by Carmen Reid
‘Fine . . . go ahead,’ Niffy said.
‘What about you?’ Gina asked. ‘Don’t you think you should come too? Don’t you think maybe some of Amy’s unhappiness might have something to do with you?’
Niffy shrugged again, but she had the decency to blush. ‘I don’t think Amy will want me there,’ she added in a voice that sounded small and a little unsure.
‘I have something that might help you decide,’ Min said, and went over to her chest of drawers. ‘I just got this, and I printed it out for you to look at . . .’ She picked up a sheet of paper and brought it over to Niffy.
It took Niffy several minutes to register that she was looking at a printout of an email exchange between Jason and Min. The words: Yes, OK, I was fibbing. I’m sorry if this has caused any problem . . . told her everything she needed to know.
‘Amy said he was lying,’ Gina pointed out. ‘You should have believed her.’
Niffy’s shoulders seemed to sag a little.
‘She really, really likes Finn,’ Min added gently. ‘I don’t think she would hurt his feelings like that.’
‘I think we should go,’ Gina reminded them. ‘We have to help her.’
‘C’mon then,’ Niffy said, and there was now a calm matter-of-factness to her voice that Gina found reassuring.
As they left the dorm, Min asked, ‘What do you think we should do?’
‘I’m not sure,’ Gina admitted. ‘But we have to tell her that we know what’s happening and we want to help and we can get her help, if that’s what she needs.’
‘Sounds like a good plan,’ Niffy agreed.
The three girls hurried down the stairs together.
‘Where are you all off to?’
It was Mel: she’d just come out of her room and was standing in front of them on the landing.
Oh great! They really didn’t need Mel or anyone else questioning them or getting in their way.
‘Mind your own beeswax!’ Niffy said, and brushed rudely past her.
‘Ooooh, there’s no need to be like that,’ Mel replied, but she let the girls past without further interrogation.
They made it to the ground-floor corridor. But just as they were about to head down the passage to the guest loo, two sixth formers turned into the main corridor and began to walk towards them.
The friends froze, knowing they couldn’t go down there now.
‘Hi, Eleanor!’ Niffy said cheerfully. ‘So how come the first eleven lost by three goals last night?’
‘No idea,’ came the reply, and the two girls hurried past before they could be asked any more cheeky questions.
Now the corridor was empty, so they took their chance and went towards the locked toilet.
When they got to the door, there was an awkward silence: no one knew what to say or who should say it.
‘Amy . . .?’ Gina began gently. ‘We know you’re in there and that you’re not feeling very happy.’
There was no reply, but they could hear the rustle of packaging.
‘Amy’ – Gina’s voice sounded so kind and calm – ‘you need to come out and talk to us. We all want to help you.’
When there was no response to this either, Min decided to have a go.
‘Amy, whatever the problem is, we can help you. I just know we can. Think how worried I was about the whole doctor thing last term, and how you solved that for me. You worried away for me and found an answer. This is just the same, Amy,’ she went on. ‘We’re going to help you solve the problem. Please, just give us a chance.’
Still there was only silence from the other side of the door.
Niffy leaned forward and rapped on the door firmly. ‘You twinky!’ she exclaimed, causing Gina and Min to gasp and poke her in the sides to try and stop her. But she carried on: ‘What are you doing, Aim? You muffin-head! This is a one-way ticket to the loony bin. Is that what you want?’
‘Niffy!’ Gina stormed, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her away from the door. ‘You can’t say that! Just get out of here and leave this to us!’
Niffy stood rooted to the spot, looking at Gina in confusion.
Then, to their astonishment, they heard Amy’s voice on the other side of the door: ‘No, it’s OK . . . Let her stay.’
Then they heard the sound of the bolt being pulled back.
The toilet door opened and Amy appeared before them. Her eyes looked red and swollen and her face was still streaked with traces of the tears she had tried to wipe away. She looked pale, sweaty, scared, and just terrible.
In one hand she held the horrible bulging bag of comfort food, empty wrappers spilling from the top of it.
