by Beth Garrod
Please, no – a school couldn’t extend its opening hours, could it?!
Mrs Hitchman inhaled for the big moment. “It’s EXCELLENT news!”
Hold up. What? Was she pointing a finger in my direction?!
“Our very own BELLA FISHER…”
WAS I MELTING OR IS THIS WHAT IT FEELS LIKE FOR 672 EYES TO BE ON YOU?
“Has got St Mary’s …”
Why hadn’t I brushed my hair after PE?! Or maybe even all day?
“… through to the Radio Shire competition to win the ‘mighty’…”
Yes, as if this couldn’t get any more cringe she did air quotes.
“… Helicans to come and play right here – maybe in this very room!”
Forget having periods in sync; Tegan, Rach and I simul-gulped.
All tiny hopes of having anywhere to hide, or any students not know about the comp, about me, had just been annihilated.
Thanks a lot, Mrs Hitchman.
Bursts of cheering broke out around the room. Did no one realize I hadn’t won yet?!
MEMO TO ALL TEACHERS: the phrase “manage expectations” can be quite useful.
Mrs Hitchman was now doing weird double-handed fist pumps, like she was trying to contain them, but they kept popping out. “So let’s all give Bella, our STAR PUPIL, the huge round of applause she deserves!”
Everyone – except Luke who looked like he was chewing on egg-flavoured bubble gum – roared like the Helicans were arriving in ten minutes and we never had to do lessons again.
Rach, Tegan and I looked at each other. None of us needed to say what we were thinking. We wouldn’t have been able to hear over the hysteria anyway.
It was only day one of term and already I was totally out of my depth.
And if I didn’t get this school through the next round, I might sink entirely.
CHAPTER
NINE
Making a discreet exit from school was somewhat harder when people kept yelling, “Look, there’s that Helicans girl,” wherever I went. The pointing didn’t help either. I had to physically hide behind a hedge while Rach did up her shoe.
Was this how life was going to be until the semi-final on Sunday? Was there a five-day illness I could contract?
But right in the middle of one particularly alarming heckle (“Don’t mess this up, cos we know what you look like”, to which I was so startled I replied, “Thank you”), like some sort of guardian angel with wheels, a car beeped. The driver wound down the window and leaned over. Only one person could look that good sideways. Shay.
“Need a lift?”
Without having to be asked twice, we piled in, me getting automatic front-seat privileges. So this is what new car smells like?!
Rach was all bouncy and excited like when a dog goes for a car ride. “Thanks so much for the lift, Mod—” I turned and shot her a look. “Shay.”
Shay winked at her via the rear-view mirror. “No probs – you wanna choose the music?” Rach nodded double speed. She was one tongue muscle away from panting.
Tegan and I exchanged a secret smile at seeing her happy again, because in amongst everything today, at first break we’d caught Rach book-drowning her sorrows in the pages of Harry Potter. Mr Tucker had just set us a mega assignment on “What Makes A True Hero In A Classic Book?” which was hard enough already, but then had grabbed Rach after to tell her he was “disappointed with her standard” last term – and that if she didn’t nail this essay he might put her down a set. And for someone whose bedroom was basically a library, it had hit her hard.
But the car had already made it feel like lesson drama was a million miles (as opposed to the actual 134 metres) away as Rach hooked her phone up to the network “Sounds of Shay”, cranked up the Helicans and we began our escape home. Shay even put on the heated front seat (I only realized when I thought I’d weed myself).
When we hit a red at the traffic lights, Rach thrust her phone in front of Modger.
“Shay – can I ask for an opinion, please?” She didn’t wait for a reply. “What do you think about these? I might get them for the Give a Dog A Cone launch?”
Shay looked down at the pic of the Wonder Shoes™.
“I maaaaay have already reserved the last pair in store?!”
But Shay just shrugged. “Yeah. Nice, I guess. Like, coral is a great colour for summer, but we’re coming into autumn/winter now, y’know.” She took another quick look at the shoes before the lights changed. “And they’re kind of … I dunno … basic.”
