by Anna Wilson
‘A cup of tea?’ I blurt out. ‘A cup of tea? Is that what those magazines suggest is the best thing to offer a boy you really like? Are you sure you haven’t been reading Women’s Institute Monthly?’
The trouble with plans you make in your head is that they have a habit of not working out so well in reality.
If Aubrey’s eyes could shoot actual daggers at me, that is what they would be doing right now. ‘OK, well if you have any better ideas, you had better let me know. Perhaps I should tuck my skirt into my pants and see if that gets his attention,’ she snaps.
I immediately feel bad, because I don’t know what I would have done without Aubrey there to save me this morning.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘The thing is, Finn isn’t coming round tonight anyway. Mum only goes to one class a week and she’s already been this week. So—’
‘But can I not come round anyway and maybe – I don’t know – you could ask him round to hang out with us while Harris watches TV?’
This is awful. How am I going to get her to shut up about this? I am going to have to change the subject altogether.
‘So, that text you sent me was a bit freaky,’ I say. ‘You know, “Had a great time” – at the dentist’s? Seriously?’
Not very smooth of me I know, but hey, desperate times and all that . . .
Aubrey’s face twists into an unreadable expression. I think she is about to have a go at me for trying to divert her away from talking about Finn when she says, ‘Yeah, well. I was – er – trying to be funny. You know, like – no one likes going to the dentist, right? So I thought, I’ll pretend it was fun. Ha ha.’
‘Oh yeah. I can hardly breathe, I am laughing so much,’ I say.
Aubrey smiles. ‘I know. Must have been the painkillers I had to take after he gave me a filling – messed with my sense of humour or something.’
‘Right.’ I don’t know what she is talking about, but I put it down to my best friend being quirky, which she sometimes is, and I settle down for a lesson of learning how to describe my house in French. As if I will ever have to do that in my entire life. What French person says, ‘Hello. Please describe your house to me’? Unless they are trying to burgle it, in which case I would definitely not go and describe it, would I?
Sometimes I wonder what school is actually for. I would learn a whole lot more at home, reading the books I want to read.
By lunchtime I have managed to divert Aubrey away from talking about Finn a further three times. I have used the ‘Did you see that bonkers programme on telly last night?’ trick; the ‘I HAVE to show you the cute kitten clips I found online the other day’ trick; and the ‘Come to the library with me, I need more books’ trick.
Aubrey has mercifully fallen for all three of them. So at lunchtime we are in the dining hall, munching our pasta and talking about what a nightmare it is when your favourite book is made into a film. (Because, let’s face it, it is never going to turn out how you imagined it in your head – I mean, Mr Beaver played by Ray Winstone speaking with a London accent in the film of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe? WRONG, plain wrong, I am telling you.)
Things are almost starting to feel like normal between us when, horror of horrors . . . the VTs make a beeline for our table.
‘No!’ I say through gritted teeth. ‘Don’t look now but Dr Frankenstein’s two latest monsters are headed our way.’
‘Who?’ says Aubrey, looking up. ‘Oh, hi!’ She waves.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Just being friendly,’ says Aubrey.
‘Right, well I’m off.’ I stand up. I’m not staying to listen to what gems of sarcasm the VTs have been saving up all morning.
‘Don’t go,’ says Aubrey. Although I’m not entirely sure she sounds as though she means it.
‘It’s crumble and custard for dessert,’ I say. I may as well get some as an excuse for leaving the table.
‘Ooh. Get me some,’ says Aubrey, beaming.
‘Yes,’ says Livvy as she approaches. ‘Get us some too, would you, Skye?’ and flashes me a sugary smile. ‘We promise we won’t make any jokes about this morning,’ she adds.
Right, so she’s turning me into her slave as a bribe.
‘’Kay,’ I grunt. ‘Be back in a minute.’
I fix my eyes on the food counters so that I don’t have to make eye contact with the VTs, and join the end of the queue. I am just wondering how I will be able to balance four helpings of crumble and custard on one tray when I hear someone say, ‘Hey.’
