Bad Girls

by Jacqueline Wilson

  But I couldn’t tell.

  ‘I really truly don’t remember,’ I insisted. ‘It’s making my head hurt just thinking about it. Please can’t I just go to sleep? Please?’

  So they had to give in. I lay there in my bedroom after they’d tiptoed downstairs. It wasn’t anywhere near dark. It wasn’t my proper bedtime yet. I wasn’t the slightest bit sleepy. I couldn’t stop thinking about Kim and Sarah and Melanie. I wished I wasn’t Mandy White. I started pretending. OK, I wasn’t boring, baby, goody-goody Mandy White any more. I was . . . Miranda Rainbow. I was cool. I was colourful. I wore loads of make-up and had this ultra hip hairstyle. I wore the most amazing super sexy clothes. I had pierced ears and a stud in my nose. I didn’t have a mum. I didn’t have a dad. I lived all by myself in this incredible modern flat. Sometimes my friends stayed overnight at my place. I had heaps of friends and they all begged me to be their best friend.

  I fell asleep being Miranda Rainbow but then Mum woke me up tucking the covers over me and I couldn’t get back to sleep for ages. I couldn’t stop myself being Mandy White in the middle of the night. I tossed and turned as the quarter-hours chimed, thinking about going to school tomorrow. Thinking about Melanie and Sarah. And Kim . . .

  Mum brought me breakfast in bed on the poppy tray. She felt my forehead and looked at my face.

  ‘You still look very peaky and you’ve got dark circles under your eyes. I think you’d be better off having a quiet day in bed, just to be on the safe side,’ said Mum.

  For once I was so so glad that my mum was such a worrier and always fussing. I didn’t have to face Kim and Melanie and Sarah. I could stay at home. Safe.

  Mum phoned up her work and pretended she was sick.

  ‘It’s not really a fib, Mandy,’ she said uncomfortably. ‘My teeth are still playing up.’

  ‘But you could have gone to work, Mum. I’d be fine by myself,’ I said.

  ‘I’d much sooner stay home with you, darling,’ said Mum.

  Mum didn’t like her work much now anyway. She was a company director’s secretary, but her company had changed its director and this new one was young and Mum didn’t think much of him. She job-shared with another lady, and Mum didn’t think much of the afternoon secretary either. She was young, too.

  She got in a bit of a state telling me all about them and I got bored, but tried to nod in all the right places. Then Mum tried hard to play with me, but that got a bit boring too. I was glad when she went downstairs to get started on lunch. I tried doing some colouring with my felt-tips but my wrist hurt too much. I got so fed up I tipped the tin up. There were rainbow felt-tips scattered all over the carpet. I got out of bed, sighing, and started picking them all up. Several had rolled right over to the window. I wandered over and stared out, not really focusing through my glued-together glasses. Someone was rocking the pram in the garden over the road.

  There were always babies over there. Mrs Williams was a foster mother. But the person at the pram certainly wasn’t Mrs Williams. She’s big and she wears old Indian clothes. This person was small and startling. I thought she was a grown-up at first. She was wearing very short shorts and a top that showed her tummy, and great clacky high heels. But when I screwed up my eyes to have a proper stare I saw her face wasn’t really that old, though she was wearing lots of make-up. She had short sticky-up hair, bright orange, the exact colour of Olivia Orang-utan’s fur.

  She looked up and saw me staring at her at the window. She crossed her eyes and stuck her tongue out, and then she waved at me. As if we knew each other.

  There was a phone call for me at teatime.

  ‘A boy!’ Mum mouthed, handing the phone over.

  I stared at the phone as if it was a wild animal. There was a voice saying something. I held the receiver very gingerly to my ear.

  ‘. . . so they didn’t keep you in hospital long, Mandy? Have you broken anything? Remember when I broke my leg last year and I had that great plaster cast and everyone wrote stuff all over it, even poems, remember that rude one?’

  It was only Arthur King. I wasn’t really nervous of him.

  ‘I’ve hurt my wrist, but it’s not broken, it’s just got a sling. You can’t write on it because it’s only material.’

  ‘Oh, well. Never mind. I mean, I’m ever so glad you’re all right.’

  ‘Mmmm.’

  ‘You’re sure you’re all right? You haven’t got concussion, have you? You’re not saying very much.’

  ‘You’re not giving me a chance,’ I said.

