Playing With My Heartstrings

by Chloe Brewster

  Cassie picked a scotch egg out of its lacklustre container and threw it into the air, which then - to my utter amazement - landed in her mouth instead of the bee-bestrewn grass.

  "Cassandra!" I shrieked. "You don't do that!"

  Raising me a devilish grin, Cassie said, "I guess nobody taught you that trick at school, huh?"

  I shook my head, amusement beginning to get the better of me. "No, my strict-as-hell maths teacher never gave me a heads-up on how to catch food like an animal," I smirked.

  "You must've got the wrong teacher, then," Cassie muttered, laughter spilling out of her.

  "Or maybe you attended the wrong school?"

  "Yeah, maybe."

  Unlike previous occasions, Cassie and I would still bicker about the most stupid things in the world - including throwing crumbling scotch eggs into the air - but a hint of playfulness was apparent, so Mum and Dad were no longer drawn into our petty arguments, which was a major relief. As a hormonal-and-slightly-off-the-rails teen, I was prone to losing my difficult-to-tame temper rather easily and I was propelled further to throw an immature tantrum simply by Dad raising his voice at me and seeming to make a huger deal about the situation than it truly was.

  That was sisterhood for me.

  Having spent the previous evening writing down my feelings about meeting up with Joel and how he literally admitted to going out with another girl (I couldn't bear to think about who it might have been - one of my party-animal classmates or, mega-gulp, my friends?), Cassie had noticed my subdued mood and decided to cheer me up by devoting the afternoon to some serious girl time and so far she was doing a wonderful job. A few of her dream-to-indulge-on Wispa bars wouldn't go amiss, either.

  "Sadie, have you wondered about going out of town this summer?" Cassie asked, this time devouring a scotch egg properly.

  "No, not really," I answered. In true honestly, the idea hadn't even crossed my mind. As nearly all of my friends except Tara were holidaying in roasting-hot Spain or exploring the Eiffel Tower or getting involved in riots abroad (thankfully, only one troublesome boy, whom nobody in school would fantasize dating in a million years, had chosen that dangerous idea), I just assumed that I would spending the summer holidays at home, sometimes heading out into the busy centre of town to longingly gaze at a pair of Converse which I can scarcely afford. Sigh.

  "Well, one of my friends' sister has just obtained her drivers' license and suggested that all of us could go to Millingbourne later this week," Cassie said, then breathlessly added in an excited rush, "and I was wondering whether you would fancy going."

  "Hmm," I mumbled. That sounded like a great plan. Millingbourne was renowned for its fabulous selection of modern, contemporary fashion shops, most of which were teen-friendly, and unlike my full-to-the-tip-of-bursting hometown, Millingbourne was more peaceful and far quieter, yet it didn't mean that there was a lack of thrilling activities to do or beautiful landscapes to see. A faint memory of visiting the town when I was around seven suddenly struck me and I remembered racing by myself into the large, New York-style pack, much to Mum's despair.

  Also, the town was near the seaside, so I could make an effort to drag my once-worn Special K lookalike red swimsuit to paddle in the typically chilly water. Perfect.

  "Sure, why not?" I eventually said, which caused Cassie to squeal with elation.

  "Thank you! Thank you!" Cassie trilled, her voice a high-pitched squeak. "You'll definitely get along with my friends, won't you?"

  As the realisation of having to sit in the same car with several other One Direction-obsessed thirteen year olds who didn't truly comprehend the difficulties that Year 10 students experienced in maths for at least two hours hit me, my smiling-like-I'd-just-got-a-Chanel-handbag expression turned crest-fallen and panic set in, wondering what I'd have to do to keep myself sane.

  Somehow managing to read my thoughts, Cassie kindly reassured me that none of her friends - who apparently had laid their eyes on another so-called hunky, upcoming boy band - wouldn't make me feel left out and I could even bring my iPod into the car, if I really wanted to.

  So, that was my Thursday smartly laid out in front of me before I'd even thought about it.

