Man-oh-man-oh-man! That was a mean thing to do.
I lift my foot and examine the squelched little blob on my big toe. Why did I do that? There’s a churning in the pit of my stomach, and I feel like crying. That ant wasn’t hurting anyone. I was supposed to be looking after it. Why did I kill it without thinking? Why can’t I just THINK before I do something stupid?
“Jamie, are you listening to me?” Mum says again.
“Yes,” I scowl, picking the squashed ant-ball off my toe and setting it on a dirty plate under my bed. I’ll bury it in the back garden later, and as soon as Mum’s stopped yakking at me I’ll search my room for the rest of the escaped ants and let them all go free outside. That’ll make me feel better.
“Jamie, this is important!” Mum is close to shouting now.
“I know! Change hard, America good, blah Blah BLAH! I KNOW!” I snap. I’m not angry at Mum, I’m angry at myself for killing that ant, and I want to get started rounding up the remaining ones before I die of guilt. I can’t start searching till Mum’s gone though, or she’ll know I’ve left the lid off the tank and let all the ants escape. I glance at the shelf where the lidless tank is standing like a great big ‘I’VE GONE AND DONE A BAD THING AGAIN’ signpost. Mum still hasn’t noticed it. That’ll be why she hasn’t had a fit yet.
“… So you see why you can’t go America? Why it’s best for us if I go with Chris and you stay here with your dad?”
Yes yes yes, yack yack yack. Maybe I should get the magnifying glass from the forensics kit Dad sent me last Christmas. It’s pretty strong, and if I use that and my Transformers torch I should be able to find all the ants that have disappeared under my…
Wait…
“WHAT?!”
My mouth hangs open, and Mum stops talking when she realises I’ve only just heard what she said. We stare at each other for a long moment, then her eyes slide to the floor and suddenly she’s blinking back tears.
“I’m really sorry, but a fresh start is the best thing for all of us. I know you and Chris don’t get on so well, and I want you to be happy more than anything. I just can’t see the three of us making it work in America. You used to have such fun with your dad – wouldn’t you like to live with him for a while instead of moving halfway round the world?”
She looks up at me and there’s tears sliding down her face, and I want to brush them away and say it’s all OK and slap her so hard at the same time I can feel my head about to explode.
“But-but-but…” I stutter like a faulty lawnmower that’s swallowed too much grass. “But I HAVE to go to America! I have to go and get fixed, Mum! I can’t stay here and be Mad Jamie the crazy freak any more, don’t make me!”
“Jamie, we’ve talked about this,” Mum says sadly. “Moving somewhere else isn’t going to make your behaviour problems magically disappear. The doctors in America aren’t any different from the ones here, and if Doctor Mackay says you need to work on controlling your temper and being more organised, then that’s what the doctors in California will say too. And anyway, you will be having a fresh start. You’ll go to live with your dad in Scotland, and that’ll be fun, won’t it? You’re always saying you want to spend more time with him, so it’s really a good thing, isn’t it?”
She’s sounding desperate now, but there’s nothing she can say to stop my meltdown.
“But you PROMISED!” I’m gasping for breath, and my face is going so red my eyeballs are about to pop. “You PROMISED I was going to America!”
“Well you CAN’T go! Chris won’t have it, so there’s an end to it!” Mum tries to bite her tongue to swallow the words back, but it’s too late.
“I HATE YOU! I hate you both! It’s not FAIR!”
Before I can stop myself, I’m charging over to my stash of ‘Get Ready for Sunny California’ gifts and throwing them in every direction. The flying swimming trunks and surfer shirts knock over a glass of milk that’s going sour on top of my bookcase, and smelly white liquid drips down onto my dog-eared collection of books. One leg breaks off the sunglasses as they smash against the wall, and the heavy journal shatters the plastic ant tank into a zillion pieces.
“Jamie! Stop it!” Mum cries.
But I’m not done yet. Not by a long way.
