Mates, Dates and Inflatable Bras

by Cathy Hopkins

  ‘Lucy, you look awful,’ said Izzie as I went back in.

  I felt awful.

  ‘It’s Tony’s fault. I could kill him,’ said Nesta.

  ‘She’s very pretty, that girl,’ I said.

  ‘She must be completely thick,’ said Nesta, ‘to be going out with him.’

  ‘I know he’s your brother,’ said Izzie, ‘but he is a bit big-headed.’

  ‘Understatement,’ said Nesta. ‘Nobody in their right mind could possibly fancy him.’

  Something told me this wasn’t the best moment to tell them that Tony was the MC.

  Has life ever, ever been worse? Just as I thought me and Nesta were getting on better, she tells her brother to stay away. And now I don’t know what to think. Anyway, he has a girlfriend. A gorgeous girlfriend. What chance would I ever have against her?

  How to be the Master Snoqqer, by Tony

  Do

  Have clean teeth and fresh breath

  Vary the intensity of your kisses

  Close your eyes

  Leave her wanting more

  Don’t

  Give gooey, wet, sloppy open-mouthed, kisses

  Kiss when you’ve been eating garlic, onions or tuna

  Pin her down so she can’t breathe

  Kiss with your mouth shut tight

  Outstay your welcome

  Chapter 11

  Haircut

  From Hell

  I’m going to get my hair cut,’ I told Izzie on the bus to school the next morning. ‘What do you think?’

  I showed her all the pics I’d cut out of a mag last night showing different styles.

  ‘Good idea,’ said Iz, pointing to one photo of a girl with cropped hair. ‘That would suit you. When are you going to get it done?’

  ‘Tonight,’ I said.

  ‘Wow, you move fast. Where?’

  ‘The mall. Remember Candice had her hair cut last month? She told me if you go to the Aura school, where hairdressers go to get trained, they do it for free. They’re always looking for volunteers to go along in the evenings.’

  ‘Great, me and Nesta will come as well. It’s late-night shopping so we can get your hair cut then we’ll have a mooch round. But what’s brought this on? You’ve had your hair long for years.’

  ‘Angel Card,’ I admitted.

  ‘An Angel Card told you to get your hair cut?’

  ‘They were waiting for me when I got back from Nesta’s last night. On the kitchen table. Waiting. Calling me. Luuuucy, pick one. I tried to resist but I couldn’t help myself. In fact, I’m going to have to ask Mum to take them out of the house. I think I’ve become an addict. No resistance no matter what I tell myself or what kind of trouble they get me into. I see the pack and I have to pick one.’

  Izzie laughed. ‘They could start a group for addicts. ACA. Angel Cards Anonymous.’

  ‘Yeah, I’d get up and say, “Hello. My name’s Lucy Lovering and I’m an Angel Card addict. Let me tell you my sad story.” ’

  Izzie laughed again. ‘I’m a bit like that with the Net. Specially now I’ve found such a fab astrology site. So what did it say? The card last night?’

  ‘No one can make you feel inferior without your permission.’

  ‘Wow. That’s a good one,’ said Izzie. ‘I’ll have to try it when I tell Wacko that I sat on my egg baby. But why did that make you want to get your hair cut?’

  I wasn’t sure how much to tell Iz. I’d gone home from Nesta’s last night feeling like a complete failure. I didn’t want to bore her to death with the list of things that make me feel inferior lately:

  Everyone knows what they want to be when they grow up but me.

  My lack of kissing experience.

  I only look twelve.

  Josie Riley’s right. I am a midget.

  I’m as flat-chested as my brothers.

  I’ve never had a proper boyfriend. And now probably never will as the only one I like belongs to another.

  I can’t even decide what colour to paint my bedroom. Inferior. Definitely.

  ‘Time for a change,’ I said. ‘Remember that horoscope you did for me that said it was time for a new me so don’t resist? I thought what better place to start than with my appearance? I’ve been so busy thinking about inside stuff like who I am, strengths, weaknesses, all that sort of thing Wacko told us to think about and it’s got me nowhere. So I’m going to change the outside. Hair. My room. My clothes.’

  ‘Watch out world,’ grinned Izzie. ‘Sounds good to me.’

