Are We Having Fun Yet (Hmmm?)

by Karen McCombie

  Fee still wasn't really talking to me, but I thought a few giggles into this movie and everything would be back to normal.

  Fingers crossed.

  “What did you say this film was about, again, Indie?” Soph asked, as we sat through the trailers.

  “Um, some students at a High School in America, getting up to dumb stuff,” I said vaguely. (I had no idea what dumb stuff they got up to – they could be bungee-jumping with their grannies

  or holding knit-your-own-toothbrush competitions. I'd been too busy being hopeful to ask Caitlin for any details.)

  Right then, Dylan came speeding into the room, rammed the bowl of chilli popcorn under my nose – and dropped a note into my lap!

  I was just about to read it aloud when I saw in capital letters at the top of the note:

  After the disaster of Miss Levy reading my horribly truthful poem out in class yesterday, I thought it would be better to read this secret note as quietly as possible.

  And the quietest place I knew was in my head.

  That was smart thinking.

  Fee had cried so much in the last five days that I was starting to worry about her getting dehydrated and turning into a girl-sized version of a prune.

  “Um, I'll just go get some drinks,” I said, standing up and scurrying towards the kitchen.

  “D'you need a hand?” asked Fee, talking directly to me for the first time in 48 hours. I barked, then realized I should probably have tried to sound more warm and friendly.

  Fee frowned, wondering why I was being so snappy. But obviously, I didn't exactly want her to follow me into the kitchen if there was nothing but sad, bad news going on there.

  “I'll get us all more juice – that chilli popcorn is really hot!” I fibbed, waving at my mouth to pretend to cool it down. “Just start the movie without me – I'll catch up!”

  Before I scooted through the living room door, I glanced at One, Two, Three, Four, Five, and Brian, pootling around in their tank, with no idea of the tragic fishy

  event that had just happened.

  Or the fact that Caitlin was just about to dump the dead goldfish in the bin like a used teabag.

  “NO!” I yelled in a tiny whisper, just as Caitlin stood poised with her foot on the pedal.

  I quickly stood myself in-between the bin and the tank on the worktop, so that the last two lacyedged goldfish didn't see what had so nearly happened.

  (Not that they seemed that bothered that their buddy had just flapped his fins for the last time. They were both too busy nibbling food floating on the surface of the water.)

  “But … but, er, what else am I supposed to do with it?” Caitlin asked, with a helpless look on her face.

  “Well, bury it in the garden, next to the other one, of course!” I explained, thinking that Mum had promised to pick up a pretty plant to stick on the spot (better tell her to make it two pretty plants now).

  I heard Soph's voice drift through from the living room.

  “Coming!” I yelled back, hurriedly looking under the sink for something to put DEAD GOLDFISH NO.2 into.

  “Oh, now that I remember, there was this ONE THING I was going to mention about that film,” said Caitlin, as she softly plopped the fish into the supermarket carrier bag I was now holding out to her.

  “Oh, yeah?” I mumbled, tying a knot in the top of the bag, and panicking where to

  stash it till I could deal with it later.

  “It is really, really funny, but right at the beginning, there's this stupid bit where a couple of lads in a car run over a cat. I mean they don't really – they only pretend to do it as a bad-taste joke to scare their girlfriends, but—”

  Through in the living room, Fee didn't seem to appreciate the bad-taste joke one little, tiny bit.

  And it didn't seem like this was a great Cheer Up Fee Plan after all.

  Better start working on Cheer Up Fee Plan No. 6…

  “What am I going to do …

  what am I going to do …

  what am I going to do…?”

  That could've been me, fretting about Cheer Up Fee Plan No. 6 – but it wasn't.

  The person doing the fretting was my mum, and she was fretting over the fish tank in the kitchen.

  “Are those two alright?” I asked her, as I cleared up the glasses and the empty chilli popcorn bowl.

  (Technically, me, Fee, Soph and Dylan should still have been watching the “funny” DVD Caitlin had lent us. But once Fee got upset and went home, no one else was much in the mood to watch a movie and left too. Except for me, of course. I couldn't leave since I lived here.)

