by Judi Curtin
Lily looked up, and said ‘hi’ in a bored voice. Cathy just yawned.
I could feel my face going red. This was so unfair. Why were these girls acting like this? What did I ever do to them?
Suddenly I felt like I could see right into their minds. I knew what they must be thinking:
I was with Kate - Kate is totally uncool - I must be totally uncool too.
This was terrible. How could I make them understand the truth?
Before I could come up with a plan, Cathy stood up.
‘Time to go,’ she said in a bored voice.
Then the other girl stood up, and they both walked off, sliding along in their totally cool flip-flops.
They couldn’t leave.
How dare they leave?
I felt like running after them.
But what would I say?
So I watched as they slouched off, and then I turned back to Kate.
‘See?’ she said.
‘I don’t see anything,’ I muttered. ‘Now I’ve got to go. I think it’s time for my tea, or my lunch or my nap or something.’
Kate just shrugged, so I walked off and left her.
In the end I couldn’t resist looking back. She was still standing there, with her arms folded, looking sad and lost.
I felt sorry for her.
Of course I did.
But I felt much sorrier for me.
Chapter Eight
Next morning I got up early. It was a lovely sunny day, and I had a horrible feeling that Kate was going to call for me so that we could go to the beach together.
But if Kate called, I so didn’t want to be there. I wanted to spend the day with Cathy and Lily, the girls I was sure were going to be my new best friends.
I spent ages getting ready. I wore some of the clothes I’d borrowed from Victoria and Ella. I put on the bracelet that Ruby had given me. I begged Mum to give me my hair-straightener back, and for once in her life she acted like a normal human being and gave it to me. I straightened my hair and immediately I felt like myself again. Then I set off for the village to meet my two new best friends.
It didn’t take long to find them. They were sitting on the wall where I’d seen them the day before. I took a deep breath, fixed my collar and walked towards them.
They looked up as I approached. Cathy put her hand over her eyes to shield them from the sun. Then she whispered something to Lily and they both laughed.
Were they laughing at me?
How dare they laugh at me?
I thought of marching off, but my legs kept walking towards the two girls.
I got closer, and stood facing them for a second. No one said anything. The girls examined their nails again, and I kicked a pebble against the wall.
Then nothing happened.
I knew I had to be brave – my whole summer holidays depended on it.
‘Hi, I’m Eva,’ I said, smiling brightly.
The girls looked up, but neither of them smiled back at me.
‘We know,’ said Lily.
‘You’re Kate’s friend,’ said Cathy.
‘But I’m not,’ I began. ‘I just––’ Cathy interrupted me. ‘Kate’s crazy, haven’t you noticed?’
Lily continued. ‘Crazy clothes, crazy hair, crazy girl.’
Then they both laughed.
‘Kate smells bad,’ said Cathy, holding her perfectly-shaped nose with her perfectly-manicured fingers.
‘I know ………,’ I began, but then I stopped myself.
Kate might be a bit different, but she wasn’t crazy, and she certainly didn’t smell bad. I hesitated, as all kinds of thoughts raced through my brain.
If I defended Kate, then these girls wouldn’t like me.
And I so badly wanted them to like me.
But if I didn’t defend Kate, then who would?
Cathy spoke again. ‘Kate is the biggest loser in the whole wide world,’ she said.
And that’s when I made up my mind.
‘I think Kate’s great,’ I said.
Then I turned and walked away.
I’d only gone a few metres when I had a horrible thought. I’d just kissed goodbye to my dream of making cool friends on this holiday. If I didn’t do something quickly, I wouldn’t see anyone cool until I got to see Victoria and Ella again, and that could be weeks away.
I turned around, ready to tell Cathy and Lily that I’d just been joking – that I agreed with them about Kate. I even started to say it.
‘I was just ……,’ I began.
But Cathy and Lily weren’t listening. They were pointing at me and laughing, and I knew that there was no going back.
I’m not stupid.
I knew that if Cathy and Lily were always so mean, then they weren’t worth being friends with.
Still though, I had a sick, horrible feeling in my stomach as I slowly walked away.
When I got home, Mum and Joey were in the kitchen.
‘Did you have a nice walk?’ asked Mum.
I shook my head.
‘No,’ I said. ‘It was totally awful. Walks are never much fun, but that was the worst walk of my whole life.’
And then, because I had nothing left to lose, I told her the whole story.
When I was finished, Mum came over and hugged me.
‘That was brave of you, Eva,’ she said. ‘I’m very proud of you.’
I tried to smile. Making Mum proud was a nice feeling, but could it ever make up for having no cool friends?
‘So is Kate your new best friend now?’ asked Joey, like he could read my mind.
Before I could answer, he continued. ‘I hope she is, because she called over when you were out, and your mum invited her to come for lunch.’
Chapter Nine
At one o’clock there was a knock on the door.
For one small second, I allowed myself to hope that it might be Cathy and Lily. Maybe they wanted to tell me they’d only been joking when they’d said those mean things about Kate, and that they really wanted to be friends with me.
