by Candy Harper
He hasn’t replied. Why not?
FIVE MINUTES LATER
I have had enough of this. I’m going to Megs’s house to get my second dose of pizza.
MUCH LATER
Woo! When I was walking back from Megs’s, Finn texted to say yes. There was also a picture of a monkey doing the thumbs-up sign.
As you know, I have always liked monkeys.
SUNDAY 15TH JANUARY
I love going on dates with Finn, but I can’t help thinking that I might enjoy it more if we lived in a huge house and there was a poolroom where we could hang out. There aren’t many places in town that you can go to for cheap. We started at Juicy Lucy’s, but I only had enough money for a milkshake, so after a bit Finn said, ‘Let’s go for a walk.’
I’m not normally a big fan of walking; it’s like being polite and not slouching: I do enough of it at school. Of course, I have suggested many times that we should get those little golf carts to transport us between lessons, but you know how Ramsbottom feels about my marvellous ideas. Anyway, I have discovered that walking with Finn is much more rewarding. Mostly because we can walk to places where no one is staring and then there is kissing.
We walked down to the river. It was completely freezing, but I had a happy glow to keep me warm.
Finn asked me if I’d got any brothers and sisters.
‘Not in the traditional sense,’ I said, ‘but there is this creepy, worm-like creature that hangs around our house, begging for scraps.’
Finn’s eyes widened. ‘What? Like a snake?’
‘Yeah, a lot like a snake.’
‘Wait a minute; didn’t I see you with a kid in the supermarket?’
I was hoping that he’d forgotten about that. I had peas in my hair at the time.
‘I’ve got a little brother called Sam,’ I admitted.
‘And he’s the snake! You’re funny, Faith.’
I tried to look modest.
‘What about you?’ I asked. ‘Who’s in your family?’
‘Mum and Dad. My bro.’
‘Is he like a snake?’
‘No! He’s more like a . . . what kind of animal has got long hair?’
‘A Shetland pony? A sheepdog?’
‘Yeah, a sheepdog. A friendly one. Noah’s cool.’
I can’t imagine describing any of my family as ‘cool’. Unless, of course, I’d whacked them over the head and then hidden them in the freezer. But Finn explained that he and his older brother get on really well. They also seem to like their parents. Imagine all that family harmony.
I said, ‘I would get on with my family if they weren’t all such idiots.’
Finn laughed again, but I wasn’t joking.
There was no one else walking by the river and after a bit we sat down on a bench. It was icy and on the other side of the river we could see frosty fields that looked like they’d been dusted with icing sugar. It was very pretty. Even lovelier was when Finn put his arm round me. I had a great time and when we said goodbye Finn said, ‘See you soon.’ Which is definite progress.
MONDAY 16TH JANUARY
They’re always going on about how school prepares us for adult life. I don’t know any adults who are expected to do chemical equations and then lollop around the hockey field on the same day. Old people are punishing us for being young and good-looking.
TUESDAY 17TH JANUARY
At break time we tucked up in the PE equipment cupboard to avoid the icy breezes outside and also the icy breezes inside wherever Miss Ramsbottom is. Everyone was looking a bit droopy. January is not a cheerful month.
‘I miss choir,’ Ang said.
I never thought I’d miss anything that involved Mr Millet, but it’s true that things are not quite the same this term. We’re lacking a certain something and I think that that something might be a once-a-week encounter with a herd of boys.
‘I don’t see why choir had to end,’ Megs said.
‘I heard that some of the Year Elevens went to ask Mr Millet if we could carry on this term,’ Lily said.
I sat up. ‘What did he say?’
‘He said that he’s got too much work to do with the orchestra this term to commit to another extracurricular club.’
Angharad nodded. ‘That’s understandable.’
Lily was attempting the splits on top of a pommel horse. ‘He also said that he was never organising another activity that allowed overly hormonal teenagers in the same room.’
‘What a cheek! Did he really say that?’ I asked.