‘Oh, Amy!’ Gina exclaimed, and held out her arms to give her friend a hug.
Amy leaned forward and put her head on Gina’s shoulder. But as her arms went out, one took in Gina’s waist and the other reached for Niffy.
‘Poor Amy,’ Min murmured. ‘Poor old thing.’ She stood behind Amy and rubbed her back comfortingly.
‘Aim, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry,’ Niffy said gently. ‘I was wrong about Jason. I’ve been a total twit.’ With that she put her arm round her very best friend in the whole world. The cross words of the past few weeks weren’t yet forgotten, but for now they were put to one side.
‘And I’m sorry I said you were squidgy,’ Niffy added. ‘You feel like a Twiglet.’
‘H-help me,’ Amy managed to stammer out finally in a choked voice. ‘Please help me.’
Chapter Thirty-three
MIN COULD FEEL the heat of Greg’s shoulder very, very close to her own. They weren’t touching but they were within touching distance. According to the laws of physics – something both Min and Greg understood very well – particles of Min’s shoulder were definitely within the electro-magnetic field of Greg’s. The particles were already mixing. Their atoms were already bouncing off each other, magnetically attracting one another the way Min felt magnetically attracted to Greg.
It was as if the laws of gravity were acting on her. When he was around, she couldn’t help being sucked into his orbit, drawn towards him.
They were at the multiplex, in the middle of a row surrounded by the big Saturday-night audience. All around them hundreds of people were chomping their way through popcorn, nachos and chocolates and slurping at great beakers of fizz.
Greg wasn’t at boarding school like Min; he was a day pupil at St Lennox, so he’d been dropped off at the cinema by his dad, carrying a small brown bag of popcorn, home made by his mum.
‘How embarrassing is this?’ he’d said when he met Min, holding his popcorn up in the air.
‘That is so sweet!’ Min had said. ‘That’s just the kind of thing my mum would do – you know, if she wasn’t at the hospital saving babies.’
‘Hey! My mum has a job too,’ Greg had reminded her. ‘But molecular biology professors tend to get the weekends off. Apart from marking, of course.’
He had picked the film. Now, halfway through it, Min wasn’t sure she liked it. It was very boysy and action-packed, with guns and bangs, car chases and loud noises.
She kept jumping – it was embarrassing. Every time something made her jump, Greg would look at her and giggle.
In the darkness, she’d thought that maybe they would hold hands, but there was still a tantalizing ten-centimetre gap between them. Even worse, the couple in the seat beside her were holding hands, and every now and then they would stop snacking for a moment, lean towards each other and snog with loud squelching, sucking noises.
‘More popcorn?’ Greg whispered, holding out his brown paper bag.
‘I’m fine, thanks,’ Min whispered back; then, all of sudden, before she could even think about it, she turned towards Greg, leaned a little closer and asked, ‘Did you send me that poem?’
There was no reply.
Greg’s eyes stayed fixed on the screen in front of him, but even in the dim light Min thought she could see his cheek and then his ear actually turn pink.
‘I thou
ght it was a really sweet poem,’ she added, suddenly feeling her heart hammer and a whole flock of butterflies spring up in her stomach.
When Greg still didn’t turn, still didn’t say anything, still didn’t react, Min suddenly had a daring, falling feeling. This was it. It was now or never. She was going to have to make the first move.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to; he was just too nervous, too scared. She was going to have to tell him that it was OK. Show him, even.
‘Greg?’ she whispered, leaning right against his ear now so that her lips were brushing his hair. ‘I want to kiss you too.’
There.
She’d said it.
Min could hardly believe herself.
Super-shy, super-swotty Min. She’d just told a boy that she wanted to kiss him.
Her heart felt as if it was going to explode with fear, with fright, with breathless excitement.
Greg’s head was turning.
Slowly, slowly, his face was turning towards hers.
His eyes fixed on hers and he leaned slowly, slowly towards her.
Min leaned in.
This was it, she thought.
This was finally, finally going to be it.
She let her eyelids gently close, felt her lashes brush against her cheek.