  “This one's looking better, but this one…”

  Mum trailed off, and I squinted at the goldfish to see what she was on about.

  Sure enough, one goldfish was looking a little more orangey and less

  lacy than it did a few days ago. And the other fish … well, it was more a greyfish than a goldfish, which wasn't a good sign.

  “We'll just have to keep going with the antibiotics and hope for the best, eh, Indie?”

  “Fingers crossed,” I nodded up at Mum.

  When she was young, Mum used to be a model and wear fancy clothes and smell of perfume.

  Now she's the boss of the Rescue Centre, lives in old trousers and smells of hamster bedding.

  But she's still a

  gorgeous mum, and I LOVE spending time with her like this, standing shoulder-to-shoulder, just talking about whatever.

  “Anyway, is everything alright with you, Indie?” Mum asked, wrapping her arm around my waist.

  (Having Mum wrap her arm around my waist is even better than standing shoulder-to-shoulder with her.)

  “Kind of,” I shrugged. “But Fee's still really down-in-the-dumps. And every time me, Soph and Dylan try to cheer her up, we manage to make her more miserable…”

  “Sorry, Indie – I haven't been asking enough about all that,” Mum apologized to me. “Things have been so hectic with work that my head's a bit full-up and fuzzy with it all.”

  What was new?

  Ever since she went to work at the Rescue Centre, Mum's head's been full-up and fuzzy with animal stuff.

  And she'd already told me that this week was specially busy 'cause of the sick fish, and trying to find homes for

  a shy snake,

  a zillion cats,

  a very lazy pot-bellied pig

  AND

  a nervous old dog that weed itself every time visitors said hello to it.

  (No wonder Mum's head was a bit full-up and fuzzy.)

  “That's OK,” I forgave Mum. “But I wish I could think of something to Cheer Up Fee.” “Remind me, what have you tried already?” asked Mum.

  Well…

  1 Dylan tried telling Fee jokes, but that just made her mad.

  2 Then I tried giving her chocolate cookies, but she felt too sick to eat.

  3 Then we all bought her a Garfield toy, but that made her miss the real Garfield even more.

  4 Then I thought I'd be nice and tell Miss Levy about Garfield, so Fee wouldn't have to, but Miss Levy read out my NOT-NICE poem about

  Garfield and Fee got angry with me.

  “Oops,”

  mumbled Mum.

  I didn't need to tell Mum about Fee crying over the intro to Caitlin's film, 'cause she came home from work just as Fee's dad arrived to take her (and Soph and Dylan) home.

  “Can you think of anything that would cheer Fee up, Mum?” I asked.

  Mum frowned a bit, like she was thinking very, very, very hard.

  That went on for quite a while, which made me hope there was a very, very, very good idea coming at the end of all that frowning.

  “Indie…” Mum began. “My brain is so full-up and fuzzy that I haven't got a clue. Sorry! But how about we go bury the goldfish that died today, and I promise I'll keep on thinking my hardest?”

  And so Mum and me headed for the garden – clutching the supermarket plastic bag – and gave a quick knock on Caitlin's bed
room door, so she could join us in the funeral ceremony.

  'Cause she was feeling guilty for nearly chucking the dead goldfish in the bin, Caitlin took her didgeridoo out into the garden and played a lovely, sad tune on it •.

  As Caitlin rumble-bumbled her sad tune, and Mum buried the goldfish beside his old fishy friend – just left of the holly bush our cat Smudge liked to poo under – I had it.

  An idea, I mean. I had an idea to cheer up Fee, and it was all thanks to something

  Mum had said.

  No, it wasn't anything about antibiotics or fuzzy heads.

  It was much, much better than that. In fact, it was a brand-new, very, VERY good plan, and would make Fee very, VERY happy indeed.

  Maybe…

  I mean, it wasn't just good, or very good, it was

  And it hadn't come a second too soon.

