence I didn’t mean to start. “Carpet.”
Dadam looked down at the bog-standard beige carpet beneath our feet. “Erm … thank you?”
Yup, he thought I was unhinged.
“Great, er…” Why had I chosen carpets?! I knew nothing about them. “Shag pile?”
OH GOD WHY HAD I JUST USED THE WORD SHAG? HE WAS TOTALLY GOING TO THINK THAT I WAS A SORDID SEX PEST WHO HAD DESIGNS ON HIS POOR, INNOCENT SON.
I felt dizzy.
This was awful. At least if I fainted it really was an incredibly soft shag pile to land on.
“BELLA! Is that you?” A lady’s voice came from the kitchen.
A voice that wasn’t Adam’s shouted back, “Nope. Dad’s talking to his alter ego Michelle again.”
Dadam strode into the kitchen, inviting me to follow. “Lewis. What have I said? Not when we have guests.” I’d met Adam’s younger brother before, but it was hard to get a word in edgeways, as all he did was scattergun insult whoever was nearest.
“She’s not a guest, she’s Adam’s girrrrlfriend,” he said in a super-annoying way.
I smiled as much as I could. Technically it was true, but him saying it like that made me want to disappear through a large crack in their wooden floor.
Adam had been leaning up by the stereo, trying to make his phone play through it, but as soon as he saw me he gave me a massive grin and walked over, giving my hand a secret squeeze. I knew the rule – no touching. He’d warned me yonks ago, PDA-ing was not a thing in this house. Not like at mine, where Mum would switch sofas to make sure we were “strengthening our relationship with everyday intimacy”.
“So awesome to have you here,” he whispered in my ear. I gave him a weak grin back. He was my safe space.
His mum was at the hob, perfect hair, wearing a red body-con dress, Ugg slippers on, an apron tied round her neck.
Determined to try and make one parent like me (or just not hate me), I stuck my hand out in her direction. “Pleased to meet you, Mrs Douglas.”
Which I immediately regretted, ’cos she was clearly wrestling a blazing-hot tray out of the oven.
“Just a minute…” It wouldn’t have felt quite such a painfully long minute if I hadn’t kept my hand awkwardly dangled towards her throughout the process. When she eventually stood up, I lunged for the shake, forgetting she was wearing an oversized oven glove, which I then pulled off mid-hand-jiggle.
“Erm, sorry.” I held it out limply. “The lasagne smells amazing.”
“It’s actually chilli. Someone didn’t tell me until the last minute that we had an extra guest.” She looked accusatorily at Adam, but I couldn’t help but feel the full brunt of guilt.
“Yeah, yeah, Mum. You just forgot.” He pulled a chair out. “Grab a seat, Bells.”
I shuffled into position. Lewis was opposite me. He kept winking. I had no idea why. But then again, he also kept hitting himself on the head with a spoon, and that made zero sense either. I cleared my throat.
“Thanks for the invite.” My voice sounded tight and unnatural. “It’s really nice to meet you all. I’ve heard loads about youuuuuuu.” I didn’t mean to sing the last word, but Adam gave my knee a secret squidge and it turned me into a human accordion.
“All good, I hope?” Dadam asked as he put the plates on the table.
“Of course!”
He sat down. “And we of course have heard lots about you too… The infamous girlfriend.” He didn’t do air quotes this time but I could tell he was thinking them.
I smiled back. “All good, I hope?!”
No one replied.
Well, this was going well. Adam gave my knee a reassuring rub.
“As if you needed to ask, Bells?” I clearly did, considering no one would give me an answer. “You’re nothing but good things.”
Hello, temporary wave of happiness. I loved that he’d invited me here, and loved even more that he’d say something like that in front of his parents. I so wanted to make the best impression for him.
Mrs Douglas slid a steaming-hot dish of rice on to the mat on the table, followed by the biggest vat of chilli I’d ever seen.
“Mmm, that smells delish,” I said. And meant it. Had to hope it wasn’t hot though. I couldn’t even eat spicy Nik Naks without my eyes watering.
She pushed the ladle in my direction. “Dig in.”
Argh. My first test! Too little and it would look like I was a fussy eater. Too much and they might think my mum forgot to feed me (she did, but that’s what snacks were for).
All eyes were on me. I spooned a large splodge of rice on to my plate. Silence. What did this mean?!
“Is that all you want?” Adam’s mum sounded disappointed.
“No, of course not?!” I immediately put another large spoonful on my plate. I was the proud owner of a rice mountain.
“We like a big eater.” Aka, I’d definitely taken too much. “Chilli?” This time she was waving a ready-loaded spoonful in my direction.
“Ooh, yes, please.”
His mum looked pleased. Yes! I’d done something right. “Our first ever vegan one. Just for you.”
It looked all beany and Quorn mincey and nice. Didn’t need to mention I wasn’t actually vegan. NBD.
“You know Bella isn’t vegan though?” said Adam.
&
nbsp; From the looks he got, he might as well have emptied the food on the floor and then sat on it.
“I did NOT know that,” his mum said through gritted teeth. “No, Adam.”
As much as my mum was totally inappropriate and wore an apron with a naked man’s torso on it, at least she wasn’t this passive aggressive. I wanted to help Adam out.
“But this smells amazing.” I took an overly large breath in. “And I looove veggies.” I looked at his dad, who was just staring at me. “And vegan stuff. We have it all the time at home. I once invented a Quorn-ish pasty.” Still nothing. “Like a Cornish pasty?”
“We get it,” Adam’s mum said, taking her first bite.
“It’s actually dead nice,” Lewis said, rice flying out of his mouth.
Their mum shook her head. “Manners, Lewis! Don’t want Adam’s girlfriend thinking we’re animals.”
I tried not to worry whether she actually knew my name and concentrated on holding my knife and fork extra properly as I took my first bite.
Oh. My. Kidney. Bean.
It was SO spicy.
Was my mouth actually bleeding?
Owwww-eeee.
Could. Not. Cope. I reached for my water and tried to swallow the entire mouthful without any more chewing.
I looked down at my plate. Thanks to the rice mountain, I had at least forty mouthfuls left.
“So, Adam tells us you’re off to RebelRocks too? We’re SO proud of him playing there.”
I took a glug of water to quell the rising inferno in my mouth so I could answer.
“Yes – he’s amaaaazing.” Sip of water. “As in, musically.” Didn’t want them thinking I was being creepy.
“Ah. Guyyyyys.” Adam fanned his face like he was blushing. The through-draught cooled the fire in my cheeks a bit, but my mouth was still alight. “But Bella’s doing something way better than me. She’s socking it to the man!”
Lewis looked confused.
“Which man? Why does he like socks?” His mouth was hanging open – giving us a delightful view of a load of half-chewed beans.
“THE man. You know, the patriarchy!”
“Pay tree what?”
“We don’t want to see your mastication, Lewis!” Dadam sounded stern. “Shut that mouth.”
