Boys Beware

by Jean Ure

  Wednesday

  School is the pits. Got D- for my geography homework and no mark at all for history. At the bottom of the page Miss Selby wrote “Did you really hope to get away with this?”

  Just because I said that the thing Oliver Cromwell was most noted for was trashing churches and what distinguished the Cavaliers was that they wore long frilly knickers. Knickers is certainly what they look like, and no one can deny that Cromwell trashed churches, so what is her problem? She was most unpleasant about it. She is a most unpleasant sort of woman. I am just so fed up! Why can’t we have boys?

  I have come to the conclusion that single sex schools are not natural. It makes people cranky. (As witness Miss Selby. I bet she wouldn’t be half so mean if we had boys.) Frankly I dread to think what havoc it’s playing with our hormones. It will probably make us frigid and repressed. Not only that, people that go to mixed schools, which is by far the majority, have a simply massive great advantage. They get to have their pick before we’re even allowed so much as a peek! Even when we do get a peek we are so overwhelmed at the sight of a Real Live Boy that we just go all coy and giggly and embarrass ourselves. It’s just totally unfair!

  I remarked upon this to Tash, and she agrees with me that it is unfair, likewise unnatural, but strongly denies that either of us has ever got coy or giggly. She says, “We are not coy or giggly sort of people. We are serious in our intent.”

  Well, wow! I asked her what intent she was talking about, and she said, “Boys, of course! What else?”

  I moaned, “But we never get to meet any, and even when we do they turn out not to like girls!”

  Tash told me quite sternly to pull myself together. She pointed out that next week is half term, when we are going down to Sidmouth to stay with Gran and Grandad. She said, “Who knows what we might find?”

  I said, “What, in Sidmouth?” But on the whole I am feeling decidedly more cheerful this evening than I was earlier in the day. I think it’s the prospect of just getting away for a bit, even if it’s only to Sidmouth.

  Thursday

  We bumped into Gus on the way home this afternoon and I have gone all gooey. I feel like a big marshmallow! I thought I had got over all that, because after all, if a boy isn’t into girls there is absolutely no point in tying yourself up in emotional knots, but I just can’t seem to help it!!! When he looks at me I turn to total mush. I go all squidgy! And when he smiles, with that cute little dimple thing in his chin, it makes me want to start screaming! Tash says it does exactly the same to her. She says, “It’s like my insides are bathed in molten sunshine.” Ooh! How poetic!

  Needless to say, we behaved with perfect propriety when we were speaking to him. Like really cool! Well, you have to; there is such a thing as pride. We said hi, and smiled, and he said, “Oh … hi,” and smiled back, and we walked up the road together, three abreast, with me in the middle, which I don’t think pleased Tash too much as she did a bit of jostling, trying to usurp me, but I stood firm and didn’t let her.

  Gus said he was really sorry he couldn’t make it on Saturday (meaning the Saturday of Avril’s bash), and we both smiled like mad to show him that we don’t bear grudges or hold it against him. In other words, it’s quite OK, we understand, we are totally relaxed about such things. Which we are! But oh dear, it is such a waste.

  As I said afterwards to Tash, “I still can’t believe he doesn’t fancy you!” She is so bright and bubbly, and so pretty, but not at all in a yucky way.

  Tash said she couldn’t believe that he didn’t fancy me. “But we’ve done all we can. We’ve signalled our interest.”

  I know where she got that phrase! It was in last week’s Glam Girl – “How to Signal your Interest.”

  Tash said, “If he hasn’t picked up the signs, it can only mean one thing.”

  Actually, according to Glam Girl, it could mean all kinds of things. I said this to Tash. I said, “It could just mean that we’re not his type.”

  “Neither of us?” shrieked Tash.

  I don’t mean to sound boastful, but I have to agree that that is not very likely. I mean, we are so completely different!