Rach snatched her phone back, mortified. “Oh yeah, yeah. Totally. That’s why I wanted a second opinion.” She looked out of the window. “I wasn’t sure about them anyway.”
Tegan and I caught each other’s eye. Poor Rach.
“Well I think they’d look amazing on you,” Tegan said loudly, giving me the impression she was making the point more to Shay than to Rach. But Shay had zero idea how much her opinion mattered to our friend.
Despite going the long way back (everyone understood we couldn’t go the normal way in case we drove past Adam, or even worse Adam and Molly), Rach was still quiet when we pulled up outside her house. Ten minutes later it was Tegan’s turn to head to training, leaving me alone with Shay.
Shay hadn’t noticed Rach’s change of mood, and as we set off towards our house she was nothing but smiles. “So, rockstar, I didn’t see you properly to say congrats last night.”
“Awww, thanks.” It was a bit embarrassing that this was as near as I could ever get to being as cool as her.
“I maaay have voted at least twenty times … on the landline.” She bit her lip. “Don’t tell your mum!”
As if. But had Shay brought the comp up for a reason? She had said she’d get in touch with the band, put in a good word for us if we got through. And that would deffo bring back Rach’s good mood.
I waited.
This could be the Best News Ever.
Shay did the longest breath in. Moment of truth?!
“Really MUST get the air-con cleaned in here.”
Or not. Cringed out by my optimism, I moved the convo on.
“Soooo, how’s life Chez Fisher?” k`1`2
Shay shrugged. “Good. Good. You guys are great.”
I would bask in the compliment, but I could tell there was a “but” coming.
“But, I really want to have a word with your mum about downstairs – it’s so… I dunno? Cluttered.” I pictured the scene. I guess it was a bit crowded, but Mum was the kind of person that could watch a show about extreme hoarders and consider them lightweights. “I mean, does she even know the words ‘interior’ and ‘design’?”
Now was not the time to share that when Mum first saw Rach’s top-of-the-range, all metal and white designer kitchen she said it looked like a morgue.
“Stick with it. With us. It’ll be way better once all the Give a Dog A Cone boxes empty out.” Shay “Ummm”-ed unconvincingly. “Don’t suppose Mum’s told you much about what’s happening with the launch party?”
“Only what she said at dinner last night.”
I made an of-course “ahhhhh”. Yes, I’d technically been there in body, but my mind had been occupied staring at my phone, waiting for Adam to reply. And there wasn’t an “ahhhh” for that.
“So happy she went with my design guys.” Shay looked pleased with herself. “Seriously – the new signs and labels look SO cool.”
“They should be if they’re for ice cream.”
Shay laughed. I MADE SHAY LAUGH. Must let the WhatsApp group know this development. But looking at my phone meant thinking about Adam’s messages again.
“Don’t suppose I could pick your brains for boy advice?” The words left my mouth before I even knew they were there. “Asking for a friend.”
Shay did a throaty laugh. “You are looking at the Queen of boy drams.”
Technically not true – I was looking in the mirror to see if I had any leftover Skips stuck in my teeth.
“What’s up? F
or your friend?”
But I didn’t really know why I’d asked. Cos no advice could make him magically start liking me – or go back to the start of the summer when I thought we had a chance.
“AhhhIdunno. Nothing really.” I paused. “Or everything.” I humphed. “Oh who knows?”
“Well, you can always talk to me. My lips are sealed.” I smiled, happy that Modger was Team Me. She didn’t even do that Jo-thing of asking a million questions I didn’t want to answer either. Shay puckered her mouth. “And they are also rocking my new burnt orange lipstick, if I do say so myself.”
Suddenly, she swore at a little blue car blocking her normal spot on the driveway.
I knew EXACTLY who it was.
With a garbled, “Thanks for the lift,” I jumped out and ran towards the house. I got to the door just as she opened it.
“Fancy seeing you here.” The visitor leaned on the doorframe, still in her coat. She must have only just arrived too. She looked me up and down. “As I suspected, your tiny peahead hasn’t got any more normal and less peahead in size since I’ve been away.”