  Fee was in desperate need of cheering up. Me, Soph and Dylan saw that as soon as we walked into her room on Thursday afternoon after school, and checked out the shrine she'd made on her chest of drawers.

  Beside a big, framed photo of Garfield were …

  a vase of flowers

  Garfield's collar

  Garfield's food bowl

  Garfield's water bowl

  Garfield's favourite (very chewed) catnip mouse.

  All that was missing was Garfield's litter tray and a half-dead frog (thank goodness). But we'd left the smell of flowers and sadness behind and were now all outdoors, strolling slowly and carefully along the pavement. (You'll understand why in a second.)

  “Wow – this is going to be so much fun!” I told Soph and Dylan, and especially Fee.

  Soph and Dylan grinned back at me.

  Fee looked nervous, but that was probably because she was scared of tripping, since she couldn't see where she was going with the blindfold on and everything.

  Let me explain…

  Cheer Up Fee Plan No. 6 was a

  And the Magical Mystery Tour led from Fee's House to the Paws For Thought Rescue Centre.

  Once we were there, we'd whip off the blindfold and Fee would be surrounded by heaps of miaowing, mewing, fluffy kitties, and she'd fall in love with one of them and want to have it for her very, very own.

  How could she resist?

  So that was my amazing Cheer Up Fee Plan – but it had been quite hard to organize.

  FIRST, I'd got the idea from Mum, who'd mentioned all the zillions of cats she had to try and find new homes for. (Well, a shy snake or a pot-bellied pig or whatever would hardly take the place of Garfield.)

  SECOND, I'd had to get my mum to phone Fee's mum, to check if she thought the Cheer Up Fee Plan was a good one. (Phew – she did.)

  THIRD, I'd had to find a blindfold. (Caitlin lent me a dark red silk scarf.)

  FOURTH, me, Soph and Dylan had had to convince Fee that our “game” was going to be a good one.

  But at last, along with Mrs Dean, we'd managed to persuade Fee to join in with our game.

  After ten minutes of leading her bumbling and complaining from her house, we were finally there.

  “Hello!” I said, and waved at Rose, the receptionist at the Rescue Centre, who was in on our secret plan.

  Rose buzzed a buzzer and sprang open the door that led through to the animal buildings.

  “Where are we?” asked Fee, her ears tuning into all the barking, miaowing, oinking and clucking going on.

  “The moon,” I joked, hurrying towards the cat block.

  Fee wasn't dumb (in fact she was pretty smart), so it would only take a nanosecond for her to work out that we were either at …

  “Indie, when can I take this scarf—” Just as Fee was about to say the word “off?”, I tugged at the bow at the back of her head and the red silk slipped away.

  “Oh!” murmured Fee, her green eyes blinking at the sea of small, purry, furry faces in cages. Dylan smiled at me. I smiled at Soph. Soph smiled at Dylan.

  We all smiled at each other.

  Yep, Plan No. 6 was going to work totally brilliantly, we were sure of it!

  “Oh!” Fee murmured again, walking over to the nearest cage.

  “Told you this was going to be fun!” I whispered to Dylan and Soph.

  “Cats!!” Fee murmured yet again, sounding a bit surprised, confused and happy all at once.

  “That's right!” my mum's voice drifted in the door just behind us. “Feel free to wander round and meet

  them all!”

  “They're so cuuuuutttteee!!” Fee cooed, opening a door and sticking her hand into a cage of kittens and getting every finger rubbed against and nuzzled.

  “And all of them looking for

  lovely new homes,” Mum continued, throwing me a wink.

  Please,

  oh, please,

  oh, PLEASE

  let Fee find a new cat and be happy! I said to myself, crossing my fingers so tight behind my back that they were probably turning blue.

  It's just that I missed the old, fun Fee.

  I missed her getting jokes.

  I missed drooling over cookies with her.

  I missed chatting about silly stuff and nonsense together.

  I missed seeing her wearing shades of lilac and lavender and mauve.

