Me Suzy P

by Karen Saunders

  “What’s with the chihuahuas, Ambs?” I ask, trying not to sound too alarmed. Which I clearly am.

  “An addition to the theme.” Amber beams. “Aren’t they the cutest? I read in a magazine they’re Conni G’s favourite dog, and I thought they’d go well with the pink.”

  My sister gets weirder by the day. I mean, when have you ever seen a pink chihuahua? But it’s her wedding, she can do what she wants. As long as I don’t have to take a mutt down the aisle on a lead or anything. Actually, I’d better keep my mouth shut about that. I wouldn’t want to give Amber any ideas.

  “They’re beautiful, princess,” Mark says, squeezing Amber’s hand, nearly crumpling a menu in the process. “Although nowhere near as beautiful as you.”

  “Watch out, Mark,” says Amber, saving the menu and whisking her hand away as he moves to sit at the other end of the table.

  Eh? That’s not like her. Usually these two act like someone needs to throw a bucket of cold water over them.

  “So, Suzy, what are you doing at home on a Friday night?” Mark asks, picking up a different menu.

  “Mark, watch out!” Amber screeches, leaning down the table to snatch the card away. “See what you’ve done? You’ve got grubby fingerprints all over it.”

  “Sorry, Ambypamby,” Mark says, shamefaced.

  Amber huffs before launching into a lengthy and detailed set of instructions on what we’re both supposed to be doing.

  It basically involves sticking a feather under a chihuahua.

  “Got that?” Amber says. She eyes me warily. “Suzy, please be extra careful. You know what you’re like.”

  I pull a face as Mark laughs.

  “Muffin, calm down, she’ll be fine.” He picks up a handful of feathers. “Suzy, I was listening to the radio on the way home – they were coming live from the Drifting concert. Did you hear it?”

  “Nope,” I say tightly.

  “They’re very popular, aren’t they? Tickets must have sold out quickly.”

  “Yup.”

  “It’s such a different experience seeing a band play live. I remember when I was your age, I went to my first concert. I went to see—”

  “Mark, nobody cares,” Amber interrupts. “Suzy doesn’t want to hear what you did a million years ago. Please focus on the sticking. That feather’s all wonky.”

  “Looks straight to me,” Mark says.

  Amber whips out a tape measure from her bra. “See! It’s exactly one millimetre higher at this end. Concentrate, Mark, for goodness’ sake.”

  I soon get into a routine of grab card, stick feather under chihuahua, push away card, and repeat. It’s strangely soothing, in a funny sort of way.

  Things move on, and change is good, I tell myself as I go through the pile, parroting an article I read in some magazine.

  And let’s not forget about Zach!

  An involuntary grin crosses my face and instantly I feel a bit better. Tomorrow can’t get here fast enough.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The next morning, I’m woken by the sound of cats yowling outside. I try and see what time it is, but I’m half-asleep, and my eyes don’t seem to be working.

  Help! I can’t see anything! Nothing at all!

  Oh my God, oh my God, what happened in the night? Have I gone blind?

  I sit up in alarm and a magazine falls off my face. I must have fallen asleep reading it last night. All of a sudden, although it’s still dark, I can see stuff again.

  Well, phew. Talk about a relief.

  And now my sight’s returned, I can see what time it is. Although I kind of wish I couldn’t. Because it’s 5.03 a.m. On a Saturday. That’s practically the middle of the night. Those blooming cats have a lot to answer for.

  I yawn widely, and as the skin on my face stretches, it feels dead strange. When I run my hands over it, it feels all bumpy. And really sore.

  Uh oh. I hope I haven’t had a bad reaction to that face pack I stole from Amber’s room last night. The one that promised spa-like results and deep skin cleansing. The instructions said to leave it on for twenty minutes, but I got distracted and it was on for over an hour. My face was kind of burny by the time I took it off.

  I’d better check it out.

  I flick on the light, blinking as the brightness hurts my eyes, then stumble over to the mirror.

  “Aaaarrrrrrghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” I scream.

