How to Get the Friends You Want

by Jenny Alexander

  ‘Dennis!’ I said sharply, when he started trying to rip the clean newspaper out from underneath him. He stopped and stared at me. Then – boing! He bounced out of his hutch and shot round the room like a firework in a barrel.

  I swept the new food up and put it back in his bowl.

  Primrose said, ‘Where’s Mum?’

  ‘Putting a trellis up in the Peace Garden. I don’t know where Dad is, though.’

  ‘I saw him in the living-room with his laptop,’ Primrose said. ‘He’s setting up his conference call with the agony aunts.’

  She dumped her cereal bowl in the sink and put the kettle on.

  ‘Matt says his mum said to tell you that you don’t have to rush off after work on Saturdays – you can stay as long as you like and talk to Sam.’

  I explained that I hadn’t had much time the day before because of going to Abina’s.

  ‘I felt bad leaving Sam so soon, and then I had to rush off straight after lunch from Becky’s so I couldn’t help her with her poster. I felt bad about that too.’

  ‘I wouldn’t worry about it,’ Primrose said. ‘It’s not as if Becky’s really a proper friend. She’s just someone you work with, isn’t she?’

  ‘I go round her house every week,’ I protested. ‘That’s what you said proper friends do.’

  Primrose tipped some hot choc powder into her cup, poured hot water on it and stirred.

  ‘You only go round there because it’s on your way home. Ask yourself this – would Becky still ask you round if you didn’t work at the kennels together?’

  I asked myself, but before I could come up with an answer, Dad called us to go up and meet his new friends.

  Primrose groaned. ‘I’m not even dressed,’ she muttered. ‘What are they going to think?’

  ‘Just cough a bit. They’ll think you’ve got flu.’

  That gave me an idea! If Sasha and the others wanted to come to my house next Sunday I could say Primrose had something catching.

  Cough, cough! Primrose practised on the way upstairs. Dad said, ‘Here come my lovely daughters.’ He turned the laptop round so his friends could see us coming through the door. Three agony aunts smiled and waved at us from their separate windows on the screen.

  ‘This is Primrose. She’s fifteen,’ Dad said, proudly.

  Primrose coughed and pulled her dressing gown tighter. She gave a little wave and said hello, sounding suitably feeble.

  ‘Have you got a cold, dear?’ asked the first agony aunt.

  I recognised her from the breakfast show. She was the one with the pink lips and purple hair who’d said it was lovely to see a young person win for a change. Young? Dad? He said she was called Kay.

  ‘You should go back to bed and keep warm,’ said the second agony aunt. She was what Gran would call plain as a pudding, with brown hair, a brown top and brown wooden beads. Dad said she was called Alice.

  ‘I’m Jeannie,’ said the third, wobbling her chins. ‘You go and snuggle under the duvet, Primrose. I’m sure that lovely little sister of yours will bring you up some toast.’

  It was Dad’s cue to introduce me.

  ‘This is Peony.’

  ‘Hello, Peony,’ the agony aunts said together.

  It was cringe central for the next few seconds but we were saved by the front door bell. I went down to see who it was and Primrose scuttled gratefully off upstairs to get dressed.

  Dennis was sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor, not hiding, so it must be someone he knew. His ears were cocked forward, listening. One of them swivelled round as I walked in, but he didn’t turn his head.

  I could hear them now, chatting on the doorstep. It was Gran and Jane.

  ‘Look what I’ve got!’ Gran said, as she walked in. She jangled a set of keys in the air. ‘Who wants to come and have a look round my new house?’

  While we were waiting for Dad to come off the computer and Primrose to get ready, Mr Kaminski arrived. He said he had just come to borrow some sugar.

  ‘We’re going to see my new house,’ Gran told him. ‘Come with us if you aren’t too busy baking.’

  As we walked up the zig-zag path, Gran asked Dad about his video conference. It evidently hadn’t been what he was expecting. He had thought they were just going to chat about the dinner and tell him how brilliant he was again, but it turned out they had a conference call every Sunday to talk about work.