The maps of America are next. I tear them off my wall, ripping them into little bits and scattering the pieces over my bed. Then I grab the plate with the squashed ant on it and fling it against the wall so hard that dust flies up as it smashes. I stomp across the floor and start snatching milk-soaked books from their shelves, flinging them in every direction and howling at the top of my lungs. I’ve probably crushed half the escaped ants into the floorboards by now, and I can feel a bit of broken plate stabbing into my foot and drawing blood, but I don’t care. I don’t care about anything except how awful I feel and how unfair the whole universe is.
Mum’s crying so hard it sounds like she’s breaking, but I don’t care about that either right now.
“This is why you can’t come to America with us!” she yells with her hands over her ears to drown out my wailing. “I can’t bear any more of this, Jamie. I CAN’T BEAR IT!”
She marches out and slams the door shut behind her so hard the whole wall shakes.
I drop to the floor and curl up in a puddle of sour milk and California surfer T-shirts I’ll never ever get the chance to wear, and cry and cry until my throat’s raw and my eyes are aching.
I don’t want to be me any more. I don’t want to be Jamie Lee, the mad bad boy who turns into the Incredible Hulk every time he loses his temper.
Maybe there’s a better way to deal with all the anger and confusion and hurt that’s boiling away inside me than shouting and raging and crying, but I have no idea what that is. Destroying things is the only way I know how to manage my bad moods. But now I’ve gone and broken my family, and no amount of kicking and screaming is going to put it back together again.
9
Elin
“It isn’t FAIR, is it Gran?” I wailed. “Mum promised I could start riding lessons for my birthday this year – she was saving up specially, and now she says we won’t be able to afford them because of Paul’s stupid son coming!”
“I know pet, it’s a terrible idea.” Gran patted my hand across the kitchen table. “From what your mother’s told me he sounds like a right wee monster. How many schools has he been expelled from for bad behaviour? I don’t know what your mother’s thinking agreeing to this, it was really selfish of Paul to even suggest it.”
Monster.
Yes, I liked that. ‘The Monster’ would be his name in my story from now on.
“Don’t worry pet, I’ll sort this out,” Gran reassured me, piling more Jammie Dodgers on my plate and refilling my glass with Irn-Bru. “It isn’t fair asking you to cope with more big changes after everything that’s happened. If your dad was here today he’d agree with me.”
“Why didn’t he come, Gran? He’s never missed your birthday before.”
“Beth’s still feeling poorly after her chickenpox. Sue couldn’t get time off work, so he’s staying at home to look after your wee sister instead.”
“She’s not my sister,” I scowled. “I don’t have a sister. And I never get to see Dad any more.”
I looked forward to our once-a-month meeting at Gran’s house in Whitburn more than anything. Now I’d have to go another whole month before I got a chance to see him again, and it was all the Wicked Witch and her mutant daughter’s fault.
“You know, pet…” Gran began slowly, fiddling with her glasses the way she always did before she said something she knew I wouldn’t like about dad’s fake family. “Your dad would be happy to bring Beth over here if you’d just agree to meet her. That way you’d get to see him and—”
“No way!” I coughed, nearly choking on my Irn-Bru at the very thought of being in the same room as the Mutant. “That’s not going to happen. You’d never let her come here Gran, would you? I mean, she’s never been here before, has
she?”
“I know you wouldn’t like it, pet.” Gran patted my hand again and gave me an encouraging smile. She was always on my side.
Always.
That was one of the reasons I loved coming back here, even though our old house was just down the road, and being here brought all the memories flooding back so fast I thought I would drown in them.
“Elin, would you do me a favour and nip down to the shops for some milk? I’m going to have a word with your mother,” Gran said, fishing about in her purse for a five-pound note. That was her way of saying she was going to give Mum a piece of her mind about Jamie and she didn’t want me overhearing the argument.
“Thanks Gran!” I called after her as she marched out into the garden, where Mum was clearing away the remains of the birthday barbecue. I put the money in my pocket and headed for the front door. I hated hearing adults yelling at each other, so I was happy for any excuse to get out of the way.