  I have never, ever, ever in my whole life had as many pimples as I’ve got right now. They’re huge, and to make things worse, most of them are those really nasty painful red bumps that stay for ages and shine like beacons. Plus I’ve got about six white-heads.

  What am I going to do? They’ll never be gone by tonight.

  “Aaaarrrrrrghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” I scream again as my door bursts open. Dad leaps in, brandishing Harry’s foam cricket bat and swinging it around manically.

  “What are you doing?” I yelp.

  “You screamed. We thought there was a burglar,” Dad explains breathlessly. “Where is he? Is he hiding?” He flings open the wardrobe door.

  Okay. It’s way too early for this level of lunacy.

  “What are you on about? There is no burglar.”

  “Then what was all the noise for?” Dad asks, the bat dropping down from above his head. He peers at me. “And what’s wrong with you? Are you ill? It’s not chicken pox, is it?” Dad starts edging away.

  “No, I used a face pack last night and now I’m covered in spots…”

  “I don’t understand,” Dad says, ominously.

  “I screamed when I saw myself,” I explain.

  “Suzy, let me get this straight. You wake up the whole house screeching like a banshee because you’ve got a spot?”

  “It’s not just one. Look at them!” I point at my chin.

  “Get back to bed,” Dad says. He’s turned a kind of purple colour. “Am I the only sane one in this bloody asylum? I’d be better off living in the shed,” I hear him grumble as he stamps off down the corridor.

  I stick my tongue out behind his back as I skulk back to the mirror. There’s no way I’m going to get back to sleep now. Oh well. At least I’ve got plenty of time to try and figure out how to get rid of these spots.

  Considering how long I’ve been up, I should have had more than long enough to sort myself out and get myself looking vaguely normal. So why is it that with only half an hour before Zach’s due, my face still looks like the Himalayas and I’m nowhere near ready?

  The temptation to cancel was overwhelming, but I didn’t have his number. And I’m starting to think he’s lost mine.

  I check my phone for what must be the six-hundredth time today. Nothing. Why hasn’t he texted? I have no idea where we’re going. If we’re still going anywhere.

  I practically jump out of my skin when there’s a knock at my door.

  Eek! That can’t be Zach already, can it? I grab my dressing gown and throw it on over my less-than-attractive spotty knickers and bra.

  “Who is it?” I call, panicking.

  “Me,” Millie replies, walking in.

  “Oh thank goodness. Hi,” I say, so relieved it’s not Zach I forget for a moment I’m still annoyed with Millie.

  Millie eyes widen when she sees me. “What happened to you?” she asks, poking a finger at my chin.

  “Long story.” I twist my face away. “What do you want?”

  I’m not going to be overly friendly. I’m still not willing to forgive and forget that my so-called best friend went to see The Drifting without me.

  “Don’t be like that, Suze,” Millie says, her face falling. “I came to see how you were.”

  “Fine, thanks.” I turn my back on her to flick through the hangers in my wardrobe.

  Millie bites her lip. “Suze, I know you’re bummed about missing The Drifting. And the fact that I went. And the fact that Jade was there. But I’m sorry. I bought you a present, if that helps,” she says, shaking a carrier bag at me.

  I can’t resist th
e temptation. I do love a present. “Jelly babies?” I say in disgust, when I peer inside the bag.

  “Oops, no, they’re mine,” Millie says, grabbing them. “Under those. It’s a The Drifting vest top and programme from the concert,” she explains.

  I hold the top out in front of me and smile unenthusiastically. “Thanks.”

  “Hey, a smidge more excitement, please,” Millie says, poking her fingers into the corners of my mouth and forcing it into a smile. “I know it’s not as good as the actual concert, but you’ve wanted one for ages. Dad gave me money to get a tee for myself, but I’ve made the ultimate sacrifice and given it to you instead.”

  “Sorry, Mil,” I say, pushing her off and starting to laugh. “It’s great. Thanks. It’s just, you know, with missing out on The Drifting and the whole Danny thing…”

  “I know,” Millie says as she flops down onto my beanbag. “It’s rough. I get that.”

