Does my sister really not see the irony in how she’s behaving, letting Mum do everything for her? Really?
Mum stares after her, shaking her head. “I hope she’s going to be all right, I really do.”
“Well, we’ll soon hear about it if she’s not,” I say. “I’m starving. What’s for tea?”
“Whatever you can find in the freezer,” Mum says. “Oh, listen to that dog, would you?”
Crystal is seriously unimpressed at being abandoned and is sitting in the doorway, howling at the top of his doggy voice, refusing to move, so everyone trying to get in and out trips over him on the way past.
It’s ages before Amber finally returns and gets into the car.
“Happy unpacking,” I call after them.
As I wave them off, the wail of a baby disappearing into the distance can be heard from the open window of Mark’s Micra. Harry’s filming them leave.
“I’m getting her bedroom,” Harry says, turning the camera off.
“No way,” I protest. “We’ve been through this. I’m older, if anyone’s getting it, it should be me.”
“But I’m going to be at home longer than you,” Harry says, with infuriating logic.
“Yeah, well, the parentals said neither of us can have it.”
“We’ll see,” Harry says.
As I enter the house, I’m struck by how quiet it is. Just me and Harry. It’s weird. I’m so used to having tons of people around, with loads of hustle and bustle. I guess this is what it must be like to live in Danny’s house. It’s only Danny and his dad at their place, so Danny has more peace and quiet than he knows what to do with. He loves the chaos of our place, the big weirdo.
I grab a bowl of cereal and head upstairs, spooning cornflakes into my mouth.
“Er, Suzy,” Harry appears on the landing from Amber’s bedroom. “You have to come and see this. You won’t believe it.”
I follow Harry into my sister’s room. It’s completely empty – the wardrobe’s bare, the bedding stripped, toiletries gone – all except for one thing.
Chichi is in the middle of the floor, bundled up in her coat and hat, strapped into her car seat. Her big blue eyes blink a couple of times in confusion, and then she starts to cry.
“They forgot Chichi?” I ask in alarm.
“Yup,” says Harry. “Don’t ask me how. These people are about to be entrusted with full-time solo care of their kids.” She sighs. “Do you want to ring Mum, or shall I?”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
We’re in the middle of English, reading aloud from Romeo and Juliet, when there’s a knock at the classroom door. Everyone looks up in relief, glad to get a break. Shakespeare makes everyone’s heads a bit melty.
Chloe, one of the girls from the year above, comes in to talk to Mr Patterson, who then gestures to me.
“Suzy, there’s a delivery for you at reception.”
I’m confused. A delivery? What kind of delivery?
“Oooh, what do you think it is?” Millie whispers.
“Mr Groves wants to see you about it,” Chloe says.
“I don’t see why this can’t wait until break,” Mr Patterson says. “We’re in the middle of a lesson.”
“Mr Groves said he needed to see Suzy immediately,” Chloe says.
“Fine,” Mr Patterson sighs. “Off you go. Amy, please take over Suzy’s part.”
As I wander along the deserted corridors, I’m still trying to figure out what the delivery can be. I wonder if it’s something from Danny? Maybe he’s sent me flowers! He knows I’ve been majorly stressed over all this party stuff lately, perhaps he’s done something to try and cheer me up.
Yeah, I know it’s majorly unlikely, but I can’t think of anything else. My mind has drawn a total blank.
When I arrive at the reception, Mrs Clarke, the receptionist, points me in the direction of Mr Grove’s office. “He’s waiting for you.”
“And is the delivery in there?” I ask eagerly. I can’t wait to see what it is.
“Yes,” Mrs Clarke says, doing her best not to laugh. She fails.
Huh. Well, that’s weird. What’s that all about? There’s nothing funny about a bunch of flowers that I know of. So maybe it’s not flowers after all. In which case, what on earth has been sent? I tentatively knock on the door.
“Come in.”
