“I’m not sneaking,” I said. I stood up. The fringes of the dress rustled. Fay sniggered and I realised it wasn’t just Sasha and Fay. There were others too, at least three or four.
One of them said, “What is she wearing?” And I backed away into the dark. Sasha stepped forward into the cupboard, and even though my instinct was to shrink back I still couldn’t prevent the tiny seed of happiness I felt because Sasha had come and found me.
She took a crumpled piece of paper out of her bag. It was my letter. She had read it! She must understand now, mustn’t she? I had written that Dad told me he’d had to let her go, that he didn’t want to and that he was really sorry. That the café wasn’t doing too well and it wasn’t anything she’d done.
“I’m really sorry,” I said. “About the job.”
I realised Sasha was red in the face. The corners of her mouth were pulled down into a frown. There was practically steam coming out of her ears. The tiny speck of happiness fizzled away into nothing. Sasha was so angry she might explode.
“You!” She waved the letter at me. “You did this! I bet you did.”
I didn’t get it. “Yes, I wrote it.” I said. “Dad was such a chicken he couldn’t get the words out, well, you know what he’s like.... Can we talk about this at home, Sash, you know, there’s loads of people....” I was gabbling. Trying to calm things down, but I could feel my heartbeat racing away.
“You wish!” Fay said.
“I bet,” Sasha snarled. She took a deep breath. “I bet you put your dad up to this. I bet it was you who got him to sack me!”
“She must have,” Fay said. “S’obvious.”
“No, I never!” I was pleading. “Sash, I didn’t!”
“I bet you went round there and told him to sack me! Are you doing my job now? Earning my money?”
I shook my head desperately. “No!”
“Well, you can tell him from me it was a stupid bloody job! A stupid bloody job!”
“It wasn’t me, Sash! I would never do that! I wouldn’t. Dad’s losing money! He might have to shut down and move! It’s not just about you!” I sighed. “He can’t afford...”
“Don’t give me that! Why did he give us that money? You know what? You don’t know how much I hate that you’re my sister!”
“Sasha?” I said. She was leaning towards me and I could feel the flecks of spit firing into my face.
Sasha’s face had contorted. She looked like one of those stone things in old churches, all twisted up and almost crazy. “You screw up my social life! Did you know the whole year is laughing at me now? Did you? Every day in school the whole year is laughing at me.”
“I never meant...”
“Shut up! And now this! Now my job!” She came closer so her head was almost touching mine and the door flapped shut. It felt as if I was trapped.
I was on the floor now, sitting on one of the bin-liners with Sasha shouting down at me, pointing her finger in my face, the hate streaming out of her. I turned away, I couldn’t look into her eyes any more. I wanted the costume cupboard to swallow me up into its smelly darkness.
“You are evil and clumsy and stupid, and no wonder you have no friends except for that weirdo from the Chinese Supermarket. Nobody likes you, Seren. Have you got that? Nobody in this whole school!”
I didn’t really see Sasha and Fay go because my eyes were all blurry, and it wasn’t until Keith came back and passed me a bit of old Toga to blow my nose on, that I realised I was crying.
7
ONCE MORE, WITH FEELING
“You sure you’re OK with this, love?” Mum said to me. Then she shouted after the boys. “Be good for your sister. If you muck around I’ll know!”
But they had already jumped off the bus and Denny had started running hell-for-leather down the road.
“Seren!” Arthur said, holding out his hand for mine. “We’re late.”
“I’m coming.”
“You are a star, you know that,” Mum said. “I know you’ve been a bit... well....” Mum sighed and I could tell she was trying to find the right words. It’s funny, that. She reads so many books, you’d think she’d have all the words in the world.
I was taking the boys to Denny’s rehearsal. Mum didn’t want Denny travelling on his own so I had packed Arthur’s robot colouring book and my ICT homework. We were late already.
