Then, when it’s nearly time for her to meet Charlie (which she’s doing A LOT), she locks herself in the bathroom and when she comes out she doesn’t look anything like Alex. She’s started straightening her hair when before it was always twisted up in a mad pile on top of her head and held together with whatever she could find, like pencils or chopsticks. The other evening I’m sure I spotted streaks of glitter across her cheeks. Alex HATES girly, sparkly stuff. It’s all incredibly confusing.
I haven’t managed to have a proper conversation with Charlie yet. He’s really good at standing in our hallway and he’s always polite to Mum, but I don’t think he’s very good at making small talk. It makes me wonder what he and Alex chat about when they’re together because Alex loves talking. If talking was an Olympic sport then she’d bring home the gold medal every time. That’s one of the reasons she spends so much time with Finn: they talk and talk, and half the time I haven’t got a clue what they’re on about and I get bored with listening. I would’ve thought they’d get fed up with talking so much and that their mouths would ache, but they never stop. So I’m really not sure how Alex is managing to cope with Strong-but-Silent Charlie. He seriously never seems to have anything to say. I suppose he might be a really good listener though. Alex would like that.
She’s not seeing Charlie tonight. Mum is out at Granny and Grandpa’s having a crisis meeting because Grandpa wandered off again today – Mum says he’s getting worse. Tonight it’s band practice and they’re all meeting at our house so Alex can babysit me. I HATE that word. I’ve been trying for ages to get Mum and Alex to stop using it. It makes me feel utterly pathetic, like I’m a little child who can’t look after herself. I don’t need anybody to look after me, and I’ve told Mum that time and time again, but every time I mention it she just says, ‘Remember the night of the tapping tree?’
It’s so unfair. I’m going to be judged for the rest of my life because of one stupid mistake. And it was a completely easy mistake to make too – anyone else would have done what I did.
Mum was going to be late home because she had a meeting at school and Alex was supposed to be going to the cinema with Sara. Mum asked Alex to cancel her plans so she could stay at home with me, but Alex moaned and complained so much that I begged Mum to let me stay at home on my own. I didn’t want Alex to hate me for spoiling her evening. Miraculously, Mum agreed and everything was fine until it got dark and I heard someone knocking on the window. I might have freaked out a tiny bit, but I tried to be brave and I stood by the window and shouted out to ask who was there. The tapping carried on and then I thought I heard someone groaning and it sounded menacing, full of threat and death.
My mind was totally full of murderers and dead bodies and ‘me-next’ thoughts so I did what any reasonable person would do. I phoned 999. I might have been crying a little bit when I spoke to the operator (not howling hysterically, which is what Alex says when she retells the story) and before I knew what was going on there were two police cars screeching on to our drive, followed by an ambulance. The flashing lights and screaming sirens alerted Finn’s mum and she rang Mum’s mobile before dashing across the road in her slippers.
It turns out that I might possibly have mentioned dead bodies and murderous groans when the nice lady operator was trying to calm me down, and apparently that moves you to the top of the priority list. Mum arrived home and nearly crashed into one of the police cars because she was driving at about eighty miles an hour. (She was lucky not to end up with a speeding ticket because we live on a residential street and the limit is thirty miles an hour.)
Unfortunately for me, Alex turned up just as the police were doing a search of our flower beds. She raced into the living room where Mum was cuddling me and started crying, saying that she’d never leave me alone again, and she was sorry that she’d gone to the cinema instead of staying with me and that the film was rubbish anyway. I started to feel all good and relaxed until, suddenly, I heard it again. I sat bolt upright and screamed.
‘There it is!’ I yelled. ‘That’s the noise I heard. He’s still out there!’
The police officer who was standing by the window pulled the curtains apart and we all looked out. I had my hands in front of my face, peeking through my fingers – which, as it turned out was not necessary, as the only thing out there was a branch from the apple tree on our front lawn, blowing in the wind and brushing against the window.
‘That was the noise you heard?’ asked the police officer.