I took my time walking through the estate and down to the main road, where there was a row of shops and a post office. I didn’t want to get back too soon, so I hovered round the magazine section in the corner shop, flicking through the comics until the woman at the counter started frowning at me. Mr Singh who used to own the shop didn’t mind me reading the magazines back when we lived in Whitburn. It seemed like the longer I stayed in Glasgow with Mum and the Imposter, the less I belonged here. If I didn’t get Dad and my old life back soon, all I’d have left of it was faded memories.
Instead of going back by the main road, I took the long way round, past the park and the small wood at the edge of the estate. I knew I shouldn’t and it would only make me sad, but I couldn’t help myself. It was like jumping in a time machine and going back to the past, only I ended up in some strange parallel world where everything was familiar but different. The park gate was padlocked and the abandoned slide was slowly rusting to death. The wood was overgrown and the council had cut down some of the trees.
Nothing was the same here any more.
Except…
Suddenly I stopped dead on the corner, staring at the house at the end of the road opposite. There, by the big field where the buttercups grew like a carpet of summer sunshine, was my fairy-tale castle.
The house still looked the same, with its red front door and green fence round the garden. But standing on the grass was a little boy holding a toolkit, watching while his father fixed stabilisers onto a bike. It brought back so many memories I wanted to sit down on the pavement and cry.
Dad taught me to ride a bike on that street. It was me who helped Mum choose the red door to match the flowers that grew by the front porch. Those were my family memories, and now another family had moved in and stolen them. I missed my old life here so much I felt sick. The thought of someone else living in my old bedroom hurt so much I wanted to scream.
I forced my feet to start moving again, counting to one hundred slowly to keep the hurt from turning into anger. I was scared if I let it out I’d start shouting with rage at the unfairness of it all, and never be able to stop. I’d heard Mum and Dad throw enough angry words at each other to last me a lifetime.
But I still couldn’t escape them, even after the divorce.
When I got back to Gran’s house I could hear her out in the garden arguing with Mum.
“This really isn’t any of your business, Mary!” Mum’s voice was getting louder, carrying all the way down the garden.
“Elinor is my granddaughter, and that makes it my business!”
Gran’s polite voice was starting to crack at the edges, like a layer of ice. Gran had never really liked Mum, but she put up with her for my sake. Our visits usually ended up with them at each other’s throats and me standing between them trying to be the referee. I could feel the Irn-Bru and Jammie Dodgers fizzing uncomfortably in my stomach as I listened to the shouting, so I did the only thing I could think of to make myself feel better: I tidied up and made things neat.
I folded all the glittery wrapping paper that Gran had taken off her presents, then I carried the three little wishing pots I’d given her into the living room and put them in the cabinet with the others I’d made her over the years. I’d whispered a wish into every one of them before I wrapped them up and gave them to Gran. It was the same wish every time.
“I wish I could have my family back again,” I whispered. “My real family.”
No more Fakes, Imposters, Mutants or Monsters, I thought. Just me, Mum, Dad and Gran, like it used to be.
“Please come true,” I added, crossing my fingers for luck as I put the pots into the cabinet. I was just straightening the photos of me, Mum and Dad on the sideboard when I noticed a big photo album I’d never seen before hidden underneath the cabinet. It looked like a little kid had dipped the album in a bucket of glue then dumped a tube of glitter and a packet of cheap craft stars over the top.
Where did that come from?
Gran was my Fairy Godmother, and her house full of our family memories was my Enchanted Cottage. Nothing was ever out of place here, nothing was ever different. As long as everything stayed the same in this house, with my real family frozen in happy photos, then I could keep on believing that one day we’d all be together again.
This strange album didn’t belong here any more than Dad’s fake daughter did.
I was just pulling it out from under the sideboard to look inside when Gran’s horrified voice cried, “Don’t touch that!”
I dropped the album like it was on fire and gaped at Gran. She’d never raised her voice to me, not ever. She’d never had to.