  Arthur King gave his funny daft-dog laugh, yaaa-yaaa-yaaa, but he still sounded anxious.

  ‘Mandy?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Mmm. Mandy?’ he repeated, suddenly tongue-tied.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I feel bad about yesterday. I just stood there. When they were saying all that stuff.’

  ‘Well, they weren’t saying it about you.’

  ‘Yes, but I should have rescued you.’

  ‘You what?’ I said, snorting with laughter. Arthur King is smaller than me and he’s always left till last when people pick teams for Games.

  ‘It wasn’t very chivalrous,’ said Arthur.

  ‘You what?’ I repeated.

  ‘Mandy, don’t keep using that horrible uncouth expression,’ Mum hissed in the background. ‘Who is this boy?’

  ‘Arthur’s in my class at school,’ I said.

  ‘I know I’m in your class at school,’ said Arthur. ‘Mandy, I think you have got concussion.’

  ‘No, I was just telling my mum who you are, that’s all,’ I said.

  ‘Your tea’s getting cold, Mandy,’ said Mum. ‘Come along, dear. Say bye bye.’

  ‘I’ve got to go in a minute, Arthur,’ I said. ‘Shiver-what?’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘You said you weren’t shivering or something. Yesterday.’

  ‘Chivalrous! Like a knight. Like my namesake, King Arthur. I didn’t rescue the damsel in distress, did I? I just stood there and I was shivering. Scared. Cowardy custard. Yellow. That was me.’

  ‘It’s OK, Arthur. Really. Anyway I’m cowardly, too.’

  ‘Yes, but it’s all right for you, because you’re a girl.’

  ‘Look, we’re not back in those days of all the knights. Girls aren’t supposed to be rescued now. They’re meant to sort themselves out.’

  ‘But there were three of them and only one of you. I’m a rotten coward. And I’m sorry. Ever so sorry, Mandy.’

  ‘That’s quite all right, Arthur,’ I said politely. ‘I have to get on with my tea now. Bye.’

  I felt pleased that Arthur had phoned me. I’d never ever had a boy phone me up before. It felt good. I felt good.

  But the next morning I insisted I felt really bad.

  ‘I don’t feel at all well, Mum,’ I said. ‘And my wrist aches.’

  ‘Oh, darling.’ Mum looked at me anxiously. Dad had already left for his work. She didn’t have anyone to consult.

  ‘Please can I stay at home?’

  Mum felt my forehead and looked at me carefully.

  ‘I don’t think you’ve got a temperature. But you do still look a bit peaky. And I don’t suppose there’s really much point going to school if you can’t write properly. All right, then. As it’s Friday anyway. But you really will have to go back to school on Monday, Mandy.’

  Monday seemed quite a long way away. I could try to forget about it for the moment.

  I begged Mum to go back to work. I promised her I’d be fine by myself. I said I’d even stay in bed so she’d know I was absolutely safe. But she wouldn’t hear of it. She phoned in sick again.

  ‘Aren’t we bad girls?’ said Mum. ‘Shall we do some baking together, hm? Give Daddy a surprise when he comes home from work. I’ll do an iced sponge – chocolate or coffee? You choose, pet. And some fairy cakes? And then how about some gingerbread men?’

  I couldn’t help much with the sifting and stirring – but my left hand managed the bowl
-licking perfectly.

  When the cakes and biscuits were all baking, filling the house with warm sweet smells, I left Mum to do the washing up and went upstairs to my bedroom to fetch a book. I peered over at Mrs Williams’ house. The pram was in the garden and I could see the baby on its back waving its legs in the air. But there was no sign of the girl with orange hair.

  I kept popping back to my bedroom during the morning. The baby was crying one time, but Mrs Williams came out to see to it. She didn’t bother rocking it, she just wheeled it indoors. But then just before lunch I saw her! The girl. She was walking down the road towards the house carrying two shopping bags. She was wearing her clacky high heels again, so it was quite hard for her to balance. She was in leggings today and a T-shirt with a man’s face. I guessed he was a rock star.

  She had a Walkman on and was bobbing her orange head in time to the music in her ears. She even did one or two funny little dance steps in spite of her shoes and the shopping. I smiled – and she suddenly looked up and saw me.