But my small hope faded as Joey raced over to answer the door. Seconds later, Kate came into the room. She was still wearing the boys’ tracksuit and runners, but her hair was neatly combed, and her face was red and shiny, like she’d just finished washing it.
She looked embarrassed as she held a bunch of battered wild flowers towards Mum.
‘I brought you these,’ she said.
Mum took them and held them to her nose.
‘Thank you very– eeeeek,’ she screeched, dropping the flowers to the floor.
Now Kate looked even more embarrassed.
Joey ran over to investigate.
‘Cool!’ he said. ‘It’s an earwig. But I don’t think Paula likes earwigs all that much.’
I giggled. Mum’s absolutely terrified of earwigs. Dad stepped forward with a rolled-up newspaper.
‘Where is it?’ he asked. ‘I’ll finish it off.’
‘No!’ said Kate loudly, and we all stared at her.
‘No,’ she said more softly. ‘Don’t kill it. I’ll catch it and take it outside.’
Before anyone could argue, Kate had scooped up the tiny creature and put it gently on the grass beside the front door.
Mum recovered herself.
‘Sorry, Kate,’ she said. ‘They’re really lovely flowers, and it was kind of you to bring them. Pick them up please Joey, and put them …… put them in a vase in the other room.’
Joey did what he was told, and then we all sat down for our lunch.
Dad served up the food, and we started to eat. Apart from the scraping of our knives and forks, there was a long awkward silence around the table.
Even Joey was unusually quiet.
‘Do you like school, Kate?’ asked Mum after a while.
What kind of a question was that?
Better than any I could think of.
Kate’s mouth was full of food, and she chewed frantically before she could answer. ‘Not really,’ she said, and then there was anot
her long silence.
Mum and Dad kept trying to break the silence, but after a few sentences, the conversation always came to a sudden halt. It was turning into the longest lunch of my life.
Then Joey managed to liven things up.
‘Who do you live with?’ he asked Kate.
I stopped eating so I could listen carefully. I really wanted to know the answer to that question. Kate didn’t talk a whole lot, and she never talked about her family. And any time I asked her a question she avoided it or half-answered it with a single word. Now, with Mum and Dad listening, what was she going to say?
‘I live with my granny,’ she said after a while.
‘Your granny?’ repeated Mum.
Kate was going red.
‘Yes, but I call her Martha.’
‘Why do you call her that?’ asked Joey.
Kate giggled.
‘Because it’s her name.’
Everyone laughed then, except for Joey who hates it when he thinks people are laughing at him.
‘So where are your mum and dad?’ he said crossly. ‘Why don’t you live with them?’
‘Joey!’ said Mum, but she didn’t say any more. I figured she was as curious as I was.
‘I don’t remember my mum,’ began Kate. ‘She went away when I was very small.’
‘Where did she go?’ asked Joey.
Kate shrugged.
‘Dublin, I think. No one really knows for sure.’
‘And did she come back?’ asked Joey.
Kate shook her head.
Mum patted her arm.
‘I’m sorry to hear that.’
Kate shrugged again.
‘That’s OK. Martha says my mum wasn’t cut out to be a mother, and that I’m probably better off without her.’
I tried to get my head around what she was saying. My mum can be a total pain sometimes, but I couldn’t imagine what life would be like if she just packed up and walked away.
‘That’s awful,’ I said in the end.
Kate spoke as if she couldn’t get the words out fast enough.
‘It didn’t matter so much, not having Mum around, because I had Dad – and we were very happy. Dad was really fun. We did loads of things together. We went on long walks all over the place. He taught me all about plants and birds and stuff. He showed me where to find the best wild strawberries and mushrooms. He used to pack picnics, and we’d go off for the whole day, just the two of us. We had this special place where no one else went. We called it the Island of Dreams. There was a big tree there. Sometimes I used to climb right to the top. Sometimes we’d bring a rug and we’d sit in the shade of the tree for hours, and Dad used to make up these wild stories about pirates and highwaymen and stuff.’
By now everyone had stopped eating. Joey was actually holding a forkful of food in the air, but was too spellbound to put it into his mouth.
OK, so maybe sitting under a tree, with my dad telling fairy stories wasn’t my idea of a fun day out, but the way Kate told it, it seemed like something magical.
Kate went on talking, almost like it was a dream, and she was still part of it.
‘Sometimes, during the holidays, whole days went by, and we didn’t see anyone else. Sometimes we even camped up in the Island of Dreams. We used to put up this tiny tent, and we’d lie there with the tent-flaps open, so we could watch the stars. Dad knew all about the stars – he knew the names of loads of them. In the morning we’d watch the sun come up, and it was just like magic, watching the start of a whole new day. And when we got home, Martha would pretend to be cross, but she wasn’t really. And she’d sit us up at the big kitchen table and she’d make us pancakes, and then the next day we’d do it all over again.’
Kate stopped talking, and there was another silence.
Then Joey asked the question I hadn’t been brave enough for.
‘Then what happened?’
The dreamy look vanished from Kate’s face, like someone had pressed the ‘erase’ button.
‘Then something terrible happened,’ she said.
‘What?’ persisted Joey.
