Me Suzy P

by Karen Saunders

  “Sorry,” I mutter. “Only trying to help.”

  “Ooooooh, what am I going to doooooo?” Amber moans, flapping her hands about and looking frantic.

  “You love Mark, don’t you?” I ask, cautiously.

  “I guess so.”

  “You only guess so?”

  “I’m just not sure how I know for certain he’s The One,” Amber says, sounding panicky.

  Like I’m the person to ask. “I, um…”

  “Suzy, you have to help meeeeee!”

  “All right, all right. Give me a minute to think.”

  Then I remember Millie making me list everything I liked about Zach. Maybe that could work here, too. “Why don’t you tell me everything you love about Mark?”

  Amber sniffs and sits quietly for a moment. “Ummmm… he’s funny?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” Amber nods. “He makes me smile. He does this impersonation of a dancing llama that always cracks me up.”

  I smile encouragingly, while knowing I’ll never be able to look at Mark the same way again. Although, come to think of it, it is really nice having someone who can make you laugh that hard. Danny used to do these dumb impressions of our parents that had me in stitches.

  “What else?”

  “He leaves me little love notes all over the place to let me know he’s thinking of me. Like in the car or my handbag or in the bathroom.”

  “Yeah, I remember Dad wasn’t happy that morning he found one on the shaving mirror. But that’s a good thing too; it shows he cares.”

  “Um, he never makes me listen to heavy metal—”

  “He doesn’t like heavy metal,” I interject.

  “That’s another good thing,” Amber says, sounding happier. “Mark likes songs from the shows as much as I do, and he loves my chick flicks.”

  Danny and I liked the same music too. We used to love listening to The Drifting together. We spent hours in the garden last summer with a headphone each, staring up at the sky. Although I don’t have such fond memories of his movie taste and non-stop Star Wars obsession. But I suppose it could have been worse, like those boring martial-arts films Jamie’s always dragging Millie too.

  “Plus Mark buys me loads of presents,” Amber says, interrupting my thoughts. “He even promised he’d buy me an actual chihuahua after we got married.”

  “Those are all great reasons,” I say. “Anything else?”

  Amber’s forehead wrinkles and she appears to be concentrating even harder than when she’s choosing her lip-gloss colour in the morning. “What I think I love most about Mark… is that we can have proper conversations.”

  I have to try not to laugh at this point. A proper conversation? About what exactly?

  Fortunately Amber doesn’t notice and carries on oblivious. “We can really talk, you know? And even when we’re not talking, and are thinking our own stuff, that’s cool too. He knows me better than anybody in the world. He’s like a best friend and nobody else could ever match up.”

  With the first sensible words I think I’ve ever heard my sister say in her life, the realisation hits me. Amber could be describing my feelings about Danny down to a T. Well, apart from the bits about the llama, the heavy metal and the chihuahuas, that is. But the sentiment’s right. Danny was my best friend. And sure, we had some issues, but nothing we couldn’t have talked about.

  Oh. My. God.

  I drop my head into my hands as the realisation of what I’ve lost hits me round the head like a sledgehammer.

  Danny’s the one I really want.

  Danny’s the one I’m still in love with.

  My eyes well up. I’ve been a prize doofus, worrying about whether Danny and I had been together too long. And as for Zach… To be honest, I still feel sick when I think how stupid I was.

  How could I have chucked away everything I had with Danny for him?

  “I feel much better now, thanks, Suzy,” says Amber. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” I lie, and now it’s my turn to sniff loudly.

  “Suzy, I do love Mark, don’t I?” says Amber, tentatively.

  I can’t let my sister make the same mistake I have. “Certainly sounds like it,” I say firmly. “He’s your best friend, you don’t want to be with anyone else, and you shouldn’t let that go.”

  Amber nods.

  “Plus it would be a real shame for your stunning dress to go to waste,” I add.

  I’m impressed. I almost sound sincere.

  “And your fabulous dress too, don’t forget,” Amber says, grinning and swiping at her wet cheeks. “How crazy was I to think I couldn’t do this?”

