Chelsea and Astra

by Mary Hooper

‘OK,’ I said. ‘See you later, perhaps. See you in the canteen at lunch-time?’

  ‘Sure.’

  He went somewhere – on to the playing field maybe? – and I went on to Maths and Astra.

  But we didn’t see him in the canteen – or for the rest of that day, actually. And I didn’t say anything to Astra about him not really going in to see Stormy. It made him all the more exciting; meant he had some sort of mystery about him. A mystery that I knew something about, and Astra didn’t.

  Chapter Three

  Friday, 14th October

  ASTRA

  Chelsea came round tonight. We usually see each other two or three evenings a week, and always at weekends, but this week it’s been just the once.

  She’s been really funny with me at school all week, as if I’m getting on her nerves or something. I know what it is, of course: Ben. Usually, when she fancies boys, it doesn’t affect me – I just stand by, listen to her rave on about them and wait for it to wear off, or for the next crush to occur. This time, though, it’s different. This time I’m involved.

  Ben’s been hanging around with us a lot. He seems to prefer being with girls rather than boys; he’s not into shoving each other about and telling dirty jokes like they are, so he usually just chats to me and Chelsea. It’s hardly ever about anything personal, though. Chelsea said to me that it’s like getting blood out of a stone, getting him to talk about his life.

  It’s obvious, though, that it’s us he likes, more than the other girls. Which one of us, though, I don’t know.

  I feel funny about it really. Chelsea’s still my best friend and always will be, but now Ben’s around things have changed, and are changing still. He’s made things difficult between us, even though we don’t talk about him much – can’t talk about him – he’s there in everything we do. Sometimes I just feel I want to be on my own with him, so we can really get to know each other.

  There are all sorts of things I want to ask him: about his family and his home and his starsign, and whether he’s had a serious girlfriend before and that sort of stuff. And I just don’t want Chelsea around when I ask. I want to know him better but I don’t want her to know him better.

  Tonight Chelsea was in a really bad mood. She came over at about six, and before she’d arrived I’d cut out a little pile of horoscope features. This is something we always do: collect the astrology columns out of the weekend papers and magazines, copy down the main things that are supposed to happen to us and then check the following week to see if they’ve come true.

  Sometimes they have and sometimes they haven’t, and sometimes they’re so vague that they might have done. Anyhow, we always do it. This week I’d read mine as soon as I’d cut them out because I’d been dying to see if they said anything about meeting someone special. About meeting Ben, in other words.

  Mum let Chelsea in and I heard them chatting downstairs in the hall. Mum likes her, but I think she disapproves of her a bit – or at least she disapproves of her being allowed to do practically anything she wants and being given everything she asks for. Mum says it’s easy for Chelsea’s mum and dad: they’ve both got high-powered jobs and bags of money, so they can afford to ‘indulge’ Chelsea, as Mum puts it.

  When Chelsea came into my room I had the cuttings ready on my desk. There was a little pile of Gemini– me, and a little pile of Leo, which is her.

  ‘You’ll never guess!’ I said, because of course I’d looked at mine already. ‘Quite a few of mine say something about Ben.’

  ‘What d’you mean?’ she said crossly, and she pulled off her leather jacket and just flung it down on my bed, causing a gust of air and sending the cuttings fluttering to the floor.

  I didn’t say anything, just bent down to pick them up.

  ‘Well,’ I said, reading one out, ‘this one says, Someone comes into your life who will become increasingly important as time goes by, and this one in says, A major change in your life is forecast by the arrival of someone new and this one …’

  ‘What a load of rubbish!’ Chelsea said. ‘You’re not saying you really believe that stuff, do you? How many times have we checked up and nothing’s come true?’

  I shrugged. ‘Sometimes it does.’

  ‘Believe them and you’ll believe anything,’ she sniffed. ‘You’ll be telling me next that John Lennon works at the chip shop.’

  There was a funny silence between us.

  ‘Well, let’s see what yours says,’ I said after a moment. ‘Maybe you’re going to have an important change in your life, too.’

