Have a Little Faith

by Candy Harper

  The lady said, ‘Gosh, someone’s in a hurry!’ But Angharad was going too fast to answer.

  I said, ‘She doesn’t talk much outside of lessons. She’s exhausted, poor little thing. She’s only nine you know, but the head says she must be milked for GCSE results.’

  The woman gave me a bit of a stare, but her friendly-friendly smile stayed plastered to her face.

  As we were coming down the main corridor I spotted Ramsbottom coming out of her office. I yanked the woman and Megs round the corner to reception at breakneck speed.

  The lady said, ‘What on earth—?’

  I said, ‘It’s the High Commander. We’re not allowed to look upon her face.’

  I elbowed Megs in the ribs and she managed to squeeze out a few tears and whine, ‘I don’t want to go back to the basement.’ She grabbed the woman by the arm for effect. ‘Please don’t let her take me back to the basement.’

  We were stood at reception by this point. The woman switched off her smiley face and she snapped at me, ‘That’s a silly way to talk, isn’t it? What’s your name, young lady?’

  And I said, ‘Victoria Blundell.’

  And, you know, we may not have taken the quickest route, but round the back of the smokers’ bike-shed and past the gap in the fence where girls crawl out to meet Radcliffe boys is definitely one way to reception.

  I’m just saying.

  It’s racism, that’s what it is. It’s a slur on my ginger ancestry. That bechained woman asked for a name and I gave her one, but no, she has to go dragging my hair into this. And apparently I am the only redhead in the school, because as soon as Miss Ramsbottom heard the ‘g’ word she was convinced that I am to blame for the ‘appalling rudeness’ to a ‘distinguished guest’. Please. I tried to explain that if we were nice to a woman like that she’d only come back again, but Ramsbottom wasn’t listening. Good thing old chain lady doesn’t seem to have shared exactly what I said; only that she didn’t think much of my ‘tone’.

  Even so, I have been banned from performing in the concert with the choir. Megs, on the other hand, has simply been warned not to be so ‘easily led’. Easily led? If she were easy to lead then I wouldn’t have to shout at her so much. It’s so unfair. The fact that Megs looks a bit dim always works in her favour. Whereas I am so wickedly good-looking that people always assume I’m up to mischief. Ramsbottom says I’m not fit to represent the school at the concert. I explained that she was getting it all wrong.

  I said, politely but firmly, ‘I don’t even want to represent the poxy school! I just want to spend time with boys.’

  But it seems that Miss Ramsbottom has no wish to support teenage girls with their hopes and dreams. I am still banned from the choir.

  Which is not the way I had imagined things at all. I thought that I would leave the choir due to creative differences and release a solo album before getting a part in EastEnders.

  Life is strange.

  Unbelievable. First thing this morning Megs started having a go at me for breaking my promise to behave myself. I pointed out that she forced me into that promise and also that she joined in with being rude to the chain lady. Megs was opening and shutting her mouth like a goldfish, about to try and make it all my fault again, when Lily chimed in saying, ‘Yeah, but Faith, when you start doing one of your things you just sort of sweep people along with it and it’s quite hard to say “no”.’

  ‘What do you mean by that?’

  ‘Well, you know, you start giving us looks or sticking your sharpest body parts in our softest body parts until we do what you want us to do.’

  I was outraged but Megs said, ‘Exactly.’ And even little Ang was nodding her head a bit.

  Well. There you go. I wanted them all to get on and now they are. They’re getting on so well that they’re ganging up on me.

  I was so cross that I ignored Megs for the whole of Chemistry. Which meant that for once I heard every slowly-drawn-out word that Mr Hampton said. I won’t be doing that again in a hurry. By the time Megs started pushing notes written on filter paper begging forgiveness in my direction I was ready to forgive her just to get out of the trance that Mr Hampton’s droning was sending me into. Anyway, when you think about it, what Megs, Lily and Angharad are really saying is that I am so charismatic and persuasive that they will do anything I ask them to.

  I don’t have a problem with that.

