by Candy Harper
‘I should have known that.’
‘Maybe I should have told you.’
‘Maybe I should have given you a chance to tell me.’
She smiled and I felt a massive sense of relief.
‘Sorry I was insensitive and that I tried to tell you what to do,’ I said. ‘I won’t do it again.’
She punched me on the arm. ‘Yes you will! But let’s not fall out over it next time. I’ll just put you in a half nelson until you stop it.’
‘Fine. So we’re back to being nice to each other, right?’
‘That’s right, fish face.’
‘Nicer than that.’
And then she did put me in a half nelson, but it was quite a cuddly one.
We joined the others again and watched some more videos Ethan had made, including one of Cam attempting to jump off a shed and onto a wheelie bin. (The wheelie bin tipped up and he flew backwards into a hedge, but the best part of it was the way he just picked himself up and sauntered away as if nothing had happened.)
Westy wasn’t exactly chatty with me, but half way through the night he said, ‘Do you want a crisp sandwich?’
I think we all know that you don’t make a crisp sandwich for someone you hate, so that cheered me up.
‘Is Dawn not coming?’ I asked Ethan when I’d finished my sandwich.
He shook his head. ‘Nah, she’s doing her own thing.’
I couldn’t help feeling pleased about this. ‘I just wanted to say thanks again for setting me and Megs up – it was sweet of you.’
‘Any time.’ He looked at me, ‘I don’t like seeing you sad.’
It was tempting to mention at this point that if he really wanted to prevent any future sadness on my part then all he has to do is dump Dawn and ask me out. Two simple steps to get me perma-smiling.
‘You and Megan are great together,’ he went on. ‘And Angharad’s just been telling me how sweet you were to her in France. It’s ace the way you look after your friends, Faith. Some girls, I mean, some people don’t actually seem to care about their friends that much and just moan about them behind their backs. I think that if you’re going to be mates you ought to be loyal.’
Oh my. Not only is he gorgeous and clever he is a really decent person.
He dropped the serious face. ‘Of course, you’ve got to beat them up a bit and point out their minor imperfections in a hilarious fashion, just to keep them on their toes . . .’
And he’s funny. I was so full of swoony admiration at this point that I thought I might pop like balloon.
‘. . . But you don’t stab them in the back.’
‘Exactly,’ I agreed. ‘That’s one of the reasons I’ve never liked Icky. She ditches her so-called friends whenever they’re not useful to her.’
‘Uh huh.’
‘Course, the main reason I hate her is because she squinted at me a bit once. When we were toddlers. On a very sunny day. But you can’t expect a hatred of this sort of magnitude to be an entirely reasonable entity.’
He nodded solemnly. ‘It’s a once in a generation occurrence. We must respect your crazy-lady Icky-despising for its awesome depth and duration.’
I’d really missed chatting like this with Ethan. ‘If only Miss Ramsbottom thought like you do. Instead it’s all, “Stop giving the entire canteen an accurate report on which rotting vegetables Vicky smells like, Faith.” And “Take those scissors out of Vicky’s eyeball, Faith.”.’
He laughed and my middle did a loop the loop. ‘She doesn’t appreciate you,’ he said.
‘I know! If she’d j—’
‘I do.’
That shut me up. Actually, it didn’t. Because even though it seemed like he was saying that he appreciated me, I wanted to be absolutely clear, so I said, ‘You do what?’
‘Appreciate you.’
So then it was absolutely clear. He said it in this low voice while looking right into my eyes and I was looking right back at him, and I’d gone all floaty light because he does like me. Then I realised that this looking business had been going on rather a long time and, good gravy, it wasn’t going to turn into kissing business was it? But then something terrible happened. Something truly revolting that should never happen to any girl on the possible-maybe verge of a kiss.
I heard my father’s voice.
