by Candy Harper
I couldn’t believe he was saying all this.
‘Come on, Ethan. I really like Westy, but you can’t honestly expect me to date someone who I’m completely unsuited to?’
‘You didn’t mind with Finn.’
That was harsh.
I took a deep breath. ‘I’m sorry if he likes me. I didn’t know.’
He gave me a long look. ‘You know what Faith? For a smart girl it seems like there’s a lot you don’t notice.’
What the hell is that supposed to mean?
Then he said, ‘I’m not in the mood for this, I’m going to go.’
And he did. Which seemed pretty rude to me.
I did a bit of bowling but I couldn’t really concentrate on it. Megs pulled me into a seat next to her and Cam. ‘You all right?’ she asked. ‘What did Ethan say to you?’
‘He had a go at me for turning Westy down.’
‘That’s not very fair,’ Megs said.
‘Listen, Faith,’ Cam said. ‘Try not to take it personally, Ethan’s been really moody today. I think he might be in trouble at home. When I got to his house this morning, I could hear his mum and dad shouting.’
‘What were they saying?’
‘I didn’t listen, did I? I took a walk around the block and it was all quiet when I got back, but he’s hardly said a word to me.’
Megs frowned. ‘That’s not an excuse for shouting at Faith just because she doesn’t want to go out with Westy, is it?’
‘No, I know. I’m just saying, he’s not himself.’
It made me feel a tiny bit better but I keep thinking of Ethan looking at me like I’m some heartless cow.
Not a great day.
SUNDAY 6TH MAY
I rang Megs. ‘I feel bad about Westy. Do you think I should have noticed? Do you think it’s my fault?’
‘It’s no one’s fault. You don’t have to date anyone you don’t want to and no one should pressurise you.’
As you know I’ve always found Megs to be very sensible and generally right about stuff.
‘Remember last year when I had that thing about Liam?’ Megs asked.
Liam is Megs’s cousin Andre’s best friend. Two Christmases ago she was really into him.
‘I remember.’
‘And when Andre blabbed to Liam about me liking him I had to listen to the whole “I just don’t like you in that way” thing.’
I had to listen to it too because it was all Megs talked about for a month.
‘And it was really uncomfortable and horrible for a while, but after a bit I moved on and now I can have an entirely sane conversation with Liam. Things will go back to normal with Westy; you’ve just got to give it a bit of time.’
I hope she’s right.
MONDAY 7TH MAY
We had a day off school today because it’s a bank holiday. I don’t know why anyone thinks that bank workers need a holiday. It can’t be very stressful hanging out with large piles of cash every day. You could make yourself a nest of fifty pound notes and have a little sleep. A really luxurious sleep. Bankers should try spending time with Miss Ramsbottom. Then they’d need a holiday. Anyway, contrary to what Granny is always saying, I’m not entirely ungrateful and it is nice to have the weekend extended a bit.
I went on a picnic with the girls. Just as I was attempting to demonstrate that it is possible to put half a quiche in your mouth and my defences were down, Angharad whipped out the prefect forms again.
Lily and Megs got busy with their pens. Once I’d swallowed my quiche I said, ‘Surely we can just write our names? They can’t have that many applicants, can they? It’s just a bit of twirling about wearing a shiny badge, isn’t it?’
‘Is that all you think the prefects do?’ Megs asked.
‘Of course not. Obviously they also put a lot of time and effort into looking down their smug noses at people.’
Lily giggled.
‘And they steal the best seats from Year Sevens. If there’s any time left over, I think they might poke about in the lost property.’
‘I like that part,’ Angharad said. ‘It’s nice to think of returning something to its rightful owner.’
‘Oh, I don’t think they go that far, Ang.’ I said. ‘They don’t do anything efficient like reuniting people with their lost property; I think they just move it about a bit. You know, from the lost prop cupboard to the hall, spread it out on the stage, then outside on tables, to give it a little holiday, then pack it back in boxes. It never gets any less. In fact, I think it reproduces. Those jumpers and cardis get snuggly in the cupboard and before you know it they’ve brought forth a family of odd socks.’
Megs took a feeble normal-sized bite of what was left of the quiche. ‘So that’s your take on being a prefect is it? That it’s similar to a zoo keeper trying to get pandas to have babies, only you’re responsible for the reproductive life of jumpers?’
‘You’re forgetting the free food,’ Lily said.
‘I never forget the free food,’ I said, scooping up the last of the crisps. ‘And while you lot have been blithering on, I have almost finished my form. You can copy it if you like. Make sure you spell “genius of gargantuan proportions” correctly.’
TUESDAY 8TH MAY
I handed in our prefect applications today. Icky saw me going into the office with our forms and actually waited for me to come back out just so she could have a go.
‘You are joking, aren’t you?’ she sneered. ‘They’re never going to choose you as a prefect.’
I gave her the withering look that I normally reserve for when Granny asks me to give her a back rub. ‘And you think you’d be better, do you?’
‘I’ll be brilliant. Everybody says so.’