  The agony aunts would read each other their letters and discuss the best way to answer them. This was obviously not ideal for Dad, as he never actually read the letters or wrote the answers, so when it was his turn he decided to distract them by coming up with a problem of his own. He told them about his workmates and pub friends teasing him about being an agony aunt and calling him Daphne.

  ‘Is that a problem?’ asked Gran.

  Dad said, actually, as it turned out, it was. ‘I never realised, but Kay says too much teasing can be bad for a person’s self-esteem.’

  ‘Is that how you feel about it – like your self-esteem has taken a knock?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Dad. ‘I can’t really tell. Anyway, then Alice said, “These people are supposed to be your friends!” and Jeannie said my friends must have very poor people skills.’

  Dad had never even heard of people skills before and he was pretty sure he’d never had any friends who had them until he met Kay, Alice and Jeannie. They were really nice. They were coming all the way to Polgotherick to take him out for lunch. That was how nice they were!

  We went over the stile at the first bend and started along the coastal path. Up ahead, Nash House stood behind its high stone wall, looking out to sea like a shabby old sailor. Its white walls were dirty and peeling, and its porch was falling away.

  Gran unlocked the padlock on the boarded-up gate to let us in. The garden was a complete wreck. Inside, the house was even worse. Wallpaper was hanging off the walls and the window frames were rotten.

  ‘I won’t be able to move in for a while,’ Gran said.

  ‘You can stay with me for as long as you like,’ said Jane. ‘There’s always a room for you at the Happy Haddock, Gwennie!’

  Mr Kaminski said we would soon get everything shipshape. When the builders had finished we could organise a working weekend. Mum and Stella could sort out the garden and the rest of us could do the decorating.

  Dad said unfortunately he had to go to matches every weekend and write reports for the paper, but he was sure we would manage fine without him. I couldn’t see Primrose being up for it, either.

  Cough, cough! She had a little practice as we explored the rooms upstairs.

  Chapter 8

  Breathe in and Breathe out

  Dad’s got a sign on his study wall that says, ‘Important things I have to do today – breathe in, breathe out.’

  Sometimes Mum sticks post-its over it so it says stuff like, ‘Important things I have to do today – sort out recycling, fix leaky tap, take wife out for dinner.’

  When Primrose tries to get out of doing the dishes or clearing up her things, Mum says Dad’s lazy attitudes must have rubbed off on her.

  No-one usually says that about me, but as soon as I started hanging out with Sasha, Tammy and Abina, I could see it might be true.

  What had I been doing with all my time? I never realised I was such a slacker until I started doing useful things 24:7 – keeping up with the cool shows on TV, handing in my homework, doing keep-fit DVDs, practising my netball skills and going to sports and activities in every single school break, even if I was only watching.

  Being friends with Sasha, Tammy and Abina wasn’t only fun – it was good for me. It was turning me into a better person.

  I said that to Toby and Jess when we were looking for somewhere quiet to practise our Young Voices.

  ‘I think you’re fine just as you are,’ Toby said.

  His ankle was bandaged up and he had to walk with crutches, but he could go quite fast on them. People yelled ‘Howdy, Hopalong!’ and ‘
Nice shorts!’ at him as he swung himself across the playground. He didn’t take any notice.

  We found an empty picnic table and sat down. Toby did his introduction and Jess did her talk. Every time I heard it, it sounded a little more weird. Why couldn’t she have chosen a more normal subject, such as the World of Fashion, for example?

  Toby thought her talk was awesome, but then he was a person who wore shorts to school in the middle of November. If he could get himself some friends like Sasha, Tammy and Abina, maybe that would be good for him too.

  On Saturday I told Becky how being friends with Sasha, Tammy and Abina was making me a better person.

  ‘They’re good at everything,’ I said. ‘Even their pets are perfect!’

  I told her about Pookie. I said how clever and well-trained he was, and how he didn’t smell at all, like pigs are supposed to.

  ‘I’ve never seen a pot-bellied pig,’ Becky said. ‘Maybe I could catch a glimpse of him today if you take him out for a walk. I’ve got to go up that way to put a poster in Rick’s Garage.’