I swung my bag into her leg. But we were both grinning. My sister was home. This warranted a hug.
Just a quick one.
After stepping back, Jo waved at Shay, shouting a loud, “Hiya,” before whispering at me, “So this is who all the fuss is about.”
I hissed back. “You WAIT till you see that burnt orange lippy up close.”
“Isn’t burnt orange technically just black?” She snapped back almost without moving her mouth. Was ventriloquism one of her uni modules?
Shay walked up the drive, and put her hand out. I raised my eyebrows at Jo. If they could talk they’d be saying, “Told you so,” as my sister did a double take at the metallic gold nails that were in front of her. Yup, she was finally understanding this human was next level.
“Shay.” Modger straightened up, flashing a smile so wide you could almost hear a “ding”. In heels she was nearly the same height as Jo on the step. “It symbolizes majesty.”
“I see.” Jo shook her hand firmly back, her clipped nails looking like the before to Shay’s after. “I’m Jo.” I really hoped she wasn’t going to pull the genetics>rent power play “… and I symbolize the better half of the two Fisher offspring.”
Shay laughed.
I couldn’t help but say, “Oi.” This wasn’t how it was meant to work? I thought Jo was going to hate Shay after all of her virtual eye-rolls whenever I mentioned her. Which meant I could guilt-free trade Shay in for Jo, not be the victim in their double gang up.
Still, Jo wouldn’t be so pally when she saw Shay’s stuff in her room – and throughout the whole house. I flung my bag down and headed for the living room – only to discover it was even more full of Give A Dog A Cone (GADAC) boxes. The only visible bit of floor space was full of Mum, who in her green hippy dress, bits of wire, Sellotape and thread handing off every inch, looked like a human Christmas tree. Suddenly its branches lunged towards me, as she exploited the 0.003 seconds of me standing in shock to seize an unauthorized cuddle. (This affection outburst had happened multiple times since I’d got through to the semi-final. This morning she’d sent me four messages saying how proud she was – and one saying, “I had another one of THOSE Harrison Ford dreams last night,” but I think that was meant for Brenda. Shudder.)
Jo whistled as she followed me into the room.
“Mum – this looks terrific.” Who says terrific?! “Even better than the photos.” Yup, I’d been keeping Jo updated.
“You think?” Mum sounded kind of shy.
“I KNOW. Who knew you were the next Karren Brady? Can’t WAIT to see it all in action.”
“Well, it’s all for my girls.” “Girls” was normally what Mum called her boobs, but as she put her arms round me and Jo, I had to hope this time it was a daughter reference. “The start of the Fisher empire.”
I put my hand on hers. “I’m down for ANY empire that is built on ice cream. Oh, and did I tell you Rach, Tegan AND Mikey will be at the launch too?”
Mum replied with a “great” but her body language tensed.
“Everything OK?” Jo had noticed too.
“Always OK.” But Mum paused longer that she should if she wanted us to believe her. “But … it will be even more OK once it’s all gone smoothly. Did I tell you the local newspaper is coming? AND Shay’s signed up ten of her ‘industry’ people – whatever that means? And an influential!”
As Mum still truly called Instagram “Instagran”, I wasn’t even going to begin to explain influencers.
I caught Jo flinching at Mum’s Shay-compliment. So it was still getting to her? But as my big sister was a master of parental dark arts, Mum didn’t clock it, and just caught Jo’s sweet smile at the end. “Well just let me know what I can do to help. I’m all yours.”
“Oh, thank you, love. So happy to have you back.” Mum kissed Jo’s cheek confirming the instant dethroning of me from my temporary – and only – time in the Number One Daughter spot. Well played, big sister, well played.
The three of us then spent the rest of the evening opening boxes of cardboard, sticking the new labels on the tubs (the new GADAC font did look sick) and loading up crates. Mum flipped between nervous singing and outbursts of, “I can’t believe this is really happening!”
Shay stayed in the safety of the kitchen, rustling us up a meal. Jo was less than impressed when it turned out to be squashed-up juice pulp made into sausage shapes, with a side of bone broth. Shay was less than less impressed when Jo then rang for a Domino’s.
