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  ‘Hey, you’re good. You didn’t mention my worst bits.’

  ‘I keep telling you, I do know what I’m doing,’ said Dolores, emptying her bag out onto the bed. Cosmetics, hair brushes and a push-up bra cascaded across Leonard, Sheldon and Raj’s faces. ‘I know you think I’m thick, but I’m not.’

  ‘I know you’re not thick; I said so!’ Oh no, that was someone else. ‘The other day, I said so, didn’t I?’

  ‘Yes, now be quiet so I can do your make up.’ Seeing as she was all in chargey, I did as I was told. ‘I’m not doing anything much,’ she said, talking me through it like a TV make-up artist. ‘Just mascara for your eyelashes …’ – doing big eyes at me which I took to mean open your eyes or get black blobs in them – ‘ … which are pretty long but we can’t see them because they’re fair, and …’ – raising her eyebrows so I raised mine then discovered she was just peering at my skin, so I dropped them again – ‘ … a bit of foundation to cover any blotchiness, and …’ – snapping her mouth open and closed like a ventriloquist’s dummy – ‘a touch of lip gloss.’ It came out like “uh uchh o leep nogs’ but she was waving it at me so I knew what she meant.

  Actually, she did a good job. When I saw myself in the mirror, I looked like me but a bit better, like I’d just had the best night’s sleep ever. Then she waved the bra at me. ‘I got this especially for you from work. If you’ll wear this, I’ll let you wear your jeans and choir tee-shirt.’

  I sighed, but tried it on, and suddenly there were my boobs, right under a Celtic harp that I’d never noticed before on my madrigal tee-shirt. They weren’t in Dolores’ category, but at least my front now looked different to my back.

  ‘And now for the hair.’

  Even as she said it, it was clear that Dolores knew this was going to be her biggest challenge.

  It was. No matter what she did, she couldn’t tame the hair wings, fold them flat against my head, tie them up on the top, tuck them around my ears, or anything.

  ‘You’ve just got too much hair,’ she complained. ‘It’s not natural. You should shave it off or something. In fact …’

  ‘You are not shaving my hair off. I might hate my hair, but at least it’s there.’ Jason didn’t shave his off and he had good reason to want to look completely different, I wanted to add, but didn’t.

  Dolores let the wings flap back down against my ears. ‘I give up on the hair. Maybe you should change the colour, or something. But not now – we don’t have time.’

  Suddenly a newly busty me and a usually busty Dolores were hurrying out of the door. We were meeting Freddie and Nerdy Mate at the bowling alley, and then maybe getting a burger afterwards.

  ‘I left it really open in case you don’t like him,’ said Dolores. ‘If you hate him after bowling, we can just leave.’

  For a moment I was confused. But I know I like him - I Chemical Reaction him, in fact, was what I thought immediately. Only then did it dawn on me that she meant Nerdy M, not Freddie, and that Freddie was there for completely different reasons.

  Still, if ever I was going to get him to notice me, it was in a push-up bra with newly discovered eyelashes.

  ‘Good plan,’ I said.

  Now that we were getting close to the bowling alley, my stomach was starting to churn. Dolores, naturlich, looked cool as a cucumber in a pair of silvery jeggings and a flowery top that was only slightly see-through. I was already sweating into the back of my tee-shirt and feeling very weird around the eyes, as I wasn’t used to wearing mascara and it seemed as though my eyelashes were sticking together. I devised a way of flicking my eyelids apart to counteract the stickiness and wondered how Jason was getting on. And what Freddie would be wearing. And whether Jason had found Jazzy. And what Freddie would want to talk about. And whether Jason would have to go back to the Vortexicon to de-activate Jazzy, or whatever, in which case I’d have to meet him there and help out. It was my step-dad-to-be’s lab, after all.

  I was just pondering on how attractive Freddie’s upper lip would be looking tonight when we pulled up at the complex with the bowls and the burgers, and there they were: Freddie the Glorious in a long, knitted jumper over skinny jeans, and Nerdy Mate in an identical outfit although he was kind of short and dumpy.

  Freddie beamed as we got off the bus, and held out a hand to help Dolores down from the high step. He didn’t help me, but then I’m tall and didn’t need the assistance. Nerdy Mate just stood back and grinned. At me.