  I bobbed back behind the curtain, my heart thudding. I heard the squeak of the Williams’ gate and a clack clack clack. I peeped round the curtain. She was still craning up at me. When she saw me looking she waved again. I waved back though I tried to wave my arm in the sling first and then changed to my good arm, feeling silly and clumsy. She started mouthing something. I thought she was singing along to her music, but she was looking straight at me.

  I squinted behind my glasses, trying to read her lips. It was no use. I shook my head hopelessly. She dumped the shopping on the path and made opening and pushing gestures. I didn’t even get that for a minute, and then I realized. She wanted me to open the window. But I couldn’t open the big windows because they were fitted with special locks, so I had to shake my head again.

  She sighed with exasperation, her eyebrows raised, and then she picked up her bags and banged on the door with her elbow. She was so skinny I was surprised it didn’t hurt.

  I spent half the afternoon staring out the window, hoping she might come out again.

  ‘Do stop mooning about, Mandy,’ said Mum. ‘I’ve made a nice cup of tea – and we’ll try a fairy cake, eh? Come on, cheer up.’

  Mum lifted my plaits up either side of my head and pulled. I was supposed to smile.

  I shook my head free.

  ‘Mum, can I have my hair cut?’

  ‘Oh, darling, don’t be silly. Your hair’s lovely.’

  ‘No, it’s not. I’ve got sick of it long. And I don’t want plaits any more, no-one has plaits nowadays, it just looks stupid. Can’t I have my hair short – and sort of sticking up?’

  ‘Like a bird’s nest!’ said Mum, munching fairy cake.

  ‘Mum, has Mrs Williams got any daughters? Real ones, I mean, not the foster babies.’ I started licking the icing off the top of my fairy cake.

  ‘Don’t eat it like that, pet. Yes, I think she’s got one grown-up daughter in Canada.’

  ‘This girl isn’t grown-up.’

  ‘Which girl?’

  ‘At the Williams’ house. I saw her yesterday. And today. She was helping with one of the babies and doing the shopping.’

  ‘Maybe she’s a granddaughter then. About your age?’

  ‘Older.’

  ‘Still, it would be nice if you had someone to make friends with. Now that Melanie’s turned so silly.’

  I shivered, wanting to keep the whole scary school world separate.

  ‘Tell you what, Mandy! How about taking some of these cakes over to Mrs Williams? There’s far too many for us. And it’ll give you the chance to get to know this girl.’

  ‘No, Mum! No. I don’t want to,’ I said, suddenly desperately shy.

  ‘Don’t be so soppy,’ said Mum, arranging the cakes carefully in one of her Tupperware boxes. ‘There! Over you go.’

  ‘No, Mum. Please. I’d feel stupid,’ I said.

  I desperately wanted to get to know the girl and yet I really couldn’t just march over and knock on their door. She’d smiled and waved, and yet she’d pulled the face too. She looked as if she could be really really tough if she wanted. Even tougher than Kim.

  ‘You are a funny little poppet,’ Mum said fondly. ‘Shall I come with you?’

  ‘I don’t want to go at all,’ I said, and I wouldn’t budge.

  So Mum went over to see Mrs Williams by herself. I waited in the kitchen, making a pattern in the cake-crumbs. Mum was gone quite a long time. I wished I’d had the courage to go over by myself. Miranda Rainbow would have rushed over the road without a second thought. Why did I always have to be such a silly coward? Cowardy cowardy custard. That was something they called me at school. And Baby. And Polly Pigtails. And Four-Eyes. And Snobby-Swot. Kim invented new names, new games almost every day.

  What would she do to me on Monday?

  I crammed another fairy cake in my mouth even though I was starting to feel sick. Then I heard the front door. Mum was back, looking a little pink.

  ‘Oh dear, oh dear, that was a bit awkward,’ she said. ‘Mandy! You silly girl, you didn’t tell me what this Tanya was like.’

  Tanya! A lovely exotic, unusual name. As good as Miranda. No, better. It really suited her.

  ‘Tanya,’ I said dreamily.

  ‘Do you know, she calls Mrs Williams “Pat” – not even Aunty Pat. Though of course she’s not related,’ said Mum. ‘She’s a foster child. There was some trouble at the last home she was in. She’s meant to be very good with little children so Mrs Williams said she’d take her on for a few weeks. She says she’s quite a helpful little thing, considering. But whatever does she look like!’

  ‘I think she looks lovely,’ I said.

