Summer of no Regrets

by Kate Mallinder

  I opened my eyes and looked round my room. It was five thirty and the sun was already streaming in through the gap in my curtains. I couldn’t get up. It would disturb Mum, then she’d know I was awake early, then she’d get worried, then she’d be On My Case even more. If that were possible. No. I must carry on being a Perfectly Normal and Average Teenager. Hetal tells me that the average time a teenager wakes up is 9.47 a.m. I turned over and tried to get back to sleep.

  I wondered how Sasha was getting on. She flew out and, despite a quick message saying she’d got there OK, I’d heard nothing. I wondered if Cam had heard more. She might have done. They are closer friends, those two. Perhaps they all have a three-way message going on. Without me. Oh, I annoy myself sometimes. Of course they don’t. And even if they did, it wouldn’t mean anything, would it? I mean, I’ve got one with Hetal, but that doesn’t mean I like her better than the rest, it just means we have different sorts of conversations. Oh crap. I’m never going to get to sleep now. And I need a wee.

  I crept out of bed, out of my room and along the corridor. Mum shot out of her room, hair a mess and looking startled.

  ‘Are you OK? Everything alright?’ she gabbled.

  ‘I’m fine,’ I replied. ‘Needed the loo, that’s all.’

  She visibly relaxed. ‘Righto, great.’ And disappeared back to bed.

  Man, my mum’s a stress-head.

  By nine o’clock I was ready to scream. What was I going to do with my day?

  ‘I bumped into Hetal’s grandmother yesterday,’ said Mum.

  ‘Right.’ I felt a flush creep up my neck. I hope she didn’t give me away. I’m not sure what about, it’s just I’ve dodged about quite a bit, and I can’t quite remember where I’ve said I’ve been, and where I’ve actually been. If you see what I mean.

  ‘She said that Hetal’s been invited to a very prestigious science camp for the summer.’

  I nodded.

  ‘She was clearly very proud of her. That’s quite something, isn’t it?’

  I nodded again.

  ‘I also went up to the hardware store to get some soft closers for the doors. And I saw that Cam in there. You know, Jackie and John’s foster-child. She looks like a real wild one, that one. Bright pink hair and a nose ring. Can you believe it? And on the till as well.’

  I wished she’d stop talking about Cam. I wished I could tell her the truth. That Cam was my friend and that Mum was wrong, wrong, wrong about her. That you can’t judge a person by their situation or the colour of their hair.

  But I didn’t. I just sat quietly, picking away at the edges of my croissant. There was no point. Once Mum made her mind up about someone, there was no changing it.

  ‘So, what are you going to do today?’ said Mum. ‘It’s a shame Hetal’s leaving this morning.’

  You’re telling me.

  ‘I thought I’d walk into town,’ I said.

  ‘What? On your own? I’m not sure I like the idea.’

  ‘I’ll be OK. I need a few bits anyway.’

  ‘Well,’ Mum offered, ‘perhaps I’ll come in with you. Give you some company.’

  I could barely think because of the screaming in my head. I needed some space, I needed some time to myself.

  ‘You’re OK, Mum,’ I said as evenly as I could. Please, would she drop it. Please.

  She looked at me hard for a second. I remembered the article I’d read about how to appear truthful. Look them straight in the eye and whatever you do, don’t guilty-grin.

  It must have worked cos Mum said, ‘Oh alright then, but don’t be too long.’

  I’d left the house within the minute, before Mum had time to change her mind. I walked into town, wondering where I was going to go and what I was going to do. The library wasn’t open, so I couldn’t hang out there and I was totally flat broke, so I couldn’t even treat myself to a lippy or a milkshake. As I walked up the street, looking in all the shop windows, full of seaside-y kitchenware and Devon fudge for the tourists, I came to the deli. I love the smell of that place. The window was full of pastries and cooked meats, pies and pots of olives. A notice was stuck on the window:

  Job vacancy for serving staff, part-time, some weekends, excellent rate of pay. Apply within.