  Actually, I’d already looked, and hers were really boring – all about people in authority getting at her and having to make provision for the future and stuff like that. Nothing about new relationships at all.

  She glanced at one or two and then she looked at me with a sort of withering look on her face. ‘They’re stupid. I don’t know why we ever bother to look at them. It’s so immature, believing in fortune-telling and stuff. And as for all that weirdo crystal business – well, honestly, how can having a bit of glass in their pocket make any difference in anyone’s life?’

  ‘You’ve never said so before,’ I said, thinking to myself that she wouldn’t have said that if the horoscopes had said that someone new was coming into her life.

  I pushed the cuttings to one side to look at later. ‘Well, what d’you want to do, then?’

  ‘Dunno,’ she said moodily. ‘What’re you wearing to the party?’

  The party was for our friend Sarah’s birthday and was in a couple of weeks’ time, during half term. Before Ben had arrived at school, we’d talked about it a lot. I’m not mad keen on parties – not like Chelsea – but I knew that it was expected that I should (a) be desperate to go, (b) have a fantastic time when I got there and (c) rave about it afterwards.

  ‘I thought about going to the charity shop,’ I said. ‘Last time I looked I saw quite a few things I liked: long, black, slinky things.’

  She raised her eyebrows. ‘You and your old hippy clothes,’ she said. ‘You’re getting to be a right weirdo. You’ll have rings on your toes and feathers plaited in your hair next.’

  ‘Maybe I will,’ I said, trying not to to get riled. ‘Trendy stuff doesn’t really suit me.’ I looked at her a bit enviously when I said this: Chelsea’s got quite a nice figure whereas I’m straight as a bean pole. She’s got that lion’s mane of hair, too, and a pink and white complexion, whereas I look sallow and my hair’s as straight as a ruler. ‘What’re you going to wear to it, then?’

  ‘Haven’t decided,’ she said, and then we said together, ‘D’you think Ben will go?’

  We both laughed falsely.

  ‘I hope so,’ Chelsea said, and then she added, ‘I’ve already asked Sarah to ask him.’ She said this as if it meant that because she’d arranged the invitation, he was going to be hers for the evening.

  And then we were both silent again and I knew what Chelsea was thinking, because I was thinking it, too. It was: at the party let him talk to me and dance with me and even – maybe – kiss me. Not her.

  She left early. We’d just done one of the number games – where you change the letters in people’s names into numbers and then add them up to work out what their basic number is. It had worked out that my number was exactly the same as Ben’s.

  When I announced this, she pushed the paper away and gave me a disgusted look.

  ‘Oh, it would be, wouldn’t it?’

  ‘What d’you mean? I haven’t made it go like that. That’s the way it is – Ben and I are both number six.’

  ‘Oh, so what?’ she said. ‘Ben and I have got the same colour eyes. What does that mean?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I shrugged.

  ‘No, of course you don’t.’ She stood up and stretched. ‘I’m off home,’ she said.

  ‘Already?’

  ‘I’ve got things to do,’ she said, and she went out, charged down the stairs and slammed the door behind her, leaving me just standing on the staircas
e.

  Mum popped her head out of the kitchen. ‘What’s wrong with her, then?’ she said. ‘Had a row, have you?’

  ‘Of course not,’ I said.

  She laughed. ‘I was joking. You two have never had a row, have you?’

  I shook my head.

  ‘That’s the way,’ she said. ‘There’s nothing like best friends. If you find a good one, you’ll be best friends for ever. They last much longer than men, believe me!’

  I nodded. Maybe, I thought. And then I went back upstairs to read my horoscopes again.

  Chapter Four

  Friday, 14th October

  CHELSEA

  It’s been a weirdo sort of week. Astra’s really been getting on my nerves, whinging on about Ben all the time and worrying when he doesn’t appear, and making great soppy eyes at him when he does. She keeps doing all these childish he loves me, he loves me not things, too: number games and throwing apple peel over her shoulder and pretending it’s gone into a ‘B’ – rubbish like that.