  If I'd been born with the blazing confidence that my classmates naturally had, I would've said a strong, cool-as-a-cucumber expression, but nothing seemed appropriate enough. Still. Oh lord.

  **********

  "Everybody! Be quiet! I'm trying to listen to the radio!" Valerie yelled, her dog-like bark ringing inside the modestly sized car, which, had there not been three painful-to-squeeze-in seats in the back, probably would've been classified as a mini. "Oh, not you, Sadie," she included, a half-smile visibly playing on her glossed-to-perfection pink lips. "Unlike everybody else in the car, you're the only one not making any noise."

  Not knowing what to say in response, I shared a smile and told Cassie, alongside her two twittering (though only in loud chat) pals, geek queen Mae - she'd earned this valuable title by winning three literacy competitions at school within a year and also finished in the top three in a spelling bee just a few weeks before the holidays began - who was Valerie's little sister and Dior adorer Amelie, whose near 6ft height had encouraged her to think about possibly pursuing a high-profile modelling career one day, preferably in Paris, her favourite city in the world.

  As for Valerie, I'd got on terribly well with her and shared her same sense of amusing humour, which, needless to say, was immersed with plentiful sarcasm and occasionally rude jokes, and despite her rather tender age of seventeen, she behaved as though she'd observed the whole world - which probably wasn't the case as she'd even joked about not being in possession of a passport - and offered me a few wise words of advice, from finding the willpower to studying for life-important tests to pointing out that wearing the colour yellow attracts humming bees and wasps, which scared the hell out of me. Yeah, words didn't have to be exchanged in order to express my fondness for Valerie, whose dedication to looking after her chestnut brown horse, Cadbury (supposedly the chocolate of her dreams at the age of ten), every morning and night was astounding.

  Luckily, I was sitting in the front with Valerie, who kept changing the radio channel every five minutes in the hope of finding songs that suited her bizarre musical palette.

  "Ugh! I utterly hate this one!" Valerie moaned, as the sound of violins and achingly boring pianos hit the wave speakers in the car.

  "Turn it off! Turn it off!" Cassie and Mae cried, prompting Valerie to hastily change to the station to a more peaceful one, to everybody's relief.

  "Shoe," Valerie muttered. "I caught my nail whilst pressing the button. Sadie, are there any nail files in the drawer?"

  I rolled my eyes. "Val, you're supposed to be driving, not giving yourself a first-rate manicure!"

  "My driving instructor didn't say anything about it, even though he was a man," Valerie shot back.

  "When in doubt, just don't do it," I stated, offering Valerie my first proper piece of good-natured advice. I sank down into the plush black seat, surveying the thousands of aged oak trees surrounding the jam-packed motorway situated in the middle of the glorious countryside, and peering into the larger, definitely first-hand-bought cars speeding past ours, whose hyperactive children appeared to causing havoc in the back. Good, I smirked. At least I'm not the only one.

  "How much longer will it take to get to Millingbourne, Valerie?" I wondered.

  Valerie sighed. "Hmm, I'm not sure," she responded. "This car only goes up to 60mph - if only my mum and dad could've offered me a huger budget - but probably around an hour or so. Depending on whether our sisters can stopping talking for a minute."

  I laughed along with Valerie, who literally snorted with amusement (quite a worrying thing considering that she'd gotten a silver stud piercing on her nose), and then turned the volume up on the thousands years' old radio - which could still play cassettes, an ancient device that Cassie hadn't even been aware of - and I let the cool wind blow my frizz-tastic h
air into a number of wonderful, though knotted positions.

  Just maybe this day could've blown my initial expectations out of proportions. Well, apart from so-called psychics bragging about their 'magical' powers on daytime TV (I'd been lazily slumped on the sofa in front of decade-old television too much recently), who knew?

  ************

  Gosh, I dramatically gasped. This is far better than I'd dared to imagine!

