‘No. Not green. I’m not talking about the environment. Although that’s important too. I’m talking about not eating rubbish.’
Oops. Me and my big mouth. Didn’t mean it to come out like that. Mum’s stern expression returned in a flash.
‘Why can’t you be like normal teenagers, Izzie? Most girls your age want nothing but pasta and chips. Why do you always have to be different?’
‘You can get organic pasta. Lucy’s mum and dad buy all organic food. In fact, Mr Lovering sells it at his shop.’
‘Well they’re welcome to it. We don’t live like them.’
Wish I did, I thought. Lucy’s house is so different to mine. It’s lived-in, cosy. And they have coloured towels in their bathroom so you can get them as dirty as you like.
‘But Mum . . . it’s a well-known fact that fresh produce is better for you than all that stuff you eat. Out of the freezer and into the microwave, full of preservatives . . .’
‘Don’t speak to your mother like that,’ said Angus.
I can’t win. I wasn’t speaking to Mum like that. I thought we’d all benefit from my health suggestions but I’d wanted to pick my time for bringing it up. Escape seemed the best plan.
‘Can I go now?’ I asked, getting up.
‘Not before you eat that toast,’ said Mum.
‘Whatever. I’ll take it with me. I’ll eat it. Promise.’
I wrapped the toast in a napkin and made a dash for the door. I’ll feed it to the birds, I thought.
But I bet even they prefer wholemeal.
Lucy and Nesta were waiting for me at Camden tube station, standing by the ticket machines, munching on Snickers bars.
‘We match,’ I said, seeing we were all dressed in black.
‘When in Camden,’ said Nesta, ‘do as the Camdens do . . . or something like that.’
Everyone in Camden seems to wear black or grey. Maybe it’s to fit in with the December weather which as usual is dull and rainy.
‘So how was the wedding?’ asked Nesta as we fought our way through the Sunday crowds to the indoor market at the Lock. ‘I see your hair’s back to normal.’
‘I know. Mum went ballistic and made me wash the green out as soon as we got home. Amelia was furious when she saw me. She banned me from most of the wedding photos and said she’ll never speak to me again.’
‘Good result, then,’ grinned Nesta. ‘She was never your favourite person, was she?’
‘Not really,’ I laughed. ‘And I don’t think I ruined the day as much as everyone made out. The wedding was quite sweet in the end. Specially when one of the pageboys read out The Lord’s Prayer. He was so cute, only six. “Our Father who are in Devon,” he said. “Harold be Thy name.” It was hysterical.’
‘Any boys?’ asked Lucy.
‘Don’t even go there. Nah. Well, one; he tried to chat me up. But he’s Jeremy’s younger brother so he must be a total nerd.’
‘What did he look like?’ asked Nesta.
‘About seventeen. Quite nice-looking. Little John Lennon glasses. But wearing an awful suit that didn’t fit him properly. Jeremy made him get up on the stage at the reception and play the piano. It was awful. Songs from the shows. All the oldies were singing along to The Sound of Music, Singing in the Rain, South Pacific. All that “Take my hand, I’m a stranger in paradise, lost in a wonderland” stuff is so naff . . .’
‘My dad’s got the DVD of South Pacific. My brothers do their own version of that song,’ said Lucy, then began singing: ‘Take my hand, I’m a strange-looking parasite, all wrapped in a wonderloaf . . .’
‘A much better version,’ I said as we made our way through the market. ‘So to the serious business of shopping. What do we want to look at?’
‘Boys,’ said Nesta.
‘I’d like to get some earrings for my date with Tony,’ said Lucy.
‘And we must get something new for the end-of-term disco,’ said Nesta. ‘You never know who might be there.’
‘I heard King Noz are playing,’ said Lucy.
‘Who are they?’ I asked.
‘Oh they’re fantastic. They’re in the Sixth Form at my brother’s school. Lal’s got a demo CD of theirs and said they may even have a recording deal.’
‘Well, anything’s got to be better than songs from the shows,’ I said.
Camden Lock sells all sorts of paraphernalia: books, frames, joss-sticks, essential oils, crystals, jewellery, mirrors, clothes, hats, pottery, music. You name it, they sell it. The place was heaving with people browsing, buying, or meeting friends.
