by Candy Harper
I didn’t say anything.
‘And school are letting her not come in, aren’t they?’
I remembered Lauren saying that school had sent home our drama play for her to read.
Chloe upended the little green bin into the big green bin. ‘You’d have to be pretty pigging sick to get old Iron Hair to let you off school.’
‘I suppose.’
Chloe flipped the lid of the big bin closed ‘See? You’re not furious now, are you?’
She was right. I wasn’t cross any more. I was worried.
I fretted about Lauren all the next day. Finally, I decided that I’d go round to see her after rehearsal. While we were waiting for Mr Garcia and Mr O’Brien, I sat with Milly, Olivia and Bethany. Everyone was talking about Nathan’s haircut. Last week, when Mr Garcia announced he’d got a solo, Nathan was flicking his shoulder-length hair about, but now he’d had it all cut off so short that he looked like he’d joined the army. We were still staring when Mr Garcia clapped his hands for quiet and got us started on warm-up exercises.
I wasn’t concentrating on singing as hard as I should have been. I lost my place a couple of times when we were singing the group songs, but luckily Mr O’Brien didn’t notice. It was probably a good thing that Mr Garcia had told me and Bartek that we wouldn’t be working on our duet until next week.
Bartek was sitting behind us and, while Mr O’Brien was hunting for some music, he leant forward and said, ‘We’re going to sing great, yeah?’
I turned round. He was grinning at me and I couldn’t help smiling back. Bartek always looks so cheerful. I bet he doesn’t tie himself in knots worrying about stuff. ‘If we don’t sing well I’m pretty sure Mr Garcia will tell us,’ I said.
‘I hear he is very angry with bad singing.’
‘Yep.’ I nodded. ‘He screams and pouts and dishes out horrible punishments.’
Bartek slowly moved his eyes sideways. I followed his gaze; he was looking at Nathan. ‘Maybe Nathan isn’t singing so good and Mr Garcia . . .’ He mimed a pair of scissors.
I burst out laughing.
‘We must be good,’ he said. ‘Because this is nice.’ He tugged my hair. ‘And this . . .’ he ran a hand through his shiny black hair in a silly shampoo ad kind of way, ‘is even nicer.’
Mr O’Brien crashed some chords to get us to be quiet at that point, but I thought that rehearsing with Bartek was going to be fun.
On the way to Lauren’s house, I tried to plan what I wanted to say. I was going to start off with what I knew I’d done wrong: I shouldn’t have made such a fuss about not going bowling and I should have been more understanding about her being ill. Except I was a bit confused about just how ill she was. I felt like I should have asked her about it more. But I had tried. Mostly she just kept saying she was fine. What if Chloe was right and there was something seriously wrong? I was getting in a tangle again. Once I’d said sorry, I really needed some straight answers from Lauren.
I rang the doorbell and waited. Through the glass panels I saw Lauren’s mum coming towards me. For a minute, I wished I was Jasveen: she’s one of those nice, polite girls that parents always love; she’d know the right way to start this conversation off.
Lauren’s mum opened the door and I hesitated. It seemed quite formal to say ‘Hello, Mrs Anderson,’ but she’d never asked me to call her by her first name so I didn’t feel like I could do that either.
‘Hi,’ I said eventually.
‘Amelia,’ she said. Not even ‘Hello, Amelia’. Just my name in a cross, teacherish sort of voice.
I swallowed. ‘How’s Lauren?’
‘Asleep. She’s worn out.’
‘Oh. I was hoping to talk to her.’
‘That’s not possible right now.’
I wanted to leave a message, but something about the way Lauren’s mum was glaring at me made my words clog in my throat. I was going to have to sort this out by phone away from Lauren’s mum’s accusing eyes. I half turned to go.
‘And Amelia?’
I looked back at her.
‘All this . . .’ she cast about for the right word, ‘. . . drama,’ she said as if drama was the most revolting thing she could think of. ‘This friendship drama isn’t helping Lauren. She was extremely upset after you phoned her on Monday. You know she’s really very ill and she needs rest. If you can’t be a reliable friend then it might be best if you spent less time with her.’
