Teen Queens

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Teen Queens Page 10

by Cathy Hopkins


  Five minutes later, just as we were tucking into freshly baked scones oozing with jam and cream, my mobile bleeped that there was a text message. I wiped the crumbs off my hands and checked the message.

  ‘It’s from Kaylie. It says, if I dare go to any of the teachers about her, my life won’t be worth living.’ I laughed. ‘How pathetic is that?’

  ‘Oooh scary,’ said Cat, putting her hand on her heart and feigning a faint. ‘Bite me.’

  ‘Hmm,’ said Becca. ‘Warning you off going to the teachers. She was obviously rattled by Miss Segal’s class. What should we do?’

  ‘Nothing,’ I said. ‘I honestly don’t think it’s worth it. She knows what she’s done and so does most of our class now. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if the table turns and she finds people ganging up against her now that they realise that they’re not alone.’

  ‘Serve her right if they do,’ said Becca.

  ‘Yeah. But you know what, life’s too short. I should have listened to Dad. He told me that at one point in his life, the press gave him a hard time. He said it took him years to learn just to leave it. Not retaliate, not to try and put the story straight, just leave it. That’s what I’d like to do. She probably only wants a reaction – you know, to see that she’s upset me or scared me. That’s what gives her the power. But if she doesn’t get the reaction she expects, no power. Anyway, I’ve really had enough of it all . . .’

  ‘Oh, you mustn’t leave, Lia,’ said Cat. ‘Please don’t talk about going back to your old school again.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I won’t. No. Enough of all the bad feelings. I don’t want revenge or to get back at her, or to give her a taste of her own medicine, or anything. I just want it all to stop. She leaves me alone, I leave her alone.’

  ‘So, what do we do, then? Wave a white flag to say we don’t want to do battle?’

  I thought for a moment. ‘Actually, that’s not a bad idea. Let’s send her one more e-mail,’ I said.

  ‘What?! After what happened last time?’ asked Becca. ‘You’re mad.’

  ‘What kind of e-mail?’ asked Cat.

  ‘Sort of last chance kind of thing . . .’

  Becca sighed. ‘You’re far too forgiving, Lia.’

  ‘No, I’m not. Not forgiving. I’ll never forget what she’s done, but I do want this to be the end of it now. Finito. Kaput.’

  ‘Suit yourself,’ said Becca. ‘But I think you’re mad. You just said what your dad said. Don’t engage. Don’t have anything to do with bullies.’

  ‘I won’t after today, but I just want it to end on a positive note – not with her having the last word with that stupid threat of hers. I want to let her know that I’m not scared and that I’m not in to waging some stupid battle either. We’ve got years left at school. I want her to be clear about the way it’s going to be with me.’

  Cat looked at Becca. ‘Makes sense.’

  After we’d finished tea, we went into Cat’s dad’s study and turned on the computer.

  ‘Sign it from all of us so that she knows that we’re here with you,’ said Cat. ‘But what shall we say?’

  ‘Dear Kaylie, get lost, you stupid loser,’ said Becca.

  ‘Tempting,’ I said, ‘but . . . can I write it, then if you agree, we’ll send it?’

  ‘Course,’ said Cat then made way for me to sit down.

  Dear Kaylie,

  First, your threats don’t scare me. In fact, I think they’re pretty pathetic. Second, I’m well aware that you might send this round our class again, but who cares? Do what you like. I never wanted any trouble between us and I’m prepared to put it all behind me. I know that after today, a lot of girls are ready to gang up against you, but I think this whole thing should stop here, for good. I propose that tomorrow morning, we meet before assembly and we go in together and show our year that we are all OK and have resolved our differences. I’m not suggesting that we become friends, as that will never happen, but I don’t want any more crap at school.

  I’ll be outside the school gate at 8.55. The choice is yours.

  Li@ @xford.

  Cat leaned over my shoulder and typed in: And C@t and Becc@.

  ‘You sure you want to send it?’ asked Becca when she’d finished reading it.

  I nodded.

  Cat leaned over and pressed the ‘Send’ button.