Mum went on. “Only I’ve been a bit worried. Something’s up with you and Sash, isn’t it? You can tell me, you know...” Mum had to say it loud over the chug-chugging sound of the bus’s engine. I nodded and smiled and turned my face away quickly. I didn’t want any fuss, especially not here. I could see Denny disappearing towards The Round Chapel where his rehearsal had started five minutes ago.
Arthur pulled on my arm. “Come on, Seren!”
The old dears, Mrs Gold included, smiled, but some of the younger passengers had scowls: the boys with plastic shinpads and football boots on the way to the astroturf, the woman with the shopping trolley, the man with the newspaper and the tattoos. Their scowls were getting bigger by the second. They would be late for the rest of their lives cos my mum had decided now was a good time for a chat.
“I better go,” I said. “S’fine. Honest.” I smiled again, bigger, sunnier. I didn’t want to worry her. “I’ll get the tea on. Fishcakes, everyone likes them.” I let Arthur pull me off the bus.
“Love you! Love you all!” Mum shouted back at me as the doors folded closed, and I felt myself going red as everyone stared.
I held Arthur’s hand tight, and as I walked away down the road I wondered how much Mum had noticed. Even with the latest and most grippingly page-turning Jenny Darling, she would have to be mad not to have realised that Sasha was hardly ever around at home, and how it was between me and her when she was.
You could hear the singing from outside the Chapel. It was round, of course, and old brick, and there were what looked like even older trees planted in front of the building, big and dark and waving their brand-new spring leaves in the wind. Denny had run ahead and I saw him turn and wave at me before he went in.
By the time me and Arthur caught up we could see into the hall. The choir were doing warm-ups, hundreds of Year Sixes going ooo-oooh and aa-ahhh all together. It made me smile. Me and Arthur scurried up the little steps to the gallery that ran round the top of the big hall. There were a few parents and younger kids. Some were running around in between the seats, their mums shushing them uselessly. Down in the hall the Olympic Junior Choir stopped their warm-ups and went quiet.
“We’re going to start off with a song you all know.” A man with a straggly beard and funny shoes was standing on a box in front of the kids. “It’s Love is Like a Magic Penny....” The Year Sixes groaned. It was the cheesiest song ever. A really stupid, cutesy, corny, happy song.
I remembered singing all the time at primary school. Me and Christina both down at the front. We loved singing. Harvest Festival, Diwali, Christmas.
The music teacher would tell us to smile while we sang, so we looked like number one idiots, and I’d be looking back at the parents watching. Sometimes you’d see them crying. Not falling-over sobbing, nothing like that, just the odd tear escaping, or their eyes shining.
I was doing it now, the adult thing I mean. I was standing there, listening, and it felt as if so much of my life was over. I felt as if everything had gone, all that happiness so long ago. I felt like I’d lost so much. Christina, of course, but Sasha, too.
I wiped my eye with the corner of my sleeve.
The song finished and I looked round for Arthur. My insides flipped. He had vanished. There was his school bag and his robot colouring book, but no Arthur. I strode around the gallery, looking under the benches and now I wasn’t crying, I was angry.
I couldn’t shout because they’d hear me downstairs. “Arthur! Arthur!” I hissed.
“Are you all right, love?” one of the mums said.
“Um, no, I’ve lost my little brother. This tall, brown curl
y hair.”
The woman shook her head. Downstairs the choir had started up London World in a City.
I imagined going home and telling Mum I’d lost Arthur. I imagined a whole future in which Arthur was lost and it was all my fault. I imagined never again being able to hear anything to do with the Olympics without thinking of my long-lost little brother. I thought I’d start getting tearful all over again. I took a deep breath and told myself not to be so stupid.
“Arthur!” I hissed again. I went to the steps and ran down to the front door. Outside it was sunny and the new leaves blew about in the trees. The main road was thick with traffic. What if he’d been knocked down by a car? Stuck under a bus like something out of Casualty?
“Arthur!” I yelled at the top of my voice. “Arthur!”
He wouldn’t be that stupid, would he? If he had been knocked over I reckoned there’d be blue lights, a helicopter ambulance coming in to land on the playground, a crowd standing around at least. There was nothing like that.
