Dress to Impress

by Coleen McLoughlin

  “Stop fussing and put it on,” I pleaded. “It’ll look brilliant, Lucy. Honest.”

  Lucy pulled the beanie over her long blonde hair. “I feel like a scarecrow,” she said, peering out from underneath it.

  “You look great,” I declared, smoothing her hair down over her shoulders. “Funky and I-don’t-care.”

  “If you say so,” Lucy sighed.

  “Two thirty, guys,” Mel said suddenly. “Doesn’t the match start at three?”

  We piled the accessories into my bag and raced down the stairs. When I caught sight of Ben and Jasmine in the kitchen, I automatically covered my eyes, crashed into Mel’s back and landed in a heap on Lucy’s doormat.

  “They weren’t even kissing,” Lucy pointed out as she and Mel hauled me back to my feet.

  “Sorry,” I said sheepishly. “Automatic.”

  We reached the touchline just as the whistle went. The first person I saw on the pitch was Billy Wilson, hurtling past us. The wind was behind him, and it made him extra fast. Standing in their usual spot were Frankie and his dad. Frankie glanced in our direction at once.

  “Summer’s not here,” I whispered to Lucy.

  Lucy smiled with relief. The wind was making her look extra pretty, with her rosy cheeks and sparkly eyes. Sadly, you couldn’t say the same about me. If I crossed my eyes, I could see that the tip of my nose was bright red.

  “Look out,” Mel muttered. “The turnip is approaching.”

  Lucy’s hand flew to her hat.

  “Leave it!” I hissed, stopping her from pulling it off. “Do you want your hair blowing in your eyes?”

  Frankie glanced nervously at me as we all shuffled around to face him. Pulling up my scarf a little, I tried not to look at him.

  “So,” Lucy began with a squeak in her voice. “Coleen says you brought me a CD last week.”

  “I brought it again, just in case you came today,” Frankie said, fumbling around in his pockets.

  “Very nice of you, I’m sure,” said Mel in a sarcastic voice.

  “Look, Mel,” I said loudly, taking Mel’s hand and pulling her away from Lucy and Frankie. “Em’s doing a brilliant tackle.”

  “What are you doing, Coleen?” Mel asked crossly. “I wanted to keep an eye on Lucy.”

  “I think maybe Lucy’s got to work this out by herself,” I said. “Anyway, she’s fine. Look at her.”

  We both looked. Lucy and Frankie were chatting like they’d known each other for ages. I got a warm feeling in my tummy that things were going to work out just fine, even after everything that had happened at school.

  Then a roar on the pitch caught our attention.

  “GOOOAAALLL!”

  “It’s Em!” I squealed, pointing at the jumping Hartley Juniors around the away goal. “I think she just scored!”

  As usual, Dad had forgotten he was supposed to be a neutral referee. He had thrown himself into the muddle of celebrating players and lofted Em up on to his shoulders, where she waved at me, Mum and Mel with a grin that practically wrapped round her whole head.

  Frankie and Lucy had appeared beside us again. Lucy looked like she was floating a couple of centimetres off the ground.

  “Top goal from your sister, Coleen,” Frankie said.

  “She’s all right, our Em,” I said gruffly, like I wasn’t the proudest sister in the whole world right then.

  Frankie checked his watch. “I have to go now,” he said, sounding really sorry about it. “I promised Mum I’d pick up a bit of shopping for her. Hope the rest of the match goes OK.”

  He grinned sheepishly at Lucy, then stuck his hands in his pockets and headed out of the park.

  “Spill,” I ordered as soon as Frankie Wilson was out of earshot.

  Lucy giggled and linked arms with us both. “He was really lovely,” she said. “All friendly, not like he is at school at all.”

  “Did he explain about Summer?” Mel asked.

  “I didn’t mention her, and neither did he,” Lucy said with a shrug. “We didn’t talk about school at all, actually. Just music. And our date next weekend.”

  “A DATE?” me and Mel both screeched at once.

  “Well, kind of a date,” Lucy said happily. “We’re meeting at The Music Place.”

  The Music Place had just opened in Lions’ Walk, the local shopping mall. It had always been a music store, but it had just had a total makeover. Apparently, there were these listening booths now where you could check out new tunes, and banks of computers to do downloads straight to your MP3 player, and a little café with old records hung around the walls. I couldn’t wait to see it for myself.

