Hunky Dory

by Jean Ure

  Had a very odd dream last night. I was down in a tomb, rescuing the Herb from a horde of beetles. I know what it was, it was that stupid conversation I had with the Microdot about The Mummy film and me looking like Brendan Fraser. In my dream I was acting like Brendan Fraser! I’d picked up the Herb and was rushing her to safety, pursued by all these rampaging beetles. It was quite exciting, but sort of weird at the same time. The Herb didn’t look like the Herb, she looked more like some sort of Ancient Egyptian. Like Cleopatra, or someone. But I knew that it was the Herb.

  It’s a bit disturbing, really. I can understand being chased by beetles, but why did the Herb look like Cleopatra? And what was she doing in my dream, anyway? Specially dressed in all that floaty type stuff. The Herb wouldn’t be seen dead in stuff like that! I can’t begin to make any sense of it. It is a puzzle.

  Thursday

  Stayed on after school to watch the football. Some boys I know jeer at the thought of girls playing football, but I am not one of them. I reckon girls can do whatever they want. I’m cool about it! I used to think Aaron was, too, but just lately I’m not so sure. He has definitely changed. I told him that the Herb was the only Year 7 girl on the team, thinking he would be impressed, but all he said was, “Most girls wouldn’t want to be on the team.”

  This annoyed me quite considerably. I said, “Why wouldn’t they?”

  “Look at it this way,” said Aaron. “Would you wanna be on a netball team?”

  I said I wouldn’t want to be on any team, but if I had to be on one then netball might well be the one I’d choose.

  “You’re only saying that,” said Aaron. “Netball’s a girls’ game! There’s girls’ games and there’s boys’ games, and football’s a boys’ game.”

  I asked him how he knew this. “Is there some kind of law about it?”

  He said, “It’s just one of those things. Stands to reason! All that kicking and barging and falling about in the mud…what sort of girl would want to do that?”

  I said, “Probably not the sort of girl that needs help taking her dog out.” I nearly said, her imaginary dog, but didn’t want to get into complications. Even as it was, he got a bit offended. He said that all he was saying was kicking and barging and falling about in the mud wasn’t what he personally would call a very feminine kind of thing to do. He added that of course the Herb wasn’t a very feminine kind of person.

  “I just hope you told her not to bash me any more!”

  I said, “No, I didn’t. If she wants to bash you, she can bash you, far as I’m concerned.”

  Aaron said, “That’s encouraging violence, that is.”

  I opened my mouth to say, “So what?” but before I could get the words out a great cheer went up and we realised that we had missed a goal.

  “Who got it?” said Aaron. “Was it the Herb? She’ll do her nut if we tell her we didn’t see it! She’ll bash me again for sure. Hey!” He poked a finger at a girl that was standing nearby. “Who scored?”

  “We did,” said the girl.

  “Yeah, but who got it?”

  She giggled and said, “Who d’you think?”

  We both turned and looked at the pitch. We couldn’t see the Herb for all the kissing and hugging that was going on, so then we knew: she had scored a goal and we hadn’t seen it.

  “Whatever you do,” said Aaron, earnestly, “don’t tell her!”

  The girl giggled again, and I suddenly recognised her as the Herb’s little gnome-like like one of the gnomes which our next door neighbour has in her back garden. She has a whole colony of gnomes. Fishing gnomes and smoking gnomes, and beaming gnomes and sitting gnomes. The Herb’s friend looks like one of the beaming ones. She beamed at us now and promised that she wouldn’t breathe a word.

  “Did she really bash you?” she asked Aaron.

  Aaron said, “Yeah, with a trowel. Right here.” He tapped the side of his head. “Left a mark.”

  “It was his own fault,” I said. “He was messing around instead of getting on with things. See, we’re digging this hole—”

  Lottie said, “I know. I’ve heard about it from the Herb.”

  I was pleased at that. I’m glad the Herb talks about our hole. It shows that she cares. Unlike Aaron. I turned, sternly, to look at him.

  “There’s only another couple of weeks to go,” I said, “before Dad wants his bit of garden back.”