I went back into the Round Chapel and up the stairs. Still no sign of him. I took deep breaths and tried to calm myself down. One last look before I called the cops. I scanned the gallery one more time. Nothing. I took out my phone.
Down in the chapel Denny was singing away, unaware that his only brother was gone. I started dialling.
Luckily, I saw Arthur just before I pressed the last nine. There he was, down with the choir, singing his heart out.
“Arthur!” I said, and the whole choir stopped and looked up at me. Straggly-beard man looked daggers. I said sorry over and over again.
I ran downstairs and dragged Arthur back up to the gallery. “What did you go and do that for?”
“It’s not fair!” Arthur said. “Why can’t I sing too?”
“Your time will come, Art, believe!”
“Want to sing now!” He was really whining. “Why can’t I sing at the Olympics?”
“I don’t know what’s up with you, Art, you’re never this naughty!”
“I am not naughty!” He stared at me defiantly. “And you’re not my mum!” For a second I thought he was going to do that half-sister thing that Denny had done. But he didn’t. It was hard to get him interested in anything in his robot activity book after that.
The bus home was a nightmare. Mum wasn’t driving and the boys fought. Other passengers looked at me like I was some deliquent school-girl mother rather than a harassed older sister.
“Denny, your singing is cack-o-rama,” Arthur said.
“Don’t say that!” Denny snapped back.
“Cackorama, cackorama, cackorama, cackorama, cackorama... did you know cack is spanish for sh–”
“Arthur!” I hissed. “No swearing!”
“I know something!” Arthur said to me in the loudest stage-whisper ever. “I know who Denny likes.” Arthur was smiling, his curls framing his face like a naughty cherub.
“Oh yes?” I said. My little brother had a crush? I thought I ought to know.
“Shut up!” Denny’s voice was threatening.
Arthur squirmed and giggled.
“Ally- Ally- i-cia…” he sang.
“Shut up!” Denny was suddenly bright red in the face.
“Denny loves Alicia Welsh!” Arthur shouted, and Denny leant across and gave him a chinese burn before I could stop him. Arthur started wailing.
“Denny!” I said, too late.
“You’re a baby, Art, you know that,” Denny said smugly.
“Am not!” Arthur said, totally baby-like.
“I had my picture in the Gazette and I’ll be on the telly all over the world!”
Arthur looked crushed. His little face said ‘loser’ louder than any words.
“Art, Arthur!” I said. “What about this?” I took the newspaper out of my pocket. “If you entered this, I bet you’d win.” I had my fingers crossed.
Arthur looked mildly interested. “Do you win a trip to Disneyland?” he said.
I didn’t know. “You get your picture in the paper.”
Denny looked across and snorted. “Kutest Kiddie? Arthur would never win.”
“Would so!”
“Would not!”
“Would so!”
“WOULD NOT!”
“Boys! Please!” I stared at them with my Vulcan Death glare. Denny looked at me and curled his lip, and I realised he was totally immune to my scariest face. Outside, the bus had reached the edge of the estate.
“If either of you play up again,” I said, in a tone that I hoped was low and deadly, “we are getting off here and walking!”
A whole load of boys got on at the next stop. I felt my insides turn over. One of them was ten-foot-tall Jamie Kendrick. I didn’t know any of the others’ names but I recognised them all from school, from Sasha’s year. The way my afternoon, no, the way my entire life was going, I would put money on Luke Beckford being with them and this journey turning into a massive ‘humiliate Seren’ fest. I crossed my fingers. I crossed my fingers on both hands and willed them to stay standing near the door, and be so completely wound up in talking to each other that they wouldn’t notice me.
What if they did? I took a deep breath. What was the worst that could happen? People laughing at me, saying horrible things? Couldn’t I take it? I’d taken it all day. I felt my skin prickle with heat just at the thought. What if they said something to Denny? Or Arthur?
There were only two more stops now.
I opened Arthur’s robot colouring book. “Look at that one!” I said.