I don’t mean in the room. He’s been told that if he really has to interrupt me at a social gathering then he has to pretend to be a fireman evacuating the area. (And the face-covering breathing mask I have provided him with must be worn at all times.) Anyway, this hideous voice of my father was actually in my head. And it was repeating a bit of that conversation I had with him a few weeks ago, when I asked him if he thought Hypothetical Hannah could be friends with the boy she liked and he said: Is this girl going to flirt with the boy?. Oh no. This was terrible. I hadn’t meant to flirt but now, here I was practically puckering up.
I took a step back from Ethan. ‘Er, I, um,’ I gabbled. ‘I’ve got to get something to drink.’
He looked disappointed. Which is good. Because anyone who almost maybe nearly kisses me should be super sad when it doesn’t happen.
Except, I’m quite glad it didn’t happen. I don’t want to kiss someone else’s boyfriend.
What I want is for him to be my boyfriend and then we can snog until out lips fall off.
LATER
Why can’t Ethan work that out for himself?
LATER STILL
Also, I could do without my dad roaming around my brain. Imagine what he might find in there.
TUESDAY 29TH MAY
Granny cooked us dinner tonight. I say ‘cooked’ but actually she just opened a jar of sauce and made Sam boil up a vast quantity of pasta.
‘It’s funny that you’re making all this fuss about redecorating,’ I said, when we all sat down tucking into this extremely bland feast. ‘Because you’re not much of a homemaker are you?’
Granny gave me one of her crocodile smiles. ‘I’ve always found that people who visit my house are very glad they’ve done so.’
I shook my head. ‘I think you’re getting confused, what they’re glad about is leaving.’
‘Faith,’ Dad said. ‘Don’t be so . . . cheeky.’ I’m pretty sure that he almost said ‘honest’.
I pouted. ‘Don’t be cheeky, don’t flick over-cooked pasta at your brother, what am I allowed to do?’
‘You could try making polite conversation with your family.’
We all had a good laugh at that one.
LATER
I couldn’t sleep because the sofa is so uncomfortable, so I got up and ate the rest of Granny’s pasta. It wasn’t that bad in the end. All it needed was a bacon sandwich on the side.
LATERER
Although Mum was quite stroppy about the perfectly acceptable late night activity of bacon frying. She thought I was a burglar.
I told her that if robbers get a bacon sandwich while they’re on the job I am definitely adding that to my list of possible careers.
WEDNESDAY 30TH MAY
When I got home from school Sam was slumped at the kitchen table making the place look like a hostel for the unwashed and idiotic.
‘What is it? Has Granny made you wash her tights?’
‘No. She’s out.’ He groaned and clutched at his hair.
‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you,’ I said. ‘If Dad’s anything to go by that mop will start falling out soon. If you give it a helping hand you’ll be bald by the time you’re nineteen.’
‘I can’t do it!’ he moaned.
‘Well, it’s true being both stupid and bald is a bit of handicap, but Dad seems cheerful enough on it.’
He banged his head on the table. ‘My homework, I can’t do my stupid homework.’
I leant over his shoulder. He was supposed to be writing a letter from an evacuee to his parents.
‘You’re going about this all the wrong way, you aubergine,’ I said helpfully. ‘It’s not about how much you write.’
‘Isn’t it?’
‘Next you’ll be telling me you’re making your handwriting really big so that your words take up more space.’
He had the good grace to look embarrassed
‘Listen, don’t waffle. Teachers can spot waffle, besides it just takes up their time to wade through it when really they’d rather be watching dog fights and drinking gin.’
‘So what do you do?
‘Find out what they want from you. Always ask what it is they want to see in your homework. Then you whack that in at the beginning. That way if their attention wanders while they’re marking you’ll still get credit.’
I looked at his homework sheet again. ‘You’re not being marked for your story writing here. What she needs is to see that you’ve actually learnt something about the Second World War and the evacuees. All teachers really want is some proof that you’ve been listening to them dribble on. It’s quite sad really – their constant need for affirmation.’