  Rick’s Garage was just past Abina’s house on the main road so after lunch Becky decided to tag along with me. As we got near, we saw Sasha and Tammy coming towards us. I slowed down, hoping they would go straight in, but they waited for me at the end of her drive, and Abina came bounding out with her netball to greet them.

  I suddenly saw Becky through their eyes. She was a foot taller than me, her short hair was sticking out all over the place and she was wearing a fake-fur coat she found in a charity shop – she always gets her clothes in charity shops because of saving the planet.

  I remembered what Primrose said about Becky being too old to be my friend. I hoped they wouldn’t think she was some kind of babysitter or something, like I wasn’t allowed to walk up to Abina’s on my own.

  Sasha, Tammy and Abina said hello. I didn’t introduce Becky. She hesitated a moment and then started on up towards the garage.

  ‘Who’s your friend?’ said Sasha, as we turned into Abina’s drive.

  ‘She’s not really my friend,’ I said. ‘We just work together at the kennels.’

  I glanced over my shoulder and found Becky looking back at me. I knew, from the look on her face, that she had overheard what I said. She turned and walked away.

  I didn’t have time to worry about it because we straight away started our netball practice. They said they always did netball first and then went to see Pookie – they had only done it the other way round the week before because it was my first week and they knew I was nuts about animals.

  ‘Your shooting’s getting better,’ Abina said, and they all agreed.

  ‘It’ll be so cool when you and Sasha get in the team,’ said Tammy.

  I had never been in the team for anything and I liked the sound of it. I didn’t even mind when we did an extra twenty minutes, even though my legs were shaking from being so tired and my shots were falling further and further short of the hoop.

  We went inside for a drink and a snack. We had to completely finish our biscuits before we went to see Pookie. As soon as he saw us he ran up to the fence, grunting loudly.

  ‘Sit, Pookie,’ Abina said as she unlatched the gate.

  Pookie rolled over onto his back and let us stroke his fat tummy. He shut his little round eyes, lapping up the attention.

  ‘Mum says I can put Heavenly Honeybun in the Polgotherick Pet Parade,’ Tammy said suddenly. ‘You should put Pookie in too. The judges would love him!’

  ‘Are you sure it’s not too late?’ I asked.

  ‘No, the closing date’s tomorrow.’

  ‘Oh... good,’ I said, trying to sound glad.

  They all agreed it was a fantastic idea.

  ‘Three pets give us three chances of winning!’ they said. It was like we were a team and if one of us won then we all did.

  Sasha, Tammy and Abina thought we should get all the pets together before the pet parade.

  They didn’t just want to be matching-set friends – they wanted to have matching-set pets.

  ‘I could bring Pookie to Peony’s house tomorrow,’ suggested Abina. ‘He’d enjoy the walk.’

  ‘And I could bring Heavenly Honeybun in her travel box,’ said Tammy.

  They all looked at me. No-one had mentioned meeting at my house on Sundays again, but it looked as if they just assumed it now.

  ‘That would be lovely,’ I said, ‘but I probably should warn you, my sister’s got a bit of a bug. She’s being sick and everything.’

  I knew they wouldn’t want to risk catching something right before the Young Voices competition. ‘I’m sure she’ll be better by next week,’ I said.

  I already knew what I was going to say next week – Primrose was better but now Dad had caught it. The week after that, it could be Mum. If I kept it up for long enough they might forget all about coming to my house and just let me go to theirs.

  You shouldn’t lie to people, especially your friends, so I didn’t feel very proud of myself. But on the other hand, I couldn’t help looking forward to a normal Sunday on my own, with nothing I had to do all day except breathe in and breathe out.

  Chapter 9

  Mime-time with Mum and the Emergency Meeting

  The good thing about Sam is he understands; the good thing about Dennis is he doesn’t. You can say whatever you like to him, he won’t get upset.

  ‘I don’t know why we’re bothering with all this brushing,’ I said, picking up the brush and flopping down on the rug. Dennis hopped over to me. I scooped him onto my lap. ‘We haven’t got a snowflake-in-the-desert’s chance of winning now that Heavenly Honeybun and Pookie are in the competition.’