  If she could just get a cat and get happy, then everything would be back to normal.

  “Aw, this one's cutetoo!

  And this one!

  And this one!”

  Fee sighed, hurrying along the cages and wiggling her fingers through the mesh towards fat cats, skinny cats, glamour cats and scruffy cats.

  “So which one are you going to take?” Soph burst out excitedly.

  Fee stopped dead, right beside the cage of a BIG, white and black cat with a mean look and one fang glinting.

  The happy smile on Fee's face had slithered away.

  Uh-oh.

  “What d'you mean, which one am I going to TAKE?” she said, her fingers clutching tightly onto the wire mesh. “Well, which one's going to be your new cat?” Soph asked brightly, somehow not really realizing that Fee had gone gloomy again.

  “But –

  but –

  I don't want a new cat!” Fee mumbled, with her bottom lip wibble-wobbling. “It won't be G– G–Garfield, will it?”

  Mum immediately spotted that Fee needed a mumsy moment, and hurried over, arms outstretched, just as Fee started blubbing.

  At that second, the white and black, mean-looking, one-fanged cat decided to sink its one fang into Fee's hand.

  Owwwwwwwwww!!

  Fee yowled.

  As Fee yowled and cried, and cried and yowled, Dylan shot me a panicked look.

  “Indie … are we having fun yet?” he asked me.

  “Hmm?” I hmmed back, watching my mum hug Fee.

  It was easier to go “hmm?” than admit to Dylan that no – we definitely weren't having fun…

  “Let's get that seen to,” said Mum, hurrying a tearful Fee and her bitten finger towards the door.

  As it swung closed behind them, me, Soph and Dylan stood in silence.

  Well, silence-ish.

  Maybe we weren't doing any talking, but there was plenty of mewing and purring going on in the background.

  “Do they make very small muzzles for cats?” Dylan finally asked, staring over

  warily at the GROUCHY, finger-munching cat.

  The GROUCHY, finger-munching cat stared back, its one fang glinting.

  Dylan shivered.

  “Don't think so,” I said, shaking my head. “Y'know, maybe that cat acted mean because it's been treated cruelly in the past.”

  “Or maybe it acted mean because it used to be a starving stray, and it thought that Fee was going to reach in and steal its food,” suggested Soph.

  “Or maybe it's just plain mean,” muttered Dylan.

  Maybe he was right.

  Maybe someone had handed the cat into the Paws For Thought Rescue Centre 'cause it spent all day lying in wait and slashing at its owner's ankles for fun.r />
  “Well, I guess we should go and catch up with Mum and Fee,” I said half-heart-edly.

  But none of us moved. Me, Soph and Dylan, we weren't doing very well at cheering her up, and all of us knew that we were probably the last people she wanted to see right now.

  In fact, I bet she'd rather see one of Garfield's fleas instead of us right now.

  “Seven's a lucky number.”

  That was Dylan.

  Dylan coming out with one of those things-that-don't-make-sense. He does that a lot.

  “What ARE you on about?” I asked him. “We should try and think of something else to cheer Fee up before we go see her,” he said, as if that made everything clear. (It didn't.)

  “Well, yeah,” Soph nodded, her arms crossed over her chest. “But what's that got to do with seven being a lucky number?”

  “Me telling jokes, that was number 1,” Dylan started to explain, holding his fingers up as he began to reel off Cheer Up Fee Plans. “Indie, you making cookies, that was number 2.”

  “Oh, I get it. So buying the squishy cat toy was number 3,” Soph joined in. “And number 4 was when Indie was going to explain to Miss Levy about Garfield so Fee didn't have to.”

  Hmm. That was the Cheer Up Plan that nearly became the How-To-Lose-A-Friend-By-Putting-Your-Foot-In-It Plan.

  “Number 5 was watching Caitlin's DVD,” Dylan carried on.

  “And number 6 was the Magical Mystery Tour,” I mumbled, staring around at all the cages of cats, NONE of whom would be going home with Fee today.

  Boo…