Cathy Hopkins lives in North London with her husband and four cats, Molly, Maisie, Emmylou and Otis.
She spends most of her time locked in a shed at the bottom of the garden pretending to write books but is actually in there listening to music, hippie dancing and talking to her friends on e-mail.
Occasionally she is joined by Molly, the cat who thinks she is a copy-editor and likes to walk all over the keyboard rewriting and deleting any words she doesn’t like.
Maisie, the second cat, was worried that Cathy may have forgotten what it is like to be a teenager, so she does her best to remind her. She does it very well. She ignores everybody and only comes in to sleep, eat and occasionally, wearily say ‘miwhhf’ (this means ‘whatever’ in Catspeak).
Emmylou and Otis are new to the household. So far they are as insane as the older two. Their favourite game is to run from one side of the house to the other as fast as possible, then see if they can fly if they leap high enough off the furniture. This usually happens at three o’clock in the morning and they land on anyone who happens to be asleep at the time.
Apart from that, Cathy has joined the gym and spends more time than is good for her making up excuses as to why she hasn’t got time to go.
Thanks to Brenda Gardner, Yasemin Uçar, Jon Appleton, Melissa Patey and the rest of the team of fabsters at Piccadilly. To Rosemary Bromley at Juvenilia. To Steve Lovering for his constant support and help on all aspects of the book and for being such a good pal.
First published in Great Britain in 2005
by Piccadilly Press Ltd.,
5 Castle Road, London NW1 8PR
www.piccadillypress.co.uk
This edition published 2007
Text copyright © Cathy Hopkins, 2005, 2007
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner.
The right of Cathy Hopkins to be identified as Author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
ISBN: 978 185340 937 0 (trade paperback)
eISBN: 978 184812 291 8
3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2
Printed in the UK by CPI Bookmarque, Croydon, CR0 4TD
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
‘I bet you can’t do it,’ said Tony.
‘How much?’ I asked.
‘A pound every time you mention one,’ he said.
‘Done,’ I said. ‘Prepare to hand over all your pocket money.’
‘Pfff,’ smirked Tony. ‘It’s going to be like taking candy from a baby.’
I was sitting with my brother Tony in the Costa coffee bar in Highgate waiting for my mates on Saturday morning. We’d got into an argument and he’d bet me that I couldn’t last a day without talking about boys. Thankfully Izzie, Lucy and TJ arrived soon after so I didn’t push his face into his plate of panini and tomato, something I was very tempted to do.
‘Are you two fighting again?’ asked Izzie as she slid in next to me while Lucy and TJ sat on either side of Tony. ‘We could feel the vibes from back here when we were getting our drinks at the counter.’
‘He said that I had nothing going on in my head apart from boys, boys and boys,’ I said. ‘Blooming cheek.’
Izzie, Lucy and TJ exchanged looks as if to say that they agreed with Tony.
‘Hey come on, guys,’ I said. ‘Give me a break. I know I’m not Einstein but . . .’
‘But Tony’s right, Nesta,’ said Izzie. ‘You are our current boy expert of North London, England . . .’
‘The world, the universe, etc.,’ TJ finished.
‘Yeah,’ said Lucy, ‘and you did put boys down as one of your hobbies on that questionnaire we had to do for Miss Watkins in PSHE.’
Tony was grinning like a smug slug. I don’t know why some people find him attractive when he is clearly an annoying pain in the butt. I suppose he is the standard tall, dark and handsome but beauty’s only skin deep and on the inside lurks his true self, which is a repulsive reptile. Sadly I am the only person who can see this, which is one of the many reasons that I am so misunderstood.
‘OK,’ I said, as I stirred the last remnants of my hot chocolate, ‘so yes, maybe boys do occupy a small part of my mind but I’m a fifteen-year-old girl, get real. I just can’t believe his cheek in insinuating that’s all that’s going on.’
‘You’re right,’ said Tony. ‘Sometimes you think of handbags or pointy shoes.’