I nodded and burrowed my head in Mum’s armpit so that nobody could see my very red face. Mum and the police officer muttered a few words to each other and then he went outside to call off the dogs (not literally, they hadn’t actually got the dogs in by then, thank goodness). Alex stopped sobbing very abruptly and said that I was an idiot, which I felt was a bit harsh because the tapping had sounded very scary and how was I supposed to know that it was a very windy night? The ambulance left and then the police all got into their cars, but not before one of them had suggested to Mum that I shouldn’t be left home alone again for a while. Possibly until I’m thirty-five. Well, he probably didn’t say that, but Alex did and, since that night, Mum has NEVER left me on my own at night, not for one single second.
So tonight band practice is in our living room. Stefan arrived earlier, his dad helping him drag his drum kit out of the car and into the house. I tried to keep out of their way, but everywhere I went ended up being where they needed to go. I said sorry to Stefan’s dad, but he just smiled at me and said something that I didn’t understand. Stefan’s parents moved here from Poland when Stefan was a baby. His mum speaks pretty amazing English, but his dad doesn’t speak a word. Stefan told me once that his dad can read English and understands everything that you say to him – he just can’t speak it. It doesn’t seem to bother him though and he’s always smiling. I think he’s really proud of Stefan because he helps him take his drums everywhere and he never seems to get cross or grumpy about it.
I’m sitting in the kitchen and trying to finish my homework because once they start practising I’ll never get anything done. On the Rocks is a very loud band. I can hear that Dylan has arrived because the floor has started vibrating with the buzz coming from his bass guitar and I put my head nearer to the page, desperately finishing the last part of my story before it’s too loud to think straight.
I’m just closing my book when Finn dashes in through the back door, his guitar slung across his back.
‘Coming in to listen, Izzy?’ he asks me, ruffling my hair as he speeds past. I pretend to scowl at him and press my hands down on my head, trying to straighten my hair.
‘Maybe,’ I tease, but I’m already getting up from the table. I love it when the band rehearses at our house. Going into the living room, I head towards my favourite spot. Curling up on the armchair, surrounded by guitar cases and amplifiers and leads, I watch as Finn quickly tunes his guitar and Stefan adjusts his drum stool until he’s found a position that he likes. Dylan stands to one side, plucking out a steady rhythm and looking into the distance. Dylan is really shy, but you’d never know that when he starts playing – he totally comes to life when he’s got his guitar in his hands. I have a secret wish that one day, when I’m good enough, I’ll get an electric violin and Alex will let me join On the Rocks. I think about this every time I do violin practice and it makes me work extra hard.
Then Alex steps up to the microphone that’s standing in the middle of the room. She nods at Stefan and he hits his drumsticks together four times before they all launch into their first song. On the Rocks perform covers of other songs and some of their own. This is a cover song that I know really well and I find myself tapping along to the beat as Alex starts to sing.
Alex is exactly the sort of person who should be on Britain’s Got Talent. If I’m totally honest, I’m not sure that she’s the best singer in the whole world, but something happens to her when she starts singing and it means that you literally cannot take your eyes off her. S
he can’t stay still and the way she moves, as if she’s feeling every single part of the music flowing through her, makes you believe that she could probably do anything.
They’ve done the first verse and, as they move into the chorus, Finn steps up to the microphone. He sings the backing vocals next to Alex and their voices dip and dive round the melody so perfectly that suddenly my arms are cold and I can feel goosebumps. Alex glances at Finn and sings the lyrics to him and, as she sings the words about love and friendship and hope, I see Finn gaze at her as if she’s his entire world. And then Alex stops singing and spins round to glare at Stefan.
‘What are you doing?’ she shouts at him and everything crashes to a halt. Stefan shrugs at Alex.
‘What are you on about? Why did you stop?’
Alex sighs – a huge over-the-top sigh that blows all of the happy feelings right out of the room.
‘I stopped because you played it wrong. We agreed that you’d lose that drum fill at the end of the chorus and go straight into the second verse.’
