by Beth Garrod
“Sorry.” I stuffed my phone back in my bag. “It won’t happen again.” Well, it definitely would, I’d just be more careful not to do it in plain sight.
“Glad to hear it. And to help you rrrremember, I am taking away two prom points.”
As if! Then I’d only have twelve left. And that was only two away from prom exile.
“But, Mr Lutas. I swear it was an emergency.”
Mr Lutas flashed his coffee-stained teeth at me. I only ever see his smile when he’s ruining someone’s day. Although recently I had witnessed one extracurricular smile – when he saw Mrs Hitchman. What was the deal with those two? Last I heard she was happily married – and Mr Lutas was happily totally alone.
“Swearing is also not allowed. So let’s make it three. Now, I suggest you move along.”
Eurgh. How dare he! Eleven points was major danger zone, I could not risk losing a single point more, so I moved along. There was no way I wasn’t going to prom when I’d made such good progress on getting Zac there. It’s been four days since the date, 15.8 (he pressed send too soon on one) messages, one photo of his dog, Keith, and I still seem to not have put him off. This is extra remarkable as one of my replies was meant to be a picture of Mumbles, but ended up being an accidental under-the-chin selfie. I’d even plucked up the courage to ask where he was going to college, but he’d turned the tables and told me it was my turn to wait and see. And that he’d tell me on our THIRD DATE?! I’d rolled off my bed and plopped on to the floor with uncontainable glee.
Smiling to myself, I rubbed the large bruise I’d got on my elbow as a result and headed towards my only school safe haven – the library. There was something comforting about being in a place where people were actively forbidden from talking to me. But when I got there, there was no one on duty, meaning everyone was chatting at full volume, so instead of a library it was just a normal room, but with a lot of shelves.
I searched the rows looking for books on French cinema but couldn’t tell if I was having any luck as the titles were all in French.
CRUNCH.
I stomped on something that wasn’t carpet. It made the same crunching noise as when I’d once stepped on a dead pigeon in the dark. I looked at what I’d just crushed. A pile of books on a bag.
“Sorry – I totally didn’t see your bag LYING IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FLOOR.” I hoped the owner would pick up on my sorry-not-sorry subtlety. But it wasn’t a regulation school bag. It was the really expensive leather version that nobody had. Nobody, that is, except Rachel. Who on cue appeared from around the corner.
“Don’t worry about it. It’s full of junk anyway.” She swung it off the floor and on to her shoulder. She smiled. I didn’t. “I shouldn’t have left it there.”
I’d been trying so hard to not care about my ex-friends any more I was surprised how much hurt flooded back at seeing her.
“You’re getting pretty good at bad decisions lately, aren’t you?”
She flinched. But what she did expect? I didn’t want to speak to her. Not now. Not here. Not ever. Over the last few weeks I’d proved to everyone – not least of all me – that even after all these years, I didn’t need them. I didn’t need to be in a group any more. I could make it through the day without them. What they’d done was unforgiveable, and it didn’t matter how much they begged me to accept their apologies or promised to make it up. Which they’d done on a daily basis.
I grabbed a book dramatically, and stormed off to my table-for-one where I’d spent most of my recent breaktimes. I stared out of the window that overlooked the playground. Some Year 8 girls were walking towards the wall that Rachel, Tegan and I used to sit on. The place we’d claimed since we’d first arrived at St Mary’s. The placed we’d talked through every detail of Rachel’s first kiss like it was our own, cried together when Tegan’s dad got ill and a year later cried with laughter when Mikey debuted his first Taylor Swift routine. And as the Year 8s sat in the exact spot, something nagged at me. Something I’d been trying to pretend I wasn’t thinking. But it was sometimes hard to ignore myself, as I spend a lot of time with me.
I was so sure of how cross I felt with Rachel and Tegan that I’d been ignoring how I felt about me. I took a deep breath and faced up to the thing I’d been trying to bury. As I’d settled into my new routines, my new places to sit and my new people to speak to, I’d started to feel unsettled about something else. Was pushing the others away actually making me any happier?
“Room for another?”
Without looking away from the window I shook my head at Rachel.