I wanted to do a bit of pre-Christmas shopping so I steered the girls upstairs to the New Age stalls. I thought I’d buy everyone aromatherapy oils this year.
Lucy was soon stuck in at a stall selling jewellery and Nesta was trying on sunglasses so I wandered over to a corner stall selling essential oils. I picked out the rose and jasmine bottles and had a good sniff. They’re my favourite scents but also the most expensive so I haven’t been able to afford them yet for my collection at home.
‘Hi,’ said a voice. ‘Can I help?’
I glanced up and found myself staring into a pair of conker-brown eyes. Something very peculiar happened to my insides. Like someone had tied a knot in my stomach and tightened it. This boy was gorgeous. I mean seriously gorgeous. A wide smiley mouth and silky black hair flopping over his face.
‘Er, no thanks, just looking,’ I blustered, then turned and ran.
I pulled Lucy and Nesta into a corner behind a dress stall. ‘I’ve just fallen in love,’ I said breathlessly, leaning back against the wall.
‘Who with?’ said Nesta, sticking her head round the wall.
I pulled her back. ‘Don’t! He’ll see.’
Lucy immediately stuck her head round the corner. ‘There’s a boy looking over here. Is he the one by the stairs? In a white T-shirt and jeans?’
I stuck my head out and the boy at the stall grinned and waved.
‘Oh no,’ I groaned, darting out of sight. ‘He’s seen us. He’ll think I’m a complete dork. Come on, we have to go. Now. Downstairs. He’ll think I fancy him.’
‘But you do,’ said Nesta. ‘What are you going to do about it?’
‘Nothing,’ I said and walked back into the crowds, studiously avoiding looking back at the oil stall.
When I got downstairs, Nesta and Lucy came charging after me.
‘If you like him,’ said Lucy, ‘go and talk to him.’
‘I can’t. I don’t know what to say. Oh God. I’m so stupid. He’ll think I’m stupid.’
‘No he won’t,’ said Nesta. ‘Tell you what, we’ll have a look round down here then we’ll go back up and Lucy and I will go and look at the stall then kind of casually call you over to look at something.’
‘Good plan,’ I said. ‘But you browse. I’m going to the loo to comb my hair.’
Lucy laughed. ‘I told you it would happen one day, Izzie. Never say never.’
After an excruciating fifteen minutes of pretending to be interested in stalls on the ground floor, we made our way back up to the top level. I peered over the crowds and could see the boy serving someone so I went and stood with my back to him at a neighbouring stall.
Nesta and Lucy made their way over towards him.
‘Lucy,’ said Nesta in a mega-loud voice, I want to look at some aromatherapy oils.’
God. She’s so obvious.
Lucy and Nesta were soon occupied sniffing bottles. Then Nesta said, again in her stupid loud voice, ‘Izzie, come over here. Isn’t one of these oils supposed to be an aphrodisiac?’
OhmyGod. Subtle is not a word in Nesta’s dictionary. I turned towards them and made my way over, trying to look as cool as I could.
The boy looked up and grinned. ‘Ylang ylang,’ he said, offering me a bottle of oil. ‘It’s supposed to be a real turn-on.’
‘And what do you do with it?’ asked Nesta.
The boy smiled suggestively. ‘Whatever you like.’
&nb
sp; ‘You put a few drops in the bath,’ I said sternly and sounding embarrassingly like my mother.
Nesta pulled on Lucy’s arm. ‘Come on, I want to look . . . er . . . over there.’
She hauled Lucy away to another stall, but not before turning back and giving me the thumbs up. Remind me to kill her later.
I looked back at the boy and grinned stupidly.
‘I’m Mark,’ he said, then looked in Nesta’s direction and shrugged. ‘Mates, huh?’
‘Yeah, mates,’ I said. ‘I think she forgot to take her medication today. Or I forgot to take mine.’
Mark laughed. ‘So you know about all this stuff, do you? Oils and that?’
‘A bit. I use some of them at home, like lavender for relaxation. And eucalyptus when I’ve got a cold. Do you know a lot about them?’