  “Look at these tights the lovely lady helped me find!” Mum says, charging in. “They’ve got a special sheen and a control panel to—”

  She stops short when she sees Amber and me on the floor. The shop assistant shoots me an apologetic glance that says she couldn’t hold back Mum any longer.

  “What’s going on?” Mum says shakily. “Amber, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

  “I—”

  “She started blubbing when she saw my dress,” I lie hurriedly. “It’s still not the right length, and Amber’s freaking out.”

  “Oh, don’t be so silly,” Mum says, rushing in and pulling Amber to her feet. “That can be easily sorted. A few more pins and a bit of hemming and it’ll be perfect.” She stands back to admire my sister. “Now, dry those tears. Let’s get your veil and tiara out so you can try it all on one last time.”

  As I leave to have more pins stuck into various parts of my body, Amber mouths, “Thank you” over Mum’s head.

  I grin back, but my smile quickly fades.

  I wish I’m as good at sorting out my own love life as I am at fixing my sister’s.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  “Suzy, where are you?” Mum bellows at the top of her increasingly hysterical voice.

  It’s Friday night, and most people my age are out with their mates, having a good time. Me? I’m hiding behind a tree in my garden, avoiding my mother. The wedding is tomorrow, and she’s hit new levels of hyper since the wedding rehearsal. We left the church an hour ago, so at least now we know vaguely where we’re supposed to stand and what we’re meant to be doing. Everyone is happy and so excited.

  Everyone except me.

  I’m trying not to think about the smooch-fest ahead, but the word ‘wedding’ is mentioned whenever anyone opens their mouth. The whole flipping world is shoving love in my face. It’s as if there’s some kind of happy couple epidemic – they’re on the street, at school, on TV – even Dad’s got the bug and has been kissing and snuggling with Mum more than usual, which is too vomitous for words. Nobody wants to see that, not at their age.

  So I’m coping with all that and having to skulk in the garden because Mum has finally shot right off the lunar scale of loopiness.

  Obviously not thinking that planning and organising a wedding would give her enough to do, she decided to hold a barbecue at our house tonight, to ‘welcome’ Mark and his relatives into our family.

  It’s not the best idea Mum’s ever had, it has to be said. I think she’s come to the same conclusion too, because right now she’s on the verge of a breakdown.

  I mean, why did she think it would be a good plan to have a barbecue, when it’s still practically winter and could chuck hailstones at any minute? Let alone leave Dad in charge of the cooking? Dad is a firm believer that if it’s cremated on the outside, it’s cooked. Never mind if it’s still mooing on the inside.

  The doorbell rings, and I can hear loud voices all speaking at once. Amber’s cooing and gushing as she greets everyone. She’s been totally different since our chat in the department store, returning to her mushtastic self and gushing over her future husband at every opportunity. I never thought the day would come when I’d be glad to hear them call each other ‘Ambypamby’ and ‘Markymoo’, but I’m genuinely relieved they’re all right.

  From my vantage point be
hind the tree, I watch as a long procession of people start to flood into the garden.

  Wow, Mark’s family is huge!

  Mum was only expecting Mark, his parents and two brothers, but it seems like there are aunts, uncles, cousins and even a couple of next-door neighbours thrown in for good measure.

  In the conservatory, Mum’s trying to appear calm, but I can tell she’s having a major panic, probably because she hasn’t bought nearly enough food.

  “You’ll have to cut the sausages in half, Chris,” she hisses frantically out of the door, which is when she spots me. “Suzy? Suzy, what are you doing behind that tree?”

  Darn it. Busted.

  “Where have you been?” Mum says tightly as I go over to her. “I need help. There’s a jug of Pimm’s in here that needs to go out.”

  I open my mouth to protest, but Mum’s already gone.

  I suppose it’s my own fault. Harry’s more savvy than to appear in Mum’s eye line. I should have hidden round the corner of the house with her, where she’s been busy replacing the cooked sausages with rubber imitations. You have to admire her. There aren’t many people who’d have rubber sausages at the ready.

  Over by the rockery, Mark’s dad has made the mistake of attempting conversation with Aunty Loon.