Mr Groves looks up from his paperwork and inhales. “Suzy. Thank you for coming. I’m hoping you can explain the meaning of this?”
When I see what he’s pointing at, I gasp. In the corner of his office is an enormous stone statue of a Greek god. It’s muscly, and all it’s wearing is a laurel wreath on its head.
The statue is all kinds of naked.
Why is Mr Groves making me look at that? I immediately avert my gaze to avoid any kind of eye contact with its, y’know, thing.
“Well?” Mr Groves says.
When I finally speak, my voice is all croaky. “Um, I’m not sure I understand?”
“This was delivered to you from the Party Props Warehouse. I don’t know if it was a practical joke or what, but I can assure you, I’m not amused. It had better not be for the fundraiser. This is not the kind of thing we want at our party.”
“Delivered for me?” How did this happen? And what must Mr Groves think of me now? He must be under the impression I’m some kind of pervert. This is awful!
“Get it out of my office,” Mr Groves says. “And be warned that this kind of behaviour is deeply inappropriate. If anything like this ever happens again, there’ll be serious trouble, do you understand? You’re lucky I’m drowning in paperwork today and don’t have time to look into this further.”
“But I didn’t order this,” I protest.
“Well, the invoice attached to its leg has your name on,” Mr Groves says. I glance at the statue again, but my eyes keep getting drawn hypnotically towards the groin area.
For the love of God, stop staring at it, Suze. That’s not helping anything.
“I –”
“Just get it out of here.”
“Isn’t it really heavy?” I ask.
“It’s plastic,” Mr Groves says.
Oh God. How am I meant to carry it without touching it there? I don’t want to be seen wandering through the school grappling with a naked statue!
“Can’t I pick it up later?”
“Afraid not. I’ve got a meeting in half an hour, I need that gone.”
“But –”
“I propose you remove it from my office, pronto, and I’ll pretend I’ve never seen it. Otherwise there will be consequences. What’s it to be?”
“I’ll move the statue,” I mumble.
It takes several attempts before I manage to pick it up in a manner that in no way involves me having contact with the crotch area.
I’ve got to hide it somewhere before the bell goes. I need to get it back to the Party Props Warehouse and explain the confusion, but I really don’t want anyone to see me with it before then.
I’m passing the girls’ toilets when the door opens and out come Jade and Kara. They’re both holding phones.
“Smile, Suzy!” Jade says and clicks, before she and Kara run off sniggering.
Oh come on! How do those two always, without fail, manage to see me when I’m at my absolute worst?
I’m staggering up the corridor still trying to work out what to do with this statue when the bell goes. I duck into the stationery cupboard, dragging Nuddy behind me, and text my friends to come ASAP. No way am I letting anyone else see me with this.
In the dark I close my eyes, and lean back against the wall. This is awful. Just awful.
There’s a knock on the door.
“Suzy?”
It’s Danny’s voice.
“What are you doing in there?” Danny says. Jamie and Millie are peering into the cupboard, looking baffled.
“I had to leave English because of this,” I say, pointing at the statue.
My friends all crack up laughing.
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“What is that?” Jamie says.
Danny and Millie can’t speak they’re laughing so hard.
“Is that what the delivery was?” Millie asks, once she’s managed to calm down.
“Yup. It came from the Party Props Warehouse. The delivery had my name on it, but I didn’t order it.”
“Oh, Suze,” Millie says, biting her lower lip and trying to quash her smiles. “Does he have a name? You’ll get a reputation hanging out with naked males in cupboards, you know.”
“Why did they send it to you?” Jamie asks.
“I don’t know!” I shriek.
“Then maybe you should give them a call and find out?” Millie says. “Is there a phone number on that piece of paper?”
She carefully removes the invoice taped to Nuddy’s thigh and unfolds it. “Yep, there’s one here.”
“Will you do it, Mills? Please?” I ask.
“Okay,” Millie says. “Are you ever going to come out of that cupboard?”