  THE NEXT morning, I got up early and put on my favourite track. It’s called ‘Don’t Panic’ by Coldplay and it always makes me feel really up and in a good mood. I haven’t played it for weeks, but as the words to the song echoed around my bedroom, I found myself singing along. ‘We live in a beautiful world . . .’

  Mum knocked on my door, then came in and sat on the end of the bed. ‘You’re feeling happy today. What’s happening?’

  ‘I have decided to be myself,’ I said.

  ‘Ah,’ said Mum. ‘Good. At least, I think it is. And what exactly does this entail?’

  I sat next to her. ‘It means that I’m no longer going to hide who I am or who my family are. In fact, I wondered if you could give me a lift to school today?’

  ‘In Meena’s car?’

  ‘Nope. In your gorgeous Porsche.’

  Mum laughed. ‘So what happened to low-key?’

  ‘Not me,’ I said. ‘That was last month. I’ve realised we are what we are. I am who I am. I can’t spend my whole life pretending to be something I’m not. I’m Lia Axford, my dad’s a rock star and I’m proud of it. I’ve spent so much time apologising for the fact that we live well and I have nice things. Well, I’m going to enjoy it from now on. Why not?’

  ‘Why not, indeed,’ said Mum. ‘So what’s brought on this change?’

  ‘Long story. Just . . . I’ve realised that I might be quiet, but I’m not invisible. Nope. I’m going to be who I am and happy about it.’

  Mum smiled. ‘Excellent. Now get a move on or we’re going to be late.’

  When she’d gone, I got my Cartier watch out of its box and put it back on my wrist. Then I found my Valentine’s card and put it in my rucksack ready to show Cat. I picked my best pair of jeans and DKNY T-shirt and put them on. Then I applied a little mascara, a little lip-gloss, a squirt of Cristalle and I was ready.

  Cat and Becca were waiting for me at the school gates when Mum and I drew up. Cat whistled when I got out the car.

  ‘Hubba hubba,’ she said as Mum hooted, then drove off. ‘You look great. You haven’t worn your hair loose like that for ages.

  ‘Thanks . . .’ I said as I looked around. ‘Any sign of Kaylie?’

  ‘Not yet,’ said Becca.

  I pulled out the Valentine’s card and showed it to Cat. She took one look and grinned. ‘Definitely,’ she said. ‘Squidge always was rubbish at trying to disguise his handwriting.’

  I smiled back at her. I was really chuffed that it was from Squidge. All that time he’d liked me and had never said a word.

  ‘Hmmm, you and Squidge, huh?’ said Becca. ‘Cat told me all about it. I think it’s brilliant.’

  I grinned. ‘So do I.’

  After that, we stood and waited. And waited. Finally the school bell went for assembly.

  ‘She’s not going to show, is she?’ I said.

  Becca shook her head. ‘Didn’t think she would.’

  ‘Do you mind?’ asked Cat

  ‘Not at all,’ I said, and I meant it. ‘Her loss. Now we’d better run.’

  We made it into the hall just in time and lined up with the others in our class. There was no sign of Kaylie. It was only when we were going into our first lesson that Cat spotted her. With the Clones as usual, and they were going into class. It didn’t bother me one bit that she hadn’t shown up at the gates. I’d waved the white flag and she’d chosen to ignore it. Fine by me. While we waited for Mr Riley, our maths teacher, to arrive, Cat, Becca and I went over to chat to Laura, Sunita and Tina on the opposite side of the room from the Clones.

  ‘Cat told us about the e-mail, Lia,’ said Sunita. ‘Good for you. But
no show, huh?’

  ‘No show. But no worries either,’ I said. ‘I couldn’t give a toss.’

  ‘I think she could,’ said Laura, glancing over at Kaylie. ‘She looks dreadful, like she hasn’t slept for a week.’

  ‘Good,’ said Tina. ‘Now she knows how it feels.’

  ‘I think you’re right, though,’ said Laura. ‘It’s not that I’m scared of her or anything any more, but I don’t want to get into a revenge thing. Like you, I want to leave it and get on with life. Stick with the friends I’ve got and not think about her. I hate all that bad vibe stuff.’

  Excellent, I thought as I looked around. There are some really nice girls in our year and I resolved to invite them over and get to know them better.

  ‘OK, take your places,’ said Mr Riley as he came in through the door.