I lifted my hand to punch him but Izzie caught my wrist.
‘He doesn’t mean it, Nesta,’ she said. ‘He’s winding you up. Now kiss and make up. You two children have got to learn to play nicely.’
‘No way,’ said Tony as I stuck my tongue out at him.
‘I wouldn’t worry,’ said Lucy. ‘My brothers say far worse things to me.’
‘Well, you would say that,’ I said. ‘You always stick up for Tony.’
‘I do not.’
‘Do.’
Tony put his arm round Lucy and gave her a squeeze and she smiled up at him. Sadly she can’t see his true nature, no matter how many times I’ve warned her. She only sees love god. It’s very sad, although no one’s too sure what’s going on with them lately. Are they an item or not? Some weeks they are, some weeks they’re ‘just good friends’. At the moment, they’re ‘just good friends’. Good friends who snog a lot, if you ask me.
‘I do not,’ Lucy insisted. ‘I stick up for whoever I feel needs sticking up for at the time.’
I pushed out my bottom lip in the hope that she could see that I needed sticking up for. I felt betrayed by her lack of support. And Izzie and TJ hadn’t exactly come forward to my defence either. Grrr, but I’m feeling cross with everyone today, I thought, as I ate the last piece of my chocolate pastry. Must be my hormones. My period started this morning and that always makes me feel cranky and prone to axe-murdering anyone who comes within five yards. I’ve tried taking painkillers for it but for me, chocolate seems to be the only thing that offers any relief. So far, I’d had Coco Pops, two hot chocolates and the pastry but I still felt out of sorts. And no doubt all the sugar would result in me getting an almighty great spot on my forehead or chin. Sometimes it sucks being a girl.
‘OK then, Lucy,’ I said, ‘it’s the Easter hols in a couple of weeks. What if in the holidays, Tony and I were taken ill with the same kidney disease and the only thing that could save us was you donating one of yours, which one of us would you give it to?’
Lucy started laughing. ‘But you’re not dying of kidney disease. And neither is Tony.’
‘Hypothetically.’
‘Stupid question,’ said Lucy.
‘OK, your last Rolo then. Who would you give your last Rolo to?’
‘Um. I’d give you half each.’
Typical Lucy. She’ll never take sides with anyone if she can help it.
‘So what did you mean when you said that your brothers used to say worse things to you, Luce?’ asked TJ.
Lucy blushed. ‘They used to call me Nancy No-tits.’
I sighed heavily. I knew what
they were trying to do. They were trying to change the subject, divert Tony and me from annoying each other. Huh. My mates: Lucy the joker, always trying to smooth things over with a laugh. TJ the diplomat, always trying to ensure that we’re all communicating. And Izzie the mystic, feeling our vibes before we’ve felt them ourselves. I wouldn’t know a vibe if it was served up deep fried with chips and peas. Izzie’s always thinking deep thoughts about the universe, life, God and stuff. That’s not me at all. Waste of time, I think. Who knows why we are here or what for? We might as well just get on with it and have as nice a time as we can. That’s my philosophy. Sometimes I wonder where I fit in with the three of them, especially when they start having their ‘deep’ conversations.
Not that I can’t talk or don’t have anything to say for myself. In fact I often talk too much. I’m a stick-my-foot-in-it with my big mouth type person. At least everyone knows where they stand with me, though. What you see is what you get. Simple and uncomplicated. I don’t think that makes me an airhead. Those are the other things Tony calls me: Big-mouth and Airhead. Not very flattering. Oh God. Maybe they all hang out with me out of pity. Their good deed for the week. Or maybe, my mum and dad have paid them to be my friends. God it’s sad when actually I’m quite a nice person deep inside. At least I think I am.
‘What’s going on in your head, Nesta?’ asked Izzie. ‘You look miles away.’