  Miss Ramsbottom has no idea what an inconvenience she is to me. Now I will have to think of an alternative location for my trick on Ethan. She’s a terrible teacher. When people decide that they don’t want a proper career and go to teaching school instead, surely the first thing they learn is that they should nurture their students? Ramsbottom probably wasn’t listening. I bet she was sat at the back with an ouija board consulting the dark forces.

  Thank goodness I have made it up with Megs; I would have hated to have missed her lengthy rambling about Cameron today. I don’t even need to add in brackets that I am being sarcastic because it is obvious.

  Unfortunately it was not obvious to Megs when I said, ‘Do go on, Megs, I am so interested,’ after ten minutes of her chatter.

  Because she just went on. And on.

  Ever since Cameron gave her that hug, plus some hand squeezing and a little bit of tickling, she can talk of nothing else.

  I said, ‘I’m not sure that it is anything to get excited about. If you think about it, I give you all that and more on a daily basis.’

  ‘That’s because you love me so much.’

  ‘Nonsense. Most of the times that I pat you it’s because I’ve just washed my hands and there aren’t any paper towels left.’

  ‘Do you think that Cameron might want to kiss me?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Because I know that he was chatting to that Lauren girl at the party but do you think . . .’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Don’t just be negative, try to see it from all angles—’

  ‘YES! MEGAN, THAT BOY LIKES YOU.’

  ‘Do you really think so?’

  ‘He looks at you soppily. He’s always trying to sit next to you. And even when you gave him an electric shock at the party from all that Lycra you were wearing he still wanted to “arm wrestle” you.’

  ‘So what makes you think that he likes me?’

  At this point I thought I’d rest my voice, so I just let her babble on and occasionally held up a little flash card I’d made that said He lurves you.

  I endured fifty minutes of Megs dribbling about Cameron in one ear and Mr Hampton monotoning about atoms in the other. It’s fortunate that I was able to browse the latest New Look range on Zoe’s BlackBerry or I may have been forced to read my Chemistry textbook in order to remain conscious.

  Eventually Megs said, ‘I think I just need to stop obsessing about Cameron and go with the flow.’ She let out this long breath. ‘So . . . do you think he’ll ask me out?’

  ‘He might and he might not. We’ve only got twelve precious hours left in this day, so we should probably devote them to agonising over that question, but before we do I was just wondering – how is that not obsessing working out for you?’

  And then I made a little tent out of my Chemistry book and had a nap.

  Everyone else went off to have fun and snogs at the rehearsal, so I went to wait for them in the library. Miss Ramsbottom hasn’t banned me from the library. In fact she probably thinks I don’t even know where the library is, whereas, the truth is I found it today all by myself.

  Using only the map Megs had drawn me.

  I may have also recruited a Year Seven to help pull me up the three flights of stairs.

  No wonder the place was deserted. If you were fit enough to get there you may as well go to extra sports practice. At least there you get to hit people with sticks and balls and things.

  Books are less aerodynamic and therefore, I have discovered, much harder to throw.

  I’m just saying.

  When they eventually dribbled out of
the hall, Megs did not seem keen on my full body hug, although Westy did say, ‘Can I have one of those?’

  They all stood about shuffling a bit with Cameron saying, ‘What are you doing now?’ and Megs giggling. Well, you can waste time like that if you’ve already had an hour and a half of male company, but I wanted to get on with things.

  I said, ‘She’s going to the juice bar and so are you lot.’

  Westy said, ‘I love it when you get strict, Faith.’

  When we got to Juicy Lucy’s half of the choir were already there, including Icky. Ethan left his bag under the table while he went to get a Coke, so I reached underneath and managed to stuff Granny’s bra in without anyone noticing.

  I did take the precaution of saying, ‘Vicky, why don’t you treat us to one of your table dances?’ which meant everyone’s eyes were fixed on a different set of underwear while I did the deed. Then I told Westy that I wanted him to get Ethan to open his bag. I suggested that he ask him if he wouldn’t mind letting him have a look at his homework because he wanted to check some answers. Just to compare notes and he’d give it straight back. And thanks very much and that sort of thing.

