by Annie Kelsey
“Don’t be silly.” Mrs. J told me confidently. “You won’t have to sleep in there. Jeff’s going to climb through the window and undo the bolt for you. Okay?”
I stared at the window. “But it’s too high up!” How would Mr. J reach the second floor?
“He’s getting the ladder out of the garage,” Mrs. J called through the door.
Catie’s voice sounded beside her. “Don’t panic, Pippa. You’ll be out in a minute.”
I could hear clanking outside the window.
This was worse! If Mr. J climbed through, he’d see the bolt wasn’t stuck and know I was lying, and then I’d have to sing, and then Catie would know I was lying.
I AM NEVER LYING AGAIN.
By now, I felt sick and hot. I sat on the edge of the bathtub while I listened to the ladder creaking outside. Then I saw a shape looking outside the glass and someone knocked on the window. “Open up, Pippa.”
I undid the latch and slowly pushed it open.
Mr. J caught hold of the frame and swung it wide. He beamed at me from outside. “Oh dear, what can the matter be?” he sang. “One young lady locked in the lavatory.” I didn’t laugh. I was too busy wondering why even Mr. J could sing better than me.
“It’s all right, Pippa. I’ll just climb in.” Mr. J was already heaving himself through the window.
Mr. J is not a small man. You know I said Mrs. J wasn’t skinny? Well, Mr. J is even less skinny. By the time he was halfway through, the window frame was pressing into his belly and he was starting to sweat. His face had turned the color of our living room curtains (Mom calls them “mauve” but they’re purple).
“Um, Pippa.” Mr. J sounded breathless. He’d stopped moving. “I think I’m stuck.”
I stared at him. Then I stared at the door, which was supposed to be locked. I was totally trapped.
“Mrs. Johnson?” I called through the door.
“Is Jeff in yet?” she asked.
“He’s stuck.”
“Stuck?” (Why did people keep repeating that word?)
Mr. J hollered behind me. “I’m wedged in!”
“I told you not to have a second helping at dinner,” Mrs. J called back.
“You offered,” Mr. J puffed.
“I was just being polite.” Mrs. J was starting to sound frazzled.
I backed against the wall, feeling that I was about to be caught in a family argument. But Mr. J changed the subject. “You’d better call the fire department.”
Most people might think it’s exciting to hear a fire engine come howling down the road and screech to a stop outside. And I suppose it was interesting to see a great big fireman appear behind Mr. J and start easing him out of the window like someone uncorking a bottle of wine.
But I was mostly thinking about the lock and what everyone would say when they found out that I’d been lying. I made a list in my head about who would be angriest.
People Angry With Pippa
Mr. J—because he had to be rescued by a fireman like a cat up a tree.
Mrs. J—because she’d wasted half her evening rescuing me, then her husband, for no reason.
Catie—because she realized I was a liar.
The twins—because I had ruined their special karaoke sleepover.
My mom—do I need to explain?
So you can imagine my surprise and relief when the fireman (after he’d eased Mr. J back down to the ground) climbed back in and reached for the bolt and then STRUGGLED TO OPEN IT.
“It is stiff, isn’t it?” he’d said as he let me out. Then he nodded kindly to Mrs. J and ruffled my hair. “All safe and sound. But I’d put some oil on that bolt. Or get a new one.”
Mrs. J hugged me. “Are you okay, Pippa?”
I was blushing while Catie and the twins hopped around me.
CATIE: Were you scared?
JULIE: You were SO brave!
JENNIFER: Can I use the bathroom now?
Mrs. J went downstairs with the fireman and, while Jenny disappeared into the bathroom, Catie and Julie dragged me into the front bedroom so we could watch the fire engine drive away. The neighbors were outside, standing under the streetlights, hugging their bathrobes around them while they watched the fire engine drive away. Mr. J was chatting to the man next door while Mrs. J was waving to the fireman. I suddenly realized how late it must be.
“What time is it?” I asked.
Jenny appeared in the doorway. “Ten o’clock.”