  ‘Oh, Mandy,’ said Mum, and she laughed at me. ‘Still, she seemed quite smitten with you too, asking all about you. And she wanted to ask you over to play, but I said you still weren’t very well after a nasty accident, and you were having a little lie down.’

  ‘Mum!’

  ‘But you said you didn’t want to go over there. You insisted!’

  ‘Yes, but – if she wants me to . . .’

  ‘Well, I’d really much sooner you didn’t. A girl like that! You haven’t got anything in common. And she’s much older than you anyway. I thought she’d be at least sixteen but she’s only just fourteen, can you credit it? The heels she was wearing! I hope Mrs Williams knows what she’s taking on.’ Mum clucked her teeth.

  I crumbled the rest of my fairy cake, wishing and wishing I’d gone over to the Williams’ house myself. Tanya would think me a hopeless baby now, after the way Mum had talked about me. I was a hopeless baby. Tanya would never really want to make friends with me.

  But less than an hour later there was a knock on the door. A jaunty rat-tatta-ta-tat-tat.

  ‘I wonder who that is?’ said Mum, getting up.

  I knew!

  ‘Hiya!’ said Tanya, as soon as Mum got the door open. She licked her lips as if she was chasing crumbs. ‘Thanks for the little cakes, they were smashing.’ She held out the empty plate.

  ‘You haven’t eaten them all?’ said Mum, startled.

  ‘You bet I have,’ said Tanya. ‘Well, Simon and Charlie licked the icing off a couple. The baby can’t eat cakes because it hasn’t got any teeth yet, and poor old Pat is trying to stick to this dopey old diet. So I got lucky, didn’t I?’ She patted her completely flat stomach and winked. She wasn’t looking at Mum now. She was looking past her, at me.

  ‘You’re Mandy, right?’ she said.

  I nodded.

  ‘Let’s have a chat, then,’ said Tanya, and she marched into the hall in her high heels, neatly dodging Mum’s big hip.

  Mum turned round, frowning.

  ‘Well, I really think Mandy ought to have a bit of a rest just now,’ she said, in her bossiest voice. ‘Perhaps another time.’ When she uses that voice to me my stomach always squeezes and I do as I’m told.

  Tanya just laughed. Not rudely. She had this beautiful sunny laugh that made you want to
smile too. Even Mum.

  ‘But she’s had a rest, haven’t you, Mandy? You want me to come and play with you, don’t you?’

  She was talking to me as if I was much younger, one of Mrs Williams’ toddlers. I didn’t care.

  I nodded, still unable to say a word.

  Tanya was right down the hall beside me now. She put out her hand and touched my arm. She wore purple nail varnish though her nails were bitten right down so that the ends of her fingers bulged. But somehow even they looked glamorous.

  ‘Show us your bedroom, then,’ said Tanya, giving me a little push.

  I started up the stairs obediently, Tanya following, tapping out a tune on the bannister with her nibbled nails. Mum was left in the hall, the front door still open though it was obvious Tanya was staying.

  Well, just for ten minutes, then,’ said Mum reluctantly.

  She still hovered uneasily. I was terrified she might come up too. I deliberately didn’t look back at her, and when Tanya and I were in my bedroom I shut the door.

  ‘Wow!’ said Tanya looking round.

  I blinked at her. It sounded as if she actually liked my room. Melanie had always been very dismissive.

  ‘It’s all pink and pretty and girlie,’ said Tanya, kicking off her heels and jumping onto my white fluffy rug. She wiggled her toes. ‘I’ve always wanted one of these rugs. How do you keep it so clean, eh? Oh, and I like your bed!’

  She took a running dive at it, bouncing happily on the pink sprigged duvet, then lying right down, her hair bright on my frilly pillow. ‘Mmm, it smells so clean too,’ she said, picking the pillow up and sniffing it appreciatively. She dislodged Olivia.

  ‘Hello? Who’s this, then?’

  I swallowed. ‘I have this monkey collection,’ I said hoarsely, waving in the direction of the monkey shelf. They were all neatly arranged, paws folded, tails twirling down from the shelf in little loops, apart from Gertrude Gorilla who didn’t have a tail and was far too big to sit on the shelf anyway. She sat beside it, her arms out as if she were saying how much she loved me.

  Tanya hurtled straight off the bed into Gertrude’s hairy arms, using her as an armchair.