  I was just dying to ask him why he couldn’t make it on Saturday, but there is such a thing as being too obvious. I was kind of hoping that Tash might come blurting out with it, as it’s the sort of thing she’s prone to do. I waited, hopefully, but she just went on beaming and nodding and generally looking amiable – if a tad moronic, it has to be said. Being laid back doesn’t suit Tash. She obviously took it to heart when I accused her a few weeks ago of being too upfront. I do hope I haven’t cramped her style, because that would be a terrible thing to do to a person. Now I’m beginning to feel guilty! I could have cast a blight on her entire future love life. And thanks to me, we still have no idea what, if anything, Gus is doing next Saturday night, since it goes without saying that I wasn’t bold enough to ask.

  Oh, I shall be so glad when we can go down to Sidmouth and get away from all this terrifying complexity!

  Friday

  Hooray hurrah and three huge cheers! It is now officially HALF TERM and we’re on holiday. We have packed all our stuff into one big suitcase, with a little set of wheels to drag it by as we are going down to Sidmouth by train. Well, we’re getting the train from Swindon to Exeter, where Gran and Grandad are going to meet us, as Sidmouth has no railway station. It will be quite an adventure! We have always gone by car before. The good thing about going by train is that you never know who you might end up sitting next to. As Tash says, the possibilities are endless!

  Week 5, Monday

  Staying with Gran and Grandad is not what you would call madly exciting, but it is such a relief not having to rack our brains all the time, wondering what we are going to eat and whose turn it is to open the next tin! Added to which, Gran and Grandad are really lovely people and always so anxious for us to enjoy ourselves.

  You might think, as they are Dad’s parents, that Tash would be their favourite, but in fact it’s Ali. I once heard Gran say to Mum that Ali is such “a sweet, old- fashioned sort of girl”. Well, yuck, if anyone ever said that about me I would be seriously worried! Fortunately I don’t think Ali heard, though even if she did it probably wouldn’t bother her. She is truly someone who just doesn’t seem to care a) what she looks like or b) what people think of her. Tash and I care like crazy! Gran and Grandad reckon we care too much. They say it is not right that girls of our age should be so fussed about their appearance and thinking all the time about boys. It seems that Gran didn’t start thinking about boys until she was at least fifteen. Hm … what did she do all day? Play with her dolls?

  Tuesday

  Today we went to the Donkey Sanctuary. It’s one of our favourite places to visit! We have now been there three times. The donkeys are so sweet and friendly, they come niddy-nodding over to speak to you, and even Gran, who is not an animal person, cannot resist stroking them.

  As well as looking at the donkeys, Tash and I were also on the look out for … you’ve guessed it! BOYS! We are always on the lookout for boys, but we didn’t really see anything promising. Gran might actually be surprised to learn that we do in fact have our standards! We’re not so desperate we would take just anything. Like most of them at the Donkey Sanctuary were way too young. Ten, eleven at most. I wouldn’t want to hang out with a boy that was younger than me! No way. It seems, however, that older boys have no interest in donkeys, as we didn’t spot a single one that was what might be termed “mature”. I suppose they are all too busy playing football. Sigh. I don’t mind football, but I do prefer donkeys!

  Wednesday

  Went to Exeter and looked round the shops. Found a charity shop selling second-hand clothes. Mostly junk, but Tash got a rather snazzy top and I got a totally brilliant shirt. Ralph Lauren, in a heavenly bluey green.

  Grandad couldn’t understand why we should want to go and grub around in what he called “people’s cast-offs”. He said he would gladly buy us something new, but
Gran told him that we had more than enough clothes – as if – and said the money would be better spent on books. “Of which they don’t have anything like enough.” Yeah yeah yeah! Books are OK, and I read as much as the next person, but you can get books from the library. You can’t get clothes from the library! And what is this weird notion that you could possibly have too many of them?

  Ali didn’t buy anything to wear but she found a telescope, of all things, and the look on her face was just so, like, wistful, like really yearning, that we nobly told Grandad to forget about buying us anything and just get Ali her heart’s desire. I mean, really, it was humongously expensive, but I must say she is being very embarrassingly grateful, both to us and to Grandad. She says that a telescope is what she has always wanted.

  It is nice to see Ali so happy.

  Thursday

  Mum rang today, all the way from Peru. She spoke to each of us in turn, starting with Ali. I don’t know what Ali said to her, cos the telephone is out in the hall, but the first thing Mum said to me was, “I hear you and Tash are pretty fed up. Is it getting too much for you?”