“No!” Julie sounded upset. “We can’t do any more karaoke. Mom said we have to stop at nine thirty so we don’t disturb the people next door.”
I looked out of the window at the neighbors drifting slowly back to their houses, stopping for a final moment of gossip before they disappeared indoors. “I think we might have done that already.”
Then I heard Mrs. J’s feet on the stairs. “Come on, girls. It’s been an exciting night. But it’s time for bed.”
I looked at Catie, feeling guilty. “I’m sorry.”
Catie blinked at me. “What for?”
“For spoiling the evening.”
“Spoiling it?” Catie burst out laughing. “You made it the most exciting sleepover EVER!”
Julie and Jenny started laughing too.
“What did Dad look like when the fireman pulled him out of the window?” Julie squealed.
“I bet he looked like our rabbit when it got stuck in the cat flap,” Jenny giggled.
I pretended to giggle too, but inside I felt terrible. What would they say if they knew I’d made the whole thing up?
Lying is SO stressful. I’m going to HAVE to tell Catie the truth about my singing.
Sunday night
I had my first whole night staying over at Dadville last night. (Dadville is my name for Dad’s new apartment. Guess what Mom’s house is called?) It felt weird to be in my own bedroom even though I’m not in my own bedroom. It was like I’d been split into two people in some mad-professor experiment. I kept wondering if, while I was sitting on my bed in Dadville, another Pippa Morgan was sitting in my bedroom at home.
I tried to help Dadville feel more homey by taking two Tiffany J posters—one for my bedroom, one for the lounge (which is actually a kitchen and lounge joined together—which is kind of fun). Dad said I’d better put them both in my bedroom because sometimes he has friends around and it’s not cool to be a Tiffany J fan when you’re forty years old.
Isn’t that SOOOO cute? My dad worries about being cool. He has absolutely no idea that it’s impossible to be cool when you’re forty.
I pointed out that Tiffany J would probably help him look cooler but Dad told me to put them both in my room anyway.
So I put one over my bed and one over my new desk (Dad bought it specially so I could do my homework when I start staying over longer).
DAD MADE PIZZA FACES!!! I had SEVEN toppings:
Pepperoni (eyes and nose)
Tomato (smile)
Cheese (hair)
Cheese (beard)
Extra Cheese (moustache)
Ham (cheeks)
Sweet corn (freckles)
Dad even remembered the garlic bread. And we watched a movie. And at bedtime he said I could keep my light on and read as long as I wanted because it wasn’t a school night. Mom always makes me turn off the light at nine even on Saturdays!
Having two homes is definitely going to be fun.
There was one bad moment.
I was brushing my teeth in the bathroom and I felt something tickling my leg. I thought it was just a stray hair or some fluff off my bathrobe, but when I looked down I saw that it was a SPIDER.
ON MY LEG!
A HUGE SPIDER.
Of course I screamed and Dad came running and started screaming too. (He’s not a big fan of spiders either.) He started
flapping at it with a towel while it clung to my leg like it wanted to hug me to death. Eventually, he flicked it off and it scuttled behind the toilet.
Dad promised he’d find it and throw it out before my next visit but how can I be sure? I can imagine it crouching behind the toilet, rubbing its front legs together while it plans its next Pippa attack.
It’s really hard to decide where I like being the most. I like being at Dad’s, but then I feel bad that Mom is by herself. But Mom’s feels like a real home, and that makes me feel sad for Dad because his apartment doesn’t. It’s SOOOO confusing! When your parents split up, your feelings split up too—I have two feelings about everything! Brain-burn!
ANYWAY.
When Dad dropped me off this morning, Mom had great news. Catie had phoned and wanted to come over so I could help with her dance routine for the talent show.
Catie wanted to come to my house!
When she got here, I don’t think she even noticed that our front yard didn’t have carpet lawns and our floors weren’t princess-gleamy. I showed her my Tiffany J DVDs and we picked all Tiffany’s best moves and worked out a great dance for Catie. She is going to totally rock at the talent show.