  “You agreed to a date with Frankie Wilson?” Mel said, sounding shocked.

  I knew where Mel was coming from. I was really pleased that Lucy and Frankie had got on so well, but…

  “But why didn’t you ask him about Summer?” I asked.

  “It was too embarrassing,” Lucy confessed. “But as I said, he didn’t mention her,” she added hopefully, “so maybe she’s not his girlfriend any more?”

  I didn’t know what to say. There was something here that I didn’t understand. It was like chasing fog down the playground, only to find that the fog had somehow moved up the end you just came from.

  I opened my mouth, wondering what was going to come out. But whatever it was got lost in the massive yell of disappointment sweeping down our side of the touchline. The away side had just scored.

  Sunday dinner is an event round our house, as Nan always comes to join us. She lives a few streets down in the house where Dad and his brothers were all born. My Pops died when I was five. I find it hard to remember him, and Em can’t remember him at all. But once you meet my nan, you never forget her. She’s still dead glamorous at fifty-nine, her fingernails always painted and her tiny feet tucked into the most brilliant high-heeled shoes. My first memory is of teetering around in a pair of them. To tell the truth, trying on Nan’s shoes is still my favourite thing to do when we go round to hers. She’s definitely where I get my interest in fashion. It’s in my genes.

  Anyway, you can always rely on Nan to tell a bunch of embarrassing stories about Dad when he was a toddler or a teenager at our Sunday dinners. Me and Em always make sure to get her on the subject as soon as we can.

  “Tell us about the time you did that chocolate cake for Dad’s birthday,” I pleaded as Mum poured us all cups of tea after dessert.

  Dad groaned and banged his head on the table. “Not that one,” he said into the tablecloth.

  “Don’t be so daft, Kieran love,” said Nan comfortably. “You weren’t the first nine-year-old to eat so much chocolate cake on his birthday that he was sick. Being sick into the fireplace, though – that was a little more unusual.”

  Em snorted into her cup and sent a jet of brown tea shooting across the table. Well, that just set me off. I sat there and hooted like a crazy owl.

  “You’re one to laugh, Coleen,” Mum said. “Need I remind you of how loudly you sang ‘Mary, Mary, quiet and hairy’ in your primary-school concert? There we all were, picturing poor old Mary with a full moustache.”

  “No one explained it was supposed to be contrary!” I spluttered indignantly as Em screamed with laughter. “I still don’t even know what contrary means!”

  “Mary, Mary, Col’s getting lairy,” Em sang, ignoring my efforts to kick her under the table.

  “On the subject of music,” Dad said, “did you hear how they’ve revamped Vinny’s Vinyl in the shopping mall, Mum?”

  “They never!” Nan gasped. “The old record store?”

  “Yes, it’s called The Music Place now,” I said, talking extra loudly to drown out Em’s next Mary, Mary verse. “There’s meant to be all these booths for listening to new tracks, and computers where you can download music.”

  Nan went totally misty-eyed. “Just like in my day,” she sighed, setting down her tea. I swear I saw a tear glimmering in the corner of her eye.

  “They didn’t have compute
rs in your day, Nan,” I said kindly, thinking she was getting muddled.

  “MP1 players back then, weren’t they, Mum?” Dad joked.

  “Not computers, you daft beggar,” Nan said, waving one hand at Dad to get him to shut up. “Vinyl records! I met Kieran’s dad over a Beatles track in one of the old booths in that store,” she told the rest of us. “How about that? All You Need Is Love. How right they were.”

  “Did you know this, Kieran?” Mum asked my dad.

  “Of course I did,” Dad said. “That track got played to death in our house.”

  I got this huge, warm, snuggly feeling right in the pit of my stomach as I pictured Nan and Pops’ eyes meeting over an old record. I tried to imagine it with me and Ben.

  “That’s dead romantic, Nan,” I sighed.

  Nan was smiling, lost in some old memory of Pops. “Your grandad was a real Jack the Lad back then,” she said. “All bluster, mind. Underneath that quiffed hair and those old leather jackets he was as soft as butter.”