  Dennis had bits of fresh hay in his fur and food on his face from his routine kicking-and-tipping the minute I had finished cleaning out his hutch.

  ‘Who’s Heavenly Honeybun?’ Dad said. He had just been next door to get his problem page letters and answers from Mr Kaminski, ready for his conference call with the agony aunts. ‘And who is Pookie?’

  I explained, but he wasn’t really listening. He was too busy fiddling with his laptop.

  ‘Are you doing that in here?’ Mum said, coming in from the yard.

  ‘Yes, the living room’s covered in the kids’ mess.’

  ‘Hey!’ I protested. ‘None of that stuff is mine. Blame Primrose.’

  ‘Do you want us to go somewhere else?’ Mum said. ‘Only I really do need to keep an eye on my sponge.’

  She was making a cake to take up to Nash House. Gran, Jane and Mr Kaminski were going up there that afternoon to strip the wallpaper in the front room and Stella was helping Mum with the garden. They used to work together at the Green Fingers Garden Centre before they set up their own business, Garden Angels.

  ‘Shh!’ said Dad. ‘They’re here.’

  He said hello to the agony aunts. We couldn’t see them this time because Dad was on the far side of the table and the screen was pointing the other way. Mum shrugged and sat down on the rug beside me.

  Kay asked Dad if his friends were still teasing him and he said yes, they were. Alice tut-tutted. Jeannie hoped he was managing to keep his spirits up. You could almost hear the chin-wobble in her voice.

  ‘We can’t manage next weekend, but we’ve set a date for taking you out to lunch – it’s going to be the Saturday after next.’

  Mum waved her hand and shook her head at Dad, but he ignored her.

  ‘That sounds lovely,’ he said.

  Mum jumped up. She acted out a mime of playing football. I remembered the Saturday after next was the day Dad’s team were playing in the five-a-side final.

  ‘You couldn’t make it any other day?’ Dad asked the agony aunts. They checked their diaries. The next date they had free was after Christmas which, they all agreed, was too long to wait. So Dad said thank you, and that he’d look forward to it.

  Mum gave him a ‘you’re going to regret that’ look as she tiptoed across to the oven to check her cake, then tiptoed back again. It
wasn’t quite ready.

  Dad was all right talking about his own readers’ problems because he had got Mr Kaminski’s answers in front of him, but he was out of his depth when the other agony aunts talked about theirs.

  ‘I’ve got one here from someone called James,’ said Jeannie. She read it out. ‘Dear Jeannie, I’ve put on so much weight since the summer I can’t do my trousers up any more. Please don’t tell me to diet because I haven’t got any will-power, and I don’t like exercising...’

  ‘If he won’t diet or exercise, I don’t know what you can suggest,’ Kay said.

  ‘New trousers?’ goes Dad.

  They laughed. ‘You are funny!’ they said. ‘But seriously...’

  Mum waved to get Dad’s attention again. She grabbed me and pretended to be a doctor, listening to my lungs with her stethoscope.

  ‘He should go and see his doctor!’ said Dad.

  ‘Yes!’ goes Kay. ‘He may have a medical condition that’s made him put on weight.’

  Mum let go of me and mimed being in floods of tears.

  ‘Or he might be depressed!’ said Dad.

  With Mum’s help, Dad got through the rest of the conference call without making any more bad suggestions.

  ‘I think I’m getting the hang of this,’ he said, as he closed his computer afterwards.

  Mum rolled her eyes.

  ‘What?’ goes Dad.

  She didn’t answer. She just shook her head. Dad gathered his Dear Daphne letters into a tidy pile and tucked them into his laptop case.

  ‘You can’t go to lunch with the agony aunts the Saturday after next,’ Mum said. ‘You’ll be letting your five-a-side team mates down.’

  ‘They don’t need me,’ said Dad. ‘There are seven of us and one on the bench is plenty of back-up.’

  Mum looked as if she was going to argue but before she could say another word the smoke alarm went off. The noise was deafening. Dennis shot underneath his hutch. Dad grabbed the broom from the cupboard and started poking at the alarm with the handle. Mum flung open the oven door and smoke came billowing out.