What did she mean Lauren was really very ill? I was so shocked by what she’d said that I was completely robbed of speech. She’d got it all wrong. Lauren had said she was ill that one time and after that she kept playing it down as if it was nothing serious, but I was so upset and confused that I didn’t have the words to explain this to Lauren’s mum. All I could think of was that I had to get away as fast as I could. For some stupid reason, I said politely, ‘Goodbye, Mrs Anderson,’ as if her opinion of my manners meant anything now. She’d obviously got me down as the worst friend in the world. I walked blindly back up their drive and towards my house.
The more it rolled around in my head, the more bewildered I was. Lauren’s mum thought I was a horrible person and that I was rowing with Lauren when she was sick. Why hadn’t Lauren explained to me properly? What exactly did ‘really very ill’ mean? Ill like glandular fever or was it something worse?
When I got home, I went up to my bedroom and thought long and hard about what to do. I really needed to see Lauren, but her mum was clearly going to get in the way of that. I picked up my phone. What if Lauren was still asleep and her mum answered her mobile? What if no one answered and I had to leave a message? What would I say? Finally, I found a piece of paper and pen and tried to write something down. I crossed bits out and added things until I ended up with something that I thought was OK.
Dear Lauren,
I am so sorry that I shouted at you on Monday. I don’t really care about not going bowling, but I am sad that we’ve fallen out because you’re my best friend and I don’t want to upset you.
I came round today but your mum said you were sleeping. She also said that you’re really ill and she seemed to think I knew all about it. Lauren, please tell me what’s wrong with you. I’m not cross that you haven’t told me, I just want to know because I want to be there for you. I hope you know that you can tell me absolutely anything and, whatever it is, I’ll always be your best friend.
Love Amelia xxx
P.S. Can I come and see you?
I decided it was best not to mention how mean her mum had been. I copied the whole thing out, put it in an envelope and slipped it into my bag so I could deliver it on the way to school.
In the morning, I snuck the letter through Lauren’s door without her mum pouncing on me and then, in the middle of maths, I felt my phone vibrating in my pocket. When Mr Ireland turned his back, I slipped it out and took a quick look under the table. It was a text from Lauren.
I’m sorry too. I really want to talk to you. Can you come round tomorrow at ten?
I felt my shoulders relax. Maybe now this could finally be sorted out.
It was our weekend at Dad’s so, in the morning, he gave me a lift to Lauren’s house. After I’d got out of the car, it took me a moment to work up the courage to walk down the drive. I couldn’t help thinking about the previous Saturday, when I’d woken up feeling so cheerful, compared to the sinking feeling I had in my stomach now. I was afraid of what kind of reception Lauren’s mum was going to give me. What if she just told me to go away again? But I had to talk to Lauren so I marched up to their door and pressed the bell firmly.
After all that, it was Lauren’s dad who opened the door.
‘Hello, Amelia,’ he said. ‘Lauren’s upstairs; go on up.’
‘Thanks.’ I don’t see Lauren’s dad that much because he’s always travelling for his job but he’s definitely a lot friendlier than her mum.
Upstairs, Lauren’s bedroom door was closed. Normally, I’d have walked right in, but for some reason I knocked
.
‘Come in,’ Lauren said.
I pushed open the door.
She was lying in bed, propped up on pillows. She looked awful.
‘You look awful,’ I said. My heart was off at a gallop again. What if there really was something horribly wrong with her?
‘Thanks,’ Lauren said. ‘You look pretty disgusting yourself. I think it’s your rat teeth. Or it might be your caterpillar eyebrows.’
I tried to laugh, but it stuck in my throat. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘About being cross about bowling.’
‘It doesn’t matter. I should’ve just said yes.’
‘But you weren’t well enough, were you?’
She tensed. ‘I was just tired.’
‘It’s more than that though, isn’t it?’
‘No.’ She said it forcefully. ‘I’m just run down. It’s this time of year: everybody gets sick.’
‘But you’ve been sick for months.’
