Suzy P, Forever Me

by Karen Saunders

  I open my mouth, but Danny gets in first. “It’s not Star Wars, don’t worry. I chose something I hope we’re both going to like – it’s a comedy.”

  My insides go all squidgy. My life may be in meltdown, but my boyfriend’s still pretty amazing.

  “I wish I could, but I can’t,” I protest. “I’ve got so much still to do for the party…”

  “No,” Danny says. “You need a night off.”

  “But –”

  “But nothing.”

  I think about all there is still to do. Playlists and checklists and… arrrgh! But Danny’s right. I do need some time out.

  “Okay, thanks,” I say, wrapping my arms around his waist to give him a big hug.

  “Your parents are out, right?” Danny says.

  “Yeah, they’ve gone to see Aunt Loon butcher some war songs.”

  “Sounds like a treat. And Harry?”

  “She’s here. But she’s working on a science project and has been banned from leaving her room until she’s finished.”

  Danny grins. “Fantastic!”

  We grab some drinks and head through to the lounge, where Danny chucks his coat onto the chair, then rummages through his backpack before throwing over a huge bag of Minstrels.

  Last time we attempted a romantic evening, it all went horribly wrong. Danny rocked up with a Star Wars DVD (possibly the least romantic movie in the history of the world) and then Harry ended up gatecrashing the whole thing. A romantic evening for three doesn’t really work so well.

  As the opening credits come on I start to relax, and I even laugh at some of the stupid stuff happening on the screen. This is the first time I’ve felt even remotely chilled in weeks. This was just what I needed. My boyfriend is the best.

  I cuddle into his side and he kisses the side of my head. I turn to look at him and he lowers his lips onto mine for a long, tender kiss.

  “Mmmm,” I say, as Danny pushes my hair away from my face and stares into my eyes.

  Then I see a movement in the doorway.

  “Harry, what are you doing?” I say, absolutely furious as I jump to my feet.

  “Nothing,” Harry says, giggling.

  “Were you filming us?”

  “Maybe.”

  Gah. There is no torture in the world evil enough for my little sister. She’s such a freaking nightmare.

  “Give me that phone,” I demand.

  “No,” Harry says.

  “Gimme. Now. I mean it,” I say, holding out my hand.

  “No chance.”

  “Then at least delete the video,” I order. “Danny, help me out here.”

  Harry loves Danny. Like, proper loves him. I know full well she’d swap me for him in a heartbeat. If he’s on my side I might be in with a chance of that footage not getting spread all over the place.

  “Hiya, Harry. You need to do what Suzy says and delete that,” Danny tells her.

  “Aw, but, Danny…”

  “No buts,” Danny says. The tips of his ears have gone pink. Apparently the threat of a film of him kissing me going public is what it takes to get him to act all forceful. “It’s not cool to film people without them knowing about it. And if you do, they have to give their permission for you to use it. Which neither Suze or I will. So delete.”

  “Oh all right,” Harry grumbles, crinkling up her nose and pressing a few buttons. “It’s gone.”

  “Don’t you have homework you should be doing?” I ask pointedly. “Mum said you weren’t to leave your bedroom until you’d finished it.”

  “All done,” Harry says.

  “Really?” I so don’t believe her. If she’s telling the truth, I’m a water buffalo. “You going to show me?”

  “I –”

  Harry’s saved from having to come up with an excuse by the doorbell ringing.

  I’m cursed. Seriously. Who’s here now? Are Danny and I ever going to be left in peace? We have a movie to watch, people!

  “Do you have to answer it?” Danny asks.

  I peep out of the corner of the curtains, and my heart sinks when I see it’s Amber and Mark standing outside, each with a car seat containing a baby.

  The way my big sister’s been lately, I can’t leave her standing on the doorstep. She might have a total meltdown.

  “It’s Amber,” I say.

  “I think I’ll make a move,” Danny says.

  “No, don’t leave,” I beg. “Please, they might not be staying long…”

  The doorbell rings again, for longer this time.

  “I’ll get it!” Harry shouts. She opens the door and I can hear Amber and Mark coming inside. Uni and Chichi are with them, but for once they don’t seem to be crying.