After that, I had a brilliant idea. Catie had seen my Tiffany J poster (the camel one) and she really loved it so I offered to give her a Tiffany makeover. We borrowed Mom’s makeup and her hair curlers and I found some floaty scarves at the bottom of her scarf drawer.
I’m not exactly good at putting on makeup. I’ve tried a few times but eyeliner and mascara are very smeary and lipstick seems to want to go everywhere. Blush is confusing too. Are you supposed to put it on your cheekbones or under them? I decided to try both.
The trouble was, Catie kept flinching and giggling when I came at her with the eye pencil. And I don’t think laughing when someone is trying to put lipstick on you is a good idea.
I wonder if Tiffany J’s makeup artist has to sit on Tiffany while she’s applying lip liner?
Anyway, I finished at last and managed to get a few curls into Catie’s hair without burning her (though her hair did smell a bit cooked when I’d finished).
I was just pinning on the floaty scarves when Catie’s mom arrived to collect her. Catie was really excited about showing her mom her new look. She said, “I keep trying to persuade Mom to let me wear makeup. When she’s sees how beautiful I look, she’ll have to let me wear it!” And she went running downstairs.
Maybe I should have let her look in a mirror first.
Catie didn’t exactly look like Tiffany J.
By the time I got downstairs, Mom and Mrs. Brown were staring at Catie as though she had been replaced by a bug-eyed alien.
MRS. BROWN: (turning pale) What have you done to yourself?
CATIE: (smiling happily) Pippa’s given me a makeover.
ME: (apologetically) We were just trying out a new look.
MY MOM: (butting in quickly before Mrs. Brown could speak) For Halloween. That’s right, isn’t it, Pippa? (staring at me with agree-with-me-now-or-else eyes) They were trying to see how scary they could make themselves look for when they go trick-or-treating.
MRS. BROWN: (looking relieved) Oh. Well, that’s certainly scary, Catie.
CATIE: (looking puzzled) Is it?
MY MOM: Why don’t you wash it off before you go home, Catie? You don’t want to spoil the surprise for the neighbors before Halloween.
CATIE: (heading upstairs, still looking puzzled) I guess not.
I went upstairs with her and when she looked in the bathroom mirror I thought she was going to have a heart attack. Mom was right. She looked more like a zombie than Tiffany J. But Catie just burst out laughing when she saw herself. She said, “No wonder my mom looked so shocked. It looks like you paintballed me!”
This made me laugh so much I got hiccups and by the time we got downstairs Mom and Mrs. Brown were chatting over a cup of tea. Catie’s mom looked really pleased to see Catie back to normal, and after they’d gone, Mom was really nice about her broken lipstick and the eyeshadow I’d got mixed up in her blush. She said, “It’s about time I got some new makeup. I’ve had this stuff for years. Why don’t you keep it to practice with?”
My mom is the best!
Monday
Today started off great. If only it had stayed that way.
Catie was practicing her dance routine on the playground at lunchtime. She’s a really good dancer. I joined in because I know all the moves. Then we showed it to Mrs. Khan, the lunch lady, and she look impressed. Then Catie told her that I was going to sing in the talent show and I’d made it through the Voice Factor audition. While I was trying not to blush to death, Mrs. Khan asked me to sing for her. Mandy Harrison heard and came to see and before I knew it, Mandy Harrison, David Furnivall, Darren, Julie, Jennifer, and Jane Harding were crowding around, all begging me to sing.
Then Mandy said, “If you’re such a good singer, why haven’t we heard you before?”
I used the excuse I’d used last year about the school choir—that my singing coach didn’t want me picking up bad singing habits from a school choir. But all the time, my mind was whirling as I tried to think up an excuse for not singing now. Everyone was chanting, “Sing! Sing! Sing!”
It was like a nightmare. So I grabbed my throat and said it was sore.