  What a great job for someone that would be, I thought. I was about to move on when I stopped. What about for me? I needed something to do over the summer, something that got me out of the house, something that would give me money. Why did I always assume that things weren’t for me? Why couldn’t I do that job? I thought of Hetal’s nani and remembered what we’d promised. No regrets. There was no harm in asking about it, was there?

  I pushed open the door, the bell jangling over my head. The shop was warm and packed with shoppers. I queued up behind them, my hand clammy and my mouth dry. I was going to have to ask about the job in front of a shop full of people. I looked to see who was behind the counter. A middle-aged woman was laughing with a customer while counting slices of ham into a paper bag. She didn’t look too scary.

  The queue in front of me cleared and I found myself standing at the counter. Where was the friendly-looking lady who’d been serving?

  ‘Can I help you?’ said a boy. He was a touch taller than me. His eyes seemed to be laughing.

  ‘Um,’ I said. I couldn’t ask him about the job. I’d die of embarrassment.

  ‘Just some bread please?’ I managed.

  ‘Which sort?’ he asked, waving his hand towards an overwhelmingly huge number of different breads. I mean, come on, who needs that many varieties?

  ‘That one,’ I said, pointing. I didn’t care. I just needed to leave with my dignity intact.

  He reached down a loaf, wrapped it in paper and said, ‘That’s £2.90.’

  It was then I remembered. I hadn’t any money. My face burned.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I’ve forgotten my purse.’

  I turned and pushed my way through the sea of women, wrenched open the door and fled down the street. So much for my sodding dignity.

  It took a cup of strong coffee with sugar before I felt better. Cam sorted me out, pulling out a box I could sit on behind the counter while she worked the till.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said to a customer. ‘See you again.’

  She turned to me. The hardware shop was poorly lit and packed to the ceiling with every screw, nut, bolt and tool there was. ‘Where’s the bread then?’

  ‘I didn’t have any money so I legged it.’

  Cam threw back her pink head and roared with laughter.

  ‘So pleased I can brighten your day,’ I said. The caffeine and sugar rush had stopped the shaking and I was starting to (maybe) see the funny side.

  ‘So, are you going back?’

  ‘You’re kidding. I’m never going back down that street, let alone back in the shop to ask for a job.’

  ‘What? But you’ve got to,’ said Cam. ‘Remember the rule – no regrets.’

  ‘Well, I’m full of regret,’ I retorted. ‘I regret going in there, regret not asking about the job and regret not having any money.’

  Cam chuckled. ‘You gotta turn it around. Otherwise, those regrets are what you’re left with.’

  The shop door dinged and I looked over at the customer coming in. It was my mum. And I was here, with Cam. I ducked down under the counter, right by Cam’s feet. She frowned at me, but looked back up over the counter and said nothing. I could hear my mum asking about non-slip mats to go under rugs. It must be for the rug in the hall, it was always moving when we walked on it. Cam took her to where they were in the shop and then came back to the counter.

  ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ she hissed down at me. But Mum was back, clutching her new mat.

  ‘How much is this one?’ I heard her ask. She’s got a funny voice she puts on in shops. I pulled back further under the counter.

  Cam told her, took her money and tied up the mat with some string so it would be easier to carry. The shop bell dinged again as she left.
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  ‘She’s gone,’ said Cam. ‘You can come out.’

  I crawled out, dusting myself down. Cam just stood there, a funny look on her face.

  ‘So? Want to tell me what that was all about?’

  If I’m honest, I really didn’t.

  Chapter 5

  Hetal

  I waved as Mum and Dad drove away down the long track. Part of me wanted to run after them and beg them to take me home. They were going slowly enough for me to catch them if I ran fast. I estimated what speed they were travelling at, and how fast I’d have to accelerate and to what constant speed in order to catch up with them. By which time, of course, they’d disappeared round the bend.