Stefan shrugs again, this time in the direction of Dylan who is suddenly busying himself with a guitar string.
‘I just thought I’d see how it sounded. Me and Dylan practised something new last week and we thought we’d surprise you tonight – see what you thought.’
‘Well, I thought it sounded awful. Like you’re trying to get all the attention.’ Alex has got her hands on her hips and she’s really cross now, her lips pressed tightly together and lines criss-crossing her forehead.
‘No chance of that with you about,’ mutters Stefan.
‘WHAT DID YOU SAY?’ yells Alex, and I shift uneasily in my armchair. This is not what band practice is meant to be like. Normally they play a few songs and then listen to any new stuff they’ve all been working on, and then they lounge about for ages, listening to music and eating crisps. The room feels heavy, as if something horrible is about to happen, and, sure enough, my mood ring has gone a murky colour.
‘Steady on, Alex,’ says Finn, putting his hand on her arm, but she brushes him off and acts like he hasn’t even spoken to her. She stands very still, glaring furiously at Stefan, not seeming to notice the energy that’s fizzing about the room.
‘How dare you suggest that it’s all about me!’ she screeches. ‘I am NOT always trying to get attention. I just want us to be good. IS THAT A CRIME?’
I am utterly transfixed by Alex. This is not like her at all. Not the shouting – that’s exactly like her – but she doesn’t normally shout in a properly angry way. Mostly when she shouts she’s being funny or tantrummy. This doesn’t feel like either of those. A movement in the corner catches my attention and I turn to see Dylan hurriedly packing his guitar into its case. Finn walks across to speak to him quietly and then Dylan picks up his guitar and amp and walks quickly out of the room without looking back. I don’t think he likes confrontation. I’ve never once seen him have an argument with anyone.
Finn walks back towards Alex who’s still standing in the middle of the room.
‘Look, Alex –’ starts Stefan, but then he stops, his face registering surprise, before hurriedly turning away and starting to dismantle his kit. I wonder what he’s seen and why he isn’t shouting back at Alex for being in such a grouchy mood.
Finn reaches Alex, but she turns away from him before he can touch her, which means that she’s facing me. Tears are running down her cheeks and, as I look, her face seems to crumple in on itself. It’s a very strange thing to watch. One moment her face is all screwed up in total anger and the next it’s as if all her features have collapsed – as if she’s too upset to keep her face in its normal position. I reach towards her, but she ignores me and, as she rushes from the room, I hear huge heart-breaking sobs gasping out from her mouth.
I don’t know what to do. I start to stand up, but Finn stops me.
‘Wait a minute, Izzy. I’ll just go and check on her.’ He races out of the room and Stefan and I listen as we hear two pairs of footsteps pounding up the stairs. Then a door slams hard and a minute later Finn appears back in the doorway. He doesn’t look at me and the feeling of fear that started in my stomach when Alex began yelling spreads to my chest.
‘Might as well call it a day,’ he tells Stefan, who nods and then picks up his phone to ring his dad. I don’t know what he says to his dad, but I bet it’s the Polish for ‘a crazy girl has just ruined our evening and you need to come and collect me before she totally loses the plot’.
‘He’s on his way,’ he tells Finn, hanging up the phone. ‘Sooner I get a car of my own the better.’
Together, they pack up the drums and take them out to our front hall. Stefan keeps glancing nervously towards the stairs, but Alex doesn’t appear. I stay in the armchair and I think they’ve forgotten that I’m there until Stefan’s dad has arrived and Finn has helped load up the car. Then Finn comes back into the living room and stands over me.
‘You going to be OK until your mum gets back?’ he asks me.
I glance at the clock on the mantelpiece. It’s totally disgusting – a huge, wooden, swirly thing with a very annoying tick. It was a wedding present to Mum and Dad and Mum hates it. I asked her once why we’ve still got it and she looked surprised and said that she had no idea, but she still didn’t get rid of it. Alex tried to put it in a bag of stuff to go to my school jumble sale once, but it somehow found its way back on to the mantelpiece and has stayed there ever since. We’re stuck with it.
