by Candy Harper
Milly shrugged. ‘I thought she might be getting glandular fever again.’
Lauren had glandular fever in the summer and she was off school for ages. I’d really missed her.
‘You don’t get it twice,’ I said, even though I wasn’t sure if that was true. ‘Did you see Mr Garcia’s face when that little Year Seven scraped his chair back when he was in the middle of explaining the harmonies?’ I added, trying to change the subject.
I kept the conversation away from Lauren until it was time for us to go our separate ways. I watched Milly’s back for a moment. I really hoped Lauren would get well quickly. I wanted her back at school so we could moan about teachers and enjoy the concert rehearsals together, like we always do.
I was walking down the corridor to chemistry on Monday morning when Chloe grabbed my arm.
‘What is it?’ I asked. She was pink in the face and out of breath.
‘It’s Thunder. He went to those youth squad trials on Saturday and they’ve picked him for the team.’
I wasn’t especially concerned about getting to chemistry on time so I stopped and pulled her to one side of the fast-moving flow of students.
She was scowling; I wondered if she’d pulled that face when Thunder told her.
‘Did you congratulate him?’ I asked.
‘It’s completely not fair. He’s not even as good as me at rugby. Would you congratulate someone that got a singing part that you knew you’d be much better at?’
She had me there. ‘No. But everybody knows that you’re a nicer person than I am so people expect more from you.’
‘Well, I don’t feel very nice at the moment.’
‘I’m sorry, Clo, but it’s not Thunder’s fault that they won’t let you on the squad. It’s not worth falling out over.’ I suddenly felt like Mum when I said that. ‘Anyway, aren’t you supposed to be somewhere?’
‘Aren’t you supposed to be somewhere?’
‘Yep, chemistry. Can’t you see I’m rushing to get there?’ I mimed an ultra-slow walk.
Chloe turned in the opposite direction and shuffled forward with tiny steps. ‘I’m off to French. Running all the way.’
I laughed and Chloe managed a snort.
‘I’m not happy though,’ she called over her shoulder. ‘Not happy at all.’
Which worried me a bit because Chloe is usually always happy.
Mum had a staff meeting that night so, by the time she’d picked up Lucy from her After School Club and brought her home, I had almost finished making spaghetti bolognese for our tea.
Mum was on her mobile when she came into the kitchen with Lucy and Chloe behind her.
‘Lovely,’ she said into her phone and mimed a kiss at me. ‘I’ll see you then. I’m looking forward to it. Bye now.’
She put her phone down and squeezed my shoulder. ‘This looks fantastic,’ she said.
‘Who was that?’ I asked.
She lifted five plates from the rack and handed them to Chloe to put on the table. ‘Remember when I was talking about an evening class?’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘Well, I’ve decided to join a book club instead. That was the lady who organises it. My first meeting is on Wednesday.’
‘A book club?’ Lucy said. ‘What’s that? Do you all sit around reading? That doesn’t sound very interesting. You can do reading in your own bed and nothing really happens. Except when Chloe climbs in and does a Dutch oven.’
‘What on earth is a Dutch oven?’ Mum asked.
‘It’s when you’re in bed with someone and you pull the duvet over their head and then fart so that they’re trapped with your stink,’ Chloe said in a matter-of-fact way, as if this was a completely acceptable way to be talking when I was actually hoping to eat my tea without vomiting on my plate.
‘You don’t sit around reading at book clubs,’ I said to Lucy. ‘You read the book before you go and then, when you’re there, you discuss the book and answer questions about it.’
‘What on earth?’ Chloe said. ‘That’s not a club! That’s English lessons. Why would you want to do that, Mum?’
‘I like reading books,’ said Mum. ‘And I thought it would be nice to meet some new people.’
‘What’s wrong with us?’ Lucy demanded. ‘I can talk to you about books any time you like.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with you, my sweet,’ Mum said.
‘Apart from the obvious,’ I muttered.