I look up and see Finn. Can this day get any worse?
‘Wow. You look in a good mood,’ he says. ‘Are you always so grumpy, or do you just save it for me?’
‘Haven’t you got anyone else to stalk?’ I mutter.
He laughs. ‘Not right now, no.’
I chew the sides of my mouth. What can I say to make him go away? If Aubrey sees me talking to him, she’ll come over and then I’ll have them both round at my house every evening and before I know it they will probably be smooching on the sofa. (HIDEOUS THOUGHT ALERT!)
I have reached the front of the queue and I’m loading my tray with four portions of dessert. Knowing my luck, Finn will say something clever such as, ‘On a cake diet, are we?’
‘So listen,’ he is saying. ‘I’m sorry about what happened this morning. You shouldn’t take any notice of people like the twins. People who post videos of other people’s accidents should be shot if you ask me—’
‘Videos? What?’ I whirl round in shock, wanting to find out exactly what video he is talking about.
Unfortunately I forget I am holding a tray full of crumble and custard.
‘Watch it!’ Finn shouts.
But it is too late. Four bowls of hot dessert have flipped up in the air. I watch in disbelief as they seem to slow down and then speed up as they fall towards me.
I am soaking. Dripping. Bathed from top to toe in hot, slimy, yellow gunge.
And everyone is laughing at me. For the second time today.
I am sitting in my room. I have barricaded the door so that no one can come in. I am thinking of never coming out ever again. Although that would make the need to eat, wash and have a pee pretty tricky. But I am not going to dwell on that now. I have far too much else to think about.
I thought the school day would never end. I ran out of the hall and headed to the loos after the Custard Incident. All I could think was: I need to hide! Everyone was pointing at me and laughing – some people were even on their feet clapping and whooping. Luckily I had so much custard in my eyes that I couldn’t see that clearly, so I missed the expressions on their faces. I bet a load of them got the whole thing on their phones. I shall probably be having flashbacks for the rest of my life and need to go into therapy.
Mind you, then I could write a book about it. Mrs Ball the librarian says that ‘everything is material’ for a writer, which means that even bad things that happen can be turned into stories.
Still, thanks to the VTs, all my ‘material’ has been taken already and TURNED INTO VIDEO CLIPS! Finn said he had seen a video of the Pants Incident posted online already. Of course! I have just realized: they weren’t texting while I was holding on to my clothes and trying to make a break for it. They had just filmed me and were posting the clip to YouTube!
Oh my life. I am so stupid. I am never going to be able to walk the streets in the hours of daylight ever again.
Once in the loos, I tried in vain to wash the custard off my clothes by splashing water from the basin at myself and rubbing my shirt with handfuls of paper towels. I put my head under the taps to rinse my hair and then stuck my head under the hand dryer. I heard some familiar cackling headed my way, though, so I had to give up and dive into a cubicle. There was no chance I was going to allow myself to be cornered by the VTs in there. They would probably grab me and flush my head in a loo or something. And film it too. That is how stylish and unoriginal they are with their bullying techniques.
I put
the loo seat down and sat on it and drew my feet up and hugged my knees close: I wasn’t taking any chances. I didn’t want them to spot my feet. I kept my breathing as shallow as possible and listened.
What I heard did not make me feel any better about life. In fact, it made me feel significantly worse.
Livvy (or Izzy) was giggling and saying, ‘That was soooo epic! I already had one hundred and nine likes for the Knickers In A Twist video and now we’ve got two hundred and three for the Custard Catastrophe! Skye-Blue-Pink-Face really is a goofball.’
‘Yeah,’ said Izzy (or Livvy), ‘but remember she is the only one who knows Finn Parker. I think Aubrey’s right, we should be being nice to her if we want to hang out with Finn. He’s never going to talk to us Year 8s unless we get Skye to introduce us.’
