by Candy Harper
He nodded his head slowly.
‘So maybe we should, you know, just be friends.’
‘Yeah, you’re a good friend, Faith.’
Which made me wonder if we’d ever really been dating. But I definitely remember some snogging.
‘So . . . we’ll just call it a day on the, er, well, the kissing and that.’
‘I liked the kissing.’ And he gave me such an impish grin that the reasons I liked him in the first place came flooding back to me.
Then I remembered the debating fiasco. ‘We’re not suited,’ I said firmly. ‘It’s better if we’re just friends.’
He nodded slowly. ‘OK.’
OK? OK? This must be the worst break-up in the history of ever. I was expecting it to be hard because Finn was going to be all upset and possibly a little bit teary because he could hardly bear the thought of life without me, and there he was saying ‘OK’ as if it didn’t really bother him.
He stood up. ‘We’ve had some fun times, Faith. I guess I’ll see you around.’
And then, just to show that there were no hard feelings, he gave me this little peck on the cheek. How dare he? How dare he have no hard feelings? Why was he not weeping on my shoulder? This is not how my spurned lovers are supposed to behave.
LATER
He hasn’t even sent me any texts begging me to take him back. Surely he should be serenading me outside my window by now?
LATER STILL
Nothing from Finn. I’m starting to suspect that he won’t even bother to have me followed by a private detective.
I am devastated.
WEDNESDAY 21ST MARCH
I banned everyone from talking about Finn today. This didn’t stop Icky from slinking past me and the girls, saying, ‘I might date a blond next, maybe a surfer type,’ to her stupid friends.
She’s lucky I painted my nails yesterday so I didn’t want them to get mucky with her eyeball gloop.
I told Mum about it this evening. I said, ‘Icky will probably convince Finn to go out with her somehow. She’s had tons of boyfriends and no one can understand why.’
Mum frowned. ‘I don’t think you should be criticising her for her, erm, healthy appetites. You know I hate to see double standards when people talk about dating.’
‘It’s not the number of boyfriends I’m criticising. There’s a girl in Year Eleven called Fi Wilkins who has dated a gazillion boys. She’s our idol. The thing that I’m criticising about Icky is, well, pretty much everything, but mostly the fact that she seems to enjoy other people’s misery and she’s rubbing in me breaking up with Finn and she won’t even wait to pounce on him. Other girls would allow a respectable period of mourning of two to four weeks.’
‘I see. How will you feel if Finn does date someone else?’
I pouted. ‘I suppose it’s unreasonable to expect him to sit alone in a stone tower clutching a lock of my hair and whispering my name?’
Mum nodded.
‘Then I guess I’ll learn to live with it.’
‘You’ll be dating again soon too.’ She gave me a hug. ‘In the mean time I want you to remember that you’re very special and you deserve someone just as special.’
As you know, I have always considered my mother to be a very wise lady.
THURSDAY 22ND MARCH
Finn didn’t come to debating club today. I would like to think that this is because he’s discovered that he actually is heartbroken and that he thinks, if he sees my face, he’ll break down and sob, but I suspect that really it’s because he was never that keen on debating in the first place.
It’s probably best that we have split up. What kind of person doesn’t enjoy a good argument?
Although it’s best to win arguments and then you don’t get stuck doing stupid forfeits like kissing Icky’s troll toes. While I was waiting for Mum to pick me up from debating, Icky came tripping over and said, ‘Everyone’s going to Juicy Lucy’s at the end of term. You can keep your promise to kiss my feet there.’
I didn’t answer. I don’t back out of bets, but no one said anything about it being with an audience. I think I might spring a surprise attack on Icky’s witch feet, then I’ll have kept my side of the bet without her making me look like an idiot.
‘Hope Finn gets to see you kissing up to my tootsies,’ she said. ‘I’m not surprised he came to his senses and dumped you. I heard you begged him to take you back.’
‘You heard wrong,’ I snapped. ‘Might be something to do with your misshapen ears.’