  ‘Hi, Cat,’ he said, and my heart sank even further than it already had when Freddie and his lip (very attractive tonight, I’m sorry to say) smiled up at Dolores. Nerdy Mate sounded like a ten year old. For some reason I imagined him prancing on a table like Jason had, shouting ‘LAYDEEEZ’ in his high-pitched squeak, and it was all I could do not to laugh.

  He was still staring at me, and I realised I hadn’t answered him. ‘Oh, hi …’ Nerdy Mate. Nerdy M. Nerd to his friends? ‘Um. Hi.’

  I still didn’t know the ten year old’s name. Surely to Da Vinci someone was going to mention his name soon. I waited for Freddie to introduce us, but he was just gawking at Dolores in her see-through top (actually it was much more see-through than I’d first thought, now that I saw it next to Freddie). Somehow we’d fallen into double-date formation, with Freddie and Dolores leading the way and me and Nerdy trailing behind, staring at their backs.

  Nerdy M tried making conversation. ‘So Dolores says you’re not really going out with the divine Jazzy D.’

  ‘No. Just friends. From Jersey,’ I said.

  Quite good friends, actually, I wanted to add. Today I told him something I’ve never told a soul apart from my mum and the odd psychotherapist, and he remembered my full name. I don’t even know yours, Nerdy.

  ‘That’s cool. So you’re …’ Nerdy cast around for the right word. ‘… available.’

  Not really, Nerdy. Can I call you Nerdy? I’m in desperate Chemical Reaction hell with your best mate over there – the one who’s currently attempting to hold the doll-like manicured hand of my Bestie and has cute little downy bits of hair on the back of his neck that are almost adorable as the fluffy stretch of his upper lip …

  ‘Cat?’

  ‘Sorry. No. Yes. Not officially available, but not unofficially either.’

  He held open the bowling alley door for me. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Neither do I.’

  I could see from the expression on Nerdy’s face that he was beginning to regret this already, and that maybe I wasn’t as cool as he’d thought, and that maybe he should slam the door in my face and be done with it. Then I discovered he was staring at my tee-shirt.

  Now, let me explain: I have had this tee-shirt for months if not years. I have worn it every other day for as long as I can remember. Everyone who has ever clapped eyes on me will have seen me in this tee-shirt. And nobody has ever, EVER stared at it, not even madrigal group members to see how many of the medieval instruments they can name.

  So it had to be the bra he was looking at – or not the bra exactly, but the bumps under the instruments that had grown during the course of the evening.

  It freaked me out, I have to say.

  ‘What are you staring at?’

  He pointed to my left boob. ‘That’s an Irish harp.’

  Ah. Phew! Okay, so maybe I’d misjudged him. ‘Yes, it is. You know about medieval instruments?’

  ‘My family’s Irish, drink a lot of Guinness. Thought you might have guessed from my name.’

  ‘No, I didn’t.’ You have a name? ‘So you’re not into madrigal music or anything?’

  And then he said the most hideous, vile, disgusting thing that I’ve ever heard, and judging from the shocked look on his own actual face, that he’d ever before said.

  ‘Not yet,’ he squeaked from somewhere near my elbow, ‘but I wouldn’t mind playing that harp later.’

  It was gross. Rank, VW and utterly and horribly unacceptable. For a moment I considered sticking two fingers up his
nostrils and my thumb in his eyeball and using his head as a bowling ball, but that quickly turned into having to gulp back hot tears and pretending to be fascinated by the laces in my bowling shoes.

  I sidled up to Dolores, who was doing such a good job of keeping Freddie occupied that she had her foot in his lap as he tied her shoes. They looked like the Prince and Cinderella. ‘I want to go,’ I hissed. ‘Nerdy’s horrible.’

  ‘Give him a chance,’ she hissed back.

  ‘I have and he blew it.’

  She twisted round so that Freddie couldn’t hear us. ‘Cat, we only just got here. We’ve paid for the bowling. Just make the most of it and we definitely won’t go for a burger.’

  Then Freddie looked up, having completed his shoe-fitting exercise, and smiled so angelically that I knew I had to stay. This was my one chance. I didn’t have to be interested in Nerdy, but I could use the opportunity to get closer to Ferdy.