‘Um . . .’ I wasn’t sure myself. Sometimes I think some really insane thoughts I wouldn’t want to share with anyone. Normally I can be really cool and in control but these days, when I’ve got my period, I turn into someone who is likely to cry at the drop of a hat or kill someone for saying something annoying, and God only knows what madness might come out of my mouth if I’m not careful. I put on my best ‘deep thinker’ look so that hopefully Izzie wouldn’t spot that I’d turned into psycho girl.
‘Oh you know, just thinking . . . about life and stuff,’ I replied. ‘So what other names did your brothers call you, Luce?’
Lucy blushed. ‘Squirt. Short-arse. At least Tony has never called you a name like that.’
Tony was looking so smarmy and pleased with himself that I decided to blow his cover. ‘No? So what about Airhead? Maggot brain? Nappy bucket? Slimeball? Droopy drawers . . .? The list goes on and on.’
‘That was when you were little,’ said Tony. ‘All I said this time was you think about boys a lot. All the time in fact . . .’
‘As usual, no one realises that actually I think really deep thoughts,’ I objected, ‘and there is a hell of a lot that goes on in my head besides boys.’
‘So prove it,’ said Tony. ‘As I said before your mates arrived, I bet you can’t do it.’
‘Do what? Bet her what?’ asked Lucy.
‘My dingbat of a brother has bet me that I can’t go a day without mentioning boys. And I have accepted the challenge. You guys can be my witnesses.’
‘Yeah, but it’s not just a general wager,’ said Tony. ‘It’s specific. She has to give me a pound each time she mentions a boy, boys in plural or in fact any reference to boys at all.’
‘Just Nesta?’ asked Lucy. ‘The rest of us can talk about boys?’
Tony narrowed his eyes and peered at Lucy in what I can only suppose he thought was an attractive manner. I thought it made him look like he was about to fall asleep. ‘OK. These are the rules. Izzie and TJ can mention boys as much as they like. Nesta can’t or if she does, she has to pay up. For you Lucy, it’s different. For you, there is only one boy on the planet. And that is me.’
Lucy punched him playfully, laughed and gazed into his eyes. Really. Those two are vomitous when they’re together. It’s enough to bring up your breakfast.
‘So what’s on the agenda?’ asked Tony. ‘What are you girls going to do today? Isn’t Saturday the day for you all to be TV stars?’
He was referring to the TV pilot that Izzie, Lucy and I were in last weekend. It was for a show called Teen Talk, a discussion programme about issues that affect teenagers.
‘That was just the pilot. The series isn’t due to start until September or October,’ said Izzie.
‘And was there any talent there?’ asked Tony with a sly look.
There had been lots of boys there and I was about to jump in and give him the details when I saw TJ shaking her head at me.
‘Didn’t notice,’ I said. ‘And don’t think that you can trick me into talking about the forbidden subject, mon frère stupide. We may be related but quite clearly one of us is far superior in the brain department.’
After that it was war. Tony did everything he could to get me to mention boys or refer to them in some way but I can be a good match for him if I want and I wasn’t going to give in easily. After a while, the lady behind the counter at the front of the café started giving us a ‘you’ve outstayed the allotted time to drink one drink in here so if you’re going to stay, buy something else’ look. It was time to go or else we’d end up frittering all our pocket money away on hot chocolates.
‘OK, So, top five interests?’ asked Tony as the lady from behind the counter came over to clear our table. ‘Izzie?’
‘Astrology, music, aromatherapy, witchcraft and boys,’ said Izzie. ‘And chocolate.’
‘That’s six,’ said Tony, ‘but I’ll let you have it. TJ?’
‘Er . . . reading, boys, music, movies, sport.’
‘Lucy?’ asked Tony.
Lucy gave him a coy look. ‘Boys, definitely . . . er, fashion, movies, travel . . . although I haven’t done a lot yet, it is going to be one of my major interests and . . . cooking.’
‘Cooking!’ said Izzie. ‘Since when have you been into cooking?’
‘Since those two gorgeous Italian guys got their own TV show,’ she replied. ‘Oh yes, cooking is well up there on the list.’
‘I can cook,’ said Tony. ‘And I’m Italian. I told you that you didn’t need to look anywhere else. So . . . what about you, Nesta?’
