by Fiona Foden
As I opened the car door, the Leech and Jade strutted past and burst out giggling. “Eww,” the Leech yelled, “can you smell something disgusting?”
“Yeah,” Jade sniggered. “It stinks of cheese around here!” Dad looked a bit sheepish and said he hoped I had a good day, obviously not realizing that our car is wrecking my life.
Of course, it took about 3.2 seconds for word to spread that our car stinks. I’ve got to force Dad to do something about it. Maybe he could scrub its insides with that deodourizing doggie shampoo?
If that wasn’t bad enough, I also had to put up with the Leech discussing her forthcoming Easter holiday in great detail to anyone who’d listen. OK, I could have left her to it, but she was telling Ollie and Sam as they walked down the high street together at lunchtime, and I’d been hanging around, plucking up the courage to join them. “We’re booked in at this amazing resort,” she was boasting, loud enough for me to hear every word across the busy street. “It’s amazing. We went there last year. You can have anything you want for free and there are these amazing boats with glass bottoms where you can see all the tropical fish in the water.”
Yeah, I thought darkly. That’s where fish tend to hang out. And how many times was she planning to say “amazing”?
“Sounds great,” Ollie said.
“Where are you going this summer?” she asked.
“Butlins,” said Sam.
“Oh, ha ha!” she shrieked, obviously thinking that was tragic. I noticed Sam going red as I crossed the road and strolled past them, on my way to the newsagent’s for sweets. He’s probably madly in lust with the Leech as well.
After school I asked Mum where we’re going for our hols this year. “We can’t afford a holiday, Cassie,” she said with a sigh.
“What, you mean we’re not going anywhere?” I exclaimed.
She frowned and said, “We’ve just been away, don’t you remember?”
I racked my brain. Maybe we’d been to Morocco where I’d had some terrible head injury and forgotten all about it. For one moment I thought she was talking about our thrilling trip to the garden centre.
“France!” Mum exclaimed. “Don’t say you’ve forgotten our holiday to France?”
“Oh yeah,” I said, although it’s not what I’d call a holiday. Not the Leeches-off-to-the-West-Indies kind of holiday. There was no beach, no swaying palm trees, no glass-bottomed boats. Just a sick-making ferry crossing to Calais where we stayed in a damp hotel with somebody else’s toenails in the shower for one hellish night. The four of us had to share one room – naturally, Princess Beth got to stay home – so I lay awake all night listening to Dad snoring. The only reason we went was to fill up the car with cheap drink and food for Christmas.
So, Leech goes to the Dominican Republic. And we go to a gigantic warehouse called Wine’s World.
I’m worried about Ned. He’s hardly speaking and just walks around the house like he’s in a dream, constantly checking his phone. When I saw him hanging out with his mates outside school, they were all nodding and muttering and looking horribly serious. “Are you OK, Ned?” I asked him over dinner.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” he barked, before stomping upstairs with his fish pie half finished (I didn’t blame him – don’t think even a cat would eat it).
I’ve been desperately trying to think of costume ideas for the party, and went to ask Ned to help me. “I’m a bit busy right now, Cass,” he muttered, even though he was doing nothing but sitting all gloomy on his bed.
I frowned at him. The pale, miserable face wasn’t like him at all, and I wondered if he was ill or that red-headed girl had dumped him. The inflatable mallet was propped up in a corner of his room, and I thought of giving him a bop on the head to perk him up, but decided it probably wasn’t the right moment.
“What’s wrong, Ned?” I asked, plonking myself on the bed beside him.
“Nothing.”
“Is it that girl with the red hair?”
He looked irritated and said, “What girl with the red hair? What are you on about?” Like there’d been hundreds of red-headed girls in his bedroom lately and I wasn’t being specific enough.
“You know,” I said. “The one you were, um … you know…”
Ned frowned and squinted back at his phone. “I’m really busy,” he said. “Could you please leave me alone?”
“Did she dump you?” I asked.