She pushed herself more upright. ‘I’ve only had a few days off school.’
‘It’s more than a few. All those days you said you were going to the orthodontist . . .’
Her eyes widened and I could tell that I’d struck on the truth.
‘There was nothing wrong with your brace, was there?’ My voice was getting louder.
She looked away. A horrible thought occurred to me.
‘Oh my God, you didn’t really go away for half-term, did you?’
She sucked in a breath. She’d lied to me; she’d lied so much. But then tears started rolling down her face and the red-hot anger inside of me just turned to icy fear. ‘Why did you lie to me, Loz?’ I could hardly get the words out.
She looked up at me. ‘I didn’t mean to.’ She gulped. ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Ever since the glandular fever, I’ve been so tired and sometimes I think I’m all right and I go out and do something and then I feel so exhausted again that I can’t even get out of bed.’
I sat down beside her. ‘Why didn’t you say?’
‘I did in the beginning. But you got annoyed in the summer holidays when I was too tired to do things. You kept expecting me to have got over it.’
I felt my face getting warm. I remembered dragging her to the lido when she’d said she didn’t have the energy.
‘And it’s boring,’ she went on. ‘It’s really boring always having to tell people you can’t do things, or that you need to stop and rest, or that you can’t even walk home from school. I just didn’t want to talk about it any more.’ She wiped away more tears. ‘And it’s scary. I don’t know what’s happening. I try not to think about it.’
‘Have you been to the doctor?’
Lauren rolled her eyes. ‘I’m practically living at the doctor’s.’
My mouth was dry. ‘What do they say is the matter with you?’
‘First, they said it was the after-effects of the glandular fever, then they said I was anaemic and then they said I was depressed.’ She slumped back on to her pillows. ‘Basically, they haven’t got a clue.’
We were quiet for a moment. I was relieved that she wasn’t dying, but I could see how horrible it must be not knowing exactly what the problem was.
‘I wish you’d talked to me about it,’ I said.
‘We’ve got better things to talk about.’
‘Lauren, I’m your friend. I’m not just your friend when we’re having a laugh and talking about Cute Josh. I’m your friend when bad things happen too. I’m kind of hurt that you didn’t tell me about any of this.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Her voice wobbled. ‘I just kept hoping it would go away and it’s not very . . . nice.’
‘I’m always here. For the not-nice stuff too. Especially for the not-nice stuff.’
She gave me a watery smile. ‘Thanks, Amelia.’
I gave her a hug. ‘So what happens now? Is there something the doctors can do?’
‘I’m having tests. Mostly they just say I need to take it easy. My mum’s been talking to Iron Hair about me going part time at school.’
My heart plummeted, but I pulled my mouth into a smile. ‘Well, that’s something. The best way to attend school is not very often.’
She couldn’t return the smile. It’s funny how, even though we both say that we hate school, not being able to go is kind of a big deal. I squeezed her hand. ‘Don’t worry,’ I said. ‘It’s not forever. You’ll be better soon and then you’ll be back in the madhouse full time with the rest of us.’
She nodded, but I could tell that she didn’t believe it.
We only got to chat for a few minutes more before Lauren’s mum appeared at the door and said, ‘I think Lauren needs to rest now, Amelia.’
Lauren really did look shattered so I gave her a hug and said goodbye.
Mrs Anderson closed Lauren’s door behind us and I followed her down the stairs in silence. At the bottom, she turned round to face me.
‘Lauren tells me that she hasn’t been entirely honest about her illness with you.’
Even though I wouldn’t have said anything myself, I was glad that Lauren had because I didn’t want her mum thinking I was a horrible friend.
‘I didn’t know she was so ill,’ I said. ‘And I honestly never meant to upset her.’
‘I’m sorry if I was a bit short with you the other day. I thought that Lauren had explained things to you.’
‘That’s OK,’ I said, even though it wasn’t a particularly warm apology.
‘Lauren is ill,’ she said as if she needed to keep repeating it in case I was too stupid to understand. ‘She has very limited reserves of energy, which means she tires easily. I’d be grateful if you could do your utmost to avoid wearing Lauren out.’