  As the morning classes went on, I glanced over at Kaylie a few times, but she kept her head down through the whole lesson, like she didn’t want to look at anyone. She did look terrible, but it was her choice not to have turned up at the gates and go into assembly with us. I felt totally indifferent about it. No loss. She didn’t want to change, but I did. I felt like the whole ordeal had made me stronger, firmer in my resolve to be true to myself and to my friends, and to spend time getting to know people I actually liked. For the time being, Kaylie’s campaign was over and if she ever started up again, she couldn’t touch me.

  When school ended that day, I went out to wait for my lift home as usual. As I was standing at the pick-up point, my mobile bleeped. Oh, here we go, I thought as I checked the text message. Maybe Kaylie wants to have one last go at me . . . But it wasn’t from her. It was from Squidge.

  ‘Do u want to meet 18r?’ it said.

  I texted back. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Meet me at the bttm of ur drive at 7.’

  ‘OK.’

  An amazing feeling of anticipation fluttered in my stomach as I tried to envisage what he might want.

  He arrived to pick me up on his battered old moped.

  ‘So, where are we going?’ I asked as I climbed on the back.

  ‘Rame Head,’ he answered.

  ‘But it’s dark.’

  ‘I know.’

  We rode up the lanes in silence and I wondered why he’d want to go up there at this time. We wouldn’t be able to see the amazing view. Not that I really minded. I was alone with Squidge and that was enough for me.

  Ten minutes later, Squidge parked his moped in the field near the peninsula, then he unhooked his rucksack from the back.

  ‘What’s in there?’ I asked. ‘It looks really heavy.’

  ‘You’ll see,’ he said, pulling out a parka jacket. ‘Here, put this on. It might be cold up there.’

  I put on the coat over my jacket and Squidge led the way with his torch. We trudged across the field that led to the small hill where the church was, then began the ascent up the wooden steps to the church at the top.

  ‘Careful,’ said Squidge, shining his torch so that I could see. ‘Hold on to the banister.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I am,’ I said. Apart from the torch light, it was very black out there, as there are no electric lights or lampposts, but strangely, I didn’t feel frightened – only intrigued. I looked up at the sky. It was a clear night and I could see a million stars.

  When we got to the top, Squidge led me to the side of the church. ‘OK, stay here and close your eyes, and I’ll tell you when to open them.’

  I did as I was told. ‘Good job I trust you,’ I said.

  Squidge did a maniacal laugh, then I heard him walk into the church. What on earth could he be doing? I wondered.

  A short time later, he came back out and took my hand. ‘OK, you can come now, but don’t open your eyes yet.’

  He led me around the side of the church, then inside. ‘OK,’ he said, ‘you can open your eyes now.’

  I opened my eyes and gasped. ‘Wow! It’s beautiful.’

  The church is tiny – only three metres by four, with three gaps in the walls where once there were probably windows. Inside, it is all grey stone – even the floor. If there was ever any tiling on the floor, it’s long gone. Usually, it’s cold and damp in there, but this night, it looked like the most magical place on earth. What Squidge had been carrying in his bag were candles and nightlights. Loads of them. He’d placed them all around the floor and on the window ledges and they glowed a soft, golden light.

  ‘This is what it must have been like in ancient times,’ said Squidge. ‘Imagine coming up to a service here from the village before there was any electric lighting.’

  ‘Amazing,’ I said. ‘An amazing atmosphere. Like Christmas.’

  Squidge produced a flask from his bag. ‘And supplies,’ he said. ‘I thought we might want something warm, so, cup of tea, vicar?’

  I laughed and took the cup he was offering me.

  ‘Actually, it’s hot chocolate,’ he said. ‘Much nicer than tea.’

  ‘So what made you do this, Squidge?’

  He shrugged. ‘Every time I come here, it feels special. Energising. The locals say that a lot of very powerful ley lines converge here . . .’

  ‘What are ley lines?’

  ‘They’re supposed to be prehistoric tracks, joining prominent points on the landscape – likes churches and burial grounds. Stonehenge is on a ley line so are the Stone Circles and the Standing Stones. I suppose you could say that in the same way that rivers carry water, these ley lines carry good energy, which is probably why people used to come to them to worship in ancient times. You know, to soak up the good vibes. Anyway, I always wanted to come up here at night. I’ve often tried to imagine how it must have been in the old days, so I thought I’d recreate it.’