  “So, how was it?” I ask. I have to be mature about this. I can cope with hearing the details.

  “You really want to know?”

  “I really want to know.”

  “They were fantastic!” Millie raves, her eyes lighting up. “They did an amazing entrance with these massive explosions and the band came up through the floor.”

  “Wow,” I say, impressed despite myself.

  “They did all of the songs from their new album, and had these crazy dancing holograms,” Millie continues. She holds out her mobile, and I scroll through a load of blurry photos, then a short video where I can just about make out The Drifting over the noise of the crowd.

  “God, it looks incredible,” I say enviously, sneaking a glance at my own phone.

  Still nothing from Zach.

  “It was,” Millie says. “Their encore was ‘All I Think Of Is You,’ but by then you could hardly hear the music because the girls were screaming so loud. It was awesome. I wish you’d been there.”

  I smile wryly. “Yeah, me too. It sounds mind-blowing. So, er, did Jamie have fun?”

  “Yeah, he loved it.”

  “How about, um, Danny?”

  “I guess,” Millie says vaguely.

  “Was he… was he really coupley with Jade?”

  “No. His dad was there, so it would have been a bit weird. Jade kept trying to get him to kiss her, but you know Danny isn’t really into that,” Millie replies tactfully.

  The idea of Jade pawing Danny sends a stab of hurt through me. I turn away to rummage through the clothes in my wardrobe again. Anything to avoid picturing Danny and Jade together.

  Think about something else, quick… like the outfit I’m going to wear tonight.

  It took ages to decide – most of the day, in fact – mainly because I don’t know where we’re going. I’ve finally decided on dark blue skinny jeans, a red satin top and my new jacket. With a big belt, a chunky bangle and the gorgeous silver necklace I found in Amber’s jewellery box, I should look pretty good. If only my pimpletastic face wasn’t going to let me down.

  As I wiggle into my trousers, Millie frowns. “What are you getting all dressed up for?”

  “I’ve got a date,” I say casually, slipping on my jewellery. I can see Millie’s reflection and her face is a stunner.

  “A date?” Millie shrieks. “For real? With who? When did this happen? Tell me everything, immediately.”

  I know as soon as I tell her she’s going to blab to Jamie – which means it won’t be long before Danny knows too.

  “Zach,” I tell her.

  “Zach?” Millie’s eyes widen. “When did that happen?”

  “He asked me out yesterday,” I say.

  Well, he probably would have done if I hadn’t got in there first, so it’s not exactly a lie.

  Millie looks dismayed. “But I was really hoping you and Danny would sort things out.”

  “You’re not serious?”

  “Course. Why wouldn’t I be? You guys are my best mates. I hate things being like this,” Millie says miserably. “I hate having to hang around with Jade, too.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s a bit late for Danny and me now.”

  “But you’ve been together for so long. Are you sure you can’t just talk to him and—”

  “Millie, we’re over,” I tell her firmly, even though I get a pang saying it. “Danny’s seeing Jade now. What am I supposed to say to him?”

  “I don’t know. But I don’t like it,” Millie replies in a small, sad voice. “I’ve got to get back. Let’s go to Bojangles tomorrow and you can tell me all about it then. I’ll text you when I wake up.” She pushes herself up onto her feet. “Have a good time tonight,” she says on the way out, although she doesn’t sound like she means it.

  As I listen to Millie clatter down the stairs, I’m half-tempted to race after her and beg her to help me get things back to the way they were.

  Then I shake my head. I’m going out with Zach now. Which means I need to focus on looking fabulous and, more importantly, on hiding these spots. Someone, somewhere, must have a solution.

  I dash downstairs, bribe Harry away from the computer with the jelly babies Millie’s left behind, and hit Dr Internet for answers.

  Okay, that’s a little bizarre. Is it some kind of joke? Because lots of the sites are saying you can use a green cover-up stick to neutralise red blotches, and then put ordinary concealer on top.

  For real? Well, I’m desperate enough to give anything a go. I don’t have any green cover-up stick, and I can’t find any in Amber’s mammoth cosmetics bag, but I do manage to locate some green eye-shadow. It has to have the same kind of effect, right? Carefully I dab it all over my face, trying not to notice the resemblance between me and the Incredible Hulk.