  After school we went straight to the mall. I sat in the hair-dressing college reception with ten other volunteers. Girls behind an enormous glass desk registered everyone then told us to wait. It all looked very swanky. A vast marbled reception with the most enormous bouquet of white lilies in a vase. Everywhere were posters of Aura products and TVs up on the walls showing demonstrations. I’ve definitely come to the right place, I thought. I am going to look fantabuloso.

  Nesta was straight in chatting to the girls on reception about where they got their models and how could she apply.

  ‘Aries rising,’ said Izzie, watching Nesta flicking her hair about as she charmed them all.

  ‘That’s the leap before you look sign, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yeah. They have fantastic energy. Go for it is their motto, and never mind the consequences.’

  ‘But Nesta’s a Leo,’ I said.’How can she be Aries as well?’

  ‘That’s what I’ve been discovering. Our individual horoscopes are far more complex than just having a Sun sign. Like Nesta. Leo is her Sun sign. Like yours is Gemini and mine is Aquarius. That’s determined by the month you’re born. Your rising sign is worked out by the time and place you’re born. It changes every two hours.’

  ‘So people with the same Sun sign can be quite different personalities?’

  ‘Exactly,’ said Izzie. ‘There’s all sorts of factors — where your Moon is . . .’

  ‘Moon? I thought you said Sun?’

  ‘Astrology’s a real science when you get into it. Everyone has a different Moon they were born under as well. That changes every two days. You have your Moon in Taurus.’

  ‘Is that good?’

  ‘Fantastic. It’s exalted there. The Moon rules how you are emotionally. And means you’re very romantic. Taurus is ruled by Venus. It means you appreciate beautiful things.’

  ‘Have you worked out my rising sign?’

  ‘Yeah. Cancer,’ said Izzie. ‘That means you’re very sensitive. Emotional even, sometimes. Cancer is the sign of the crab and they can be a bit prickly on the outside but as soft as mush on the inside.’

  ‘So what does your Sun sign mean?’

  ‘How you look, your general characteristics,’ said Izzie.

  ‘Gemini’s an air sign, the sign of the twins, isn’t it?’

  Izzie grinned. ‘Yep. So you have two sides to you. The public and the private.’

  ‘Schizophrenic, you mean? That explains how I’ve been feeling lately.’

  Izzie laughed. ‘Geminis are good at communication. Creative.’

  I stared at her with admiration. She really knows her stuff and I don’t know why I ever worried about what makes me ‘me’. I should just ask Izzie. She seems to know exactly.

  ‘Lucy Lovering,’ called the girl at reception.

  I got up and followed her, suddenly feeling apprehensive.

  Izzie gave me the thumbs-up. ‘Meet you afterwards.’

  I was ushered down a maze of corridors and into a small salon with a row of mirrors and chairs.

  A girl with bright red hair and even brighter red lipstick came forward. She looked very young. She can’t have been training that long. ‘Hi, I’m Kate and I’ll be cutting your hair,’ she said. ‘Take a seat.’

  After that I might as well not have been there.

  An older lady with long curly blonde hair came in and they both stared at me for a while then played with my hair, tilting my head from side to side, frowning and tutting.<
br />
  ‘Splits ends,’ said Kate with disdain. ‘Who cut it last?’

  ‘Er, my mum,’ I said, feeling smaller by the minute.

  Kate and her supervisor looked at each other knowingly. ‘Ah. That explains it.’

  ‘Take a seat at the basin,’ ordered Kate.

  ‘Er, what are you going to do?’ I asked as Kate shampooed me. ‘I’ve brought some pictures of how I’d like it to look. I’ve got them in my bag.’

  ‘We won’t need those,’ said Kate. ‘Don’t you worry, I know what I’m doing.’

  She led me away from the basin back to a chair then started snipping. I told myself to relax. Kate’s hair looked fab and so did her supervisor’s. I sat back, crossed my fingers and closed my eyes.

  A minute later, Kate’s mobile rang. She had a quick look round to see if her supervisor was around then seeing she wasn’t, took the call. It went on like this for twenty minutes. Snip, snip, then she’d take a call. Some drama about a boy called Elliot. I could see she was getting in a panic about something he said, and didn’t seem to be concentrating on my hair at all.

  ‘Where were we?’ she asked, coming back to me after the third interruption.