‘I’ll be fine,’ I say to Finn. ‘Mum’ll be home soon.’
Actually, I have no idea when she’ll be home, and Alex is obviously going to be rubbish company. I can feel my skin starting to feel prickly and itchy because I’ve lied to Finn, and if there’s one thing I try really hard not to do it’s to lie. That’s not because I’m a goody-goody or anything – it just makes me feel really horrible inside if I lie so I mostly tell the truth because it’s easier. If I was being honest, I’d ask Finn to stay and we could get our game of Scrabble out from the cupboard under the TV and sit at the kitchen table, eating biscuits and laughing about who can make up the most bizarre word. I like words: knowing what they mean and the power that they have makes me feel a bit more in control.
I don’t want Finn to think that I need looking after though, so I don’t say any of this and he leaves, this time without ruffling my hair or giving me a high five.
I plod upstairs and knock on Alex’s door. No harm in trying, I suppose.
‘Go away,’ she shouts.
‘It’s me! Izzy,’ I call back, worried that she might think it’s Finn or Stefan come to annoy her.
‘I know. Go away.’
I can hear her start to cry again and wish, with every bit of me, that I knew what to do. That I had some good words to make her feel better. I stand outside her door for a little while, but no words come to me, so I trudge across the landing and go into my own room. I’ve done my homework and I finished my book yesterday, so I have absolutely nothing to do. I wonder for a minute if I should make Alex some hot chocolate, but then I remember how she sounded and decide that an early night would probably be a good idea.
I clean my teeth and put my pink pyjamas on. I’m not mad keen on pink, but it’s a calm, caring colour and I could use a bit of that right now. Then I turn out my lamp and sink into bed, hoping that tomorrow Alex will laugh about her daft mood and this will all just be a silly misunderstanding.
Darkness-destroyer
Alex and I walk home from school together most days at the moment. We’ve never really made actual plans to meet up, but by the time I get to the school gates she’s usually there, chatting to people and laughing. Waiting for me. The aggro boys won’t come anywhere near when she’s with me. They sometimes shoot me nasty looks in PE lessons, but I try to keep out of their way and I’m hoping they’ll get bored of the whole thing. They’re bound to move on to terrorizing someone else before too long anyway.
Today the sun is shining and it feels quite warm, even though
it’s only the end of March. Alex is moaning though.
‘This country is so ridiculous,’ she says. ‘It’s hot now when we’d all totally accept it being wet and cold and then it’ll get to August and we’ll all be shivering in our winter woollies.’
I laugh. ‘Yeah, someone should do something about it! Maybe it’s the government’s fault.’
Alex sighs. ‘I just wish it’d make its mind up. Imagine living somewhere that had real weather.’
‘What’s not real about our weather?’ I ask her. ‘It feels pretty real to me.’
‘Oh, you know what I mean,’ she says, waving her hand dismissively at the sky. ‘Snow in the winter, sun in the summer. Crisp autumn days with red falling leaves and fresh spring mornings with flowers and birds singing.’
‘We have singing birds,’ I point out. ‘There are some pigeons living in the tree in our garden. I think they might be building a nest.’
‘Don’t you mean the “pigeon of peace”?’ teases Alex, and I feel myself blushing. One Christmas, when I was little, I saw a Christmas card with a dove on the front and Mum told me that it was a bird that meant peace. A few months later, I got really excited when I saw a pigeon and loudly told everyone that it was the pigeon of peace. Alex has been calling them that ever since, even though it’s not even funny any more. ‘And pigeons don’t count,’ she adds.
I can’t even pretend to know why she’s suddenly so cross with the weather, especially when it’s actually nice today. She’s been like this for a while though – funny and brilliant one minute and then grouchy and complaining the next. I wish her exams were sooner and then she could stop stressing out. It’s hard work not knowing which Alex is going to come down to breakfast every morning.
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