“Jesus, Cass! What business is it of yours?” His eyes went all watery and I tried to hug him but he shook me off.
“Sorry,” I murmured. “I just thought, if she has, you might want to talk about it…”
“Why would I want to do that?” he snapped. I left his room with my lip wobbling. He didn’t have to be so horrible. Ned probably thinks I wouldn’t understand, being thirteen, but I’ve had a crush on Ollie for nearly a month, so I probably know just as much about love as he does.
Another Henry visit. He and Beth were all over each other in the kitchen and poor Ned was mooching around, looking terrible. I’m worried that he’s dying of a broken heart, and whispered to Beth that perhaps it wasn’t terribly sensitive to snog Henry in front of him. I won’t repeat what she said to me here.
To make the day even worse, Henry stank out our toilet again. I think he needs to see a doctor about his insides.
Marcia told her mum she was going swimming with Evie and came to see me instead. Her party’s only two weeks away and we need to get the invitations out early so everyone can organize costumes and look incredible. We used the spare card left over from the babysitting adverts I haven’t got around to handing out yet, and Marcia took ages deciding what to put. This is what she finally came up with:
MARCIA WOULD LIKE TO INVITE YOU TO HER VALENTINE’S PARTY
Date: Saturday, February 13
7 p.m. till late
14 Chinkly Gardens, Tarmouth
Fancy dress optional
How boring was that? It sounded like a party for old people. I came up with a much more exciting version:
DON’T MISS THE UNMISSABLE EVENT OF THE YEAR!!!!
MARCIA’S GORGEOUS AND GLAMOROUS VALENTINE’S PARTY
A-LIST ONLY (Yes, that means you!!)
The time: 7 p.m. to ALL NIGHT
The place: 14 Chinkly Gardens (Marcia’s house)
Fancy dress ESSENTIAL
Fantastic prize for the most incredible costume!
How could Ollie resist that? I mean, seriously?
“I don’t know about ‘all night’,” Marcia said, looking worried.
“Well, just see what happens,” I told her. “Your mum will probably go to bed, then we can just, er…” I went quiet. We both knew it was unlikely that she’d go anywhere. She’ll probably watch us all night in case anyone stains her precious cream carpet or tries to steal “expensive sportswear”.
“I don’t have a prize either,” Marcia added.
“Stop being so negative,” I sighed. “I’m sure we’ll think of something.”
Once she’d agreed that my version was best, we typed it up on Ned’s laptop and badgered him to attach it to his printer and run off loads of copies. I suspect he only agreed so we’d leave him alone to brood in his room. Although Marcia’s planning to give out some of the invitations at school, I know what boys’ schoolbags are like – crammed with crumpled books and mouldy old chocolate (Ned’s is like a horror film). I’ll deliver Ollie’s to his house personally so nothing can possibly go wrong.
P.S. Marcia wet her swimming costume in our bathroom and squeezed it out so her mum would think she’d really been swimming and not (shock horror) at my house.
“It should be about love,” Marcia said when I called her to discuss costume ideas. “Like a gigantic red heart or something.”
“That’s far too obvious,” I said.
“Yeah,” she ins
isted, “but if you dressed up as a huge red heart and positioned yourself right in front of Ollie, at least he’d know how you feel about him.”
“I don’t want him to know!” I shrieked, stressing at the very thought of it. “Anyway, even if I did, I’d want to do it in a completely un-obvious way.”
“Well,” Marcia added, “you could wear normal clothes with a little heart sewn on to your sleeve…”
Ah – wearing my heart on my sleeve. Clever. “But then your mum would recognize me,” I pointed out.
“Oh yeah,” she said glumly.
“So what are you wearing?” I asked her.
“Um, I’ve still got birthday money, so I’ll probably buy something this weekend,” she said, sounding slightly embarrassed.
“Great.” I was trying to be positive and not the least bit envious.
“It’ll be all right, Cassie,” Marcia added. “I’m sure you’ll come up with something. You always do.”