  “Hi, you two,” Amber says, coming into the lounge. “How’s it going? Ooh, you’ve got the new film with thingy in – look, Mark, it’s that movie Conni G was going on about in her last column. Is it good?”

  “I don’t know, we’ve hardly got to watch any of it yet,” I say through clenched teeth.

  Amber bends to unclip Uni from the car seat.

  “Shouldn’t they be in bed?” I ask.

  Mark rolls his eyes. “Bedtime’s horrible at the moment. They refuse to sleep. So we’ve given up.”

  “The colic medicine from the doctor should hopefully help them settle,” Amber says. “Would you like a cuddle with your Aunty Suzypoos, Uniwoo? I know you’ve been dying to get a snuggle-wuggle, haven’t you?” Amber coos, lifting Uni into the air.

  “No, Amber, it’s –”

  I don’t get a chance to finish my sentence before Uni’s deposited into my arms and Amber’s collapsed onto the sofa with a sigh of pleasure.

  “I’m so tired,” she says. “Where’s Mum and Dad?”

  “Gone to see Aunt Loon singing,” Harry says.

  “Oh yeah, that’s right,” Amber says. “That’s a shame. I wanted to see Mum, and tell her how I got on at the doctor’s.”

  “Is everything okay?” I ask. I’m a bit distracted by Uni, who’s giving me an enormous, gummy smile. Talk about cute! That’s the first time she’s done that. The babies are actually pretty adorable now they’re more smiley and not screaming all the time. I’m sure Amber and Mark would disagree, but that’s the brilliant thing about being an auntie, isn’t it? I just get to be there for the good bits, and hand them back when they get too loud.

  “Yeah, Mum’s been bugging me to go and see the GP for ages. Because of the stress of the babies and stuff,” Amber says. “The whole mothering thing has been harder than I thought it would be. The doctor told me I need to stop the dieting, I’m not getting enough nutrients or something and it’s making me ill.”

  “I’ve said all along you’re beautiful the way you are,” Mark says, leaning over to kiss her cheek.

  “The doctor also gave me the contact details for a twins group, so we’re going to go and make some new twinny friends, aren’t we?”

  As Amber snuggles into her husband, I realise my sister seems happier than I’ve seen her since the babies were born.

  Danny clears his throat and shifts awkwardly from foot to foot. Amber’s probably getting a bit too personal for him. This sort of stuff makes him majorly uncomfortable. “Um, I’m going to go.”

  “Don’t leave on our account,” Mark says, putting Chichi across his chest. “We’re not staying long.”

  “Nah, you’re all right,” Danny says. “Nice to see you all.”

  I pass Uni to Harry and then follow him out to the hall where we stand, staring at each other dejectedly. “We don’t have much luck, do we?” Danny says.

  “You can say that again. But thanks so much for doing this.”

  “I’ll see you at school, yeah?” Danny pulls open the front door. Then he pauses, and looks back. “Suze…”

  “Hmmm?”

  “I wish there was a way I could make everything better. Whatever happens, though, you know it’ll all work out, right? And I’ll be here for you, no matter what.”

  My insi
des melt at his words. He doesn’t say stuff like this very often.

  He wraps his arms around me as I snuggle into his chest. As I look up at him, he smiles sweetly, then lowers his head to mine. His lips are soft, and he tastes faintly of chocolate.

  “Night,” he says. I watch him walk down the path, feeling better than I have for ages.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  It’s the morning of the parties and I’ve not slept. At all.

  I’ve spent the entire night staring up at my ceiling, tossing and turning. I tried counting sheep. I tried focusing on calming seas. I tried deep breathing. I tried every flipping thing I could think of but I couldn’t nod off.

  I’ve just got too much going on, my brain won’t stop buzzing.

  Because not only is it Dad’s party later, today is also the day of The Party Of Doom Where The Drifting Won’t Show and Everyone Will Kill Me.

  We had our last committee meeting yesterday, and Mrs Morgan has suddenly stepped up, turning into a total drama stresshead and getting everything whipped into shape (I think she finally realised her reputation was on the line if the party didn’t work out and there was a distinct possibility she’d never be allowed to organise any plays ever again). We’ve worked our butts off, coordinating everything.