  I’ve told her that boys don’t like girls who are a pushover and who make it obvious that they fancy a boy, and that she’s going to turn him right off if she carries on that way, but she doesn’t take a blind bit of notice. ‘I’m just being myself,’ she says. ‘Why should I pretend to be any different? Besides, he’s not like other boys.’

  She’s right about that. He’s not like any of the other boys I’ve ever known. He’s different, more private, more self-contained. The other boys are mostly so cocky and confident, so swaggeringly sure of themselves that you know that actually they’re not at all sure, but Ben’s so cool and laid back that you know he really is. If that makes sense.

  I’m not going to bother any more to tell Astra how to act, I’m just going to let her get on with it, let her be soppy over him and turn him off. Telling her how to act with boys is just force of habit, I suppose, because I’ve always been the one with the boys round me. I flirt with them and play up to them and they love it, whereas Astra’s what I think they call a late developer. She just hasn’t been interested until now.

  I’ve been trying to get Ben on his own all this week to chat him up a bit, but what with Astra glued to me like sticky-back plastic it’s been impossible. Besides, Ben seems to come and go as he likes, just turns up for lessons when he feels like it, so it’s never easy to work out where he’s going to be at any given time. I’ve been trying to work out why he didn’t go in to see Stormy, just pretended to, but I haven’t come up with anything.

  The best way of getting to know Ben, of course, would be to meet up with him out of school, but I haven’t even been able to find out where he lives. I drop hints, but he doesn’t follow them up. When I do find out, I’m going to have a little trip there, walk up and down outside and just happen to be there when he appears. Easy.

  What will really get things moving will be Sarah’s party at the end of the month – I don’t reckon there’s anything quite like a party for flinging yourself about a bit and getting your hands on boys. That’s a couple of weeks’ away though, and I want something to happen now.

  I spoke to Sarah yesterday about inviting Ben to it.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ she said. ‘I’ve already gone way over on numbers. Mind you …’

  ‘Exactly,’ I said. ‘It’s not every day we get a new boy in class who’s drop dead gorgeous.’

  ‘Not that it’s going to do me much good,’ she said. ‘It’s you two he’s interested in.’

  I made a face. ‘Us two?’

  ‘Sometimes I think it’s you he fancies, sometimes I reckon it’s Astra.’ She grinned, ‘In a way, you and Ben are quite similar, you know …’

  ‘How d’you mean?’ I asked eagerly.

  ‘Your personalities – you’re both leaders, both quite confident. I just feel you’re in tune.’

  ‘Does that mean we’re made for each other?’ I joked.

  ‘Maybe!’

  ‘Well, then,’ I said. ‘Invite him to your party and then we’ll all find out.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Sarah said. ‘My dad’s really worried about gate crashers, and we hardly know anything about Ben, do we? He might tell half the town.’

  ‘He doesn’t know anyone round here,’ I said. ‘He comes from …’ I hesitated, ‘I don’t know where he comes from, but it’s not round here, so that’s OK. If he doesn’t know anyone, he can’t tell anyone, can he?’

  ‘Mmm …’ Sarah said thoughtfully.

  ‘He’s a real laugh!’ I pleaded. ‘And honestly, he doesn’t know a soul!’ As I said this I wondered if it was true. It could be; we just didn’t know. ‘We’re the only friends he’s got!’ I finished.

  Sarah laughed. ‘OK, you’ve convinced me,’ she said. ‘I’ll give him an invite next time I see him.’

  I did think about not telling Astra that Ben was going to the party. I had a bit of an idea that if she didn’t know he was going, then she might – just possibly and if I talked her out of it – not go herself. She’s not really a party animal. And with her out of the way and me dressed to kill, well, who knew what might occur?

  As it happened, though, I didn’t keep it to myself for long: tonight at her house I blurted out that I’d got him an invite. Well, she’d been so stupid over her horoscopes, turning everything she read into meaning that Ben fancied her (and, natch, didn’t fancy me) that I got really cross with her and just came out with it. Well, honestly, even if the stupid horoscopes did say things like that, I don’t believe they’ll come true. They’re just a load of rubbish; someone sits in an office and makes them all up, everyone knows that.