  Millingbourne had not, as I'd nearly betted on (wasting two pounds worth of cheap Belgian chocolate from the supermarket wasn't deemed a good offer by Miss Lucky Cassie, whose winning streak has gone from strength to strength since she first started playing Monopoly), left room for disappointment and had indeed impressed everyone, all of whom had prayed to visit a miniature version of London, minus the head-banging racket and fly-attracting dropped litter.

  Valerie, who later admitted her lack of mathematic skills in front of numbers whiz Mae (surprisingly, she didn't raise a mordant grin, though I reckoned she giggled into her large chocolate milkshake from McDonald's during lunch), turned out to be wrong about what time we would arrive in the lively town, so we were a little more than surprised when the first sighting of extravagantly designed shop windows showcasing to-die-for indigo prom dresses and couture-inspired handbags became visible and tons of bubbly-as-posh-champagne teenagers walked ahead, their light denim shorts barely leaving anything to the imagination. Yes, we were there.

  Having parked outside of a fishmongers'. whose powerful smell was rapidly spreading, Valerie told us to meet up with her in a few hours' time as she was heading off alone to get a belly button piercing with one of her old friends who lived in the area. Ouch.

  "You sure about it?" I asked her.

  Valerie nodded. "Yeah, I've been begging my mum to get one for ages," she laughed. "And now I've got my drivers' license, I can go out and get it anytime!"

  Huh, Valerie was fortunate. Sure, she may have been going behind her concerned mother's back in order to get the sure-to-be-painful piercing done, but she'd probably get away with a sharp telling-off and that would be it. No way in hell would my mum dare allow me to get such a 'horrible-looking' piercing which would make me look like one of those sleazy girls' off some TV show that I'd never heard of. It wasn't like I'd been pleading since the age of nine for a 'cool, sparkly' stud on my eyebrow, which I hated because the hairs always grew back thicker and darker than King Kong's fur after spending half a day plucking them; I just wished I wasn't denied certain things as it would offer me more control in my decisions and allow me to essentially grow up, in few words.

  Or maybe I could blossom right then.

  "Um, Val," I tentatively mumbled, "how much does a piercing cost?"

  Valerie raised her eyebrows. "It depends. Usually around £10 or a bit more, but it doesn't cost a bomb." Then the reason clicked together in her mind. "Oh," she said, a smirk playing on her lips, "you want a piercing, don't you?"

  "N-no, n-no," I stammered. "As if! Why would I want one?"

  "Hmm, let's see," Valerie said. "One, a piercing is the ultimate form of rebelling against strict parents. Two, you get a thrill whenever you get a new stud, which you automatically wish to experience again. And three, isn't it just fun to unleash your wild side every once in a while?"

  I gulped. Valerie might as well have read my mind. A piercing had some sort of alluring charm, which, once thought about, stayed in your mind, never letting you focus on anything else, until you gave in to temptation and got it. Who knew how long the feeling had been waiting to freed? And what if Valerie decided to tell my parents, who would undoubtedly fly into a flaring rage?

  Taking notice of my petrified-to-breathe face, Valerie calmed my nerves. "Look, I won't tell your parents, if you don't tell mine," she assured. "Besides, I'm sure you can pass for sixteen - or if you truly want to play with fire, even eighteen!"

  I breathed a sigh of relief. "Let's see," I stated. "I can't have a piercing which will land me into a field load of trouble at school."

  "Ah, I almost forgot about that. In sixth form, you can wear literally anything you want!"

  A wave of jealous envy splashed inside of me; I would do anything to be two years' older, wiser and perhaps two inches taller than endure three more months' of being a stuck-in-the-in-between fifteen year old.

  Cassie, Mae and Amelie, whose giant-like form towered over me in her chic pink bow flats, were huddled together in a lively debate about which clothing chain was the coolest (though they spoke with an aura of highly powered politicians). I went over to their small group and informed Cassie that I'd be going off with Valerie for a while.