As she turned towards him, Min didn’t realize that her elbow was now sweeping not just across her armrest but the armrest of the munching, crunching snogger beside her.
Greg’s face moved so close that she could feel his breath against her cheek – and then there was an almighty explosion on the screen. Min’s elbow jerked, and the snogger’s tray of nachos and dip flew up into the air. Nachos scattered all over the place, followed by a light splattering of salsa sauce.
‘Hey!’ the snogger exclaimed. ‘Look what you’ve done!’
‘I’m sorry – I’m very sorry.’ Min turned to apologize. She felt almost tearfully upset. She had spoiled everything . . . again!
‘Yeah, well, watch what you’re doing . . .’ the snogger growled. He had a chubby face, close-cropped hair, and Min felt more than a little scared of him.
‘Sorry,’ she repeated.
She began to brush the nachos off her lap and unfortunately put her hand into a patch of gooey tomato dip. ‘Yuck!’
‘Shall we go?’ Greg asked in a whisper.
As Min nodded, she knew that another important moment had gone for ever.
Chapter Thirty-four
‘PASS!’ AMY URGED Niffy urgently. ‘Over here!’
Amy was racing towards the goal on long, energetic legs, hair streaming out behind her. Penny B-H was already charging towards Niffy, determined to get the ball from her, but before she could, Niffy flicked it effortlessly towards Amy.
‘Nice!’ She grinned as Amy stopped it, turned it and aimed it at the corner of the goal mouth with a series of deft moves.
Amy smacked the ball hard, feeling the reverberations travel up her hands. ‘Goal!’ she shouted. The blast of Miss McKay’s whistle confirmed it.
Niffy turned to Penny B-H with a smirk on her face. ‘Five–one!’ she exclaimed. ‘Ow-ow-ouch!’
Then she ran towards Amy and slapped her hand in a high five. ‘You’re coming on,’ she teased her friend. ‘To get as good as me, though, you’ll have to eat a lot more.’
‘Yeah, right,’ Amy said with a smile.
In the days since she’d been rescued by her friends from the Terrible Teacake Tantrum (well, that’s what they’d all called it ever since), Amy had been overwhelmed with help and support. She had an on-line counsellor now, and she’d had a long transatlantic phonecall from Ria. Amy knew both her weight and her BMI, she knew the acceptable limits, and she’d promised her friends and the school doctor to stay within those limits.
As a peace-offering, Niffy had asked her mum to contact her famous actress friend. She was sure Amy would take advice from Gwen Smith-Turner, because she was such a fan.
It had only taken a few days for an email – a real live, actual email – from the actress to drop into Amy’s inbox.
My dearest Amy,
How exciting to be performing in a school play at the end of term! I was in three plays at St J’s, and I knew as soon as I stepped onto the school stage that I was going to make acting my career.
It may sound silly, but when N-B and I were at school, no one worried about eating too much: everyone worried about getting enough to eat. We were always starving. All that running around on the hockey pitch every afternoon – not to mention walking in and out of town – seemed to keep us fit as fiddles.
It may sound plain and dreary when there are so many diet books out there telling you to stuff grapefruits up your nose, eat only bacon or who knows what other load of old rubbish, but I still follow a diet which is rather like the St Jude’s one.
Three sensible meals a day, with nothing in between. Well, maybe a pot of plain yoghurt or a tiny bag of peanuts if I’m absolutely famished, but it’s the exception rather than the rule. Every thin person I know eats like this. They never, ever miss one single, boring old meal. Breakfast, lunch and dinner. Sensible food in moderation. A little bit of pudding never hurt anyone – and eat lots and lots of vegetables. But not at breakfast! I just won’t do all that wacky kind of thing. I have porridge and fruit, or toast and an egg and a refreshing cup of tea. Plain St Jude’s fare.
Best dash up and down the hockey pitch as much as you can – apparently you’re very good and nearly made the Scottish team. To have energy for that, my darling girl, you need to eat!