  ‘You were on the back,’ I said. Then the phone went again.

  ‘Won’t be a mo,’ she said and disappeared again.

  When she came back she was more flustered than ever, whatever was upsetting her, she seemed to be taking it out on my hair. Snip, snip, chop, chop.

  I stared at my reflection in horror. My hair was gone. Cut or rather hacked blundy to my neck and it didn’t look even. It was awful. I felt myself go red and I wanted to cry.

  By now, Kate was busy with the hairdryer, blowing and pulling.

  ‘Ouch, that hurts,’ I said as she yanked a piece of hair then almost burned my scalp with the dryer.

  ‘Got to get a move on,’ she said.’Got to get out quick. Major drama.’

  I didn’t care about her major drama. I had one of my own. She’d totally ruined my hair.

  When she’d finished blowing, she stood back to look at her work. I looked younger than ever. Nine. Eight. A baby. Oh no. What has she done?

  By the look on her face, she didn’t like what she’d done either.

  ‘Are you pleased?’ she asked, while shoving her things in her bag.

  ‘It, er, looks a bit uneven,’ I said.

  ‘That’s the look,’ she said.’Casually tousled. And those split ends had to go. It can be a bit of a shock if you’ve had long hair for a while. You’ll get used to it.’

  Then she put on her coat and scarpered.

  A moment later, the supervisor came back in and looked surprised that Kate had gone. ‘Where’s your cutter?’ she asked.

  ‘Dunno,’ I said.’Gone.’

  ‘That girl is dizzy,’ she said crossly then she examined my hair. As she looked the frown on her forehead deepened. ‘If you don’t like it,’ she sighed and looked at her watch, ‘come back another night and we’ll restyle it for you.’

  No way, I thought. I’m not coming back here. Why did I have to get the cutter who was having some sort of relationship crisis? If only she’d looked at my pics. I looked a disaster.

  Izzie was waiting for me in reception. I could tell by her face that she hated it too.

  ‘I know,’ I said, feeling my eyes fill up again. ‘It’s awful, isn’t it?’

  ‘It’s different,’ she said, then saw my stricken face. She put her arm round me. ‘It’ll grow back.’

  What? In five years. How could I have been so stupid? Thinking that if I chopped my hair off suddenly I’d grow confidence. Look amazing. Now I looked worse than ever.

  Izzie sighed. ‘I am sorry, Lucy. Look, Nesta’s waiting for us so let’s get out of here. Come on, we’ll go and meet her then get a cappuccino.’

  ‘I can’t go anywhere looking like this,’ I said. I wanted to get on the bus and go home and hide under the duvet until my hair had grown back.

  ‘I said we’d meet her in the John Lewis lingerie department,’ said Izzie. ‘She’s trying on Wonderbras.’

  ‘Oh no, please. I want to go home.’

  ‘Five minutes,’ said Iz. ‘Then we’ll go.’

  We made our way into John Lewis and up to the first floor. Everywhere I looked I saw girls with lovely long hair and in mirrors that seemed to be on every wall, I saw me looking like a bird had built a straw nest on my head.

  Nesta was waiting for us waving three bras in her hand.

  ‘Oh,’ she said when she saw my hair.

  ‘Yeah. Oh,’ I said.

  ‘I like it,’ she lied.

  ‘I have to go home for ten years,’ I said.

  ‘But I’ve got a bra for you to try. I’ve picked one for each of us.’

  ‘I can’t,’ I said. ‘I have no chest. And no hair.’

  ‘That’s what’s so wonderful about the bras,’ said Nesta. ‘No matter what size you are they make you look fab.’ She looked me up and down. ‘They give everyone an amazing cleavage.’

  ‘Come on, Lucy,’ said Izzie. ‘It’ll be fun. You need cheering up.’

  They dragged me into the changing room and Nesta handed us our bras.

  Reluctantly I took mine and went into a cubicle. A strange face looked back at me from the mirror. If I didn’t know who I was before, I certainly didn’t know who this was staring back at me. And the back of my neck felt cold.

  ‘Wow,’ screeched a voice from next door. ‘It makes me look enormous.’ I popped my head round Izzie’s curtain and, despite my hair, I couldn’t help laughing.