  The other thing that annoyed me tonight, if I’m honest, was that Astra looked really pretty. I wasn’t feeling ravishing – my hair had gone frizzy in the rain on my way round, and I felt quite big and lumpy – and I just looked at Astra sitting there, with her dark eyes and straight shiny hair, and had this sudden feeling of horror that Ben was going to fall madly in love with her.

  That really did cheese me off and I almost hated her for a moment. I made an excuse and came home.

  When I got home I wished I hadn’t, because there was no one in. Mum and Dad both work late nearly every night and though sometimes on a Friday they make an effort to get in early, tonight they’d obviously found something better to do.

  I played some CDs downstairs and then I went to my room and watched videos of all my best Soaps. I love them, specially the Aussie ones; I pretend to myself that I’ve got a part in one, and that I’m famous.

  I’m dead keen on acting. There’s a drama club just started at school to put on a play once a year, and I’m going to join that, and Mum says I might be able to go to acting school later, after I’ve done my exams. If I don’t do acting then I might be a model. I’ve sent off for details of a modelling school and I’m just tall enough.

  Later on, Dad came in, and then I had a bath and went to bed. I tried to forget about Ben, tried to forget about Astra. I thought about being me, Chelsea Matthews, superstar and model. Best friends? Who needs them? …

  Chapter Five

  Tuesday, 18th October

  ASTRA

  School was over for the day and I was sitting on the wall outside with Ben.

  It was just about the first time I’d managed to be on my own with him. He was sitting so close I could feel the warmth of his body through his sweatshirt, and I was feeling good. More than good – fantastic. As if something wonderful was going to happen at any minute.

  I turned my face up to the sun and swung my legs happily. Right then I wouldn’t have changed places with anyone in the world. OK, I knew that any minute Chelsea was going to come out and spoil things, but until she did …

  I turned to Ben. There was something I really wanted to ask him. Well, several somethings, now that I had him on my own. ‘Are you definitely going to Sarah’s party?’ I said. ‘I know you’ve got an invite.’

  He nodded. ‘I reckon so.’ He seemed to hesitate. ‘Although I’m not that good at parties.
’

  ‘Nor am I!’ I said eagerly, wanting to show that we had something in common, and really pleased he was telling me something about himself when Chelsea wasn’t around. ‘I don’t like having loads of people around all at once. You feel you have to amuse everyone, don’t you? And I can never think of anything original to say.’

  ‘Exactly,’ he said, and he gave me a smiling, sympathetic look which said he understood absolutely and was right with me.

  ‘Chelsea’s great at parties,’ I went on, ‘she flits about like a blue-whatsit fly and goes home having chatted up everyone in the place.’ As I said this I felt a bit horrible, I was making her sound like a right slapper. ‘Some people are just good at parties though, aren’t they?’ I added.

  Ben nodded. ‘Some people are party people.’ His slanty, green eyes looked straight into mine, ‘But you and I are different, aren’t we? You and I prefer people one-to-one. Sometimes it’s only that way that you can really get to know another person.’

  I swallowed nervously, suddenly feeling all breathless. ‘Well, that’s air signs all over,’ I gulped. ‘I expect you’re an air sign.’

  ‘I am,’ he said. ‘And don’t tell me – you are too, aren’t you? Bet you’re a Gemini.’

  My jaw dropped. I was amazed.‘How did you work that out?’

  ‘Ways and means. Working out people’s star signs is a bit of a secret trick of mine. I live with my gran, you see – and she’s psychic. She’s taught me all sorts of things.’

  ‘Really?!’ I gasped. ‘How fantastic.’

  Better and better, I thought. Not only was he the most wonderful boy I’d ever met, but we had loads in common. Whenever did you meet a boy who was interested in astrology and who could work out a girl’s birth sign?!

  ‘Look, I trust you to keep quiet about this,’ he said. ‘Everyone will think I’m some sort of freak if they find out I can work out birth signs and live with my psychic gran.’