  But however hard we’ve worked, at the end of the day it’s going to be a room without The Drifting in it. And people are counting on seeing the band. That’s what they bought their tickets for, after all.

  Oh God. My stomach flips over.

  I know the rest of the party will be amazing, we’ve worked super hard to make that happen, but what if it’s not enough?

  At least by tomorrow it’ll all be over, I try to reassure myself.

  Yeah, like your life, the niggly voice reminds me.

  My phone vibrates with a text. Millie.

  CaL me asap.

  She answers on the first ring. “Have you had the radio on yet?”

  “No.”

  “Then brace yourself.” Millie sounds unusually flat, and I’m suddenly wide awake, wondering what’s going on. “I’ve got bad news and more bad news. Jamie’s just called: he overheard his parents talking about a flat they’ve put an offer in on. It looks like they’re moving to London. They were lying, after all.”

  I can tell from her voice she’s trying not to cry.

  “Oh, Mills, no! That’s awful. But what’s that got to do with the radio? They haven’t announced he’s moving on air, have they?”

  I’m way confused.

  “That’s the other bad news. The DJs on most of the stations have been talking about the fact that The Drifting have announced a gig in South America, to support the victims of that mudslide there last month.”

  “So?” My brain is struggling to keep up.

  “The gig’s tonight,” Millie says glumly.

  Tonight.

  So that means everyone knows I’ve lied. Even though some people have suspected it for a while, now it’s confirmed. The Drifting definitely won’t be coming to our party.

  “It’s all over the radio stations and the music channels as well as Facebook and Twitter and the fan forums.”

  “I can’t do any damage limitation,” I say desperately. “I just don’t have time. It’s Dad’s birthday party today. Mum will freak if I’m not there.”

  “Leave it with me,” Millie says. “I’ll speak to the others.”

  “How are we going to get out of this?”

  “No idea,” Millie says. “No idea at all.”

  As we end the phone call, I want to cry. There’s no getting away from it now. Everyone knows I lied.

  In the hours before we leave for Dad’s party, Mum hits new levels of crazy, levels not seen since Amber’s wedding earlier this year. It’s astonishing Dad hasn’t figured out what’s going on. Mum’s spiralling. Literally, it seems – when I attempted to brave the kitchen for breakfast earlier, she was standing in the middle of the room, turning round and round in slow circles. I think she was looking for something, but even so, I backed away before she’d seen me, figuring I’d grab my toast later, when she’d gone. I’m trying to lie low as much as possible, wondering what damage limitation Millie and my mates are up to.

  It’s not long now until we have to leave. Mum’s told Dad that we need to get some things for the patio and have to go to the garden centre. All of us. The costumes have been packed in a bag in the boot, we’ll get changed when we get there. Even Mum couldn’t think of an excuse good enough to convince Dad that we needed to dress up as eighties throwbacks for a trip to investigate bulbs and potato sacks.

  On the way, we’ll be passing the scout hut. Harry will say she thinks she left her coat there and can we all go in and help her find it?

  Mum’s convinced it’s foolproof. I’m not so sure, but we’ll see.

  “C’mon, Crystal,” Dad says, as we all pile into the car.

  “Why are we taking the dog?” Mum asks as Crystal jumps into her footwell.

  “Because he gets lonely at home by himself,” Dad replies.

  “Is he wearing a new collar?” I say, peering forward for a better look. Crystal’s not wearing the usual pink studded one Amber loves. Instead, he’s got a smart brown leather one on, with a little silver bone dangling from it.

  “Er, yes. I bought it,” Dad says with a cough.

  I open my mouth, ready to start taking the mickey, but Mum’s stress gene kicks off again.

  “Let’s get going!” she says. “We don’t want to be late!”

  “For the garden centre?” Dad says.

  “Let’s just go,” Mum says.

  After fifteen minutes, we’re approaching the road that the scout hut is on. This is Harry’s cue…

  Nothing happens.

  I try to get her attention, but she’s gazing out of the window.