  I said no, of course it wasn’t. The very idea! I was quite indignant. How could Ali even suggest such a thing? I told Mum that we had been a bit fed up last week, but more with school, and the general day-today struggle, and having to cope with unpleasant women such as Miss Selby. I said that now we were at Gran and Grandad’s and being cosseted, we were feeling much better. I said, “It’s like you, when you say you need a break.”

  Mum said, “Are you sure?” She was really anxious and all set to pack up and come whizzing back home. I screeched at her down the telephone, “No! We’re managing perfectly OK.” Mum still seemed doubtful, so when I handed over to Tash I told her to “Stand firm. Whatever you do! Don’t let her come rushing back.”

  Tash obviously followed my instructions cos Mum agreed in the end to stay put.

  “I told her,” said Tash, “we haven’t burned the place down, we’re not stuffing ourselves with junk food, and we’re not having boys up there.”

  “Unfortunately,” I said.

  We both agreed, the chance would be a fine thing!

  Friday

  Started off by still feeling a bit sore with Ali, going and telling Mum we were fed up, but then we went down to the beach with Gran and Grandad and big surprise, miracle of miracles … we have met a boy! A boy!!! In Sidmouth! It is not the sort of place where you expect to meet anyone of either sex that is less than positively ancient.

  How it happened, we were playing beach ball with Grandad. Grandad likes to play beach ball, as it makes him feel – I suppose – that he’s still young. We think it only fair to humour him, since on the whole he is very good to us. It seems only kind. Gran just sits in her deck chair and watches. She says she is “past all that kind of thing”. Anyway, Grandad had thrown the ball, and Ali had missed it, and while she was still wondering where it had gone, me and Tash were racing off after it, and lo and behold, there he was … a real live boy! We almost, literally, bumped into him.

  He is Spanish, and quite good looking. Must be at least fourteen. Maybe even fifteen. His name is Wackeen, or that’s how he pronounces it. Seems a bit odd to me, but then I don’t speak any Spanish, apart from “Ole, ole!” which makes him laugh. I wish I could snap my fingers! Wackeen can make his go off like gun shots, but mine just sound like stale cornflakes.

  We were very puzzled about what he could be doing in a place like Sidmouth, but it seems he is staying with his sister, who is a waitress in one of the restaurants. Gran has promised that tomorrow, as it’s our last night, we can go there for a meal, hooray!

  I wish tomorrow weren’t our last night. I wish we could have met Wackeen earlier. I wish we weren’t going to spend all day driving to a place called Buckfast to see some stupid abbey. I don’t want to see an abbey! I would rather see Wackeen! But Gran and Grandad have set their hearts on it. They just love going round old buildings, especially if they are holy. They would be really upset if I told them I didn’t want to go.

  What a lot of sacrificing one has to do in this life!

  Have just broken off to discuss the situation with Tash. She informs me that I am the one Wackeen is attracted to; not her. I don’t know whether this is true or not!!! He has a really beautiful smile, and I did notice that he seemed to take more notice of me than he did of Tash. If he really likes me better it must be because I have blonde hair. You probably don’t get many people with blonde hair in Spain. Tash is being very good about it, I must say. She says she is really happy for me, and I believe her. I would be happy for her if it were the other way round!

  Week 6, Saturday

  I think Gran and Grandad really enjoyed their visit to the old abbey. I’m glad I didn’t tell them that I’d rather have stayed behind and gone down to the beach; it would have been unkind. All the same, I couldn’t help feeling it was a day wasted. I did quite like the abbey, but I would far rather have been with Wackeen!

  Actually, I have now discovered that he is called Joaquin. Grandad laughed and laughed when I said Wackeen! Though to be honest, I couldn’t really hear all that much difference; just a bit more huffing and puffing at the start, like Hhhho-ackeen. I’m sticking to Wackeen!