  Westy said, ‘Give me your Maths book, you idiot.’

  Which, to be fair, worked just as well.

  Ethan lifted his bag on to the table and opened it up. He stuck in a hand and frowned. Then he pulled out the bra and lifted it up, which was nice because now the whole of the back seating area (i.e. loads of people from both schools) could see Ethan holding up a granny bra at chest level. Excellent.

  There was a lot of whooping and whistling. It was particularly nice to see Megs and Lily cackling and clutching at each other. Ethan’s neck turned red. I was a bit worried for a moment that he was angry, but then he held the bra up again and said, ‘Westy, this is absolutely the last time I am doing your washing.’ And he stuffed the bra down the back of Westy’s jumper. Lots more whooping.

  Perhaps I should go into the entertainment industry. I have brought much joy to many people.

  Ethan sat down next to me and said, ‘You absolute cow.’ But, you know, in a friendly way. ‘Just you wait,’ he added with a grin, which for some reason made me think about snogging him.

  Finally it’s half-term! A lovely week of no school, no homework and no Miss Ramsbottom. A chance to live my life as nature intended, with fun and boys and regular snacks.

  On Tuesday we are meeting the boys in town and on Friday there is the ‘disco’ in a village hall near where Elliot lives. Megs wasn’t keen when she heard it was some churchy type thing.

  I said to her in our evening phone chat, ‘O little town of Bethlehem, Megs, you cannot let a little thing like God stand between you and a boy. Cameron will be there and that is all that matters.’

  ‘I’m not dancing with a vicar.’

  ‘And the vicar has already said he wants nothing to do with you, so that’s all right. Now get round here, I need you to score all my handbags out of ten.’

  Granny announced she was coming round again today. I said to Dad, ‘This is why I said we shouldn’t have given her our new address when we moved.’

  Dad looked like a rabbit in the headlights, which is what happens when he wants to agree with me, but is afraid that if he does Mum will throw her non-leather vegan shoes at him. It’s too much for his tiny mind and everything shuts down, leaving him gawping and wide-eyed.

  Sam said, ‘Can you keep looking like that, Dad? Until Granny gets here? Then she can talk about how simple you look instead of me.’

  Mum sighed. ‘She’s never called you simple, Sam.’

  ‘Yes she has. She also said my eyes were too close together and that I have the overbite of a farm labourer.’

  ‘You’ve got to remember that Granny grew up in a different time.’

  I said, ‘Yes, in her day you had to get your insults out quick before the dinosaurs ate you.’

  When Granny arrived the first thing she said to me was, ‘I expect your hair will get less garish as you get older.’ Then she fixed Dad with a dirty look and said, ‘She doesn’t get it from my side of the family, you know.’ She settled herself in the most comfortable chair and told us what’s wrong with Tesco.

  I did tell Mum that ring-shaped chocolate biscuits were a mistake. It meant that Granny could demolish half a plateful whilst still talking through the hole in the middle and explaining that the man on cold meats isn’t as hygienic as he ought to be.

  I’d reached a sort of state of semi-consciousness when I heard Mum say, ‘I’m sure Faith would love to help.’

  I sat bolt upright and said, ‘This is a very important year for me at school. I’ve really only got time for studying. And parties.’

  Granny said, ‘This is exactly why the old folks need looking after. Young people are so obsessed with their own lives.’

  Apparently Granny wants help packing up Christmas boxes for old people. I said I’d think about it and then I leant in for the last biscuit, which completely distracted her; by the time she’d snatched it up and scoffed it down she’d gone back to talking about the number of tattoos on the checkout staff at Tesco.

  I picked up the phone to ring Megs this morning and straight away Dad started whining, ‘You spoke to Megan last night! What can possibly have happened since then that is so vital that you need to share it with her immediately?’