  I let my hand drop to my side. No point in waving any more. I’d just look stupid. Glancing around, I checked no one was watching. There were a few others about, saying goodbye to parents, checking maps and comparing schedules, but no one was paying any attention to me. The main reception was in an oversized cabin, set in a clearing among tall trees. Every now and again, a fir cone fell and clonked off the roof. I calculated the odds of being hit on the head by a falling pine cone (pretty low) and the chance of being concussed by it (pretty high, as they sounded solid).

  Picking up my rucksack, I went inside to check in. Twenty minutes later I’d been allocated to the Ada Lovelace cabin, to Team Cobalt, and had every second of the next couple of weeks accounted for in a rather impressive timetable. I was itching to colour-code it.

  Searching through the pile of papers I’d been given, I found the map, checked where my cabin was and set off down a track through the trees. The sun was shining, the ground dappled by the shade from the leaves and the track was dry and springy underfoot. There were half a dozen cabins and Ada Lovelace was one of the ones furthest from the centre of camp. Each cabin had its own path peeling off from the main track. My cabin looked like the others, wood with an overhanging roof with a shallow pitch. Inside there was an entrance where boots and coats could be stored. Through the door was a large dormitory, with bathrooms at the far end. A huddle of girls was gathered at one side, all watching something on a phone. My heart gave a leap. Maybe there would be wifi.

  Six beds each side, so twelve girls were going to be sleeping in here. I glanced down the rows. There was only one bed that hadn’t been claimed yet. I hitched my backpack further up onto my shoulder and walked over to it, lowering my bag carefully down. The springs squeaked in complaint at the weight. Perhaps I hadn’t needed to bring all my textbooks.

  ‘Hi there,’ said one of the girls in the huddle. ‘You must be the twelfth – I’m Maddy.’

  ‘Hi, I’m Hetal.’

  Maddy quickly introduced everyone else, but I couldn’t take in all their names. I smiled at them all, before they turned back to crowd round the screen. Feeling awkward, I decided to unpack my stuff. Each bed had its own bedside table and small wardrobe. With that done, I spent a bit of time studying the timetable, but truth was, I wasn’t sure what I should do. For something that was supposed to be #NoRegrets, I felt like I had more regrets being here than I did at home. Things I’d rather be doing right now:

  Having a lie-in at home

  Chatting to Nani

  Homework

  Perhaps I needed to be more positive. Things that I’d not prefer to be doing:

  Any kind of dental work

  Most of the challenges on that celebrity TV show

  Fighting a bear

  Crap, I was missing home. I pulled out my phone.

  Me: Hey, at camp. Nice place but I miss you guys.

  Cam: Of course you do – you’re only human! x

  Nell: I’m missing you too. Come home and we’ll hang out x

  Sasha: Don’t you dare go home. Get off your phone and go make some geeky friends x

  I grinned. Sasha was right. It was the newness that felt weird. I had to give this a proper shot or, despite taking the plunge and coming to science camp, I’d still be left with regrets. Which would be ironic.

  The timetable said there was an optional session before tea, so I grabbed my jumper and headed back towards the door.

  ‘You going to the biochemistry lecture?’ called Maddy.

  ‘Yes, thought it sounded interesting,’ I said.

  ‘Great.’ Maddy jumped up. ‘I’ll come too.’

  Maddy was short with frizzy hair and the most enormous glasses I think I’ve ever seen. They made her look like an owl. Sort of.

  ‘I’ve been totally freaking out since I got here,’ she said. ‘What if I don’t know enough, or know the wrong stuff, or it’s been a big mistake and I shouldn’t even be here? I mean, if it had been sports camp, I’d known for certain they’d got it wrong. Do these legs look athletic to you?’ She stuck out a leg in front of her. It might not have been the longest leg in the world statistically speaking but it looked fine to me. Thankfully, she carried on without waiting for a reply. Or drawing breath. ‘But science. I love it. Total dream come true. And now I’m here, I’m freaking out. Brains, huh? Can’t live with them, can’t live without them.’