  We saw him this evening in his sister’s restaurant. They were really busy and he was helping out, so we didn’t get much of a chance to talk. But he kept catching my eye across the room and winking at me, and I kept dissolving into giggles, mainly because Tash would keep prodding and nudging. Ali didn’t get what was happening, she kept going, “What? What is it?” and Gran told me in reproving tones to “Stop being so obvious, Emily! It’s demeaning.” Well, ho! I bet Gran was obvious enough in her day, even if she didn’t start till she was fifteen. I’ve seen photos of her in mini skirts!

  Tomorrow we have to go back home. I do wish we didn’t. It is so frustrating. Just as I’ve met someone! If I could just have one more day I feel that Wackeen and me could really get to know each other. Tash is right, it is me he goes for. He is definitely interested! But he is going home himself tomorrow, so no chance. He has promised that he will write to me, so I am trying to be hopeful, but I have read too often in magazines like Glam Girl about holiday romances which come to nothing. Tash has done her best to cheer me up by pointing out that living in Spain “he wouldn’t actually be much use to you. Like you couldn’t take him to parties, or anything.”

  I know she is right, but I could at least tell everyone that I had a boyfriend, and show them pictures. Tash says I could still do that, if I wanted. We got Grandad to take loads of photos in the restaurant, and Tash swears she would never give me away.

  “I’d never tell anyone he wasn’t really your boyfriend.”

  That is so sweet of her! But I think it would be just too sad to pretend that someone was my boyfriend when he wasn’t. I said this to Tash, and reluctantly she agreed with me. She said, “It’s a nice idea, but you’re right. The time for fantasy is over! What we need are real boys.” I mean, for goodness’ sake, we are nearly thirteen!

  Sunday

  Back home. Back to buying toilet rolls and thinking what to eat. Back to independent living!!!

  To make matters worse, it’s my turn to do the cooking! Except that I have decided Ali is right, and that tins are the way to go. Went shopping after we got back and now the cupboard is positively bursting. Hooray! A tin a day keeps hunger away. And, as Tash says, will keep us going if the terrorists come. She is still obsessed!

  Earlier, coming back from the station in a cab (Grandad gave us the money! He is so sweet), we arrived home at the same moment as Gus. I had forgotten how beautiful he is. On a scale of one to ten I would give Wackeen about … mm … six. Maybe seven. But Gus I would give 9. 9999999! And he is so polite, as well. He actually carried our suitcase up the stairs for us! Needless to say we invited him in, but he wouldn’t come. He pointed at our BOYS BEWARE sign on the door and said, “I don’t think so!”

  Tash said, �
��Oh, that. You don’t want to take any notice of that,” and immediately ripped it off; but he still wouldn’t come in. He said that he had “things to catch up on”.

  Ali, meanwhile, had gone down to the basement to collect Fat Man, who has been looked after by Auntie Jay. She was down there for such a long time that Tash and I almost forgot about her. Ali just seems incapable of ever doing anything at normal speed. Then when she finally put in an appearance … no Fat Man! Auntie Jay wasn’t there, she said; she must be at the shops.

  Tash said, “It’s taken you all this time to find out?” Ali said no, she had been talking to Gus. “About what?” said Tash.

  Eagerly Ali said, “I was telling him about my telescope!”

  Tash and I exchanged glances. We could just imagine Ali going on in that way that she does. You don’t get a word out of her for hours on end, then all of a sudden she gets a bee in her bonnet and there’s no stopping her. I just hope she didn’t bore the poor boy rigid.

  Week 6, Monday

  Back at school. It’s not actually too bad; even Miss Selby seems to be in a bit of a better mood than she was. I passed her in the upper corridor this morning and she stretched her lips at me. Tash said it was a smile. More like a grimace, I would have thought, but maybe it’s the best she can. do. After all these years of being pursed together in a thin line, her lip muscles have probably got paralysed.

  Everyone in our class was full of stories about what they had done over half term. Loads of people claimed to have met BOYS. Boys by the bucketful! Avril Mackie, in particular. She always claims to have met boys, but I have noticed that there never seems to be any kind of proof. I shall have proof! As soon as Grandad sends the photos. Tash seemed really eager to tell everyone about Wackeen, so I just sat back and let her get on with it. I heard her say, “It was Emily he fancied! He was all over her!”