‘Yep,’ said Megs, who I’m pretty sure knew nothing about the whole thing. ‘He said he’d had enough of snog-crazy teens. Especially ginger ones.’
I gave her a flying kick.
Angharad rolled out of the way of our wrestling and said, ‘But I do miss choir. It was nice to see . . . people.’
‘You saw Elliot last Sunday.’
‘I know, but it’s not a regular thing like choir.’
She had a point there. I’d probably see more of Finn if we did a club together every week.
Angharad sighed. ‘I wish Elliot and I were official like Megs and Cam, or semi-official like you and Finn.’
I took a moment to pity Ang and Lily and their lack of almost-boyfriends. Angharad seemed to appreciate my sympathetic look, but Lily was busy balancing a football on her nose.
‘It’d be good if we could think of another way of gathering the boys and girls together again,’ Megs said.
Everyone looked at me because they can’t come up with their own ideas. Unfortunately, I couldn’t think of my own idea either, so I just stared back at them.
‘Something like the Christmas boxes,’ Lily said.
Ang nodded her head. ‘Yes, that was fun, wasn’t it, Faith?’
‘Maybe for you. When you’re the woman in charge, it’s all stress, stress, stress.’
‘But you were really good at it, Faith,’ Megs said, pulling her sucking-up face, which is the same as the face she does when I yank hairs out of her arm.
‘Couldn’t you think of another charity thing for us to do?’ Ang asked.
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ I said. ‘Nobody expects you to do more than one charitable thing in your life.’ I looked at their hopeful little faces. ‘Do they?’
Actually, I might consider doing the boxes again. When we delivered them, the old people’s wrinkly faces lit up like their flammable polyester cardies had caught on fire. I used to think that old people were sharp-tongued and bitter, but you can’t blame me for that; I only had Granny to go on.
I promised the girls that I would apply my brilliant mind to the important issue of how to get us a guaranteed weekly date with the boys again.
LATER
This evening I thought that perhaps I’d give my dad an opportunity to do something to justify his existence.
I said, ‘Dad, I need you to think about something for me.’
He put his boring book down. ‘Of course, always happy to share my wisdom.’
‘Yeah, well, I’ve already asked all the intelligent people I know so I’m left with you and Mum.’
‘I see. What is it that you want me to apply my dim wits to?’
‘When you were young, which I appreciate is a long time ago, but when you were at school – they did have schools in those days, didn’t they?’ He rolled his eyes and I said, ‘Is that a yes or a no? As Miss Ramsbottom likes to shout in my ear, sarcasm is not the answer.’
He nodded his head. And carried on rolling his eyes at the same time.
‘Ew, don’t do that! It makes you look like that time at Auntie Joyce’s wedding when you had too much wine and fell asleep in your chair with your head lolling backwards.’
‘Are we getting any closer to the question, Faith? Only I do have to go to bed in three hours’ time.’
‘Did your school ever do stuff with a girls’ school?’
‘We were a girls’ school.’
I nearly fell off the arm of the sofa. ‘You went to a girls’ sc
hool? That explains a lot.’
‘That’s not quite what I meant. It was a girls’ school and a boys’ school. Mixed sex.’
I had to sit down and help myself to the emergency KitKat that I keep under the sofa. ‘You went to a mixed school? Why am I not at a mixed-sex school?’
Dad laughed. And laughed. And laughed. ‘I may be a dimwit,’ he said, ‘but even I know that you at a school with boys is a bad idea.’
So I didn’t bother asking him for any suggestions. He didn’t need to find ways to spend time with the opposite sex when he was a lad back in Victorian times. Mind you, the girls at his school must have been a fairly ropy lot for him to be so impressed by Mum.
WEDNESDAY 18TH JANUARY
It was Art today. I quite enjoy Art. The important thing is to remember that art is subjective. That means that no one can ever tell you that your work is rubbish. They don’t have to like it, but they can’t say that it’s rubbish because art means different things to different people.