Being an independent woman was tiring. Beyoncé doesn’t mention that in any of her songs, does she? Or maybe that’s just like how no one ever has a wee in EastEnders.
Rachel ignored me, and crouched down resting her hands and chin on my table. She looked like a very odd table ornament.
“Can we talk?” She glanced at the teacher who had just walked in and lowered her voice. “Well, whisper. Please?”
“I’ve got nothing to say slash whisper to you.”
“Well, I’ve got loads I want to say slash whisper to you. So maybe instead of talking, you’d be up for listening instead? I’ll only be a min.”
I thought about doing what I normally did. Walking off. But something made me stay where I was. The nagging feeling I’d been trying to ignore.
I stayed because, however mad I was, and however much I’d found new routines, I missed her. I missed my friend. I missed having someone in the world who knows what is happening in your every day. Who knows that you cross the street to avoid cats (that you have identified as having an attitude problem). Who knows that you wear an extra pair of knickers over your tights ever since they once fell down when you were walking up the stairs to a history lesson. Who knows that you when you’re feeling happy, or sad, or poo-ed on by a pigeon, or like your heart has exploded on the second row of Screen One, you need someone to share it with. Who knows how you feel when Mr Lutas docks you three points.
“OK, here goes. . .” She paused, bracing herself for me to listen. “We’re sorry. So, so, so sorry. We made the WORST decision ever. Sure it was Tegan’s idea, but I went along with it, and that’s no better.”
Figured. Rachel can’t even follow the plot of Disney movies without asking what’s going on, so I didn’t ever consider she’d orchestrated the deception. That’s probably why I still felt the maddest at Tegan.
“We just knew how rubbish you’d been feeling about Luke, and how hurt you’d been about the whole Blobfish thing.”
Oh yes. When we came back to school in January, Luke had got his techy friend to change my name to Blob Fisher on the internal email system.
“So we didn’t want him having any more ammo on you. On us. It was meant to prove how little we all cared, not create the world’s worst pic of him and Tegan. They really did only kiss for like two seconds. And when she realized what she’d done, she was mortified. You know when Tegan gets a fright and loses her voice? Well that happened.” I did know it. I’d seen it once before when her mum had been using her dad to help her pin a dress she was sewing, but Tegan had walked in and thought he was a secret cross-dresser.
“It was a total accident, but she felt like she’d let you down. Like she’d let the three of us down. You know how good at life she normally is?!”
Well I knew how pretty excellent at life she was. The person that always sorted out our dramas, not made her own. Which is why this had hurt even more.
“I know it doesn’t help, but it was just a massive wrong place, wrong time, bad decision. So she figured pretending it never happened – and I KNOW how crazy that sounds now – but she really did think it would make Luke look even more pathetic . . . and be the best thing for us.”
I waved an instant goodbye to my mouth-staying-out-of-it rule.
“THE BEST THING?! What planet were you on?”
“Planet Total Idiot? Honestly, if there was anything we could do to take it back, or to put it right, we�
�d do it. In a second. . . We miss you.”
She smiled softly. Hopefully. Like her words could be the superglue we needed to stick our friendship back together.
“And I want to hear the details about Zac. The gossip’s going crazy. Someone said you’re moving in together?”
I couldn’t help but laugh. If only.
But Rachel’s face fell.
What had she seen? I turned to where she was squinting. Through a stack of books on yeast and fermentation, I spotted The Grossness. Luke. Too bad he saw me too. And he wasted no time in coming over.
“Wow, Rach. So the technique does work then. Standing next to an ugger does make you look even hotter?” He didn’t even bother whispering. What. A. Rebel.
“She’s crouching, actually.”
“Whatever. Crouching fittie, hidden minger.”
It didn’t even make any sense.
SSSHHHHHH.
First official shush. But Luke didn’t care and carried on talking like we were outside. He’d probably never been in a library before.
“So, B. I heard you’ve got even more carried away with your imaginary boyf?”
I hated how he always used nicknames, like he was our friend.
“So, L. He’s not imaginary. Or my boyf.” I annoyed myself with the speed I snapped back. “Yet.”