‘Not really. A bit I’ve picked up from my mum. I help her out here sometimes.’
‘It must be great working here,’ I said.
‘It’s OK,’ shrugged Mark, then looked right into my eyes. ‘You get to meet some interesting people sometimes.’
Gulp. Did he mean me? I think he did because he did that flirting thing that Nesta is always on about – holding eye contact then smiling. I felt my stomach tighten again as I looked back into his eyes.
‘Look,’ continued Mark, ‘if you like all this stuff, there’s a fair on at Alexandra Palace next week. Mind, Body and Spirit. Mum’s got a stall there. Give me your number and I’ll call you with the details.’
I handed him one of the cards I made in Art last term. I’m quite proud of it. I did it on turquoise paper with silver writing.
‘Izzie Foster,’ he said, reading the card. ‘Cool. So I’ll phone you later.’
Result! A date with wonderboy.
As I wandered back to the tube station with Nesta and Lucy, Christmas lights were coming on in the street and in the shops and Camden looked colourful and strangely magical. I felt like I was walking through a film set. Dusk in a perfect street in a Walt Disney world.
We linked arms and sang at the top of our voices. ‘Take my hand, I’m a strange-looking parasite, all wrapped in a wonderloaf . . . thinking of yoooooou!’
Nesta’s Flirting Tips
Look into bis eyes, keep contact a moment too long to show you’re interested, then look away.
Smile.
Study body language: does he lean towards you, knees pointing in your direction? If he does, he’s interested.
Mirror his body language.
Lean slightly towards him.
Laugh at his jokes no matter how bad they are.
Keep it fun, make small talk,
Don’t get heavy.
Listen to what he’s saying and look interested, fascinated even.
Don’t go on about other boyfriends.
Don’t be too easy.
Don’t act desperate.
Don’t be too available.
Don’t get serious or over-emotional.
Don’t be clingy.
Don’t overstay your welcome. Leave when things are buzzing. That way, he’ll want to come back to you for more.
To check if he’s interested: Make eye contact that moment too long as in tip 1, then hide behind a pillar where you can see him. Watch to see if he looks to where you were last standing and, seeing you gone, looks round for you. if he does, he’s interested.
Chapter 3
Boy Speak
‘When a boys says he’ll phone you later, what does that mean?’ I asked Nesta and Lucy as we made our way to class the following Wednesday.
‘Ah,’ said Nesta, ‘tricky one.’
‘It means later, much later, not like a girl,’ said Lucy. ‘When a girl says I’ll phone you later, she means later, like that night. But boys have a language all of their own.’
‘I take it Mark hasn’t phoned yet?’ said Nesta.
I shook my head.
‘Early days,’ said Lucy, looking at me sympathetically. ‘He’ll phone. He said he would.’
Nesta shook her head. ‘That means nothing in boy speak. “I’ll phone you” could mean anything. I’ll phone you in a week, in two weeks, next month. If I remember.’
I groaned. ‘Oh no. It’s agony and it’s only been three days. I stayed up late every night hoping he’d call but zilch.’
‘He’d never phone that soon,’ said Nesta, ‘not if he’s cool. It would make him look too keen. Give it a day or so and even then don’t hold your breath.’
I do love Nesta but sometimes I wish she wouldn’t say exactly what she means all the time.
‘A watched phone never rings,’ said Lucy sagely.
‘Tell me about it,’ I said as I took my place at my desk. ‘But he has to phone in the next couple of days as the fair at Ally Pally is on Saturday.’
School has been a riot this week and a welcome distraction from waiting for the phone call. We have a student teacher called Miss Hartley standing in for our regular PHSE and RE teacher Miss Watkins. As usual, poor thing, she’s live bait for some of our class who like nothing better than to give trainee teachers a hard time.
First class she took was Religious Education. I usually enjoy RE as we’ve been doing all the different belief systems from all over the world. I find it fascinating finding out what different cultures think. Last term I was a Hindu. They believe that you have many lives, not just one, that our souls change bodies when we die and we come back as someone else.
I made a badge saying Reincarnation’s making a come-back, which I wore to school until Mrs Allen saw it and told me to take it off. It was nice though, thinking I might have known people in another life. One day I asked Nesta if she thought we had known each other before.