While we were drawing animals, Ang peered over my shoulder. ‘Oh, that’s really good,’ she said.
Although art is subjective and no one can tell you you’re rubbish, I firmly believe in taking compliments where you can find them so I didn’t argue with Ang. In fact, I was feeling quite chuffed until she peered at Lily’s work and said, ‘That’s really good too.’
I don’t care what anyone says about art meaning different things to different people. I’m pretty sure that everyone could agree that Lily’s work was not good. I suppose I should make allowances for Ang since she mostly lives out her life between the covers of a Maths textbook and is a bit dazzled by bright colours. There were certainly a lot of bright colours in Lily’s work. She held it up and squinted at it. ‘Does it look like a horse?’
Because I was practising something Megs suggested about not saying what I really think all the time, I said, ‘Oh yes. Totally looks like a horse.’
Lily put down her coloured pencil. ‘It’s not a very good cow then, is it?’
But Lily is never worried about things like this. She just added a saddle and what looked like a kitten riding it.
‘Is that me?’ Ang asked, pointing to the kitten thing.
Lily looked from the kitten to Angharad and back again. ‘Mmm-hmm,’ she said, rubbing out the whiskers and adding a ponytail. ‘Definitely you.’
‘That’s brilliant.’ Angharad beamed. ‘They should put that up. They should put it in one of those display cases by reception. You know, the ones that lock.’
‘They should put something in a locked case,’ I said, looking at Lily who was now painting her knees.
THURSDAY 19TH JANUARY
I haven’t got any further with my plans to bring the boys’ school the delight of spending time with us lot, so I was forced to consult Mum.
While she was washing up and I was helping by eating things left on the plates, I said, ‘Did you go to a mixed-sex school?’
Mum smiled. ‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘Granny said she wanted me to learn something useful like typing or cooking. She thought that if I was around boys I’d waste time twirling my hair and flashing my knickers.’
Granny had a point there. I remember that time Mum did a cartwheel on the beach. No one should have to see what’s under her skirt. But even taking that into account it was a rubbish approach to your daughter’s education.
‘Sounds sexist to me and she obviously failed with the cooking,’ I said, licking the apple crumble dish. ‘What was the typing about? Did she want you to go into ICT?’
‘No, she wanted me to be a typist.’
I stopped mid-lick. ‘People aren’t wrong when they say that things were simpler in the olden days, are they? Imagine typing being a whole job. I could do that with one hand.’
‘You should be grateful that I’ve got higher hopes for you.’
‘Higher? What, like a trapeze artist?’
‘I was thinking more of something sciencey.’
I gave her a stern look. ‘Something sciencey? Well, that won’t be happening if I’ve inherited your standards of precision, will it? Sciencey isn’t even a word, let alone a job description.’
She got a bit bristly about that. ‘It’s not my field. Maybe you wouldn’t be any good at Social Anthropology.’
‘I could be if I wanted to, but you’re right: I think I’ll do a proper subject at university. Probably Chemistry.’
I don’t know why, but that made her purse her lips. ‘If you’ve finished pointing out the holes in my education then maybe I could answer your original question.’
I nodded graciously because I may marry into the royal family and I am practising the moves.
‘We did sometimes meet up with the boys’ school,’ Mum said.
I nodded again.
‘There was the school musical.’
I shook my head. ‘The problem with musicals is that not everyone seems to appreciate the unique quality of my voice.’
‘You don’t have to have a main part. You could always just be in the chorus . . .’ She looked at me. ‘No, wait a minute; I’ve just remembered who I’m talking to. You’re not going to be happy in the background, are you?’
‘I’m not good at blending in. I think it’s my hair.’
‘I think it’s your mouth.’
‘Have you got any other suggestions? Or shall I be off to look up that care home I’m going to put you in when you’re older?’
‘What care home?’
‘That one we saw the documentary on, where they spit in your soup.’