  ‘All right. Two games and that’s it.’

  Her shoes were all tied up now, so Dolores got in charge again and ordered Freddie to set up the computer scoring system, Nerdy to go and get some balls (I know …) and whispered to me to stop flicking my eyelids apart. ‘You look like you’ve got a twitch.’

  ‘It’s the mascara! My eyelashes are all sticking together.’

  ‘You’re imagining it, idiot,’ she said kindly. ‘And you look really nice, so stop being weird.’

  ‘Okay.’

  It was good to get her words of encouragement, as just at that very moment, Freddie was sitting on his own at the scoring screen while Nerdy wandered around the alley trying to carry three bowling balls at once and failing spectacularly. Dolores ran off to help him and his bruised ego – oops, I mean … toes – and I sauntered casually over to Freddie. I seemed to be getting better at it.

  ‘So Freddie,’ I said, squeezing myself into the little seat beside him, ‘what order are we going in?’

  I was genuinely interested, to be fair, so it wasn’t as lame as it sounded. Had he arranged us in age order? Height? Alphabetical?

  He pointed at the screen which I could have just looked at myself. It was none of those arrangements, apparently, as I would have been either third, second or first to bowl if he’d chosen any of those. As it was, I was last after Nerdy who turned out to have the name of Sea, according to the three letters on the screen after DOL and FRD but before CAT.

  ‘Oh, good, I’m last,’ I said, and again, I genuinely meant it as I’m not bad at bowling and it would give me a chance to impress.

  Freddie just looked sideways at me, raised his eyebrows in a way that I hoped was flirty, and said, ‘Yep.’

  It was just as I was beginning to notice a bit of a faint atmosphere with Freddie apparently trying to shuffle away from me along the seats that Dolores and Sea returned.

  ‘Dolores, you’re first,’ I said happily. Anything that kept her and Freddie in separate locations made me happy.

  To be fair, Dolores did a pretty good job considering the obstacles in her way and the fact that she should by rights fall over, even when not holding a bowling ball in front of her like a third breast. She knocked three skittles over, shrugged prettily and then scuttled back to stand with me.

  Freddie next. He gazed meaningfully along the alley, clearly working out angles and clever sciency things to make sure he scored the highest and getting a respectable seven.

  ‘Sea, you’re up!’ I shouted.

  Nerdy looked at me a little oddly as he carted a too-heavy ball across to the bowling line. ‘It’s Sean,’ he said coldly, and then whammed the ball straight down the middle and got a strike. Darn.

  Now it was my turn. My turn to impress. My turn to show Freddie that I wasn’t just a science freak. I could be sporty, too!

  I carefully selected my bowling ball, approached the alley and tested it gently by doing a few trial swings. Good. The right weight; the right trajectory. I lifted my head again and stared at the distant skittles. Really good. I could do this. Then I swung back my arm, bent over and sent that ball skidding towards the pins like a missile. They stood no chance. All ten of them were OUT.

  Standing quickly, I raised my hands above my head and turned back to the others.

  Only they weren’t cheering for me as they had for Sean.

  They were laughing.

  The boys were laughing so hard they were red in the face, and even Dolores was a little pink as she batted them on the arms going, ‘Stop it! Stop it!’

  I looked down at my jeans. Had I split them?

  ‘What?’ I said eventually as I stared back at them.

  And then Freddie did this horrendous thing. This horrendous, horrendous thing.

  He lifted a hand to either side of his head, and flapped them up and down.

  ‘It’s your hair,’ he gasped. ‘When you look up and down like that …’ Pause for wheezing and clutching of Dolores’ arm. ‘… it looks like …’ Pause for spluttering and smacking of hand on the scoring screen. ‘… you’re taking off!’ No longer pausing, just out-and-out guffawing and fist-bumping with Sean who was howling every bit as loudly.

  I wish I could say that I grabbed a bowling ball and clunked it around their heads, or that I stood with my hand on one hip saying sassily to Dolores, ‘Well, some friend you are!’ or that I even made some brilliant joke about my hair wings and turned the whole situation around in my favour.

  But I didn’t.

  It was too horrible.

  Everyone laughing.

  Dolores trying not to, but even my biffle finding it a tiny bit funny.