“So even an imaginary dude won’t go out with you? That’s next-level tragic.”
SHHHHHHH.
Rachel stood up, eye to eye with Luke, leaving me staring up at them both like a naughty child. Her voice was at a whisper, but she sounded fierce.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, don’t I? Do you not think it’s completely blates that Blobfish here has made the whole boyf thing up to make herself look popular? It’s so embarrassing, and everyone thinks it.”
Correction, everyone only thought it now he’d gone out of his way to make sure they did. Sarah let it slip. Man, he made my blood boil. Deep breath, Bella. He’s just trying to wind you up. I picked up my bag and stood up. If you can’t beat them, flee.
“Look, Luke.” It kind of rhymed. “When is it finally going to go in? Leave. Me. Alone.”
He nodded.
“Will do. When I get an apology. For saying I was the liar when your bessie snogged me.” Rachel shook her head, disgusted, but Luke wasn’t stopping. “And for not admitting that, just like your mates, you can’t seem to tell the truth either. Unless of course you want to come clean and admit you made this whole ‘Zac’ thing up?”
How DARE he threaten me?
“Why is it ANY business of yours who I see – and what I say about it?!”
Luke’s face hardened. I’d riled him. Good.
“Well you’re the one who got all up in my face about how you were going to bring this hot new kid to prom. This new boyfriend – sorry not-yet-boyfriend – who literally no one has even seen. It’s time to grow up, Blob. Time to accept that no one wants you – and we all know it.”
“HE DOES EXIST, YOU MORON.”
Erk. My crossness broke the shouting rule. I COULD NOT get into any more trouble today.
SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.
But maybe there was a way I could shut Luke up once and for all? Make the rumours stop. That’s the thing with Luke. That’s how he functions. Makes me do things sane me would never do.
“And I don’t need to wait for prom to prove it.”
I took out my phone. All I had to do was share the one thing I’d been keeping private. Keeping special. Vacuum packed in happy memories. The pic of Zac and I together. I closed down PSSSST and opened up my camera roll.
But as I scrolled down through my post-date smiling selfies, feeling Luke’s breath on my hair as he watched over my shoulder, smirking under his breath, I thought of how brilliant that day with Zac had been. And how it had been so brilliant because it was real. So what was more important to me? Shutting Luke up, or keeping Zac out of his stupid games? I stared at my screen wishing I knew what to do.
“PHONE AWAY, MS FISHER.”
The library plunged into total silence as the teacher on duty shouted across the room. He was giving me serious evils from behind his desk. Just my luck to get spotted. I mouthed ‘sorry’ and stuffed my phone out of sight. The picture could wait. I couldn’t risk a single prom point just to shut Luke up, as much as I’d love to wipe that stupid smug grin off his face.
I waited till the teacher had got back to marking papers before I dared to risk whispering again. I stood up so I could hiss straight into Luke’s ear.
“Guess you’ll have to wait for prom after all.”
He smirked.
“Guess I will. And let me tell you, I am literally counting down the days till I see you turn up dateless. Can. Not. Wait.” He turned to leave. “And enjoy that book. You’ve got a lot to learn.”
He held up his hand like a phone, mouthed ‘call me’ at Rachel, and walked off. What book was he talking about? I looked at the table and registered what I’d dramatically grabbed earlier – From Erections, to Earlobes: The Truth About Boys’ Bodies. Classy choice, Bella.
I was shaking with rage. There are only two things in life I want to take back. One is last year when my bikini top snapped whilst on a zip wire at a water park in Stafford. The other is ever going out with Luke.
Rachel put her arm around me and guided me back into sitting.
“I know you hate me, and I get it. But how about you let me make it up to you? We could start by sitting by each other in PSHE later – and figuring out what to do about Puke. Maybe you could fill me in on all the non-imaginary-Zac deets?”
But for a change I wasn’t thinking about Zac. I was thinking about me. Rachel was right. I needed a plan to deal with Luke, cos avoiding him wasn’t getting me anywhere. And his hate campaign wasn’t doing me any favours when it came to getting back into the teachers’ good books. I needed every prom point I could get, and right now I was dateless, inviteless and planless.