  ‘Hello, boys,’ she giggled.

  ‘Aruba, aruba,’ I said. ‘Those things look like lethal weapons. The Guns of Navarone.’

  Izzie pulled a face. ‘My mum’d never let me wear it. You know what she’s like.’

  ‘Ready!’ called Nesta from the other side. We stuck our heads into Nesta’s cubicle. She’d chosen a red satin one and though her bust is nothing like as big as Izzie’s, the bra gave her a great cleavage. I decided I would try mine on. If they had this effect on Izzie and Nesta, it was bound to help me.

  I went back to my cubicle and, avoiding looking at my hair, I stripped off and put on the bra. Outside I could hear Izzie and Nesta laughing their heads off about something.

  ‘You ready?’ called Izzie, then stuck her head in.

  Tears were welling up in my eyes again.

  ‘Oh, Lucy, don’t cry . . .’ said Izzie.

  I couldn’t help it and now I’d started I couldn’t stop. The dam burst and all the tears I’d been fighting back for weeks suddenly came pouring out. The more I looked at my reflection, the more I sobbed. I looked like a little girl in her mother’s bra. A little girl with a really bad haircut.

  Nesta put her head round the cubicle curtain and when she saw my face came in. ‘Lucy, whatever’s the matter?’

  I sat on the stool in the cubicle. ‘My bra doesn’t fit,’ I sobbed.

  ‘It’s only a bra,’ said Nesta softly.

  That made it even worse. ‘I know, it’s not really that,’ I said, quickly putting my clothes back on. ‘It just seems nothing fits. Nothing. I don’t fit. And this stupid bra is just the last straw.’

  I looked worse than ever now as my nose had gone red and my eyes were all swollen and puffy.

  ‘I’m pathetic,’ I said.

  Izzie and Nesta exchanged worried looks.

  ‘I don’t fit here. I don’t fit at school. I don’t know what I want to be when I grow up.’

  I looked at the two of them, both gorgeous with long glossy hair and fabulous cleavages. ‘And now you two are best friends and there’s no room for me any more.’

  Before they could say anything or get dressed, I ran out of the store and caught the bus home.

  Chapter 12

  Inflatable

  Bras

  When I got home, everyone was eating supper.

  Four faces stared open-mouthed at me from the kitchen.

  ‘What’ve
you done to your hair?’ cried Lal.

  Wrong response, I thought. But I knew there wasn’t a right one.

  I ran upstairs and hid under my duvet. Minutes later, Mum knocked.

  ‘Come and have something to eat, love,’ she said.

  ‘Not hungry,’ I called.

  Five minutes later, Dad knocked. ‘It’s not so bad, love. We don’t care what you look like. Come down and have your supper.’

  ‘You’ve got more hair than I have,’ I cried. ‘It’s not fair!’

  Then Steve tried. ‘Lucy, come down. We’re watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer.’

  ‘Go away,’ I said. I didn’t want to watch a Buffy DVD. All the girls in it had long fabulous hair.

  Then Lal knocked. ‘I’ve got something for you,’ he said, then pushed his Beatles wig under the door. Ha ha, very funny. Not.

  The clothes I’d made were lying on the chair at the end of my bed. I put them straight in the bin. What had I been thinking of? They were rubbish. It doesn’t work to try and change the outside if the inside isn’t right. And my inside feels definitely not right.

  I looked at my awful hair in the mirror again. I pulled at the roots, willing it to grow like the doll I had when I was five. You just tugged the hair and it came straight out right down to her waist. Why wouldn’t mine do that? I couldn’t even tie it up any more so that no one would notice what a strange style it was. So sticky-outee. I felt miserable.

  And Izzie was right, I did have two sides as a Gemini. There were definitely two in me, both driving me nuts.

  One part was completely freaked. My hair, my hair, I can never go out again. The other side was saying you selfish, petty, pathetic thing. Think about all the starving people in Africa. What does your stupid hair matter when there are war and famines?

  Where did that voice come from? I know. Our headmistress Mrs Allen. How did she get in my head?

  I think I may be going mad. Completely. What makes me ‘me’? I am a nutter. Completely and utterly barking mad. And ugly.

  At eight thirty, the doorbell rang.

  ‘Lucy, it’s for you,’ called Mum.