  “Who did you say you were?” she says, scowling fiercely.

  “Mark’s dad,” Mr Mycock replies, a little nervously.

  “Mark? Who’s Mark?”

  “Um, Amber’s future husband?”

  “Amber’s what?” Aunt Loon looks aghast. “Don’t be ridiculous, she’s not getting married. Someone would have told me.”

  Good luck with that one, Mr M. You could be there some time.

  As I head into the kitchen, I bump into Amber, who’s balancing several large bowls of salad on top of each other. A fiver says they get dropped before they make it anywhere near the outside world.

  “Isn’t this great?” Amber gushes. “I’m so excited everyone’s here.” The top bowl wobbles precariously.

  “Watch out!” I leap for the bowl and rescue it just in time. “Mum’ll go even more schizoid if you drop these.”

  “Oh, she’s fine,” Amber says. “Just a teeny bit stressed cause I invited a few extra people, but that’s all.”

  “A few?!”

  Amber scrunches her nose guiltily. “Well, maybe more than a few. But Mark’s relatives are so lovely, and then there are the neighbours, and all his friends, and I wanted everyone to meet each other because we’re all going to be one big happy family tomorrow.”

  I lower my voice. “So you’re definitely feeling better about everything?”

  “Oooh yes, yes, yes!” Amber nods so frantically I fear for her brain cell. “I don’t know what I was thinking the other day. How could I ever have doubted Mark? He’s my little honeybunny, and I love him soooo much. I can’t wait to be his wife!”

  Amber dumps the bowls on a shelf behind her, and grabs me, squeezing tight.

  “I love you too, you know, Suzy. You’re the best sister in the world and I’m so lucky to have you.”

  “Amber…” I choke, running out of oxygen.

  Amber squeezes even harder. “I’m so excited about tomorrow, aren’t you? And it’s all going ahead because of you. All because of you! I wish there was something I could do to thank you. I know you’re getting to be my bridesmaid tomorrow, which is obviously amazing, but there’s got to be something else…”

  “You could buy me tickets for The Drifting,” I offer hopefully, but Amber’s not listening. She’s released me to examine her long, perfectly manicured nails.

  “It’s such a shame you’re single now,” Amber says. “Everyone should be as happy and in love as I am. Did you never manage to sort things out with Danny?”

  I gaze at my sister warily. “I guess we’re kind of friends now. Sort of. But that’s all. He’s, um, seeing someone else.”

  Oof. It still hurts to say that out loud.

  “Why do you want to know, anyway?” I ask, suspiciously.

  “No reason,” Amber says, reaching out to give me a hug. “I don’t like to see you so sad, that’s all.”

  Oh. Well, that’s sweet. And surprisingly caring, coming from my sister.

  “Now, you are going to make sure you cleanse properly tonight, aren’t you?” As Amber pokes at my chin, I realise our special moment has passed. “It looks like you’re still a bit spotty after that incident with the face pack. We don’t want spots in the wedding pics, Suzypoos. Zap them quick!”

  “Suzy, what are you doing?” Mum shouts, as Amber skips off with the salads. “People are dying of thirst out there. Take this out. And don’t drop it, I know what you’re like.”

  Grabbing the jug of Pimm’s from Mum, and slopping half of it over the kitchen floor, I head back outside, and start to serve the drinks.

  “So, Chris, you must be looking forward to getting rid of these two,” Mr Mycock says, holding out his glass to me as he tilts his head towards Amber and Mark.

  “Understatement of the year,” Dad says, shaking his head and trying to restrain the broad grin creeping across his face. “Just when you think one’s about to leave, they start moving other people in.”

  Mr Mycock laughs. “So, Amber, have you seen any flats you like yet?”

  “Um, well…” Amber exchanges a gooey smile with Mark. “We’ve actually got something to say about that. Mum, would you come here for a minute? We’ve got an announcement to make.”

  Dad’s face lights up. “They’ve done it,” I hear him mutter gleefully. “They’ve finally found somewhere to live and are moving out.”