Fixing everything was going to be tough.
I could do it alone. Or. . . I looked at Rachel. Or . . . or I could have someone there with me.
“How about I see you in PSHE then?”
She smiled. And for the first time in weeks I smiled back.
But I wasn’t as happy as I looked. There was one more big thing I needed to sort out. Figuring out what to do about Tegan. As scary as it was to face up to, if Rachel and I were going to try and be friends, then it was going to be harder than ever to ignore her. Sooner or later we were going to have to talk. But was I going to be able to let her back, or would I have to push her away for ever?
CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN
‘I, Bella Fisher, take you Zac Whose Last Name I’ve Still Forgotten To Ask, to be my lawful life partner.’ Wowee, imaginary Zac looked good in an imaginary suit. And that imaginary chocolate life-partnering cake tasted good too.
I threw my chocolate wrapper in the bin outside the art classroom. If I hid the evidence, it was like it never happened. Still, I was celebrating. Not only had I just imaginarily pledged my allegiance to Zac, not only was it almost the week anniversary of being friends again with Rachel, not only had I not seen Luke since the library, but today was also the day that for the first time ever my name had gone up on the netball team noticeboard. Sure, I think it was because I’d accidentally caused physical injury to three of the regular team, and Sarah had no other options as it was the same night as craft club. But that aside, I, someone who sometimes got out of breath putting my hair up, would officially be representing St Mary’s this week as goalkeeper when we took on JOGS. One small step for netballing teams, one giant leap towards me having spare prom points. Although I have very limited leaping skills. Now all I had to do was get through this week, starting with a mega-long art session.
Which didn’t seem that big a deal.
Oh boy. Could I have been more wrong?
CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN B
I switched off m
y phone. I never want to think about what happened earlier ever again in my whole life. Surely Mondays aren’t legally allowed to be this dramatic?
If I close my eyes and wish hard enough, can I magic myself somewhere else when I open them? Maybe Australia – no, not far enough. Weren’t they looking for people to move to Mars?
I opened my eyes. Still in my room, and even worse, my bedside mirror confirms I’m still blushing four hours after the incident. After all we’d been through, couldn’t it be kind and lie to me?!
Ow. My phone vibrated next to my head. Who now?
My name’s not Bella, it’s Bell-errrr-ina?!!! Classic!
lolololololol xxx
Thanks, Mikey. So he’d heard too. Glad someone’s finding this funny.
I cranked up my music to try and drown out Mum and Jo watching re-runs of Countdown. I HAVE to distract myself. I absently opened PSSSST. I’d posted this time yesterday, when Tegan was playing on my mind, and I’d remembered one of our first-ever big secrets.
ONE OF MY FRIENDS KNOWS EVERYTHING
ABOUT EVERYTHING.BUT WHEN SHE WAS LITTLE
SHE DIDN’T USED TO UNDERSTAND KISSING – ALL
SHE KNEW WAS SHE HAD TO BE GOOD AT IT. SO
AT A SLEEPOVER SHE CALMLY ASKED HER MUM IF
WE COULD PRACTISE ON HER. EWWW!
(FYI OBVS HER MUM SAID NO. BUT STILL!!)
Seeing as it was all on the d-low, I didn’t think it mattered that the other secret was that it was actually me who had suggested parent pashing. It was totally innocent, and only Rachel and Tegan had witnessed it, but asking to snog your mum, whatever the circumstances, is probably some form of criminal offence. I checked the post. Wow. It already had 300 likes. My highest yet.
Any other day and I’d be buzzing, but right now I felt like my body and mind were on power-saving mode and all I could manage was blinking. And breathing. And feeling sorry for myself. Eurgh. This time yesterday I’d just got back from a great day. I’d spent the afternoon at Rachel’s house doing some YouTube tutorials on how to tone eyebrow muscles (I’d put my foot down at inviting Tegan), had an excellent MIAGTM sighting, got another funny comment on PSSSST from LilDrummerBoy, found some hilare pictures of Jo with a haircut that looked like a penis, and was about to eat a shepherd’s pie. Now? Now everything had changed.