  Aaron said, “Yeah, all right, all right! Don’t keep on, watch the football! I’ll see if I can get round tomorrow. No! Saturday. No! Monday. Best make it Monday. I’ll come round Monday. After I’ve helped walk Zookie Boy.”

  I said, “Zookie Boy?”

  “Sophy’s dog.”

  Lottie giggled.

  “She can’t manage on her own,” said Aaron. “I have to go with her.”

  I said, “Yeah, it’s a massive great dog…cross between a Yorkshire terrier and a Pekingese. What’s wrong with Friday or Saturday?”

  “Going to the dentist.”

  “What, both days?”

  “Friday. I might have to have fillings. Don’t wanna come an’ dig if I’ve had fillings.”

  “So what about Saturday?”

  “Nah, got things to do on Saturday.”

  I said, “Like what?”

  “Just things. Don’t worry, I’ll be round Monday. Tell the Herb, and we’ll have a mass dig.”

  “Would you like me to come, as well?” said Lottie. “I could dig! If there’s room, that is.”

  I assured her that there would be. “It’s a really big hole!”

  She is going to come with the Herb, after school on Monday. She seems like a really sensible, intelligent sort of girl, obviously eager to learn. I think she will be a valuable addition to the team. I’m still worried about Aaron, though. Since when did him or me have things to do that we don’t tell each other about?

  Friday

  Came home on the bus this afternoon with the Herb. Told her about Aaron going off and “doing things”. She said, “Yes, I know, he’s going with the Barbie Doll to see a dance show.”

  I said, “Dance show? Aaron?”

  “She’s been boasting about it all morning, how her mum had got tickets.”

  “A dance show?” I’m not surprised he didn’t tell me. Not that I have anything against people dancing; I don’t have anything against anything. Live and let live is what Wee Scots always says, and I agree with her. But Aaron? The mind boggles. It’s still boggling. I can hardly believe it!

  “Want me to come round and help dig?” said the Herb, as we got off the bus.

  I said no, it was OK, she’d done her fair share. “How about we go up the park again?”

  I don’t know why I said that. I certainly didn’t mean to say it. It just came out before I could stop it. I’m losing control of my voice!

  The Herb giggled and said, “Again?”

  I said, “Yeah. Well! We could. I mean…if you wanted to, that is.”

  The Herb said, “Can if you like.”

  We took Jack and Polly again. Mum was pleased and said that if I would do it every day she’d up my pocket money. I told her sternly that I would think about it.

  While we were walking round the park I asked the Herb whether she reckoned I looked like Brendan Fraser. She said, “Who’s Brendan Fraser?”

  I said, “The man that played the lead in The Mummy.”

  “Oh, I love that movie!” said the Herb. “I love that bit where all the dead guys come back to life, and the bit where all the beetles get into people’s bodies and you see them moving up towards the brain…all the little lumps under the skin, all wriggling and wobbling…blonk, blonk, aaargh!” The Herb clutched at her throat. “They’ve got me!”

  Before I could stop myself I said, “I had a dream the other night about beetles.”

  “What, getting into people’s brains?” The Herb staggered, dramatically, and almost tripped over Polly. “Go away, dog! I’m full of beetles!”

  “They were after us,�
� I said. “I was rescuing you.”

  “Rescuing me?” She narrowed her eyes. “Why couldn’t I rescue myself?”

  I knew I had to think quickly. So I did! It’s amazing the speed at which the brain can function when it’s under attack. “You’d sprained your ankle,” I said. “You couldn’t walk.”

  “I could have hopped.”

  “Not fast enough.”

  “I can hop fast!”

  Next thing I know, she’s walloping off across the grass on one foot, with Jack and Polly bouncing along beside her.

  “See?” She walloped back again. “I wouldn’t have needed anyone to rescue me!”

  I said, “That’s what you think. You weren’t there! If I hadn’t have carried you—”

  “Carried me? You couldn’t carry me!”

  “Wanna bet?”

  “Yeah, go on! I dare you!”