I hoped she was right, but right now I’m no closer to coming up with an idea for a genius costume for the party I’m not even supposed to be going to. But at least I have an invitation to hand deliver to Ollie tomorrow…
As soon as I’d showered and dressed, I grabbed my bike from the shed and cycled over to Lilac Hill. It felt good, doing this on my own. Like a sort of secret assignment.
I knew Lilac Hill was steep, but it seemed even steeper to cycle up, and by the time I got to Ollie’s I was puffing madly and sweating loads. I propped my bike against the low garden wall and fished his invitation out of my pocket.
I glanced at the house, into the posh living room with the grand curtains tied back with bows. No sign of anyone in there. I waited a while, trying to pluck up courage, and hoped that no one would look out from any of the houses and think I was acting suspiciously.
The iron gate creaked as I opened it. I crept along the gravel path, my heart banging against my ribs. The letter box was at the bottom of the door, and I bent down to post the invitation. But just as I was about to push it through, the door swung open – it can’t have been been shut properly – and a dog started barking madly inside the house. With all my doggie experience I can pretty much tell a breed from its bark, and I knew this one was massive. It was probably a guard dog, bred to kill. I bolted away from the door and back down the path, but not quick enough because the dog – this huge, snarling, barking Alsatian – came bounding out after me. “Whoa, boy!” I said, whirling round to face him as he charged up to me.
I did all the things you’re meant to do with fierce dogs, like stand still and wait – the theory is they’ll get bored and wander away. But this one didn’t. He wasn’t barking quite as madly, but he still wasn’t in the best of moods. Every time I dared to move a teeny bit, he let out this low, menacing growl. I could hardly breathe through fear.
There was no sign of anyone coming out. I could have been savaged to bits by this hound, and not a single person seemed to care. The door hadn’t been shut, so someone had to be in there, right? Maybe even Ollie. The dog glared at me and drooled on to the path.
“Hello?” A woman’s voice came from inside the house. I stood dead still as the dog padded closer and started to poke its wet nose around my trainers.
“Yes,” the woman said, “just hang on a minute, would you? Someone’s at the door and Monty’s gone out, that ridiculous dog…” She appeared in the doorway, clutching a phone to her cheek. “Monty,” she snapped, as if I wasn’t there. “Stop that, boy. Yes, don’t worry, he’s here, it’s fine…” The woman was tall and skinny and wearing a tight black dress and loads of bright red lipstick. She blinked at me as if she’d only just noticed me. “Call you back,” she continued briskly. “There’s some girl here. Probably a friend of Ollie’s.” She laughed and added, “Yeah, that’s right. Another one.”
Another what? I thought as she finished her call and pulled a wide glossy smile. “Monty won’t hurt you,” she said.
“Oh,” I said in a tiny voice.
“His bark’s worse than his bite.”
I managed the feeblest smile.
“Anyway,” she added, “can I help you?”
“Er, is Ollie in?” I gripped his invitation tightly.
“Not at the moment, sorry. Want to leave a message or something?” She smiled again, and I got the feeling I knew her from somewhere but couldn’t figure out how. She looked like she was dressed for a posh night out, not an ordinary Sunday.
I held out the invitation. “My friend’s having a party and we, er … wondered if Ollie would like to come.”
“Great, I’m sure he will.” She took the invitation from me. Monty was now sniffing around my bum. I wished she’d call him off me. “Delivery girl, are you?” she asked in a teasing voice.
“Er, yeah,” I said, glancing over at my bike. “Anyway, I’d better go. Got loads more to deliver…”
“D’you go to school with Ollie?”
“Yeah.”
“Couldn’t you just email the invitations or hand them out at school? Save yourself all this trouble?” Her red mouth twitched, and I wondered if she could read my mind and knew all about Operation SOOP.
“I … I just like to keep fit,” I said quickly. “It’s good exercise, cycling.” She laughed and snapped her fingers, bringing Monty to heel.