‘I’ve told you before, Vicky: when you think you can hear people saying nice things about you, it’s actually just the voices in your head.’
She screwed up her face. ‘There’s nothing wrong with my head, and if any of your lot make it on to the prefect team I will eat it.’
‘I’m not sure your pin head will make much of a snack. It’s hollow, isn’t it?
She stuck her tongue out. Proving once and for all just how mature she is.
LATER
Obviously, I don’t care what Icky thinks about my prefect application, but I hope that Miss Ramsbottom doesn’t share her opinion. I need her to approve it. I know that she’s always disliked me and has generally made my life hell, but I think that even she can’t question the fact that I am really good at telling people what to do.
EVEN LATER
I sent Westy a video of a pug in a hat making a cake. Dogs in hats aren’t my favourite and I’m pretty sceptical that he cracked the eggs himself, but Westy loves that stuff. He sent me back a smiley face. Hopefully that means he doesn’t completely hate me. It just seems unfair; no one is telling Ethan off for not reciprocating my feelings. I mean, if Westy is a victim then so am I; I’m totally into Ethan and I would really like to go out with him, but that’s not going to happen and I like to think that I’ve accepted that and behaved with grace and dignity. Okay, so there was a little bit of sobbing, but I stopped after I covered Megs’s T-shirt in snot. And maybe there’s a tiny amount of obsessively imagining what it would be like if Ethan came to his senses and we could spend happy weekends being hilarious and feeding each other M&M’s.
Oh God. Is Westy imagining feeding me chocolate? I need a lie down.
LATER STILL
Now I can’t even enjoy a humble family-sized bag of M&M’s. There’s no pleasure left in life for me.
WEDNESDAY 9TH MAY
Today in French, Madame Badeau told us who we have been matched up with for the French exchange. My partner is called Josette. Seems like a reasonable name. Pretty French, but she can’t help that. Mad Bad gave us photocopies of their forms and it looks like they had to answer the same stupid questions that we did.
For ‘Who do you live with?’ Josette had written: I live with my vampire mother and my werewolf father in a cav
e. My twin sister does not like this paranormal stuff so she lives in a house. She is the boring one.
I’m not sure that their forms were inspected by someone with the same eagle eyes for cheekiness that Miss Ramsbottom has, but I do think that I might get along with Josette.
I told Megs about her at lunchtime, but she didn’t seem very interested. ‘Do you want me to ask Madame if they’ve got any French girls left over for you?’ I asked.
‘No! I’m not asking my parents for a ton of money, just so I can meet a French teenager,’ she said, as if I’d just offered Icky’s trainers on a plate instead of the opportunity to broaden her horizons and mingle with fit French boys. I don’t know what’s going on. Something is wrong. I know this because I am a super-sensitive type who can pick up on other people’s emotions. I will use my great powers of empathy to gently encourage her to tell me the truth.
Either that or I will beat it out of her.
THURSDAY 10TH MAY
Miss Ramsbottom stopped me in the corridor. She’s like one of those policemen that enjoy doing stop and searches on innocent people all day just because it makes them feel big.
Anyway, I had to swallow the chocolate rabbit I was eating whole, just so I didn’t have to listen to a lecture on how we’re not supposed to eat while walking between lessons. Then I adjusted my face to the quiet and humble one that Miss Ramsbottom prefers.
It looks nothing like me.
‘Faith, Madame Badeau informs me that you will be participating in the French exchange this year.’
I nodded. Humbly.
‘I’m sure I need not point out . . .’ And yet she went right ahead and pointed it out anyway. ‘. . . That while you are in France you will be an ambassador for this school. In fact, for this country, therefore I expect you to be on your very best behaviour.’
‘Yes, Miss Ramsbottom. I’m really looking forward to the opportunity to speak French with, you know, French people . . . in France. I think the whole thing will be very educational.’
‘I’m glad to hear you’re enthusiastic. Please bear in mind that I can’t possibly approve the prefect application of any student who brings the school into disrepute.’
It was at this point that I realised that she was staring at my cheek. When she finally flounced off I had a look in my pocket mirror. A sizeable portion of chocolate bunny ear was stuck to my face.
I’m not sure I’m going to make it to the prefect selection committee stage.
FRIDAY 11TH MAY
I was all excited at lunchtime, I said, ‘Good news, Megs! Amber Dalgleish got so annoyed with her brother playing thrash metal that she went mad and kicked his drum kit, but she sliced her leg up so badly that you could see the bone.’
Megs pulled her sarcastic face. ‘Wow! Yes, that’s great. Or at least I can see how it’s great for music lovers, and medical types that like looking at naked bits of bone instead of having them tucked up nicely in flesh like they’re supposed to be. Why is it good news for me?’
‘Because she was going on the French exchange! There’s a space! You can come!’
‘Nrmp,’ Megs mumbled.
‘Don’t you nrmp me, I’ve just been to all the effort of inflecting three exclamations in my last sentence. You owe me exclamations. A squee at the very least.’