  You can’t say no to a dare; even I know that. Even if I am a geek. All I can say is, the Herb may not be very big but she is certainly somewhat heavy. Well, seems to me she’s somewhat heavy, or maybe I’m just not very good at carrying people. We ended up in a heap on the grass, with the dogs jumping all over us and the Herb giggling, and me—

  I’m not sure I want to write about me. It gave me very weird and peculiar feelings, being in a heap with the Herb.

  “Told you you couldn’t do it!” said the Herb. “Bet I could carry you easier ‘n you could carry me!”

  Hah! That is where she was well wrong. We ended up in more of a heap than before. The dogs, needless to say, went crazy, but I was kind of glad they were there. Even Russells have their uses.

  “Anyway, what d’you reckon?” I said, when we’d got up out of our heap and were back to normal, just me and the Herb, walking round the park. “D’you reckon I look like him or not?”

  The Herb said, “Like who? Oh! That Mummy man. No, course you don’t! Why? Who said you did?”

  “One of the Microdot’s friends.” I gave a little laugh, or tried to. Little laughs aren’t that easy, I suspect they probably need a bit of practice. “Linzi,” I said. “She’s got this thing about me.”

  “Pathetic,” said the Herb. “When d’you want to do some more digging? Tomorrow?”

  I said, “Could. But it’s OK cos Aaron’s coming Monday and so’s your friend Lottie. We should be able to get loads done.”

  I thought that as she and Lottie are such good mates she’d be pleased to hear this, but instead she gave me a look like a dark black cloud and said, “Since when is she coming?”

  “Since yesterday,” I said. “When we were watching the football. Didn’t she tell you?”

  “No, she didn’t,” said the Herb. “You must be mad! How d’you think we’re all going to fit in?”

  “We could always dig in relays,” I said.

  The Herb said, “Relays?”

  I could tell she wasn’t happy about it. I don’t know what’s come over people just lately. First Aaron, now the Herb. Everyone’s going all peculiar.

  “She doesn’t have to come if you don’t want,” I said.

  The Herb sniffed. “I don’t care! What’s it to me? It’s your hole. If you don’t mind it being trampled all over by a huge horde of people, that’s up to you.”

  “She’s really keen,” I said. “She really wants to help.”

  “All right. I said. I don’t care!”

  I’ve obviously upset her, but I can’t work out how. I can’t seem to do anything right, these days. When I got in, Mum had a go at me, saying my bedroom looked like a festering heap. She said she dreaded to think what might be growing there, under all the rubbish. I told her that it wasn’t rubbish, and the fact that she had called it rubbish just went to show that she didn’t know what she was talking about. Wee Scots then started up, telling me I should be ashamed of myself.

  “Speaking to your puir mother like that!”

  “That’s how he speaks to everyone,” said the Microdot. “When he bothers to speak. He walked right past Linzi today without even saying hallo!”

  “I didn’t see her,” I said.

  “You did, you looked straight at her! You are just so rude it’s unbelievable. You have no manners at all! I wish I’d never introduced you to her.”

  I said, “That makes two of us.”

  She immediately started shrieking. “You pig! You loathsome, evil pig!”

  “I don’t need this,” said Mum. “Anna, go and answer that telephone. If it’s for the cattery I’ll speak to them, if it’s anyone else tell them I’m out. Dory, I suggest you spend the evening clearing up your bedroom. If there isn’t a clear path from the door to the windows by this time tomorrow, I’m hiring a skip. You know what that means.”

  She’s always threatening to dump my stuff in a skip. She seems incapable of understanding that my room is like a filing system. To her it may look like mess and muddle, but that is just her ignorance. I know exactly what is there and where to find it. If I start clearing up, the whole system will collapse!

  The Microdot came back from the telephone saying that the call hadn’t been for Mum but for her.

  “It was my boyfriend.”

  Boyfriend? I didn’t know she had one! Mum obviously didn’t, either.

  “What boyfriend?” she said.

  “Rory Sandler. But he isn’t any more.” The Microdot gave this sad little smile and shook her head. “I’ve had to ditch him. He has this terrible problem controlling his rage.”