  And Freddie the Nerd Ferd wetting himself so that his attractive upper lip actually appeared to be sneering at me …

  For the second time that day, I burst into tears.

  But this time there was no bicep curled around me to comfort me, so I just grabbed my jacket and ran.

  Chapter 15: Wake Up Call (Maroon 5)

  Dolores ran after me, of course, but didn’t manage to catch up with me until I was at the bus stop.

  ‘Cat, I’m sorry! Don’t go,’ she puffed from behind me as I fumbled in my purse for change and a tissue. Not only was I sobbing snottily, but my mascara was running into my eyes and causing the most atrocious burning of the eyeballs.

  The bus doors opened. ‘No, I’m going home,’ I said.

  ‘I’m so, so sorry! I didn’t mean to laugh.’

  ‘Then why did you?’

  ‘You did look a bit funny, but I so totally did not mean to laugh.’

  That hurt almost more than Freddie sniggering at me, to be honest, and suddenly I couldn’t stand the idea of her going back in without me where Freddie would be thinking I was even more of a freak than ever without her knowing why it all hurt so much.

  ‘I really like him, Dolores,’ I whispered so the bus driver wouldn’t hear.

  ‘You like … Sean?’ she said. Hopefully.

  Yes, hopefully.

  And why would that be?

  ‘No, Freddie,’ I said.

  Then she nodded, and said, ‘I know,’ squinting like I’d just stuck a knitting needle through her temple.

  Well, that was news. ‘You … you know? You knew? All along?’

  Blushing slightly, Dolores nodded again. ‘I’m your best friend, Cat. And I’m not as dim as you think. Of course I knew. And at first I was just trying to help you get together with him.’

  ‘Oh, you’re such a good friend …’ I started, but then the words sank in properly. ‘What do you mean, at first?’

  Her next blush was a full-scale burnout. Scarlet town. ‘I really was trying to get you together. I talked about you all the time, even at the cinema. The double date was my idea, Cat. But then … then I started to like him too.’

  Oh dear sweet Copernicus, she liked him too. All hope was lost.

  ‘Like him like him?’

  ‘Yes.’ She nodded sadly. ‘Like him like him.’

  ‘And does he …’ Stupid question, Cat, why even bother? ‘Does he like you?�
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  Another sorry nod. ‘He just asked me out.’

  ‘Wh … what did you say?’

  She bit her lip nervously. ‘I said I’d have to think about it. I won’t go out with him, Cat, if it makes you sad. Even if I really, really want to.’

  Well, what could I say to that? Not what I properly wanted to say, which was ‘Okay then, don’t go out with him. Then I’ll be happy.’

  But I’d be the only happy one in that scenario, wouldn’t I? He’d be chemical reactioning Dolores and not going out with her, and she’d be chemical reactioning him and not going out with him, and I’d be chemical reactioning Freddie with both of them knowing and hating me for keeping them apart.

  So I said the only thing I could, as I climbed on the bus and let the doors slide shut behind me.

  ‘Okay. Go out with him. You like like each other, so you have to.’ I wasn’t even sure she heard the rest through the crack in the doorway. ‘But I can’t be your friend any more.’

  And then I lurched upstairs on the swaying bus to the very back seat, and leaned my forehead against the cold, filmy glass, and wept softly all the way home.

  You’d have thought, wouldn’t you, that the evening couldn’t get any worse? That’s certainly what I was telling myself as I dragged my leaden legs along our street and wondered if it would be possible to strangle myself with my hair wings. It was awful. Awful awful awful; so awful I wasn’t sure how I was going to survive. I definitely wasn’t sure I could go back to Trevellyan the next day, or in fact, ever: the sight of Double D and the Ferd Nerd together would be too much to bear.

  With my eyes so full of tears and mascara and tears from the mascara that I barely registered the strange car sitting outside our house, I knocked feebly on the door. Couldn’t even find the energy to get out my key. Instead I planted my forehead on the door’s little pane of glass, feeling and no doubt looking completely tragic.

  Mum, on the other hand, was strangely perky and bright-eyed as she opened the door. At least her face had the decency to fall when she saw me. ‘Catherine! Great! You’re home so early, and …’ She pulled me into the light. ‘Oh, sweetheart. What is it?’