  Come on, Harry, focus!

  I knew it was a mistake making her such an integral part of the plan. The child is not to be trusted.

  Mum gives a little cough. And then another. Then a proper ahehehehem, trying to get Harry to look up.

  “Are you all right, Jen?” Dad asks. “Frog in your throat?”

  Mum laughs, nervously. “Er, yes, something like that. Sorry.”

  The scout hut is getting nearer. Nearer…

  I reach over and punch Harry’s thigh.

  “Ow!” Harry exclaims. “What the –? Mum, Suzy hit me!”

  I eyeball her meaningfully, pointing subtly outside, trying to get her to understand what’s going on without making Dad suspicious.

  “Suzy, pack it in,” Dad says.

  “Yeah,” Harry says, then sees me pointing, clocks where we are and eventually realises what I’m up to. “Ohhhhh!”

  Finally!

  “Any more hitting and you’ll be grounded,” says Dad.

  “Er, don’t worry about it,” Harry says. “It was my fault, actually. Can you stop here, Dad? At the scout hut?”

  “What? Why?”

  “I forgot my coat last week and need to pick it up,” Harry says.

  “Aren’t you wearing it?” Dad says.

  “Not this one, my other one. Please, Dad. Please?”

  “No,” Dad says. “We’ll do it on the way back.”

  And with that, he drives straight past the scout hut.

  “Chris, you’re going to need to turn around,” Mum says.

  “What?”

  “Just do it!” Mum shrieks, totally losing her cool.

  Dad looks all kinds of startled and hits the brake. There’s a furious honking, and I think the car behind only narrowly avoids rear-ending us.

  “It’s just a damn coat,” Dad mutters, after we’ve turned around without causing any more carnage and are pootling down the other side of the road, back towards the scout hut.

  Mum’s sitting in the passenger seat, doing some deep breathing.

  The car pulls into the car park and Dad comes to a stop. “There you go, Harry. You’d better come back with that jacket.
I don’t want to think about what will happen to your mother’s blood pressure if you don’t.”

  “Um, I’m going to need help looking for it,” Harry says awkwardly.

  We hadn’t discussed what she’d say at this point. Oh no! Emergency! Emergency! We’ve left Harry to freestyle the most important part of the plan!

  “We’ll all help you find it,” Mum says. “Come on, Chris.”

  Dad’s still grumbling as we cross the car park and enter the scout hut. “Where do you think you left it? In there?” He points to some double doors.

  Harry shrugs. “Maybe.”

  Dad shoves the door open.

  “Surprise!” comes the shout from the assembled crowd. Dad jumps about six feet in the air and stares around in astonishment, his mouth flapping open and shut like a goldfish. He can’t take his eyes off the people gathered around him – most of his friends and relatives are there, all in costume, and there’s Aunt Loon, down at the front dressed as Margaret Thatcher, in some kind of motorised wheelchair.

  I’ve never seen so many badly dressed people in one place before. Fluorescent leggings, headbands and lurid eighties make-up a-go-go.

  The entire room has been completely transformed and looks astonishing. It may have cost a fortune but it was totally worth it. There are drapes over the walls, so it’s almost like being in a marquee, tables and chairs surround the dance floor, and a huge disco ball and lights are shining and spinning. In the corner is the photo booth, which people are already spilling out of, laughing their heads off. There’s a huge table laden with food, and there are lifesize cut-outs of eighties celebs dotted around that people are taking selfies with. It looks fantastic.

  “Happy birthday!” Mum says.

  Dad’s still speechless.

  “Aw, you brought Crystal along. Hiya, baby boy. Say something, Dad!” Amber says, stepping forward dressed as Kylie Minogue. She’s wearing a weird hat, which is all brim and no top, with her hair, which she’s curled, pulled through it. She’s got Chichi in her arms. For once Chichi isn’t crying. In fact, she looks positively angelic as she gurgles and grins at everyone. She and Uni have been dressed up as Smurfs, with little blue circles on their cheeks (using organic baby-friendly face paints, as recommended by Conni G), while Amber seems totally relaxed, standing next to Mark, who’s come as Michael Jackson.