‘Nothing at all,’ Mum said more loudly. ‘But it’s always good to make new friends, isn’t it? Now, are we ready to eat, Amelia? Shall I call Ella?’
The bolognese was delicious (even if I do say so myself). But it was less enjoyable listening to Lucy telling us the plot of every book she’s ever read (which fortunately isn’t very many). I was grateful that I’d finished my tea by the time she got on to a story called The Most Revolting Sandwich in the World. I’m pretty sure she wrote that one herself.
The next day, Lauren finally came back to school. Even though she’d called me to say she was better, it was still almost a surprise to see her back in our tutor room. I tried to be cool and not get overexcited like a little kid, but I was so pleased to see her that I did say, ‘You’re here!’ in quite a squealy way.
‘I am!’ Lauren said.
And then we hugged and I might have let out one more little squeal.
‘How do you feel?’ I asked. ‘You’re a bit pale.’
‘You sound like my mum!’
‘So you’re over the flu?’
‘Amelia, I’m completely fit and healthy.’
‘OK, just checking.’ I couldn’t stop myself from grinning. ‘This is brilliant!’
Lauren laughed. ‘Yep. I’ve never seen you so excited about school.’
‘I’m not excited about school. School is a miserable torture prison. I’m happy because you’re here to share in it with me.’
‘That’s very moving,’ Lauren said in a not-at-all-moved voice.
It was so good to be back with someone else who likes being sarcastic.
I punched her on the arm. ‘I’ve got so much to tell you.’
She rubbed her arm. ‘I know you’re a bit thick and that violence is one of the few ways you can express yourself, but try to tell me the news without any more injuries, all right?’
I smirked. ‘We’ll see . . .’
‘I need to hear more about the Christmas concert first.’
I made myself comfy on a chair. ‘I told you we had the first meeting last week, and Mr Garcia gave out music and lyrics booklets, so I got one for you. I’ll bring it in tomorrow. The rehearsals are on Thursdays, plus extra ones if you’ve got a solo.’
Olivia, who sits in front of us, dumped her bag on her chair and sat on the table. ‘Are you talking about the concert?’ she asked.
Lauren nodded. ‘Sounds like it’s going to be really good this year.’
Olivia sighed. ‘I bet you two get solos.’
‘I bet you do too,’ Lauren said.
My mum says that when someone says a nice thing like that, you ought to say something nice back and it’s called returning the compliment. But I think that’s stupid if what you’re saying isn’t true. Not so long ago, I used to deliberately try and hurt people’s feelings; now I’ve realised that that’s pretty childish and unkind, but I still think it’s ridiculous to say things that are obviously lies. We all know Olivia won’t get a solo. But I’m trying not to upset people so I managed to give her a smile. It was supposed to be an encouraging smile, but I haven’t given out many of those so I’m not sure how successful it was.
Then Mrs Bixby came in and we had to listen to the register.
I poked Lauren. ‘Olivia’s right about you; you’ll definitely get a solo.’
She couldn’t help smiling. The great thing about Lauren is that I never have to say any silly compliment things to her that aren’t true. She really has got a brilliant voice. And she’s smart. And funny. Sometimes my teachers and my parents go on at
me about being nicer, but I’m nice to Lauren because it’s really easy. She’s basically a perfect friend. At least, she usually is; I felt like we’d been a bit out of touch while she was ill. But I knew that everything would get back to normal now she was better.
After registration, it was English. Music and drama are my favourite subjects, but English is quite bearable. I don’t know why people ever say reading is boring. So much stuff happens in books. Terrible stuff. It’s brilliant. Plus, no one ever tells people in books to stop being dramatic and go and lay the table.
I quite like our English teacher, Mrs Holt; she gets us to do a lot of group work because she says we’ll understand a text better if we can have a good argument about it. I’m very good at arguing. The other great thing about English this year is that all the tutor groups have been mixed up and Cute Josh is in our class. He’s in our maths and science lessons too.