“Good for you, love. Anyway, thanks for dropping it off. I’ll make sure Ollie gets it.”
I cycled home fast as my legs would go, my head full of Ollie’s mum and whether she’s a high-flying boss in charge of a company and, more importantly, if she’ll remember to pass on the invitation when she obviously has far more important things on her mind.
Ollie thanked Marcia for dropping off his invitation. She looked a bit shocked and said, “Oh, er, that’s all right. I was just, um, passing…”
“How did you know where I live?” he asked her as we headed into registration.
“Erm, I, er…” She threw me a panicky look. “Cassie told me,” she blurted out.
He turned to me and grinned, causing my insides to go swishy like soup. “How did you know?” he asked.
“I, er … saw you one day, going into your house…” I frowned. “Lilac something, isn’t it? Up by the golf course?”
“Yeah.” He looked like he was trying not to smirk. “I live on Lilac Hill.”
“Oh. Right.” Now I felt completely idiotic. I mean, I’d been to his house and met his mum and nearly been savaged by Monty, and now I was having to act as if it had never happened.
“Anyway, can you come?” Marcia asked quickly.
“Yeah, sure. That’d be great.”
He’d said yes! He was COMING!!! I floated to my seat on a cloud of happiness.
“Come to what?” I heard the Leech calling over to Marcia. “What’s happening?”
“Just a little thing,” Marcia murmured.
Don’t tell her. Don’t tell her.
“What,” the Leech went on, “like a party kind of little thing?” Marcia went quiet and fiddled with the key chain on her bag.
“What’s the party for?” the Leech demanded as Mr Fielding strode in.
“Oh,” he said, smiling, “is someone having a party?”
“Um … I am,” Marcia muttered.
“Any special occasion?” he asked.
“It’s, er … a Valentine’s party.” Poor Marcia. She looked totally depressed. Now everyone knew and they’d all expect an invitation.
“Is it fancy dress?” the Leech squawked across the room. Marcia nodded miserably.
“Great,” the Leech sniggered, and I knew she was already planning some skimpy boy-magnet costume that’d make the rest of us instantly invisible. It didn’t seem to have occurred to her that she wasn’t even invited.
This is a disaster. The party’s our thing – an offshoot of Operation SOOP – and now the
Leech will make a grand entrance and ruin it all. So what am I going to do – stand back and let her?
No, I’m not. I’ll just have to make sure my costume’s completely amazing.
When I came home from school, Beth was out at the cinema with stinking Henry, so I had a little prowl around her room for ideas. A postcard of a giant slab of chocolate cake was stuck to her dressing-table mirror, and the caption read: Men are from Mars, women are from Venus, chocolate is from heaven.
Chocolate? Hmmm. It’s kind of Valentiney, and isn’t it meant to have some kind of hormonal, love-inducing effect? Somehow, though, I don’t think going as a gigantic bar of Galaxy will impress Ollie. What about a Creme Egg? How would I make one big enough to fit my whole body inside?
I kept thinking and thinking until it hit me. I’ll be Venus – Roman goddess of love! Then I remembered from school that she was meant to have two boyfriends, Vulcan and Mars. Ollie might assume I’m a two-timing type, especially as Stalking Paul yelled over in science today, “Still got that boyfriend, Cassie?” Also, Venus is meant to be naked. I could make some kind of all-over body stocking so I’d look naked, but would that be any less embarrassing than actually being naked? Plus, my lopsided boob situation would be obvious to all, and Marcia’s mum would recognize me.
Also, I think that making a body stocking might stretch even my creative abilities too far.
I KNOW!!! I’m not going to be Venus. I’m going to be a Venus flytrap, the flesh-eating plant that snaps shut and devours insects. We did a detailed diagram of one at school. Genius, huh? All I need to do is make a giant papier mâché, er … thing that fits over my face, so Ollie’ll lean in to see who it is, and at that point the flower will snap shut and … well, I don’t know what’ll happen then, but can hardly breathe for thinking about all the snapping and devouring.