All eyes turned to me. I knew that by leaving me to last that he was trying to lull me into a false sense of security and that I’d blab out . . . boys. But I wasn’t going to fall into his stupid little trap.
‘Quantum physics, history, particularly the period between 1824 and 1828 in . . . er . . . Russia. So that’s two. Um. The science of amoeba reproduction. Egyptian hieroglyphics, period between 4 and 5 BC and finally . . . b – b – bo – botulism, the study of infected sausages.’
Lucy, Izzie and TJ cracked up and even Tony almost laughed. As we were messing around, I noticed a boy with ginger hair and glasses come into the café with a collection tin. It looked like he was asking the manager for permission to take it round, and a moment later, he started going from table to table asking for money. We were sitting at my favourite table at the back so we were out of his way. We always sit there because it gives us the best view of who’s coming in the door and as Costa is a café much frequented by the boys from Highgate School, it’s a good vantage point for surveying the talent.
I nudged Izzie to look at the boy. Most of the customers waved him away. ‘That charity collector isn’t having much luck is he?’ I said being careful not to say the word ‘boy’.
‘I feel sorry for him,’ said Izzie. ‘It takes a lot of nerve to go round people you don’t know asking for money.’
‘I feel sorry for the customers in here,’ I said. ‘All they want is to have a cup of something on a Saturday morning in peace and someone’s bothering them to give away their money.’
‘Don’t be so tight, Nesta,’ said Izzie in what I thought was an unnecessarily cross manner. ‘They only have to give some loose change, and it’s probably for a good cause.’
‘Probably for a good cause,’ I mimicked. ‘I bet his mum has made him do it anyway . . .’ I was about to continue and object that I wasn’t being tight, when Lucy elbowed me in the ribs.
‘Ohmigod. Eyes right,’ she said. ‘Door. Look who’s just come in.’
I turned to see who she was talking
about and my stomach tightened. It was William, a boy I’d met just before Christmas last year. He was a friend of Luke de Biasi’s (otherwise known as love rat extraordinaire). For a while I had considered getting serious with Luke (i.e. going out longer than three weeks). But then he got into TJ as well (behind my back) and she thought he was The One. She fell for him really badly. It was an awkward time for all of us and got really complicated with no one knowing who had said what to who. It almost split us up as mates as Lucy took sides with me and Izzie took sides with TJ. In the end, we all realised that it wasn’t worth losing our friendship over a boy who told lies. I met William after it was all over with Luke. A cutenik by anyone’s standards. I remember wishing that I’d met him before Luke. But I didn’t. Bad timing. And he’s still Luke’s mate as far as I know. So strictly out of bounds as far as I’m concerned. Shame.
I quickly turned away so that he didn’t catch me staring but not before I’d noticed that he seemed to be looking for someone. I sat up straight, flicked my hair back and put my chin down so that if he saw us, he’d get my best angle. When I looked over at him a few moments later, he seemed not to have noticed us at all as he was heading for the boy with the collection tin. And then I saw that William had a similar tin and after exchanging a few words with the ginger-haired boy, was heading for the back area of the café. As he did the rounds of the tables, all the girls on the various tables perked up and within seconds, he had them reaching for their purses. He did look good, in fact I remember TJ saying that he could be Orlando Bloom’s younger brother. I’d say a cross between Johnny Depp and Orlando. Same great cheekbones and he’d grown his hair since I’d last seen him and now it was on his shoulders, giving him that Victorian poet look that I’m into these days.
‘I can’t believe the effect that boy is having on the females in here,’ I said. ‘It’s pathetic.’
‘Pound,’ said Tony.
‘What for? Why?’
‘You said “boy”. You can’t believe the effect that boy . . .’
‘Oh for heaven’s sake, Tony. Get a grip. I wasn’t exactly talking about boy boys, I was merely commenting on the effect that William was having on the girls in here.’
Mates, Dates and Diamond Destiny Page 1