“No,” I say gloomily. “I’m going to stay in here until I die.”
“It’s ringing,” Mills whispers, and then snaps into grown-up professional mode as someone answers. She wanders off, chatting away. I try to stretch out. It’s awfully cramped in here, and I’m getting pins and needles in my foot.
“Well?” I say, when Millie returns.
“It’s really weird,” Millie says, crinkling up her nose. “They said you rang and requested the statue to be sent to school. And that it had to be for today.”
“Er, no I didn’t!”
“That’s what I told them,” Millie says. “But they said it was paid for and everything. You’ve only got it on hire for today, though. You need to get it back to them by first thing tomorrow, or you’ll have to pay another day’s hire.”
“What? How am I meant to do that? This wasn’t anything to do with me! Although…”
I remember Jade and Kara and how they’d popped out of the toilets at that convenient moment. Coincidence? I think not.
“I bet it was Jade and Kara,” I say gloomily. “They took pictures of me walking down the corridor with it.”
“You’re kidding. Even for them that’s outrageous,” Danny says.
“Tell me about it. I’m going to need to get it back to the warehouse after school then, aren’t I?” I say. “I don’t want to start being charged for being in possession of the flipping thing.”
“Can your mum drive you over?” Millie asks.
“Doubt it,” I say. “She’s got her hands full at the moment. And Dad’s at work.”
“I would ask my parents, but they’re in London again today,” Jamie says. “Sorry.”
“I could ask my dad, if you like?” Danny offers.
“No way!” I say. The thought of me and a naked statue being in the same car as Danny’s dad – yurgh. That’s too disturbing for words. Never going to happen.
“I’ll text Mum,” Millie says. “But if she can’t help you, we’ll have to get the bus back over. I’ll come with you.”
“Thanks, Mills,” I say gratefully.
The bell rings.
“What am I going to do with this thing?” I say. “I can’t leave it here. What if it gets lost? Or stolen?”
“It really is all kinds of naked,” Jamie says.
“I’ve got an idea,” Millie says, making a grab for Jamie’s bag.
“Hey!” he protests. “What are you doing?”
Millie pulls out Jamie’s PE shorts and waves them triumphantly. “Here! Put these on him.”
After a short struggle, Nuddy is finally covered up. Thank goodness for that. Although it’s going to be mortifying hauling this thing around school with me, at least he’s decent.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
An update on my life:
I’m trying to juggle the organisation of two big parties, one of which has to be kept a huge secret and requires me to try to manage my mother in the process, who’s getting totally carried away and is texting constantly with questions about every minute detail. For the other party I keep getting distracted by having to do jobs like wrestle enormous naked statues onto buses. Thank goodness Nuddy’s been returned safely to his warehouse now.
The less said about my day lugging around a Greek god, the better.
I’m still no closer to bringing The Drifting to our school, despite sending more emails and Facebook messages. Nobody ever called back from their management team.
Urgh. This all sucks.
It’s no wonder I can’t concentrate on the reading I’m supposed to have finished for English later.
Millie comes flying through the door of the IT lab, her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkling.
“You’ll never believe what I just heard!”
“What?” I say. I hardly look up from my phone, Millie gets crazy excited over ridiculous stuff, like enchiladas being served in the cafeteria, or a BOGOF on Jelly Babies.
“You’ll never believe what I just heard!” she repeats.
“Hmm?” I’m in the middle of a text to Mum, who’s asking how many frozen sausage rolls she should get from the supermarket. I tell her four hundred. It’s better to have too much food than too little, right? We don’t want people to be hungry.
Who knew that parties required so much effort? I’ve only ever turned up at them before. Sorting all the logistics to actually make them happen is one big brain-ache.
“Suzy, listen!” Millie snatches the phone out of my hands.
“Hey, I was in the middle of something,” I protest.
“It can wait. I just got the best news. The Drifting are doing an appearance on the radio!”