Catie looked worried. “I hope it’s okay for the show.” And Mrs. Khan came and felt my forehead. “You do look a little pale.” Then she took me inside so I could sit in the office.
I’m still sitting here, waiting for the bell to ring for afternoon classes. Mrs. Dumpleton, the school secretary, let me go and fetch my diary so I could write in it while I was waiting.
WHY DON’T I JUST TELL CATIE I CAN’T SING?
Because I like having a best friend.
*sighs*
Tuesday
My lie to Catie has definitely exploded out of control. Everyone thinks I’m going to be on the Voice Factor. And the dress rehearsal for the talent show starts in ten minutes.
I’m hiding in the bathroom. It is actually a pretty cool place to write in my diary. Especially now that I’ve found a way to write so my elbow doesn’t hit the toilet-paper holder. This is the only place I can get any privacy. I think everyone should have their own personal pod at school—a cozy cocoon with a comfy chair you can snuggle into, with a soundproof door and a lock, so that you can hide when you need to escape from everyone asking you stuff like: What song are you singing at the talent show? Is Steven Fowl coming to watch? Why didn’t you tell us you made it through the Voice Factor audition? When will you be on TV?
Oh no! Catie’s outside, knocking on the bathroom doors. Ms. Allen wants the first five acts at the edge of the stage, ready to go on.
What am I going to do?
I know! I’ll tell Ms. Allen I can only mime today because I’m saving my voice for the actual show.
Brilliant!
Later
Stupid!
Why did I think Ms. Allen would let me mime? She said, “I’m sorry, Pippa, but we need to get an idea of the quality of your performance.”
Catie, Mandy Harrison, David Furnivall, and the twins were backstage watching from the wings. Mr. Badger, Mrs. Gould, and Mr. Thompson were sitting out front with clipboards, practicing being judges.
Suddenly I felt like I was actually at a Voice Factor audition, except this time my imagination wasn’t going to make everything okay.
Three thoughts rushed through my head:
1. Run.
2. Pretend to faint.
3. Confess.
But as I stared at Ms. Allen in total horror, I could see Catie mouthing, “Go, Pippa!” from behind the stage curtain. Then Ms. Allen handed me the microphone and switched on the tape player.
Time slowed down. All I could do was stare at the teachers/judges while the blood drained d
own to my toes. I felt so numb I could hardly hear the intro pounding behind me. Catie was staring expectantly from the side of the stage. I had to do something.
So I did probably the worst thing I could have done.
I sang.
BIG MISTAKE.
I’m not sure which part was the most horrible:
1. The look on Catie’s face when I started (she looked like a fast-forward YouTube video, her face flashing through disbelief, shock, horror, disappointment, then anger).
2. When Mandy Harrison and David Furnivall burst out laughing.
3. When the twins stared at each other and said at the same time: “She lied!”
4. When Ms. Allen told me (using the kind voice she saves for the second graders) that it was very brave of me to try, but I really wasn’t good enough to be part of the show. I could be in charge of the props if I liked though.
5. When I agreed to be in charge of the props (hideous flashback to guarding the dreamcoat).
6. When Catie walked away without speaking to me.
7. When the twins followed her.
My life is totally over.
Wednesday
Catie didn’t answer her phone last night. Or reply to my texts. Mom told me to give her some time. She said that Catie was probably feeling hurt that I’d lied to her. (I told Mom everything as soon as I got home from school. She gave me the biggest hug but it didn’t stop the awful feeling in my chest like my heart was breaking.) Mom said that, if Catie was the nice girl she seemed, she’d forgive me soon enough.
So when I came to school today, I was half hoping everything would be back to normal.
When I walked into the classroom before attendance, Catie was sitting at a different table from the one she shared with me. She’d swapped with Darren so she was back at the twins’ table with Freya. I’d be spending the day with Darren’s cornflakes breath and soccer dirt again. I tried to catch Catie’s eye, then the twins’, and then Freya’s, but they just carried on talking to each other like I didn’t exist. They all looked so happy and they kept laughing but no one talked to me.