  Mum bustles out into the garden, wiping her hands on her apron. I wonder if I should tell her she’s got salad cream streaked down one cheek?

  “We’ve got some exciting news,” Amber says, beaming at Mark, who puts his arm around her waist and hugs her close. “And we wanted to tell all of you first, as you’re our closest family. I did a test this morning and Markymoo and I are having a baby!”

  Mum lets out a scream of delight and rushes forwards to hug Amber.

  “A baby?” Mrs Mycock claps her hands in ecstasy.

  “That’s why I’ve been feeling so emotional, and eating strange things, and putting on so much weight.” Amber giggles, rubbing her hand over her tummy. “It’s all because of this ickle-pickle in here.”

  “You are still planning on moving out, though, aren’t you?” Dad asks.

  “Silly Daddy, babies are expensive, we won’t be able to afford to,” Amber laughs. “But we knew you and Mum wouldn’t mind, because you won’t want to miss out on a single precious moment with your new grandchild. Right, Mum?”

  “Of course you and Mark must stay,” Mum says. “Oooh, I’m so excited, I can’t wait. Suzy and Harry, you’re going to be aunties, isn’t it wonderful?”

  As Amber and Mum excitedly start the baby talk I suspect is going to take over from the wedding madness that’s enveloped them for the last year, I notice Dad’s gone horribly pale.

  “Drink, Dad?” I offer, hastily.

  Dad downs his beer in one, pours himself another, and retreats to the safety of the barbecue. As he goes, I hear him grumbling to himself. “Was only supposed to be temporary… weren’t supposed to stay… nobody mentioned a baby. I’ll never get any peace in this damn house… and it’s my flaming house. Why won’t they bloody leave?”

  As Mark cuddles Amber into his side and she smiles up at him, I feel a big pang of sadness. Because I’m all on my own.

  Danny always got on really well with my family, and I miss having him around for stuff like this.

  But it’s too late. I’ve got to try and move on.

  Hopefully that’ll be easier once the wedding’s over.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  After countless hours of planning and preparation, Amber’s wedding day is finally here. Between Mum and Amber, the levels of over-excitement in the Puttock household have reached intolerable heights. My eardrum
s are already ringing from all the shrieking.

  I escaped as soon as I could after breakfast to go and start getting ready. I’m now standing in my bedroom, staring despondently at my reflection.

  What’s with these stupid material flowers anyway? And my eyes are all puffy, because I was up half the night crying. They’re so swollen that Mum and Amber made me lie down on the kitchen floor with slices of cucumber covering them for forty minutes before they let me have my croissant and orange juice.

  Urrrghh. Having to be bridesmaid today is the cherry on top of my cacky cake.

  Hello, people, I’m broken-hearted here! Don’t you get that?

  I don’t want to fake happiness about other people’s fabulous love lives. I want to skulk around gloomily, wearing black, listening to emo music and thinking how rubbish everything is.

  “Will you give me a hand, Mil?” I ask.

  “Sure,” Millie says, putting down the magazine she’s flicking through and hopping off the bed.

  “I can’t believe I’ve got to go out in public wearing this,” I declare, swatting crossly at one of the dress’s oversized flowers as Millie does up my zip.

  Millie stands back to assess the whole outfit. “It’s not that bad.”

  I make a face. “It’s not that good, either.”

  “I’m sure you’ll feel better when your hair and make-up is done,” Millie offers.

  She’s doing her best to help, but I think I’m a lost cause. We’re still waiting for the hair and make-up people to arrive, and all I can say is that I hope they can work miracles. It’s going to take more than a dab of mascara and a touch of lippy to get me bridesmaidesque. Or even humanesque, for that matter.

  My eyes are bloodshot, my face is pasty, and my curls are more uncontrollable than usual after I tossed and turned all night. I’ll need some industrial-strength product to get this mane behaving today.

  “I look as rough as a badger’s bum cheeks,” I mutter.

  “Oh, c’mon, this could have been a lot worse,” Millie says. “You almost wore lime green, remember?”

  “That’s true,” I say, shuddering. “I don’t even want to think about how bad that would have been.”