It was ages before Kate answered, and when she did so, it was in a voice so soft that we all had to lean forward so we could hear her properly. Joey’s forkful of food was nearly touching his nose, but he didn’t seem to notice.
‘You see…’ began Kate.
She stopped, looked around the table at all of us, and then started again in an even quieter voice – almost a whisper.
‘My dad died,’ she said.
I gasped.
Mum and Dad looked at each other.
Joey grinned. ‘Cool,’ he said. ‘How did that happen?’
I kicked him under the table, and Dad said ‘Joey,’ in a real fierce voice, but Kate just shrugged. ‘It’s OK,’ she said. ‘I don’t mind. I’m used to it by now.’
Then in the same soft, whispery voice, she finished her story.
‘It was a lovely sunny day, the kind of day you never want to end. Dad and I had been to the Island of Dreams, and we were on our way home. Dad was carrying the rug, and I was carrying the picnic basket. I always carried the basket on the way home, because it was lighter then. Dad used to tease me about that. And when we got to the junction at the top of the hill, there was this injured bird, right in the middle of the road. It was flapping its wings madly, but no matter how hard it flapped, it couldn’t fly away. And Dad loved all creatures, especially birds, and he could never ever just leave it alone to die. So he stepped out to try to help it, but he didn’t see the truck that was coming around the corner. He………….’ Kate stopped talking, but even Joey was smart enough to figure out what happened next.
There was a very long silence.
I looked desperately at Mum and Dad. They were the grown-ups, and they should know what to say next. For once in her life, though, Mum was speechless. She just patted Kate’s hand. I could see by Kate’s face that this made her feel uncomfortable, and that she was resisting the urge to pull her hand away.
I felt sorry for Kate.
I felt sorry for Mum.
I felt sorry for all of us.
At last, Dad cleared his throat, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Then he spoke in a strange, bright voice.
‘Now then,’ he said. ‘Who’s ready for more pasta?’
Chapter Ten
After lunch, I started to clear off the table, but Mum pushed me away.
‘I’ll do that,’ she said. ‘You and Kate go off outside.’
Usually I’m happy when I don’t have to help out with jobs, but right then, clearing the table seemed a lot easier than trying to think of something to say to Kate.
Kate and I went outside and sat on the wall beside our house. It was a lovely sunny day. But even that made me feel bad. Did every sunny day remind Kate of the day her dad died?
‘Er … I’m really sorry about … you know … what happened to your dad,’ I said in the end.
‘That’s OK,’ she said. ‘It was ages ago. Like I said to Joey – I’m used to it now.’
I didn’t answer. How could anyone get used to something like that? I get mad with my dad sometimes, but never so mad that I’d like to see him walk out in front of a huge truck.
After ages, Kate spoke again. ‘You and me, we’re friends now, right?’
At first I didn’t answer. My friends were the kind of girls who wore cool clothes, and talked about music and films and stuff, not strange, wild girls with short hair and boys’ clothes, who talked about stars and butterflies and mushrooms.
But how could I say that to Kate?
Especially now?
So I shrugged and said. ‘Sure. We’re friends.’
I was embarrassed at how happy Kate was when I said this. It was almost like I’d given her a present.
She smiled at me, and I had a horrible feeling that I’d never seen her smile before. She looked almost pretty when she smiled – with perfect white teeth, and sparkly eyes. I thought about telling her that sh
e should smile more often, but I stopped myself. After her sad life, she probably only allowed herself one or two smiles a year.
‘Since we’re friends,’ she said. ‘Do you want me to show you the Island of Dreams?’
‘Show me what?’ I asked, pretending not to understand.
‘The Island of Dreams. The special place I used to go to with my dad.’
I gulped.
I so didn’t want to go there.
How creepy was it to be hanging out in a place that reminded my poor, weird friend of her dead father?
But how could I possibly say no?
It wasn’t far – just about ten minutes walk from our house. It seemed like a long way though, because for the last few hundred metres, Kate insisted on walking behind me with her hands over my eyes. I felt a bit dizzy, and once I scraped my leg on a wall, but I couldn’t complain. Now that I knew about Kate’s mum and dad, how could I give her a hard time over anything?
As we got closer though, I began to get a bit excited. The Island of Dreams sounded totally cool – like a place from a fantasy story.
And when Kate said, ‘I’m so happy to be bringing you here. At last you’ll be able to meet Jeremy,’ I got very, very excited.
Who was Jeremy, and why hadn’t Kate mentioned him before?
I began to picture a totally cool boy, with tanned skin and sun-bleached hair. Maybe he’d have an amazing Californian or Australian accent.
This could be the start of the perfect holiday.
At last we were there.
Kate took her hands from my eyes with a big flourish.
‘Ta da!’ she said, as if I was going to open my eyes and see something like the fairy castle in Disneyland or a shopping centre full of all my favourite shops.
I opened my eyes, and rubbed them until I could see properly. Then I rubbed them again, just in case I was missing something.
We were standing in a field – a plain old field just like hundreds of others all around us.
‘Well?’ said Kate. ‘What do you think?’
What I thought was that maybe this whole thing was a big joke, but I didn’t like to say this – just in case.