‘Right. Cos that has sooo worked for Aubrey,’ said Livvy (or – whatever – I can’t tell them apart when I can’t see them). ‘Aubrey said she was going to get to meet Finn when we saw her yesterday in town, remember? She said that the next time Skye’s mum does ballroom dancing –’ at this point she broke off to indulge in some more insane giggling – ‘BALLROOM DANCING! Anyway . . . the next time she did that, Finn was going to be round at Skye’s, and Aubrey was going to go round too.’
‘Hmm,’ said Izzy. ‘We should go and find Aubrey right now, don’t you think?’
Then there was a dramatic gasp. ‘Look!’ said Livvy, and clearly gestured at something. ‘That has given me the BEST IDEA!’ she squealed. ‘What do you think?’
My stomach had fallen through the floor. I could hardly make sense of what I had overheard: ‘. . . yesterday in town . . . she said Skye’s mum does ballroom dancing.’ I held my breath as they left the girls’ loos, giggling and plotting.
I stayed in the cubicle until the bell rang and then waited until the last possible moment to slink back into class. I sat at the back while Mr Needham droned on and on about electricity.
I spent the whole lesson trying to work out what was going on. The VTs said they had seen Aubrey ‘yesterday in town’. Did this mean she hadn’t been to the dentist at all? Or did she just bump into the VTs? But what about that text saying ‘Had a gr8 time this afternoon’? She behaved really awkwardly when I asked her about it. What if she had meant to send it to one of the VTs instead of me?
She must have seen them because they said Aubrey had told them about Mum’s ballroom-dancing craze.
So this means that my best friend has been lying to me. I bet she didn’t even go to the dentist at all: I bet she was in town, hanging out with the VTs all along. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I realize she has been going behind my back for a while. First she goes to the disco without me, then there’s some story about the cinema, and now this.
It is suddenly all very clear: Aubrey does not want my friendship any more.
Unless she gets something out of it: i.e. Finn.
What am I going to do? My life well and truly sucks.
Feels like the only ‘person’ I can trust is my journal, so I am in my room, writing again.
The last couple of days have been like this: get up and bolt breakfast so that I can hassle Mum to take me and Finn into school early. Get there before the VTs so that I don’t have to face them or any of their sidekicks seeing Mum in whatever unearthly creation she has decided to wear that morning. Hang out in the library until the last possible moment before class so that I can avoid speaking to Aubrey.
I should probably stand up to Aubrey and tell her I know that she has been lying to me. I should also tell her that I am never going to introduce her to Finn. But if I do either of those things then I will definitely lose her for good. But then if I DO introduce her to Finn I will lose her too. Maybe I should face the fact that I have lost her anyway. Do I even want to be friends with someone who can be so two-faced?
That’s the thing, though. Of course I do. It’s Aubrey.
I am so confused. I think the best thing for me to do is to bury my head in a book. So far this term I have already read three Lemony Snickets, two John Greens and a Cathy Cassidy. Bit of a mixture (and all quite sad books too) but I don’t really care. I just need to go somewhere in my head that is not Real Life. Maybe I should reread the Cathy Cassidys. She is really good on friendships and heartbreak. I might pick up some tips on how to get myself out of this mess.
I don’t know. I think maybe I prefer not to think about it any more just at the moment.
At least at school I have been able to hide at break and lunch. Mrs Ball has been great and given me loads of library duties to do, so it has been easy to come up with reasons as to why I need to be in the library.
I have been in survival-mode, keeping well below the parapet, ducking to avoid any VT-shaped pieces of shrapnel that might come my way. I seem to have done OK so far. Thank goodness it is Friday so I only have to survive one more day before I can go into full-hermit-mode over the weekend.
Here goes: time to leave my writer’s turret and brave the reality of the Big Bad World . . .
I head straight for the library. I don’t even want to talk to Aubrey at registration at the moment. Maybe I could find a quiet corner and do some more writing. Just some notes on scrap paper: I haven’t brought my journal to school. I am not that stupid. Imagine what the VTs would say if they found it? Imagine what they would do with it? It literally makes me shudder to think.