  Pops sounds a bit like Frankie Wilson, I thought. Maybe it was a sign that Lucy’s date with Frankie at The Music Place was going to be OK after all. Maybe they would get married, and end up having dinner with their grandkids one day. How was that for a crazy thought?!

  Five

  “Look,” I hissed to my mates as we cleared our dinner things at school the next day. “At least Frankie’s done something right.”

  Summer was sitting at a table down the dining hall with a face like a bad-tempered wasp. Hannah and Shona were both trying to put their arms round her, but she kept shoving them away. At a different table, Frankie was kidding around with Ravi Singh and totally ignoring Summer. It looked like that little romance was well and truly over.

  “If he’s dumped Summer, he must like Lucy for real, don’t you think?” I said happily. I was still feeling very warm and cosy about my grandparents, and was quite happy to give Frankie Wilson the benefit of the doubt today.

  “He still hasn’t spoken to Lucy today, though, has he?” Mel pointed out. “That’s well suspect in my book.”

  “I don’t care,” said Lucy, going pink like she always did when we talked about Frankie.

  “Course you do,” I said. “No one likes being ignored.”

  Frankie was now taking a run and leapfrogging over Ravi. Both boys yelled and raced for the dininghall doors. They reminded me of puppies that needed a walk.

  “Let’s follow them,” I suggested. “See if we can get Frankie on his own outside.”

  Our school playground is massive. There’s climbing equipment in one corner, and basketball markings on the tarmac around a couple of scruffy nets. Kids were swarming around it in a wash of blue and grey uniforms. We stood and watched as Frankie and Ravi whipped around the basketball posts with a bunch of other Year Eight lads, trying to jump up high enough to touch the nets. When Ravi left the court to grab a drink out of his bag, we seized our chance.

  “All right, Frankie?” Mel said.

  Frankie was out of breath from running at the basketball nets. “Hot,” he said, and did his eyebrowwaggling thing at us like he does when he thinks he’s said something clever.

  “I really love the CD,” said Lucy nervously. “Thanks.”

  “Whatever,” said Frankie, gazing over our shoulders as Ravi headed back towards him.

  “So,” Lucy struggled on, “are you still on for this weekend?”

  Frankie leaped into the air and high-fived Ravi. “What’s happening this weekend?” he asked on the way back down again.

  Mel and I exchanged glances. It was time to get Lucy out of what was turning into one of those awful embarrassing situations that you have nightmares about for weeks afterwards.

  “You know,” Lucy said a little desperately. “The Music Place? We said twelve on Saturday, right?”

  At last we had Frankie Wilson’s full attention. After a minute, he smiled.

  “Noon on Saturday it is, dollface,” he said, cocking his finger like a pistol and pretending to shoot us. “I hear The Music Place is cool.”

  “Great,” Lucy said, looking puzzled, but massively relieved. “Well. See you.”

  “Wouldn’t wanna be ya,” Frankie sang at us, before leaping off after Ravi and the basketball hoops again.

  “See?” Lucy said happily as we went back inside. “Told you everything would be OK.”

  “Well, not quite OK,” Mel whispered in my ear as we joined the throng pushing through the doors at the bell. “He’s back to his awful self. I don’t like this.”

  “Me neither,” I murmured. Inside I was thinking: Dollface? All those warm and cosy thoughts about Frankie and Lucy being like Nan and Pops were fizzling out like an old firework.

  “What are we going to do?” Mel whispered.

  “Frankie Wilson is definitely up to something,” I said under my breath. “We have to be with Lucy on that date, Mel. Then it’s up to us to work out what’s going on, before Lucy gets hurt!”

  Lucy was on a total high for the rest of the week. She didn’t seem to notice the way Frankie whispered with Ravi every time we went past, or the way he said “Hiya, dollface” in this smarmy way at registration each morning. Summer glared at Lucy like she was a bit of gum on the bottom of her shoe, but Lucy didn’t notice that either.

  The only slight problem with this mood was that Lucy’s confidence was up in the clouds too.

  “You don’t need to come to The Music Place with me,” she insisted when I suggested that me and Mel joined her and Frankie at the weekend. “Honestly.”

  “But Lu—” Mel began.

  “Mel,” Lucy said firmly, “it would feel too weird having my mates along. It’s much easier to talk to Frankie when I’m on my own. I’ll be fine; I promise.”