‘Oh definitely,’ she said.
‘What, as your sister or something?’ I asked.
‘No,’ she said, ‘you were my pet frog.’
Then Lucy piped up in her daft Scottish accent, ‘What does a Hindu?’ She waited for our answer. ‘Lays eggs,’ she giggled. ‘Geddit? Hen-du?’
Nesta and Lucy think it’s all one big joke and don’t seem to realise that I really want to know about stuff like why we’re here and what it’s all about. Though I have decided to stop being a Hindu and be an agnostic until I decide for definite.
Miss Hartley coughed to get our attention then began. ‘OK, class, today we’re going to talk about God. What do we know about him?’
‘Omnipresent, omnipotent, omniscient,’ said Jade Wilcocks.
‘Very good,’ said Miss Hartley.
‘Best-selling author,’ said Mary O’Connor. ‘He wrote the Bible.’
The class started sniggering so I put my hand up.
‘Izzie?’
‘Well actually, miss, I have a question about God.’
I’d been thinking about it ever since the wedding on Saturday when the priest had said, ‘Here we are gathered in the presence of God . . .’
‘If God is omnipresent, that means God is everywhere, doesn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ said Miss Hartley.
‘Then why do people go to church to pray? If he’s omnipresent, wouldn’t we be in his presence everywhere? In the cinema, at home? Everywhere? Why go to a church?’
‘Good point, Izzie,’ said Miss Hartley. ‘Anyone else like to comment?’
‘Miss, if he’s everywhere, does that mean he’s watching you when you go to the toilet?’ asked Candice Carter.
Oh no. They were off. Wind-up time and I was hoping to get some answers to my questions.
‘Why do people pray to the ceiling if he’s everywhere?’ said Joanne Richards. ‘You could just as well pray under the sink.’
Quite right, I thought. I put my hand up again.
‘Miss, if he’s omnipresent and people are always praying to him, how does he hear everyone at the same time? Does he have an exchange system? It must be hard with all the millions of prayers coming in in all the different languages. He may speak only Swahili for all we know.’
Miss Hartl
ey was beginning to look a bit flustered.
‘Anyone else got anything to say?’
I put my hand up again. I had loads to say as I think a lot about things like this.
‘Do you think maybe God is in a bit of a bad mood because being omnipresent isn’t as much fun as it used to be when the world was new and fresh? Like, being everywhere all the time, he has to watch all the repeats of “Neighbours” every day, plus all the repeats, in all the languages, in all the different countries, for eternity. It must get very boring.’
‘Is eternity like a Sunday when it’s raining?’ asked Lucy.
‘Good questions,’ said Miss Hartley, avoiding the answers. ‘Maybe you could write an essay for next week on how you see God. Now get out your Bibles.’
I was still wondering how God answered prayers. But maybe he’s like Mark. Doesn’t call back. Now that got me thinking again.
I stuck my hand up again. ‘Miss, why do we call God a he? Why not a she? Or an it?’
‘I think we’ll call you Izzie Why Foster from now on,’ said Miss Hartley. ‘Why why why?’
She obviously doesn’t know as she didn’t bother to try to answer. ‘Now, class, who can name some of the famous characters in the hymns we sing in assembly?’
‘Gabriel,’ said Mary.
‘Lucifer,’ said Jade.
‘Er, no,’ said Miss Hartley, ‘that’s another name for the devil. He was a fallen angel.’
‘Fallen from where?’ I asked before she could tell me to shut up.
‘Heaven,’ she said.
‘Devon,’ whispered Lucy behind me. ‘And Harold is his name.’
I got the giggles then and decided to give up on my next question which was, ‘And where exactly is heaven?’
‘I’ve got a character out of a hymn,’ said Candice Carter.
‘OK,’ said Miss Hartley.
‘Hark, miss.’
‘And in which hymn is there a reference to a character called Hark, Candice?’
‘Hark, the Herald Angel, miss.’
There was no stopping the class after that. Even Nesta joined in.
‘I’ve got one, miss.’
‘OK, Nesta, go ahead.’
Mates, Dates and Cosmic Kisses Page 2