  I looked around at the tiny church bathed in the soft glow of the candles and nightlights. ‘Totally magical,’ I said. ‘Very good energy. I’ve always felt that too whenever I’ve come up here. It’s like my battery gets charged, if you know what I mean.’

  He nodded. ‘I plan to film something up here one day. Maybe some scene from the past. You can have a lead role if you like.’

  ‘God. I can’t act for toffee. In fact, the only time I got a lead part was when I was five. I was in the Nativity play as Mary and totally forgot my lines. Since then I’ve been out of the way in the chorus.’

  ‘Well, you were only five,’ said Squidge. ‘And I bet you were very cute. I was in a Nativity play as well when I was little. I played a donkey.’

  I laughed. ‘Have you always been so sure of what you want to do? You know, to direct films?’

  Squidge nodded again. ‘Sort of. I mean, I started out taking photos, then Dad got me a video camera and it evolved from there.’

  ‘You’ve never wanted to act, then – always direct?’

  ‘Oh yes, that way I get to cast the movie and pick the locations and so on. Location is so important, it has to be the right place for the right moment in a film.’

  ‘And what is this kind of location right for?’ I asked. In my mind, it was perfect for a romantic scene. I wondered if he thought the same.

  Squidge smiled a half-smile, looked full into my eyes and leaned closer to me. I felt my chest tighten and for a moment I thought he was going to kiss me. But he leaned away and the moment was over. ‘Something and someone very special,’ he said. ‘But it’s not just for films that you choose locations.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I guess having got interested in making films has made me think about a lot of things. The parallels in life. Life is what you make it, just as a film is what the director makes it.’

  ‘Explain.’

  ‘I see my life like I’m making a film. It’s like, the camera starts rolling the moment you’re born and it films your perspective on life – a view that’s totally unique in the universe. Your view. But that’s not all. In a film there’s a leading lady, a leading man, sometimes a baddie, parts for extras and so on. In your life, you’re making your film. You’ve got the lead pa
rt, like I’ve got the lead part in mine. You had a baddie in yours, Kaylie O’Horrible. Thing is, we can choose how the script goes. I’m realising it more and more. Whether we’re going to play a hero, a heroine or someone who loses it all. It’s choice, just as it is in a script. You make up your own dialogue, your own responses and so on. In your own film, you are the writer, the . . .’

  I laughed. ‘I get it – the writer, director and producer. At the end, the credits will come up: My life, starring Lia Axford, Cat Kennedy, Becca Howard . . .’

  ‘Yeah, exactly. You chose to cast them as friends,’ said Squidge. ‘You choose the locations as well, the plot lines, the love interests, the lot.’

  ‘I like that. Creator of my own movie.’

  ‘And the cameras are rolling now,’ continued Squidge, ‘behind your eyes, seeing it all from your point of view, so you get to be cameraman as well. You choose what to focus on, what details to zoom in and out on, et cetera.’

  Well, I’m zooming in on your mouth at the moment, I thought. Everyone at school thinks that Jonno is the best-looking boy in school – well, I prefer Squidge. His face is far more interesting. But it’s not just his face, I thought, watching him. It’s the way his face lights up when he talks. And he has great style. I love the long black leather coat he wears. It makes him look so cool. Choice, he said. Was it my choice that Kaylie was so horrible to me? Maybe it was, partly, because I fell into playing a part in her film and she had chosen me to play the part of a victim. Not any more, pal. I’m taking back control of my movie and I want a better role.

  ‘You’re staring at me,’ said Squidge, smiling.

  ‘Oh, sorry, I was just thinking . . .’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘About choice. I’ve had such a weird time lately. I was thinking that I didn’t feel I had much choice in it. But you’re right, I did. I chose how I responded to things. Like that saying – you can either sink or swim. I was sinking for a while back there and now I’ve chosen to swim. I was letting Kaylie have a major part in my movie, and now,’ I laughed, ‘she’s sacked. I don’t want her in the film at all. She can be an extra in the background school scenes. And definitely no dialogue.’

 

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