  "Oh, I heard about what you're planning to do," Cassie said, her mocking smirk making me want to wipe it off her peachy orange lips.

  "You better not tell," I hissed, lowering my voice so only she could hear me.

  Cassie nodded her head. "Yes, I promise that I won't tell Mum and Dad - you'd do the same for me, right?"

  "Right," I repeated. If our positions were switched around, I'd be awfully tempted to give a tip-off to Mum and Dad because I wouldn't want Cassie to get a piercing in the first place, but I was far older and wiser than her, so it didn't matter as much, did it?

  "Anyway, Mae, Amelie and I are going to the local shopping centre - so we'll see you and Valerie at around 3pm?"

  "Sure," I agreed. "Go ahead. See you later!"

  After quickly responding to my farewell, Cassie and her friends trawled down the cobbled pavement, steering well clear of the stomach-turning aroma of fish, and headed off into the stream of clothes stands, gushing over an on-trend skull-decorated scarf.

  Ah, the joys of being thirteen.

  "Say -" Valerie's choice of nickname for me, whose name she deemed as too long "- are you ready?"

  "Yeah, let's go."

  Locking the already-bruised car, Valerie and I crossed over the street, taking a few short cuts through a couple of dark alleyways where a cat was contentedly snuggled against an oil-stained black bin bag (ironically next door to a fish and chips shop), towards an ominous tattoo parlour, which also happened to offer piercings.

  "Is this the place?" I asked.

  "Yes, I come here all the time," Valerie replied, then forcefully pulled the rusty handle.

  The smell inside the parlour was enough to bring up my pre-lunch snack, which consisted of a leftover cheesy slice of pizza from dinner the night before. Not such a great idea in retrospect.

  "Come on," Valerie urged. "I promise that you won't faint - the parlour claims that it's never happened before!"

  Well, there was always a first for everything - from getting your heart shattered by a life-long love to passing out by getting a teeny-weeny piercing. All I hoped was that the monochrome tiled floor was spotlessly clean; like I honestly fancied lying on the ground with dirt covered all over my foundation-caked face.

  Here I go.

  ************

  "Ugh, I can't stand to see it! Stop!" I almost screamed, covering my petrified face by my arms, which had suddenly turned a pale milk white. If I carried on behaving like this, the other worried-looking customers would assume that a ghost had entered the building, which I supposed wasn't terribly good for business.

  Valerie, along with her St Tropez-tanned friend, Piper, were currently undergoing their belly button piercings - my idea of a hellish punishment, though I obviously didn't make my opinion known - whilst I sat on a soft red leather sofa in the corner, witnessing their painful ordeal. Even tough-as-nails Piper had a few tears brimming in her grey-fox eyes and Valerie, as was standard with her, kept muttering offensive words under her whimpering breath, mumbling that it would be over soon.

  I wished the same, too.

  "You see, Sadie," Valerie said once her piercing was done, shakily smiling, "that wasn't so bad, huh, was it?"

  I shook my head in clear disagreement. "As far as I could see, you were shaking from head to toe - it was a wonder you'd managed to stay still at all."

 
; Valerie grinned. "But I did it, though, didn't I?" then added, "I reckon that you wouldn't be able to go through it!"

  A wave of nausea somersaulted in my stomach as flashbacks of witnessing Valerie's gory piercing returned to the centre of my sickened mind.

  "No, I couldn't," I hoarsely admitted.

  Valerie's grin faded. "I'm sure there are some piercings here that you could get without passing out onto the floor. Hmm, maybe a second lobe or cartilage piercing?"

  Actually, those weren't bad suggestions at all, considering that few of Valerie's ideas had the tendancy to be rather wacky; for a few years, the thought of getting a second lobe piercing had been playing on my mind and as my school was one of a few handle who allowed girls to wear up to two earrings, I wouldn't run the risk of landing myself in detention for a week. Plus, Mum couldn't possibly freak out about the piercing when she already had two piercings herself, so what did I have to lose?