Take care of your young and beautiful self. Cherish your friends, and for goodness’ sake,never, ever baste your lovely complexion out in the sun. If someone had told me that when I was younger, I would have saved an absolute bloody fortune on lotions, potions, peels, creams, masks and what have you. I’m sure you are going to be simply wonderful in your part. Break a leg!
All my very best wishes,
Gwen S-T
The letter had a strange effect on Amy. She’d laughed over it, then printed it out and shown it to lots of people who still didn’t believe that someone so famous had actually written to her.
Best of all, Amy seemed to be following all the good advice she’d been given.
Breakfast was no longer a pained oatcake, devoid of any butter. And Gina was delighted to spot Amy back in the lunch queue, ordering ordinary helpings of main course; in the evenings, although she still steered clear of the four-o’clock cake buffet, she had supper with pudding just like everybody else.
She didn’t look fatter. She just looked less gaunt and haunted. She had more energy, and her sparkly sense of fun and raucous laugh returned.
To make up for her part in the horrible row with Niffy, Amy also did something a little surprising. She wrote a long email of her own to Finn and explained how upset Niffy had been. Then, at the bottom of the letter, she set out her decision.
For now [she wrote to Finn], I think we should just be friends . . . I think that’s what Niffy would prefer. Let’s see what happens at Christmas. I’m going to come down for a weekend and maybe we can talk. Don’t have a go at her about this, please. Let’s just all get on – that’s what I want most.
Lots of love,
Amy x
She’d read it over several times and felt proud of herself. She really liked Finn, but in her heart she knew that Niffy’s friendship was even more important to her.
‘Your dress! It’s recovered!’ Amy exclaimed as soon as she set eyes on Gina.
Gina, Min and Niffy had decided to slip backstage twenty minutes before curtain up to wish Amy one final ‘break a leg’ and to see how good she looked in her stage make-up.
‘I know,’ Gina said, giving Amy a little twirl. ‘Dermot’s mum took it to a specialist cleaner and they managed to get every last bit of wine out.’
‘Such a shame Dermot can’t come tonight,’ Niffy sighed, ‘to see your masterpiece being performed.’
‘I know.’ Gina smiled shyly. ‘
But then I’m not sure I’d want him to know every little detail of how jealous I was about him . . . I mean, I made lots of it up, obviously . . .’
‘We know,’ Min reminded her with a wink.
A sixth former was still applying powder to Amy’s face as she perched on a chair. ‘Can’t believe I’m going to be on stage in a school uniform,’ Amy complained. ‘Where is the glamour in that?! Couldn’t you at least have put in a scene which called for a sparkly dress, Gina?’
‘Sorry!’ she apologized.
Peta came into the little backstage area, smiled a hello at everyone, then hurried over to take a look at Amy’s face.
‘Great job!’ she said admiringly. ‘You look so pretty.’
‘You too – you look amazing,’ Amy said generously, and of course she meant it – how could she not mean it? Peta was totally beautiful. She wore a ruffled scarlet dress, and her hair, curled into soft ringlets, looked almost transparently white.
‘I have a present for you,’ Peta said, and rummaged in her bag. She finally found a thin pink gauze bag, tied with pink ribbons. Inside it was a handful of dainty biscuits.
‘Traditional Swedish,’ Peta explained with a smile. ‘For luck.’
‘Thanks!’ Amy said, accepting the gift and now feeling bad that she didn’t have anything to give Peta. Not to mention hideously guilty that she had spent so much time disliking her.
‘Has Finn wished you luck?’ Niffy asked.
Amy nodded. Finn had accepted the ‘friends’ idea. But ‘just till Christmas’, he’d insisted.
‘He wants to film me doing one of my speeches,’ Amy told them.
‘Better make him promise not to post it on YouTube,’ Niffy warned.
‘Wouldn’t that be breaching Gina’s copyright?’ Min wondered.
‘It’s a great play, Gina,’ Amy said proudly. ‘Everyone’s fussing over me, but it’s Gina’s play. She wrote it – she’s so clever! Mrs Parker’s going to call you up to take a bow with us at the end, by the way.’