‘Of course,’ I said. ‘I’ll keep an eye on her.’
And she opened the door for me to leave.
I couldn’t help feeling that she still wasn’t that keen on me.
I was looking forward to Mum getting home from work on Monday night so that I could talk to her about Lauren. But, as usual, my house was complete madness until we’d all got in from school and sorted out tea. So I waited until after we’d eaten and I’d reminded Chloe it was her turn to supervise Lucy doing the washing-up.
‘I don’t need supervising,’ Lucy complained. ‘I’m already super.’
‘Fine,’ Chloe said, opening her wrestling magazine. ‘I won’t supervise you; I’ll just watch you to make sure you do it right.’
‘I don’t need that either!’
Leaving them to it, I went to find Mum. She was standing in front of her wardrobe staring at the contents.
‘Do you think these blouses make me look old?’ she asked.
‘You are old,’ I answered.
Mum laughed. ‘I know I seem ancient to you, but in the grand scheme of things forty is actually—’
‘Very old.’
Mum shook her head. ‘But do you think I should get some new outfits?’
I nearly said I didn’t think it mattered because I didn’t imagine anyone would notice, but it seemed like Mum was a bit bothered by her clothes all of a sudden, so I said, ‘Yes, why don’t you go shopping and get something that you really like?’
‘Something youthful?’
‘Why do you care about how wrinkly you look anyway? You’re always telling us that it’s what’s inside that counts.’
Mum sat down on the bed. ‘That’s true. It’s not that I really want to look young; it’s more that I’ve realised that I haven’t given much thought to my image for a long time. Most of these things I bought when I went back to work after Ella was born and that was over a decade ago.’
‘Then you should get some new stuff. Is it to wear to work?’
‘Maybe. I thought it’d be nice to have some casual things to wear out as well.’
‘Out?’
‘Mmm, you know, at the weekend or to my book club.’
Now I got it. Mum wanted some new clothes to impress her new friends at book club. ‘You should definitely g
o shopping,’ I said.
Mum nodded. ‘Perhaps I will.’
It seemed to me that she was thinking about something other than just clothes, but before I could ask she said, ‘Now what can I do for you? You look like you’ve got something on your mind.’
So I told her about Lauren.
‘Oh dear,’ she said when I’d finished. ‘Poor Lauren. It’s so hard to be struggling with your health.’
I thought that made Lauren sound like a pensioner who can’t walk without one of those frames and wheezes every time they stand up. ‘It’s not that bad,’ I said. ‘Sometimes she’s completely fine. And the doctors are doing tests on her so they can find out exactly what it is.’
‘That’s good. Just remember she might not be able to manage to do everything she did before. You’ll have to be patient with her.’
‘Of course I’ll be patient with her!’
Mum patted my arm. ‘I’m sure you will, sweetheart. I’m just saying that things might be a bit different from before.’
Personally, I thought that things could only be better than they’d been for the last couple of months because at least now I knew what was going on. If Lauren needed a rest or for me to carry her bag then she could actually tell me, and we wouldn’t fall out because she was trying to hide how tired she felt and being weird. But I didn’t get to say this to Mum because Chloe bellowed up the stairs, ‘MUUUUUUUUUUM!’
‘What is it?’ Mum called back in a normal voice, which is actually all it takes to be heard between upstairs and downstairs.
‘There’s a man on the phone who wants to interview me about that letter Suvi helped me write to the paper about what pigs they’re being at the rugby club, but he says he has to talk to you first in case he’s dodgy and a kidnapper. I told him that I could tell he wasn’t a kidnapper because a kidnapper wouldn’t say he wanted to talk to you, but he says he still has to talk to you and you have to be there when he interviews me, but it can be all my words. But he says they probably won’t call the rugby club pigs. Can you come down?’
‘Coming!’ Mum called, rolling her eyes. She stood up and smiled at me. ‘You girls are always up to something! Give Lauren my love and remember we can talk about this again later if you like.’