But this was only the start of the hard work. And the following morning AND evening it was still all hands on deck. Shamefully, it was actually a relief to have something, anything, to distract me from the horror of being so popular at school. After Mrs Hitchman’s official announcement everyone was acting like the comp was no big deal. They were acting like it was a bigger deal than the invention of the brick. As I stuck on labels, and folded boxes, I couldn’t work out if I was in a massive hurry for Sunday’s round to be over, or too scared for it to ever begin. I couldn’t even chat to Tegan about it, as she was training again, and Rach was making a start on that essay. BLEURGH.
Still, chin up, Bella. At least all this helping was earning serious Mum points. I’d even let Jo do my daily Mumbles walk this evening. In reality this wasn’t me trying to give Mum more of my time. It was because I’d entered a new stage of dealing with Adam’s rejection: avoiding him at all costs. I was going to such detailed lengths I was technically an anti-stalker. I’d even had to duck behind a car at one point. On the plus side Rach, Tegan and I had all drawn internet blanks on who Molly was, so at least I couldn’t waste my spare time staring moist-eyed at every picture of her ever posted. Instead I was focusing on working hard for Mum. And it was exhausting. So when all the final prep was done, I headed straight to bed. Jo came up not long after. Having her home meant sharing my bed. She walked in and surveyed the piles of clothes.
“Nice floordrobe.”
I smiled lovingly.
“Nice nightie.” I pulled it out from under the pillow and threw it in her direction. Shay hadn’t been able to remember where she’d packed away Jo’s pyjamas, so she was begrudgingly borrowing mine. She normally wore stylish check ones, so I’d taken great pleasure lending her my nightie with a giant pug face on.
After what felt like hours in the bathroom, Jo finally climbed into bed, adopting the universally agreed sleep position – back to back with the obligatory minimum twenty-five centimetre gap. I flicked the light off. Lying next to someone in the dark there were two options. Wait to relax until you heard the other person start heavy sleep-breathing. Or chat.
Jo went for option two.
“Do you think the launch tomorrow’s going to be OK?”
“It has to be.”
“Fair point… Are … are you picking your toenail?”
“Maybe.”
“So gross.”
&nb
sp; “Go share with Shay then.”
“Too dangerous. She probably sleeps in heels.”
Jo’s Modger enthusiasm had dwindled over the last twenty-four hours. I was quite enjoying having someone wind her up almost as much as I did.
“Why’d you come back, anyway?” That sounded like I was annoyed she had, which wasn’t what I meant. “Although obvs it’s always a total delight to see your face.”
“Wanted to support Mum. And check up on my favourite sister.”
“Only sister.”
“Semantics. Plus I need the shop to go well for Mum so she’ll be more up for paying for my athletics tour.”
“Can’t you pay for it yourself?” I didn’t mean to snap. But I knew despite all the scrimping we’d been doing at this end, Mum would probably still say yes. That’s how it worked with Jo.
“Like you pay for your crisp habit?! A packet a day is like…” Jo muttered a calculation. “Sixty pence times three sixty-five is like … two, hundred and … two hundred and nineteen pounds a year!”
WOAH.
I never thought my love of Wotsits could push our family to the brink of financial ruin. I changed the subject quickly, and chatted about other important stuff, like the Helicans comp (and whether 3D printing was advanced enough to make a fake me I could send to school), Tegan’s gymnastics try-out (Jo was always quite interested cos of her own love of competitive exercise), and whether flies call humans “walks”. Jo then strayed from approved-convo and brought up Adam. I decided to be brave and pour my heart out in an attempt to feel better. But as I got stuck in, Jo started half-snoring. So instead of getting enough sleep, I ended up lying awake wondering how I always got everything so wrong.
Thanks a lot, Jo.
CHAPTER
TEN
As soon as I opened my eyes three thoughts hit me.
1)OMG. It’s Give A Dog A Cone launch day.
2)OMG. I really hope I haven’t overslept cos I was meant to be helping out before school.