Mum narrowed her eyes. ‘Actually, I’ve got several more suggestions. When you’ve made your poor old mother a cup of herbal tea, I’ll tell you.’
So I made her a cup of her bark and moss tea without even swearing, although I must say that it’s disgusting the way parents bribe their children these days. I bet princesses don’t have to make their ancient mothers cups of tea.
Once she was settled with the fruits of my labour, she said, ‘You could do some charity work—’
‘Urgh, no more talk of charity. It’s sucking the life out of me.’
‘All right, you could organise a litter pick.’
‘Oh, come on! Is it not possible to spend time in the company of boys and do something enjoyable at the same time? Or are you worried that the double fun would kill me because I’ve never experienced it before in my sad little life?’
‘Life is what you make it, my petal. If you bring sunshine, you get sunshine.’
I wondered what the royals do when someone is annoying them. Maybe call for the executioner?
Mum was looking at me.
‘What? Is it illegal to even think about chopping your family’s heads off now?’
Mum huffed. ‘I’ve thought of a kind of club that you’d enjoy.’
‘Go on.’
‘When I was at college, I was a member of the debating society. Oh, we had a really good time.’
‘Sounds riveting,’ I said, but she carried on in that selfish way of hers.
‘I can still remember the two debates that I won. The first one was about animal testing and the other was about nuclear power. Kids used to be really interested in the environment in those days.’
I nodded like the queen does when she’s forced to listen to some idiot. ‘So you did this debating with boys?’
‘That wasn’t actually the sole purpose of the society, but yes, I remember there were several boys. In fact, I dated one of them.’ A look came over her face like Lily eyeing a peanut butter and marmite sandwich. Gross. ‘I remember this one time we were in the canteen and he leant over and—’
‘Please, Mum! I still haven’t managed to erase the memory of you and Dad holding hands at the cinema that time; I don’t have the mental energy to block out any more toxic images.’
‘All right, all right! I’ll say no more about his lovely full lips.’
‘Mum!’
‘Or the fact th
at he knew how to use them.’
‘Mother!’
‘He used to turn me to jelly.’
I stuck my fingers in my ears and started singing the hokey-cokey.
Mum fanned herself then pulled my hands down. ‘Do you want to hear about debating then?’
‘Yes,’ I said, but I was unable to nod regally because I still felt queasy.
‘It’s quite easy to set up a debating club. You just need someone to organise things. We had a different debate each week. Usually, you have a proposer of the motion and a seconder. Perhaps you could do boys against girls.’
I thought about this. ‘Debating is basically arguing, isn’t it?’
Mum nodded.
‘I think we’ve found something I can shine at.’
‘Good. Now do you think you could wipe the table?’
But I was already off up the stairs giving her a royal wave.
FRIDAY 20TH JANUARY
Finally, Finn has sent me a text. It says, Football on Sun? Which I assume means he wants me to go and watch him play football.
I rang Megs.
Eventually, she picked up her phone and said, ‘What do you want?’
‘There she is! My sunshine in the dark winter months.’
‘Oh God, you do want something, don’t you?’
‘You’re going to watch Cam play football on Sunday.’
‘Don’t you mean, “Are you going to watch Cam?” ?’
‘No, I mean you are. You have to because Finn has asked me to watch him.’
‘Oh well, if you need me to hang about because it’s convenient for you then obviously I’ll drop everything. It’s not like I’ve got my own mind, or my own interests, or even a voice to speak up about what I want. I’m just here to please you. You may as well write me a timetable.’
‘I’ll do that. In the mean time I’ll meet you by the swings at nine.’
She hung up.
Which I took as a yes.
LATER
That Megs has got a cheek. I’ve just remembered that time I dragged myself out of my comfy bed in the early hours to go and hang about the frozen football pitch and support her with her Cam-love. I wanted to say this to her in a text, but I couldn’t be bothered to type it all so I just put, I did it for you!