‘How have you been getting on with CJ?’ Lauren asked in a low voice while we were settling into our seats in Mrs Holt’s classroom. She used our code for Cute Josh so that no one knew who we were talking about. Lauren is the expert on Cute Josh; he knows her name because her mum and Josh’s mum used to work together. Last year, he even came round to her house to pick up something for his mum. Back then, we hadn’t realised just how cute Cute Josh is; it was only after the summer holidays that we noticed him. He seemed to have grown about fifteen centimetres and he’d obviously been somewhere hot on holiday because he was really tanned and his hair was all blond and tousled like a surfer’s.
In our first maths lesson, Mr Ireland got Josh to hand out the protractors and when I took one from the box he was holding out to me he said, ‘Wait, that one’s cracked,’ and chose me a new one. So he’s cute and nice.
‘Nothing major to report,’ I whispered back. ‘But last week Mrs Holt made him read out loud so I got to listen to him for ages.’
‘What was he like at reading?’
I laughed. ‘He didn’t seem to have any problems. Managed all the tricky words; didn’t run his finger along the page or anything.’
‘I meant, did he make it sound good, like a drama teacher, or is he one of those that hide behind the book?’
‘I think he was a bit embarrassed to start with, but he is a good reader; everyone was listening.’
Lauren did a fake big sigh. ‘I wonder what he sounds like reading love poetry,’ she said in a silly high-pitched voice.
We cracked up. I was so glad she was finally back.
Even though we were sitting near Josh, he didn’t say hello to Lauren, like he sometimes does, but he did answer two questions correctly, which is a good thing. I don’t know why anyone fancies stupid people. I’m not interested in anyone who can’t understand my jokes.
In drama, once we’d got into our groups, Milly started explaining everything to Lauren in quite an over-the-top, patronising way. ‘It’s all right,’ Lauren said. ‘They sent some books and stuff home. I’ve already read the play.’
I didn’t know that the school had sent her work. They normally only do that when people get excluded and they don’t come in for ages. Lauren had only been off for a week.
‘We’re doing the first scene,’ Jasveen said. ‘And then the other groups follow on from us.’
‘Can I be the mother?’ Lauren asked.
Milly opened her mouth to speak, but I got in first. ‘We’ve sort of already worked out the parts, remember? I told you when I spoke to you at the weekend,’ I said.
Lauren’s forehead creased. She didn’t look like she remembered at all. ‘So who’s the mother?’
‘I am,’ Milly said. ‘And you’re the maid.’
‘OK,’ Lauren said. But she didn’t look very OK about it.
‘We haven’t done that much work on it,’ I said. ‘We could still swap around parts.’
Milly and Jasveen looked at each other.
‘The thing is,’ Milly said, ‘the mother is the biggest part. It needs to be someone who is prepared to do a lot of rehearsing.’
‘I am,’ Lauren said. ‘Completely committed.’
Milly rolled her eyes. ‘But are you definitely going to be here? You’ve just had a whole week off and you missed loads of days before half-term too.’
‘I’m here now,’ Lauren said in a cold voice.
‘Yeah, she’s better now, aren’t you, Lauren?’
Lauren didn’t answer that; instead, she said, ‘If you want the part so much, Milly, you can have it.’ And she walked off to talk to Olivia and Bethany on the other side of the room.
‘I was just saying,’ Milly said. ‘If we want it to be good, we all have to be here to practise.’
‘Maybe Milly and Lauren could both learn the mother’s part and the maid’s part,’ Jasveen said. ‘Then we could see who does it best.’
Milly shrugged. ‘I suppose we could do that. But whoever is playing the mother has to be here for absolutely every single lesson.’
‘Lauren will be,’ I said.
And I hoped it was true.
The next day we were nearly late for school. Mum had been so busy reading the final few chapters of her book for the first book club meeting that night that she forgot to wake anybody up. When we finally scrambled out of bed, it was chaos while we all dashed about. Lucy and Chloe ended up wrestling over a piece of toast and I was still brushing crumbs out of my hair when I got to school. Which was when I realised that I’d left my geography homework on the kitchen table. Even though I got into trouble about that, I still had a fun day with Lauren.