“Um, so?” I don’t get what there is to be excited about. I mean, sure, it’ll be cool to hear them interviewed, but it won’t get them any closer to appearing at Collinsbrooke.
“Don’t you get it?” Millie says. “Don’t you know what this means?”
“Uh, no?”
Millie rolls her eyes. “You’re so dense. We can wait outside the radio station for them! If we speak to them I’m sure they’ll help us out if they can.”
“I’m not so sure,” I say.
“Well, have you got any better ideas?” Millie says. “We’ve tried emailing them. Nothing. We tried writing to them. Nothing. We tried calling. Nothing. I honestly think this is our last chance, Suzy. But I’m sure, I’m really, really sure, that if we can only get a chance to speak to them, they’ll be able to do something. They seem really nice guys.”
Well. When she puts it like that…
“I’ve seen pictures of people waiting outside the radio station for bands in magazines,” Millie says. “There never seem to be that many people. I’m so excited!”
Now I’m starting to catch Millie’s enthusiasm.
Maybe this could solve all our problems! Sure it’s a long shot, but it might work…
“So which radio station are they going to be at?”
“They were saying on the Drifting forum pages that it’ll be one of the London stations. Nobody knows the exact details yet.”
“Erm, if they’re talking about it on a forum, doesn’t that mean loads of people know about it?” I ask, my heart sinking into my shoes.
“Yeah, course they’ll have some fans there, but it won’t be that many, will it?” Millie says. “It’ll be fine, Suze, c’mon.”
“Have you talked to the boys about it? Are they coming too?” I ask.
Millie shakes her head. “It’ll just be us going. The boys are going to stay at home to try and call into the radio station, just in case we don’t get a chance to talk to the band. Which we will. Because this is our last chance. All we’ve got to do is convince our parents to let us go to London.”
The way she says it makes it sound so easy – all we’ve got to do is convince our parents to let us go to London – and then maybe we’ll be able to give everyone the party they want.
“Okay,” I say decisively. “I’m in.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Have you seen your dad?” Mum asks, walking into my room and putting a pile of clean washing onto the bed.
“Hmmm?” I say, not really listening.
“Suzy? Have you seen him?”
“Who?”
“Your dad,” Mum says in exasperation.
“Oh. No. Have you tried the shed? He’s probably avoiding the trick-or-treaters.” Dad’s always in the shed these days. He spends hours out there, reading in his comfy chair. And, weirdly, Crystal Fairybelle spends all his time with him. The other day I thought I spotted him curled up on Dad’s lap, but I must have been seeing things.
Dad would never let that happen.
“By the way, Isabella’s been trying to talk to you. There was another missed call from her on Skype,” Mum says.
Irk. I’ve kind of been avoiding her.
Isabella’s the daughter of Mum’s best friend and has only just moved back to the UK from Italy. She came to stay with us over the summer holidays, and it’s fair to say that at first we didn’t exactly get on. I accidentally threw a bra on her head (as you do) and said something she took completely the wrong way, then she acted all snooty and mean. I even thought she was trying to take Millie away from me.
Eventually we sorted everything out, and I realised that Isabella’s actually super nice, and now we’re friends. She’s moved to London, into this crazy huge house because Isabella and her mum are seriously loaded. We’ve been messaging and Skyping regularly.
Although I really like Isabella now, I’ve been ignoring her calls lately.
Because I’m not sure I want to hear all about her fantastic house and fabulous new friends and the fact she’s probably been out spending a huge ton of cash when my life is so utterly poo.
I feel really bad for thinking such mean things, though. Just because I’m having a rubbish time, doesn’t mean I should take it out on other people, and Isabella’s not had an easy ride lately either.
“I’ll try to call her back later,” I mumble, knowing full well I probably won’t.
“Don’t forget to put that washing away,” Mum says, heading out of the door.
“Um, Mum,” I say. I’ve been trying to figure out how to convince her to let me go to London. “There’s something I wanted to ask you.”
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