She pulled her innocent face. Which is a lot like a cat with a dead mouse in its paw. ‘Haven’t you split up then?’
I looked down my nose at her. ‘We may have parted ways, but it was me who decided it was over.’
Icky laughed. ‘Yeah, right!’
I turned and walked towards the gates.
‘That’s it, walk away from the truth!’ Icky called.
I turned back. ‘Oh, I’m not walking away, you simpering leprechaun,’ I said. ‘I’m taking a run-up.’
I have to say that, for someone who has never received any formal tuition in the martial arts, I’ve got some nice moves.
LATER
Ethan wasn’t at debating club either. Which is a bit rich given that he lectured Finn about the importance of attendance.
I didn’t want to see him anyway.
FRIDAY 23RD MARCH
I do know that there’s no point in hanging on to a boyfriend who’s not right for you. I do know that one day I will have a brilliant relationship with someone who makes me melt and also understands my sense of humour.
But none of this helps with the fact that all my friends are out with their boyfriends.
And I am here.
Alone.
SATURDAY 24TH MARCH
The girls and I went to the cinema today and afterwards we had pizza. When we were sitting at the table with Lily rabbiting on about how to avoid paradoxes when time-travelling, and Angharad doing a sum on a napkin using pi to work out what the best value pizza was, Megs reached across and gave my hand a squeeze to make sure I was OK, but I totally was. Sometimes it’s nice just to be with the girls. We didn’t talk about boys at all. I love my friends.
Mum is still being really nice. This evening she made me a cup of tea and patted me on the head. She said, ‘Would you like some of my special chocolate?’
‘Do you mean the good kind of special or the special kind of special?’
Mum tutted. ‘I mean that it’s organic with 75 per cent cocoa solids and slivers of ginger root in it. It’s delicious.’
‘That stuff that looks like lumps of mud with bits of twig in? No thanks. But if sympathy chocolate is available I will take a couple of Dad’s Snickers.’
‘All right,’ Mum said and pulled one out of the cupboard. (Just one. I’ve noticed she’s got selective hearing when it comes to quantities – she only ever makes me two pieces of toast even when I’ve requested six or eight.) She ruffled my hair. ‘I’m glad you’re not letting a boy diminish your appetite for chocolate. I hope that the same thing is true of your appetite for life and your thirst for fulfilment.’
I burst out laughing. ‘Mum, if I ever do get really depressed, you should just give me a two-minute blast of your hippy talk. If that doesn’t crack me up, nothing will.’
Mum shook her head. ‘I don’t have to use my philosophy on life to make you laugh, young lady.’ She flexed her fingers at me.
‘No! Not the tickling.’ I held up my almost finished cup of tea ‘I’m holding hot liquid! Health and safety! Health and safety!’
But she reached behind me and pulled the cup out of my hand and laid in with a tickle attack that could have taken down several marines. I’m telling you, I’m sure the only reason she does yoga is so that she’s flexible enough to pin me to the floor with one elbow and a couple of toes, to leave her hands free for torture tickling.
When I’d finally managed to get out a dignified request for her to cease and desist (‘Mum! Mum! P
leeeeeeease stop it!’), we both collapsed on the sofa for a rest.
‘So you’re all right then?’ she asked.
‘Yeah. I mean I feel a bit . . .’ I blew out a big breath. ‘A bit flat. But I think Finn and I are probably better suited as friends.’
‘That sounds very wise and mature, Faith. Do you know there’s a women’s group that believe—’
But I silenced her by wisely and maturely putting a cushion over her head.
SUNDAY 25TH MARCH
Granny came round today to ‘look after’ me and Sam while my feckless parents went to some elderly person’s fortieth birthday party.
I said to Dad, ‘I don’t need looking after. And who has a birthday party at lunchtime? Is that so that all you old folk are back home in time for the rubbish Sunday night telly?’
‘Sam needs looking after,’ Dad insisted.
‘I could do that. You lock him in his room and I promise not to forget to throw him something to eat.’