We managed to arrive at our maths lesson at the exact same time as Cute Josh. He actually smiled at us and said, ‘Hi, Lauren. Hi, Lauren’s friend.’
I was completely dazzled by how white his teeth were, but Lauren was very cool and said, ‘This is Amelia.’ And he nodded as if that was a genuinely interesting piece of information for him. I tried nodding back, but I seemed to have lost control of my own neck and it ended up being quite a big nod, more of a bow really. Luckily, Josh had already turned away and sat down.
We took the seats across the aisle from him and, while we were working on the equations Mr Ireland put on the board, I noticed that Josh finished them nearly as quickly as Lauren, which is impressive because Lauren is very good at maths.
The first thing Milly said when we walked into the drama studio was, ‘Oh good, you’re here.’ Which I thought was pretty rude. It’s not like Lauren could help being sick before. When we got down to working on our scene, Milly agreed that Lauren could try being the mother for this lesson. She was excellent.
When the bell went, Jasveen said, ‘That went really well.’
And we all looked at Milly.
Milly might be a bit bossy, but one of the things I love about her is that she’s never selfish.
‘You were brilliant,’ Milly said to Lauren. She took a deep breath. ‘You should definitely be the mother.’
‘Thank you!’ Lauren squealed and she pulled us all into a hug.
I really think our group’s performance could be the best.
Later on, we had my favourite lesson, music, and Mr Garcia told us that at tomorrow’s rehearsal he’d be choosing soloists.
‘I know we’ve got a few concert singers in here so if you’d like to audition tomorrow then please can I ask you to put your name on this list.’ He waved a clipboard about. ‘I’ll pass it round.’ And he handed it to Mark on the front row who immediately passed it on as if it was something dirty he didn’t want to touch. Some people are so immature.
Mr Garcia was in full rambling mode by the time the clipboard got to us. I had a quick look at who else was on the list. There were some good singers on there. I really hoped I was in with a chance; I love performing and it’s so cool when you get to do it with a whole orchestra. I wrote my name in big letters and slid the list across the table to Lauren.
‘I don’t think I’m going to audition this time,’ she whispered.
I stared at her. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean, I don’t think I want a solo.’
Unbelievable. ‘Why not? We love having solos.’
‘Yeah, but you have to go to extra rehearsals and everything. Besides, you know me: I’m the shy and quiet type.’
That was obviously supposed to be a joke, but I didn’t think it was very funny. What on earth was going on with her?
‘And I know that spending time with Mr Garcia is always a treat, but I’m not sure I can deal with too many of his jazzy jumpers.’ She crossed her eyes.
I couldn’t take this in. Lauren and I had auditioned for every singing role possible ever since we started at St Mark’s. Part of the reason we became best friends was because we were the two singing narrators in our Year Seven end-of-year show. ‘So you’re really not even going to audition?’ I asked.
She shook her head. ‘I just don’t fancy it.’
Mr Garcia sent a laser look in our direction so I had to stop asking questions, even though I was absolutely certain that Lauren hadn’t told me the real reason she didn’t want to audition. Something weird was going on and I was determined to find out what.
But when the last bell went, and I finally got to speak to Lauren without being interrupted by an annoying teacher, she just brushed me off.
‘Why don’t you want a solo in the concert?’ I asked while we were packing up our bags.
‘I just don’t,’ she said.
‘But we always audition for solos.’
‘I’m just getting over the flu. I don’t think I’m up to auditioning tomorrow.’
I looked at her. She was still very pale. If anything, she looked worse than she had that morning.
I squeezed her elbow. ‘You should’ve just said if you were feeling ill again.’
‘I’m not feeling ill!’
I dropped her arm.
‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m just tired. You don’t need to worry. I’ll still be in the concert; we’ll have a good time, yeah?’
I was so surprised that she’d snapped at me that I hardly heard her.
She stuffed her arms into her coat. ‘I’ve got to meet my mum in the car park. See you tomorrow.’