  She was talking at a million miles an hour. Not that miles per hour is the correct unit of measurement for speaking. Perhaps it should be words per minute, or syllables per second. Anyway, she was fast and I was only catching one word in three unless I really concentrated.

  ‘So, biochemistry…’ I said.

  ‘Yeah, love biochemistry. Feels like knowing all those facts about chemicals and reactions is really useful because it’s applied to real stuff – like actual people and illnesses and micro-organisms. Reckon there’s some interesting developments to come still in that field. I read in the New Scientist the other week that there’s loads of small research labs, all on the brink of going to clinical trials for a whole load of different therapies. Wouldn’t it be totally awesome to be the one who came up with a cure for cancer or MS or something?’

  She didn’t wait for an answer.

  ‘Anyway, my mum says I always talk too much. But I haven’t, have I? I mean, we’re having a conversation, right? About biochemistry. So, what do you think?’

  I was about to reply, when she pointed. ‘Look, I think this is it. We’re here.’

  The Woodland Theatre was a circular clearing in the trees, with a ring of rough wooden benches around a campfire, which wasn’t lit. A few other people were already there, sat in groups of two or three. A woman was standing in the middle, dressed in jeans and a checked shirt.

  ‘Come on in, grab a seat. We’ll get started in a minute.’

  Maddy and I walked round to the far side and sat equidistant between two groups. We couldn’t have been further from other people if we’d tried.

  ‘That’s Dr Angela Hoffman,’ whispered Maddy, her face flushed. ‘She’s got two PhDs and has been recognised by the UN for the humanitarian applications of her research. Isn’t she just wonderful?’

  I looked at Dr Angela Hoffman and wondered what on earth she was doing leading an optional session at a camp for teenagers.

  ‘OK,’ said Dr Angela. ‘I think that’s probably everyone. We’ll make a start then. Welcome to the first in the series of talks on biochemistry. We’ll be looking at some theory, some case studies and finishing up with a look at career paths, should any of you be interested.’

  I was hooked from the moment she opened her mouth. The hour passed like it was on fast forward.

  ‘Thank you all for coming, and I’ll see you here tomorrow, same time, same place. If I haven’t scared you off.’

  The only way I knew for certain that an hour had passed was that I had a numb bum and the sun had dipped slightly in the sky.

  Dr Angela was chatting to a group as Maddy and I left the clearing.

  ‘She was just amazing!’ I said. ‘The way she made the connection between theory and how to apply it, well, it was mind-blowing. I can’t wait for her next session. Looks like it’s every day, just before the evening meal. I’m not missing any of them. I mean. Just wow.’

  �
�Alright, alright, let a girl get a word in edgeways,’ said Maddy.

  I looked at her incredulously. Talk about the pot calling the kettle black. But she was grinning.

  ‘Got you,’ she said, nudging me. I grinned back.

  ‘Come on,’ I said. ‘Let’s go and find the canteen. I’m starving.’

  We walked together along the springy, bark-chip path towards the smell of garlic bread and baked lasagne, when I realised it had been ninety minutes since I’d last thought about home.

  ‘You know,’ said Maddy, ‘every year, the science camp awards prizes to the people they think are the top students here.’

  ‘How do you know?’ I asked. I’d done a pretty thorough job of reading all the literature, on-line and physical, and nothing had been said about awards.

  ‘My older sister came a few years back,’ said Maddy.

  ‘How do they decide? Are there exams?’ As much as I loved an exam, I felt that I’d done my fair share this year and wasn’t in a massive rush to sit any more just yet.

  ‘No, no exams. Just based on general aptitude and likeliness to go far.’

  It sounded like the most unscientific way imaginable which felt kind of paradoxical. I’d have to add it into my list of favourite paradoxes:

  This statement is false.

  No one likes the popular kids.

  The classic: you need experience for a job but need a job to get experience.