My parents always say that they’re open to sensible suggestions, but Dad completely ignored that one.
After they’d gone, I worked my way through a bag of doughnuts while Granny faffed about, tidying up and listening to Radio Four and other pointless stuff like that.
MONDAY 26TH MARCH
I did tell my parents that Granny shouldn’t be in the house unsupervised, but they never listen. Earlier, Granny came round with one of her boyfriends (Jim, who Granny says ‘made a lot of money in tights’ – I can only hope that he was selling the tights rather than earning cash while wearing them). Anyway, Granny opened up the cupboard under the stairs and started handing Jim a load of black bin bags, all bulging suspiciously.
‘What have you got in there?’ I asked.
‘Just a few things I tidied up yesterday,’ Granny said.
I haven’t forgotten her shorts theft. ‘Let me see,’ I said.
Sure enough, the crafty old biddy had seven bin bags crammed full of our stuff. She had half my shoe collection and all of my stuffed animals.
‘Mum!’ I screeched. ‘Granny’s stealing from us again!’
‘Again?’ Jim asked. He was starting to look a bit uncomfortable.
‘It was a misunderstanding about some silver spoons,’ Granny said.
‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘Granny misunderstood when Mum said she wasn’t allowed to steal them.’
Granny started wittering on about how she was collecting for a jumble sale and it was all for a very good cause. And she’d packed these things up when she was here yesterday and no one had even noticed. Fortunately, Mum’s growling abilities came to the fore and we got back all our stuff.
I actually felt a bit sorry for Granny in the end so, when she and Jim were leaving, I slipped her the bag with Mum’s dreamcatcher collection in. ‘And you can have these.’ I handed her a horrible pair of bunny slippers that I’ve never taken the tags off. The rabbits look like they’ve got myxomatosis.
Granny’s smile faded. ‘I gave you those,’ she snapped.
I didn’t let my smile slip. ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘and isn’t it wonderful to think of someone else owning them and getting to experience the same joy that I did?’
She poked me in the neck with her umbrella.
That’s what you get for being charitable.
TUESDAY 27TH MARCH
Megs was meeting Cam in the park after school today. Since it’s sort of on the way to Skye’s house, I walked with her. But when we got there he had Ethan with him.
‘Did you know he’d be here?’ I hissed to Megs.
Megs didn’t answer, which is a clear admission of guilt to me.
Ethan was looking at me with his big dark eyes. He said, ‘Hi.’
I said, ‘Hi,’ back, but I think it was obvious that I didn’t mean it. I turned round to leave.
‘Faith! Wait a minute,’ Ethan said.
‘I’ve got a job to go to,’ I said. ‘I’ll be late.’
Megs and Cam were drifting away to give us some privacy, even though I was giving Megs a look that clearly said that I didn’t want any.
‘What is it?’ I asked Ethan.
He looked a bit uncomfortable, which is a first for Ethan.
‘Look, I’m sorry if I interfered at debating club.’ He said it in a rush. It was obviously hard for him to get the words out.
‘OK,’ I said.
There was a pause.
I remembered how relieved I was when he offered to take Finn’s place. ‘It was nice of you to say that you’d do the speech at the last minute,’ I said in a stilted voice.
‘Wow,’ said Cam. ‘Steady on, you two. Any more of your sweet talking and I’ll be sick.’
Everybody laughed.
Ethan and I sat on the swings for a bit.
‘Listen,’ he said, ‘I’ve always found myself to be delightful company, but apparently I can be a bit of an idiot sometimes, so if there’s anything else that I’ve done or said that’s upset you . . .’ He looked right into my eyes and I couldn’t help thinking about that time I thought he was going to kiss me and I wondered if he was thinking about it too.
‘. . . Then I’m sorry about that too.’
It wasn’t a very specific apology, but at least it shows that he realises he’s been a bit mean to me recently.
‘I assume that there’s some sort of cash compensation,’ I said.
‘As soon as I win my court case against my History teacher for defamation, I’ll give you a cut.’