  I should think anyone would have trouble controlling their rage, going round with her.

  Seven

  Sunday

  This time, she said I didn’t have to write things down, it was going to be a “verbal test”.

  “I’m going to ask you three questions, and you’ve got to give me the answers. You can just tell them to me. OK? Cos I don’t want you stopping and thinking up something stupid, like you usually do. Question number one.” She opened up her little notebook. “What would you do if you won a million pounds?”

  I said, “Spend it.”

  “What on?”

  I said, “Is that the second question?”

  “No, it’s the first one!”

  “In that case I’ve answered it. You said what would I do, and I told you. What’s next?”

  She glowered at me, but I was in no mood to be messed around by a ten-year old. The worm had turned!

  “I’m warning you,” I said. “Just get on with it!”

  She huffed a bit, and puffed a bit, but obviously thought better of it.

  “Question number two…what would you like to be doing in ten years’ time?”

  I said, “Spending my million pounds.”

  She breathed, very deeply. I saw her nostrils flare. But she didn’t say anything. She didn’t dare!

  “Question number three…what is your ambition in life?”

  I said, “To spend a million pounds. Is that the lot? Can I go now?”

  She pursed her lips. “Don’t you want to know what it shows?”

  I said, “Not really.” But of course, she had to tell me.

  “Shows you think about nothing but money! I s’ppose that’s why you’re so horrid to poor Linzi all the time, cos her mum and dad aren’t rich…You’re just totally missionary!”

  “For your information,” I said, “the word is mercenary, not missionary.”

  It made me feel quite good, having the last word for once. I begin to think I should have been firmer with her all along.

  Monday

  Got caught by Sheri Stringer on my way to school this morning. She sort of jumped out at me from a shop doorway; I thought for a minute she was a mugger. She said, “Hi, Dory!” really loud so that a bunch of kids from my class that were walking just a few paces ahead of us all turned to look. Some of them sniggered. I know I’m not imagining it.

  When I told Aaron about it later he said they weren’t sniggering at me, they were sniggering at Sheri.

  “Running after you like that!” He
said it’s all right for a boy to pursue a girl if he fancies her, but not the other way round. “It’s not natural. They just make themselves look silly.”

  I’m not sure he’s right about this; there’s a lot of things Aaron’s not right about. Seems to me anyone can pursue anyone, doesn’t matter whether it’s a girl or whether it’s a boy. I just wish they wouldn’t pursue me, cos I find it really embarrassing. I had to walk all the way to school with Sheri giggling and gurgling and waving her eyes about, sort of swivelling them from side to side and making them go all big and shiny, and showing her teeth when she smiled. And everybody watching.

  Aaron said, “Yeah, it’s horrible. Sophy wouldn’t ever behave like that.”

  I said, “Nor would the Herb.”

  “No. Well! The Herb. If she fancied anyone, she’d probably chuck a brick at ‘em. Can’t see her ever using fem’nine wiles.”

  “The Herb’s OK,” I said. “Don’t go having a go at the Herb!”

  “I’m not having a go, I’m just saying…she’s not like a normal girl.”

  “Wouldn’t want her to be.”

  “That’s all right, then, cos she isn’t. You don’t have to get on my case!”

  “You said it like she was some kind of freak.”

  “Yeah, well, going round whacking people on the side of the head…I reckon that is a bit freaky.”

  “Talk about a wimp!” I said. “Didn’t have to have stitches, did you? Not as far as I know.”

  “Another few centimetres it could have got me in the eye. I wouldn’t mind,” said Aaron, “if it was you did it to me. But it’s not what you expect from a girl. Not a normal girl, any rate.”

  The Herb’s been bashing us ever since I can remember. Ever since we all used to play together in the sandpit. I really don’t know what’s come over Aaron just lately. We never used to quarrel like this. Quarrelling’s what the Microdot does, not me and Aaron!

  “Anyway,” I said, “I hope you’re still coming round after school?”

  “You have my word,” said Aaron. “I am not a person that breaks his word.”

  We shall see! If he’s not here in five minutes, he will be late.