  Ding dong!

  Argh, that’s the doorbell!

  No, no, no.

  Zach can’t be here already.

  What on earth possessed him to be early? Danny always used to arrive half an hour after any time we’d agreed because he knew I’d never be ready when I was supposed to be.

  “Danny’s here, Danny’s here!” Harry yells, bursting out of her room and stampeding down the stairs.

  “Harry, don’t,” I shout, throwing down the make-up and chasing after her. But it’s too late. She’s already pulled the front door open.

  “You’re not Danny,” Harry says accusingly.

  “Clearly,” Zach says.

  “I’m not allowed to talk to strangers,” Harry says, then slams the door in Zach’s face.

  “Harry, what are you doing?” I say in horror, racing up behind her.

  “Where’s Danny?” Harry demands.

  “I’m not going out with Danny any more,” I say through gritted teeth. “Now scram.”

  I fling the door open again. “Zach, hi. I’m so sorry… what’s wrong?”

  “Your… face…” he murmurs.

  Oh no!

  I can’t believe Zach’s seen me like this. My face is green.

  Green!

  “Ha ha,” I laugh manically. “I was messing around with my little sister and dressing up. I’m pretending to be an alien from Planet Zingba. We’re all about the fun in this house! I forgot I still had all this on. Er, wait here a minute, I’ll be out in a sec.”

  And with that I shut the door on him again.

  I rush back upstairs to try and sort out my face, but even after my best efforts I still look suspiciously lumpy, as well as slightly crusty. But I’ll just have to hope wherever we’re going has dimmed lighting. I slip in my lucky star earrings, then run downstairs so fast I nearly break my neck.

  Skidding into the hall, I groan when I see my nightmare just keeps getting worse.

  Mum and Amber have invited Zach inside and he’s backed up against the wall, looking like he’d rather be jabbed at with hot pokers than facing this particular interrogation squad.

  “So which do you think, Zach?” Mum’s asking, shoving a magazine in his face. “Do you prefer the traditional fruit cake, or this heart-shaped chocolate one?”r />
  “It’s important to get another male opinion on these things,” Amber adds, waving bits of pink material at him. “I’d also like to know what you think about this pink ribbon. It’s not exactly the same shade as this swatch, which is the colour of the bridesmaid’s dress, but would you have noticed?”

  “Um…”

  “What are you two doing?” I ask in alarm.

  Mum swivels around to glare at me. “Suzy, what are you doing, leaving Zach outside?”

  “Could you be any more embarrassing?” I ask, through clenched teeth, opening the front door.

  “Could you?” Mum counters. “Where are your manners? What’s Zach going to think?”

  “I didn’t think anything,” Zach says, shrugging and spitting his chewing gum into the flowerbed.

  Mum’s face darkens, and I sense it’s time for a speedy exit.

  “We’re going now. I’ll be back by ten,” I say.

  “Wait,” Amber calls after us. “Zach, you haven’t told us what you think about the cake yet…”

  Well, this hasn’t been the best start.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “So what’s the plan?” I ask. “I wasn’t sure you were coming. You didn’t text me.” I giggle, to show I’m messing around, but I’m so nervous that instead of coming out all casual, I sound hysterical.

  Fortunately Zach doesn’t seem to notice. He seems loads more relaxed now we’re walking away from the house and his hand keeps brushing temptingly close to mine. Not that I have the guts to reach out and take it or anything. No way am I that brave. Plus, my palms are a tad sweaty.

  “Text you? Why would I?” Zach asks. “I said I’d be round at seven.”

  “I know, I just thought…” My voice trails off lamely. Exactly what did I think? I guess I’d hoped he might text to say hi, or to let me know where we were going, or at the very least to confirm that everything was still on. Perhaps I was expecting too much. I can be such a muppet sometimes.

  “It did make me realise I don’t have your number though,” I say.

  “Huh? Oh, right, I’ll give it to you later,” Zach says.