  And nothing me and Mel said could make Lucy change her mind. We had to think of some other way of being on that date – and fast.

  “It’s an amazing thing, love,” I said to Mel as we all waited for the bus home on Friday night. “Its like armour.”

  “What are you on about, Coleen?” said Mel.

  “The way Lucy is now,” I explained, “she could walk through a minefield and not notice the bombs as they popped around her. Look at her.”

  I grabbed Lucy’s shoulder and swung her round. “Boo!” I shouted in her face.

  “Coleen,” Lucy laughed gently, pushing me away, “don’t be so daft.”

  “See?” I said, turning back to Mel. “Whenever I do that to Em, it scares the socks off her. But loved-up Lucy? Cool as a cucumber in sunglasses.”

  “On an ice floe,” Mel grinned, looking convinced by one of my theories for once. “In Alaska maybe, during the winter – drinking a Slushie.”

  As we giggled, our bus rumbled down the hill towards us. We gathered our stuff and climbed aboard, but Lucy stayed where she was, staring down the road and humming something that was probably off Frankie’s dad’s CD.

  “Earth to Lucy,” Mel called, speaking really slowly and clearly. “This is a bus. You get on. When you reach your stop, you get off. Comprende?”

  “You’re such a laugh, Mel,” Lucy said dreamily, floating up the bus steps behind me.

  “Hurry up, Jas!” came a familiar voice further down the road.

  “Wait up, Ben. I’ve got a stitch, OK?”

  Boing, boing, boing went my stomach, up and down like an elevator on elastic. Ben Hanratty was nearly at the stop, his bag flying over his shoulder. With a face like thunder, Jasmine Harris was running after him, wailing: “Wait, will you? Just wait!”

  “You coming?” the bus driver asked as Ben hesitated outside the doors. “Only this bus has to be somewhere else in a couple of minutes.”

  Ben looked like he couldn’t make up his mind, one foot on the bus and one on the pavement. Jasmine was still running, yelling: “Wait!”

  “Get on, Hanratty, you big girl’s blouse,” Dave Sheekey shouted from his usual place midway down the bus.

  Ben jumped aboard and the doors hissed
shut. Dave and Ali Grover both cheered at the sight of Jasmine Harris dumping her bag on the pavement and shaking her fist at the window as Ben sheepishly sat down.

  “Good one, mate,” said Dave, punching Ben on the shoulder.

  “Jas’ll give you an earful tomorrow,” said Ali happily.

  My heart expanded like a balloon. If Jasmine Harris’s expression was anything to go by, it wouldn’t be long before Ben Hanratty got dumped.

  I was in a great mood when I woke up on Saturday. Happily imagining Jasmine and Ben breaking up, I bounced out of bed like Tigger at nine o’clock sharp. Me and Mel were meeting Lucy in town that morning, and we were going to find her the perfect date outfit.

  Top tip: when shopping, dress as comfortably as you can. If you’re going to be in and out of changing rooms, you don’t want belts and buckles and tights – and you want to avoid all-in-ones big time. I pulled on my skinny black jeans, a pale pink tee and my silvery bomber jacket. Slipping my feet into pumps – laces are another big shopping no-no – I got my rucksack and headed out after a couple of pieces of toast and a wave at Mum.

  “Try and find something special for your Nan’s birthday when you’re out, will you, Coleen?” Mum called after me. “Turning sixty is a big thing for her.”

  Nan’s birthday is two weeks tomorrow. Dad wanted to do a big party that weekend, but our house just isn’t big enough. So we are going to do a special birthday tea on the Saturday for just the family with presents round at ours instead.

  Thinking about Nan’s present got me right into the town centre in what felt like a blink of time. Chocolates? Soap? What do grandmothers like? Shoes are all very well, but totally out of my price range.

  “I’ve already seen what I want to get,” Lucy said in excitement as soon as we’d all met up in our usual spot in the market square at ten.

  “For my nan?” I asked dopily. My head was still swirling with soap and chocs.

  “No, silly, for my date with Frankie,” Lucy said, looking at me weirdly. “I just need you and Mel to tell me if it’s OK.”

  “You must have got into town dead early if you’ve already been window-shopping,” said Mel.