I am feeling on a roll with my writing at the moment, though. Or ‘In the Zone’ as I think writers say.
I might just check the display board first. I have been helping Mrs Ball over the past two days, decorating the board to promote the Alex Rider series. Maybe I could add a few finishing touches. I am pretty pleased with how it is shaping up, actually . . .
WHAT?
I am staring at the board, blinking and shaking my head in case I am imagining it, but no, this is no hallucination. There, right in front of my eyes, slap bang in the middle of all my hard work, is a poster. It is screaming at me in large, red and black letters:
Electric Warthogs introduce their new drummer: FINN PARKER!
Under the words, in glorious technicolour, blown up to magnify the cheesiness of his pleased-with-himself grin, is a photo of the boy who has come between me and my best friend.
It seems I have been so busy playing at being invisible that, clearly, I have not noticed what has been going on right under my nose . . .
I go cold. This is exactly the kind of disastrous scenario I was worried about: Finn becoming some kind of school hero, which is basically what getting into a band seems to do to people. (I think of the way Aubrey has started flapping her hands and hyperventilating any time anyone mentions Going Nowhere Fast – the band that has ironically been at number one for months.)
Oh no. Thinking of Aubrey like this has reminded me of something. I replay some of the things Aubrey has said: she was really excited when she found out that Finn plays the drums . . . She even mentioned that he might get into the school band . . . Did she put him up to this while I was hiding away in the library? Have they already hooked up? I should have done something, said something, anything to stop this happening!
I am stopped in mid-panicky-thought by the sound of footsteps skittering down the corridor behind me accompanied by chattering and high-pitched laughter.
I turn my head slowly to look through my fringe, but I already know who it is.
Voldemort and Voldemort. With my ex-best friend Aubrey, scurrying in their wake like a sugar-crazed weasel. The twins are arm in arm, almost skipping as they chatter. Aubrey is trotting behind, her head bobbing up every so often as she tries to keep up with them.
As they get closer I hear Izzy (or Livvy – I can’t tell the difference at a distance) saying, ‘. . . so cool if the band said yes. D’you reckon we could be backing singers?’
‘Yeah,’ simpers Aubrey. ‘It would be awesome to all be in the band together.’
‘No!’ I say, without thinking.
The twins stop in t
heir tracks. As one, they face me, their arms still linked. They narrow their eyes and prepare to deliver one of their killer blows, like an alien creature with two identical heads.
Why did I speak?
I make a belated attempt to hide, ducking down behind a life-size cardboard cut-out of Alex Rider that Mrs Ball has put next to the display I was working on. I forget how flimsy it is and it wobbles as I catch the edge of it with my hand. I lunge forward to stop it falling, but I am too late. It topples towards the VTs and I end up on top of it, at their feet. My arms are wrapped around Alex Rider, my hair is all over my face and my skirt is rising dangerously up the back of my legs. At least Mum has sewn the button back on. I fling my hand back and tug it to stop it riding up any more.
‘Oooh, look at that,’ sneers Izzy, whipping her phone out. ‘Skye is snogging Alex Rider. No need to throw yourself at him, Skye.’
Livvy cackles. ‘Bit of a two-dimensional boyfriend, don’t you think? But then, that’s probably the only kind of boyfriend Skye-FALL will ever get her hands on.’
Aubrey laughs.
I push the cardboard figure off and get up, adjusting my clothes. I cannot bear to see Aubrey enjoying this. I square up to her.
‘What are you doing, staring at me like that?’ I snap.
‘Nothing,’ she says. ‘Are you OK?’ she adds, biting her bottom lip.
‘As if you care!’ I say.
Aubrey’s face drains of colour and she turns away from me. She flicks her hair back, juts her chin in the air and says to the VTs, ‘So: shall I see if Finn thinks the band could use us? I was talking to him yesterday. I’m sure I can get him to ask the rest of the band.’