Arthur gave me his you are a slug-brain idiot look.
I could feel Jamie Kendrick trying to make his way through the shoppers to the back of the bus where I was sitting with the boys. I knew it without looking up, from the excuse mes and the sorrys and the watch where you’re putting your size 12s!
I stuffed Arthur’s book back in my bag. “We are getting off now!” It came out like a snarl and I must have sounded so fierce even Denny didn’t argue.
I pressed the bell and we slid out of the door and down into the street.
Arthur looked back at the bus as it sped off. “Seren?” he said.
“Hmm?” I was already walking towards home.
“I think that boy, the giant one, is waving at you.”
I didn’t look round.
The house was empty. Mum wouldn’t be back for an hour and who knew where Sasha was.
I made the fishcakes. Well, I took them out of the packet and cooked them. I forced Denny to cut up carrots without using the knife on Arthur, and I made Arthur wash some lettuce, otherwise the boys (and me) would never get close to their five a day.
I realised I was starting to think more Mumlike than my actual mum and after tea I went upstairs and turned on the laptop, hoping that the internet would wash over me and make me think like a thirteen-year-old girl with mates again.
I wasn’t a friend of Christina’s online any more but if I logged in as Sasha I could see her page. I knew it wasn’t healthy, I knew it would just make me more miserable, but I had this big need to roll around in my bad feelings and feel even sorrier for myself than I did already.
I hadn’t meant to look at Sasha’s page. And Keith was sending me a billion messages that made the computer ping like a hyperactive microwave. But I saw it straight away. A picture of me in a heap on the floor of the costume cupboard.
I suppose I ought to thank my lucky stars or maybe my lucky Turkish magic eye that it wasn’t a movie, that you couldn’t see me shaking or hear the snuffling noises it looked like I was making. I looked totally fishfaced, open-mouthed, red, baggy eyes, ridiculous in a mixture of school uniform and silver sparkles. Like a broken, spangly puppet.
I felt my heart speed up so fast I thought it would burst. I clicked the page shut immediately.
The messages were pinging into my inbox so noisily they could have been music.
I decided to call Keith.
The first thing he said was, “So you saw it?”
“Did you?”
“It’s on Christina’s page.”
“Oh no! Hers as well? How come you’re her friend?”
“She likes to keep her numbers up, I guess.”
I clicked the page up again.
“You’re looking at it now, aren’t you?” Keith said. “Don’t be daft!”
“I can’t help it. I look so gross.”
“Forget it, Seren.”
“Forget it?” I was almost yelling. “It’s everywhere!”
“You need to think about something else.” I heard Keith sigh. “This call will cost you way too much. Message me, no, better still, is Sasha there?”
“She’s never here.”
“I’m coming round.”
I kept Sasha’s page up and clicked through to Christina’s. Underneath was a long trail of comments from her and Shaz and Ruby and loads of people I had never even heard of. The comments grew as I watched. Christina had commented first:
This is a scene from Keith’s crap film where Seren breaks down as she realises she has no friends and no talent.
Then Shazna: lol. That girl cannot act. Keith is ttl weirdo!
Then they got harsher. Seren C-A is a fugly freak was one of the nicer ones. I took the magic eye out of my drawer and put it around my neck. I was still reading the comments when Keith appeared.
“Right, turn that off. Now,” he said, and I did.
“Watch this, and feel better.” He clicked over the keys and bought up some of what he’d filmed outside the Olympic park after school. It looked like some science-fiction world of tomorrow and not what had been a building site until what seemed like the day before yesterday.
“Seren? Hello? Lights on and no one’s home.” Keith waved his hand in front of my face..
“I can’t think about anything, Keith,” I said. “It’s all horrible.”
“It’s just a picture, Seren. It’s just you crying. It’s not half as bad as the one of Ed that went up last year. It could have been much worse.”
“Everything could always be worse, Keith. Anyway, it’s not the picture so much. It’s the comments. They say I’m crap, and you’re weird.”
Brave New Girl Page 6