“Sorry pet, I didn’t mean to shout.” Gran hurried over and took the album from me, putting it high up on top of the cabinet. “Those photos, they… er, they belong to a friend. I’m just keeping them for her. I promised I wouldn’t let anyone touch them.”
“Why?” I asked, feeling hurt at not being trusted. A part of me was a little ashamed too. I probably shouldn’t have been poking about under Gran’s cupboards. But it wasn’t like she had any secrets to keep from me.
Did she?
“Um…” For the first time in her life Gran didn’t have anything to say. Mum did though.
“Come on Elin, it’s time to go. We have to pick that mattress up from the store before it closes or Jamie’s room won’t be ready for him coming.”
It would serve him right, I thought darkly, dragging my heels all the way out to the car.
“You didn’t manage to talk Mum out of it then?” I asked Gran as I gave her a big hug.
“No pet, I tried, but she and Paul are dead set on Jamie coming to stay. I don’t like it any more than you do.”
“Tell Dad I miss him.”
“He misses you too, pet.”
Just not enough, I thought sadly, blinking away real tears as I climbed into the car and Mum drove me back down the road to my fake dad and fake home in Glasgow.
10
Jamie
“It isn’t FAIR, is it Aunt Cath?” I complain, kicking my feet against the back of her seat and forgetting she’s already told me twenty times not to. “I don’t want to go to Scotland. I don’t want to live with Dad’s girlfriend. I want to go with Mum to America.”
Aunt Cath isn’t really my aunt. She’s my mum’s best friend, and she’s doing her a big favour driving me all the way up to Glasgow while Mum and Chris get the house clean and tidy for the estate agent coming to check it tomorrow. Mum needs to get her full deposit back, but we’ve been renting that house ever since Dad left, and I’m pretty sure I’ve had way too many plate-throwing meltdowns, wallpaper-ripping sprees and furniture-breaking binges for Mum to get a penny back. I did offer to help with the clean-up, but they said I’d get in the way. I think they just want rid of me as soon as possible.
“It’s not fair that I can’t go to America, is it?”
“Not this again, Jamie.” Cath rolls her eyes at me in the rear-view mirror, which looks funny as it makes her face all back to front so her eyebrow ring is o
n the wrong side. “Just listen to your music, or play on my phone, OK? We’re not even past Manchester yet, and I don’t want to listen to you whining the rest of the way.”
I stick my tongue out at the back of her head when she looks away again and pick up her phone, throwing it up and down and catching it until it falls on the floor. Then I have to go bin-raking under all the burger wrappers and sweet papers and empty plastic bottles I’ve thrown away so I can find it. It’s like scuba diving in one of those giant landfill sites you see on the news, only this one’s travelling up the motorway at seventy miles an hour and smells of sick. That’s sort of my fault too. I shouldn’t have had that second burger last time we stopped at the services.
“Jamie! Put your seat belt back on! How many times do I have to tell you?” Cath yells. Every time she looks back at me in the mirror her eyes get smaller and smaller, like they’re shrinking. If I do anything else to annoy her between now and Glasgow her eyes are going to disappear altogether, and then how is she meant to drive, huh? Maybe I’ll have to take over the wheel – I bet I could! I’d be just like one of those Formula One racers roaring up the motorway like I was in the Monaco Grand Prix.
Vroom, vroom! Watch out! Mad Jamie’s about to overtake! Neeeurm! Vroom! SCREEE—
“Jamie! Stop making those silly noises! For goodness’ sake, it’s like driving with a chimpanzee in the back.”
Cath’s tried to be supportive of Mum and her problems with me over the years, but let’s face it, she’s never been my biggest fan. I’ve probably wrecked all chance of charming her by now though, what with spilling a supersized cup of cola all over her at the McDonald’s outside Oxford, then nearly getting run over chasing a balloon that blew across from the fun fair on the other side of the motorway. She says she’s not going to let me out of the car except to go to the toilet from now on, which is okey-dokey with me as I’ve already spent all the money Mum gave me for snacks on that teddy-grabbing machine at the Birmingham services.
The Boy with the Butterfly Mind Page 4