  ‘I know that not much goes on inside your head, Father, but many ground-breaking flashes of inspiration have come to me in the last twelve hours. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to impart my wisdom to my best friend.’ And in a very dignified fashion I dialled Megs’s number and when she answered I said, ‘What do you think of luminous nail varnish for the disco?’

  Dad pretended to pull his hair out in what I felt was quite a childish way.

  Went into town today. The high street is much more exciting when it’s full of boys. Not much shopping went on (how do boys get clothes? I don’t think I have ever seen a boy buying an item of clothing), but there was some good hanging about by the fountain in the shopping centre.

  At lunchtime we went to the Sandwich Shop and sat upstairs. I got a banana milkshake and shared some chips with Megs. Not the most nutritious meal, usually I like to include something from the cheese and chocolate food groups too, but it’s hard to eat around boys, I’m always worrying about getting something on my chin. We sat at a table with Cameron (next to Megs), Ethan (next to me) and Westy, Elliot, Lily and Angharad.

  I should have known that something was up because Westy kept sniggering. But he sniggered every time someone’s chair squeaked on the rubber floor and it sounded like a fart, so I’d stopped paying attention to him. Which means I was totally unprepared for trouble when I took a big swig of my milkshake . . . and spat it straight back out. It was hot. It was burning hot. My mouth was on fire. I reached for Megs’s Coke and that’s when I realised everyone was looking at me and laughing their heads off.

  And that I had spat my milkshake all over Ethan.

  I was almost mortified, but I reckon people who put chillies in other people’s (expensive) banana milkshakes deserve to get my banana spit all down their jumper, so I just swapped my milkshake for his juice and said, ‘Ethan, let me give you a tip. It’s not a very good joke if you’re the one who ends up covered in milkshake.’

  It was quite funny really. When we said goodbye later he gave me what I like to think of as a particularly affectionate punch because I said, ‘You smell like monkey sick.’

  Megs had to go and visit her cousins today and Angharad was busy with her mum, so I thought I’d go to the cinema with Lily. Bearing in mind Megs’s recent hysterical jealousy, I thought it best to ring her and show that I was sensitively considering her feelings. I said, ‘If I go to the cinema with Loopy Lily will you cry like a baby?’

  ‘It’s fine. But you’re not allowed to play Popcorn Pants. Some things are sacred.’

  On the way to the cinema, out of the bus window, we saw Finn walking a puppy. I tapped on the g
lass, but he didn’t look round.

  Lily said, ‘I’m not surprised. He’s on his own little planet.’

  My mouth fell open. The idea that Lily could possibly describe anyone as on their own planet was just unbelievable. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘He’s just seems a bit . . .’ She started chipping off her nail varnish.

  ‘A bit what?’

  ‘A bit what, what?’

  ‘You said Finn was a bit . . . You didn’t finish.’

  ‘He’s a bit sketchy, isn’t he?’

  ‘He’s not sketchy!’

  She shrugged, ‘He’s all right . . .’

  ‘All right? He’s gorgeous.’

  ‘I suppose so. But I think he’s, you know, bland.’

  ‘Bland?’

  ‘Yeah. He never really says anything. Or does anything.’

  ‘Maybe he’s never said anything to you, but I’ve had loads of conversations with him.’

  ‘What about?’

  ‘Well, there was that time with the cheese spread at the party and he once told me that he doesn’t like wearing a tie.’

  Lily sniffed. ‘You can’t get much blander than cheese spread,’ she said.

  I was getting tired of this conversation, so I decided it was time to use my most sophisticated arguing techniques. I stamped on her foot and said, ‘Shut up, you troll, he’s nice.’

  Lily opened a packet of wine gums and stuffed two in my mouth. She said, ‘I know he’s nice.’

  ‘What? What are you talking about then?’

  ‘I just don’t think you’re very well suited to “nice”. I always imagined you with more of a “naughty”.’

  I was a bit freaked out by Lily discussing human nature and stringing together sentences and everything, but I needn’t have worried, the next thing she said was, ‘Do you think dogs have ambitions?’