‘I think I’d get a better deal if I fine you a pound every time you say something sarcastic.’
‘Oh, that’s a marvellous idea.’
‘I’ll put that on your tab.’
I wanted to hang around joking with him, but I really did have to get to Skye’s.
I’m pleased that things are better with Ethan.
LATER
When I got home this evening, Mum asked me how babysitting went. I said, ‘Do you know? I quite like Toad now. In a way. I think I’ll keep up the babysitting even though I’m not so desperate for the money any more.’ Then I realised that actually I never did get round to mentioning that holiday I was planning to take with Finn, so I quickly went on. ‘And I’ve come round to your way of parenting.’
Mum smiled. ‘You mean you managed to create a loving, supportive environment with the freedom for self-expression?’
I snorted. ‘No, I mean I put his snack on a tray and turned on the TV.’ I gave her a suspicious look. ‘And what was that freedom stuff you were talking about? That wasn’t my childhood.’
‘Yes it was!’ She pushed her straggling locks out of her face. ‘Well, that was always my intention. If I didn’t quite succeed, it was probably because you were a difficult child.’
‘Definitely didn’t happen to me. Probably something you read in a book,’ I said.
‘I did try to give you creative opportunities—’
‘Or a film you saw.’
Mum frowned. ‘Stop ignoring me! I’m just saying that I’ve certainly always been supportive.’
‘A dream? Did you dream it?’
‘Faith, I don’t think that’s very funny. I did my best.’
‘Perhaps one of your mad friends told you about it?’
At that point she left the room. She even slammed the door a bit. Old people are so immature.
THURSDAY 29TH MARCH
Today it was Westy and his partner Mei’s turn to debate. They were arguing that we should be able to leave school at fifteen.
When the boys arrived, Westy was looking pretty sick. He faffed about pulling everything out of his pockets. ‘I’ve lost the last page of my notes!’ he said to me. ‘I can’t do it without my notes!’
I helped him sift through the bus tickets and chocolate wrappers from his pockets. ‘Don’t start panicking, Westy,’ I said in a helpful way.
‘I’m not starting,’ he said, tugging his tie. ‘I’ve been panicking for weeks.’
We found the screwed-up little bit of paper he
was looking for, but actually he didn’t really need it because, once he got going, Westy didn’t stop for anything. His style of debating is pretty much the same as his approach to everyday conversation, i.e. loud. You could tell which points he thought were particularly brilliant because he repeated them at an even higher volume. But he was definitely enthusiastic, which must count for a lot because they won. When Mrs L-W announced it, Westy lifted Mei off her feet and she squealed. I was really pleased for them.
When we were all hanging about at the gates, Ethan said, ‘Hey Faith, you did a good job organising this debating thing.’
Which surprised me because Ethan doesn’t praise people very often.
‘Well, you know me, I’m always trying to give young people opportunities to get together and be outshone by my linguistic skills.’
He smiled. ‘You are very good at talking. It’s one of my favourite things about you.’
I really wanted to ask him what the other things were, but someone yelled, ‘Ethan! You walking with us, or what?’
I looked up; it was Ryan, he was on the other side of the road with two St Minger’s girls. One of them was black-haired Dawn from my party.
‘Got to go,’ Ethan said. ‘Ryan’s lending me his amp.’
I just shrugged. He can walk home with whoever he chooses.
Anyway, when I was the last one left waiting for my tardy father, I decided that I wasn’t going to think about Ethan or any boy for at least a month. Which was difficult because Icky came skipping over and started singing, ‘Finn dumped you because you’re so gross.’ In my ear.
But I found that the rhythm of me kicking her really took my mind off it.
FRIDAY 30TH MARCH
Tomorrow is Lily’s birthday. I am in charge of making the cake for her bowling gathering. When I told Mum this, she started making faces and asked if I’d read the recipe through very carefully. She obviously thinks I’m not capable of baking a cake. I don’t know why people make such a fuss about cooking. It’s really just stirring and heating.