I was feeling generous so I helped him bang out two paragraphs crammed with everything that he knew about evacuees. Which wasn’t that much. But at least now he’ll get credit for what his tiny brain managed to retain.
Sam grinned his wonky-toothed smile up at me. ‘Thanks, Faith.’
‘I’m not doing it for you. My reputation would be in tatters if anyone found out you don’t know how to outsmart a teacher. Raise your game.’
He nodded hard.
It’s a shame I’ve already decided to dedicate my life to Science (or burglary). I think I’d make an excellent life coach.
THURSDAY 31ST MAY
I’ve been thinking about Ethan. I don’t mean to, but he keeps popping up in my head like some sort of thought ninja. It was nice of him to care about me and Megs making up.
Really nice.
That’s all I’m saying.
JUNE
FRIDAY 1ST JUNE
Miss Ramsbottom started today’s assembly with what, I think, she thinks is a smile. It’s not a real smile, she just stretches out her already thin lips until they almost disappear. She only ever does it when she wants something. I started calculating how many steps we were from the door and wondering if Ramsbum had any weapons concealed about her person.
She fixed us with her laser gaze. ‘Today I want to talk about something that I know is very important to you all.’
I waited for her to start a nice chat about doughnuts or women’s rights or something else that I can either eat or get enthusiastically shouty about. Instead, she told us how the school has taken great strides in becoming greener. It’s not even true. They have the heating on in the summer and we’ve been asking for more recycling bins for ages. Although, the ICT department are quite strict about paper use; the teachers go nuts when you print out a really quite short magazine for just three hundred of your closest friends.
But I got the impression that suddenly Miss Ramsbottom was feeling very keen on the eco thing. It soon became clear why that was.
‘This year,’ she said. ‘The Green Schools Alliance will be holding their conference here at Westfield High, and as part of the proceedings there will be a presentation on the initiatives that we have set in place as a school. I am looking for girls to deliver the presentation and to act as school tour guides.’
Suddenly the entire hall was completely still. We all know that when Miss R is looking for victims it only takes an ill-timed fidget and you find yourself hauled off from your friends and made to sign your life away. I haven’t forgotten when she made me ‘volunteer’ to wash bird poo off the head’s car just because I tried to pass the time, during one of her super dull speeches on appropriate behaviour, by doing a very small amount of punching Lily in the head.
‘I’m sure you’re all keen to volunteer to represent your school.’
I concentrated on making myself invisible.
‘I will place a signup sheet on the activities noticeboard and I look forward to seeing it full by the end of the day. Dismissed.’
But no one wanted to be the first to stand up just in case Miss R swooped down on them and took their names for her list. It took several minutes before I convinced the girls to make a break for the door.
At lunchtime, I was congratulating myself on having managed to avoid Ramsbum all day when Angharad said, ‘Actually, I might sign up for the Green Schools thing.’
‘Really?’ Megs asked.
‘I think the environment is important, don’t you?’
Megs nodded. ‘Of course, but I’m pretty sure that ozone layer will be just as happy with me in Juicy Lucy’s as it would be with me sweating it out for Miss Ramsbottom.’
‘I think the environment would actually be happier if we’re happy,’ Lily said through a mouthful of banana.
We all stared at her.
‘Because Mother Nature always looks like that sort of person, doesn’t she? Like she cares if you’re happy.’
Before we could get any further into whether the environment is worrying about Lily’s happiness levels, Ang said firmly, ‘I like getting involved with things and I think it will be fun.’
Which made me wonder if perhaps I should spend more time reading Geography textbooks like Ang does, because then everything else really would seem super super fun. But what it comes down to is that Ang is my friend, and I always support my friends in their crazy ideas (and the fact that I point out their craziness and maybe even make them a t-shirt about it, is really only a formality).
‘It’s madness,’ I said to Ang. ‘But you can sign me up, if you want some company.’
‘Me too,’ Megs said.
Lily nodded her agreement.
Ang hesitated. ‘Thanks, but you’re just saying it to be nice, aren’t you? You don’t need to because I can definitely do this by myself.’
‘But you don’t have to,’ I said.
Angharad swallowed. ‘I’d like to.’
She seemed determined to stand on her own two feet so we didn’t argue anymore. To be honest I was quite relieved because spending time with Ramsbum is asking a lot, even from a friend.
SATURDAY 2ND JUNE
Megs came over this afternoon while my parents were out shopping with Sam. Granny was at one of her carnival float meetings, so once we’d scoured the kitchen for snacks that weren’t made of seaweed or tofu, we went upstairs to my room. Apart from a lingering whiff of Granny’s old lady perfume, a peach cardigan and a load of sweet wrappers, my room seemed pretty much as I left it. Except for something black on the floor.
‘Old people,’ I said. ‘So untidy. If she keeps this up, I’ll dock her pocket money.’ And then I did something really rash: I bent down and picked the thing up. Now, I’ve never really given much thought to my granny’s underwear, but I suppose I had a vague sort of idea that she would wear a garment that covered that whole terrifying area completely. Something that went from waist to knees. Maybe Victorian style bloomers. I never expected my granny’s undergarments to be black and lacy.
Or in my hands.
As soon as I realised what I was holding I threw them away from me. Unfortunately, Megs had already settled herself on the bed and they landed on her head.
At first she didn’t quite understand, she pulled them off her pony tail and opened them out.
‘What the? Are these your granny’s?’
I couldn’t speak. I managed a bit of a blink.
‘Please tell me they’re clean.’
‘I don’t think even my crazy granny keeps her clean undies on the floor.’
‘Gross!’ Megs squealed, and she flicked the knickers away from her, towards me. I tried to bat them back, but they got stuck on my shirt button.
Megs yelped with laughter.
‘Get them off me!’ I shook from side to side, trying to dislodge them without actually handling them.
Megs was rolling around on the bed in hysterics.
‘Megan Baptiste! Help me now!’ I shouted, but she was no use at all. When you’re facing a peril lik
e this, you’ve really only got yourself to rely on; so I grabbed a pencil from my desk and managed to hook the knickers off my button and back in the direction of Megs. But she was too quick and scrambled away like a mad dog was coming at her. Which meant they landed on my pillow.
‘Oh my God!’ I gasped. ‘Don’t leave them there! I’ll never be able to sleep again!’
‘Do something Faith!’
So with remarkable bravery (and the sort of presence of mind that makes me wonder why the prime minister never phones me for advice), I wrapped my hand in Granny’s cardi, picked up the knickers with my protected hand, stepped out on to the landing and threw the whole old lady pant-parcel on to Sam’s bed. I closed his bedroom door and hopped back into my room.
Megs and I doubled over laughing and shaking and panting like two people who have just disposed of a hand grenade.
Eventually Megs started to say, ‘I can’t believe your granny wears a tho—’
‘Stop right there!’ I gripped her by the shoulders and stared into her eyes. ‘We must never speak of this again. Understand?’
She nodded.
And then we tried to carry on like normal. Like people during the war bravely making a cup of tea in their bombed out kitchen.
But, to be honest, life will never be the same again.
Some things you just can’t unknow.
SUNDAY 3RD JUNE
Lily rang me. ‘What are you up to?’ I asked.
‘Arif came round yesterday to help me with my prepping.’
‘Your prepping? What are you prepping for?’ To be honest, Lily has never struck me as the sort of person that gets prepared for stuff. Normally, she just lets big things happen and then she does or says something crazy. Which is also what she does when nothing big has happened. When you think about it like that, she’s actually a remarkably stable person.
‘I’m prepping for a zombie apocalypse. Or an alien invasion. Or a plague of locusts. Basically, anything that’s going to restrict my access to Marmite.’