‘Faith, I’ve told you I don’t want to go on the French trip.’
‘Yes, you do.’
‘No, I don’t.’
‘I’ll be there. You like me.’
‘Nrmp.’
‘And there will be chocolate and cheese. You love chocolate and cheese, although you did promise you wouldn’t combine them again after that night we made the Nutella pizza . . . Anyway, lots of lovely things. No school! That’s lovely.’
‘There’ll be French school.’
‘Well, no one will expect you to understand that. Even French kids couldn’t be expected to pay much attention there. That’s why they’re so famous for that shruggy shrug thing they do. The teacher says Qu-est ce que le point de l’ecole? And the kids all do the Gaelic shruggy shrug, Je ne sais pas! And the teacher pushes back her beret and says ah oui! C’est vrai! Il n’y a pas de point de l’ecole, let’s all go to the café and have croque monsieurs instead! On y va! That sounds civilised, doesn’t it? Come on! There will hot French boys who will fall for our glamorous Englishness.’
‘I’m not interested in French boys. I’ve got a boyfriend, even if you like to pretend he doesn’t exist, and I’m not just going to disappear off and leave him!’
And then she stomped off. Proper stomping. I haven’t clomped along that noisily since the last time Miss Ramsbottom said she had a headache. What on earth is going on with her? She seems properly upset. Which isn’t like Megs at all. Usually she just pretends to be upset and then when I’m leaning in to see if she’s alright, she pulls my hair and punches me on the nose. I miss those happy days. I’ve got to find out what’s bothering her.
SATURDAY 12TH MAY
I’m fed up. Megs is being stroppy. Westy barely responds even when I send him hilarious pictures of kittens pretending to be circus performers. And Ethan . . . well, despite the fact he is the one perverting the course of true love by dating someone who isn’t me, Ethan seems to be managing to be cross with me. Which is outrageous. And quite depressing. I was trying to deal with the fact that he doesn’t want to go out with me and I don’t think I can handle him hating me too.
LATER
Why would anyone hate me anyway? I’m very good natured and always kind to young children and the elderly. Maybe he’s just lashing out because we can’t be together. Except we could, if he’d just dump Dawn. It’s really very simple. Maybe I should draw him a diagram.
SUNDAY 13TH MAY
Josette phoned me earlier. When I picked up the phone she said. ‘Allo? Faith? It’s meeeeee!’
I was a bit confused about who ‘meeeeee’ was; you’d think that the French accent might have given it away, but sometimes on the phone Megs likes to do voices. I enjoy her Swedish accent so much that I’ve told her that when we have to change our identities and go on the run (which Granny has said she is pretty sure is inevitable) she should go Swedish full time. Anyway, I like to keep my cool so I just said.
‘Yes! It’s yooooooou!’
Then we both laughed.
‘It is Josette. How are you Faith? I ‘ope your mother is well.’
Which threw me a bit. I said, ‘She’s never entirely well. She says it’s stress from work and nightmare children, but I think she might be drinking when no one’s looking. To be fair, you can’t expect complete mental stability from someone who lived with my granny for twenty years.’
‘Mmm hmm,’ said Josette. ‘This is good.’
I wasn’t sure how much she’d understood.
‘And I think she may have passed on some craziness to my brother. He’s really odd.’
‘I do not have a brother, but my sister she is called Delphine.’
‘Dolphin?’
‘Delphine.’
I don’t think that’s much better, but I was being polite so instead I asked, ‘Do you get on with her?’
‘Get on?’
‘Do you like her?’
‘Ah yes, she is my twin, but she is a good girl. Me, I am not so good.’
‘No, I’m not so good either.’
We laughed again.
‘So I’m coming to visit you soon,’ I said.
‘Yes, soon. You come to my house and we will have good times.’
That sounded promising. ‘Is there a lot to do where you live?’
‘To do?’
‘You know places to, er, aller? Le cinema, la discoteque, um, la patisserie?’
‘Ah, no.’
‘No?’
‘No. My village is . . . little. Very little.’
‘So what do you do? Where do you go to have fun?’
‘Pas de panique! I always have big fun. You will have fun also.’
To be honest whi
le communication wasn’t entirely clear, if the amount we laughed is any indication, I think that we really will have fun.
MONDAY 14TH MAY
I had one last attempt to get Megs to see sense. ‘I really think this is your absolutely last chance to get in on the trip,’ I said to her. ‘We should find Madame Badeau at lunchtime and see if they can still fit you in.’
‘Faith, I’m not going. Now, just shut up about it.’
‘What’s the problem? You can tell me.’ I put an arm around her.
She shrugged me off. ‘I just don’t want to go.’
‘Why not? Don’t you think it would be fun?’
‘Maybe. But I can’t just drop everything for a week.’
‘What do you mean “everything”? You’re a fifteen-year-old school girl not the prime minister. Is this about Cam? Is that the whole reason you’re not coming on our trip of a lifetime? Because you can’t leave Cameron for a week?’
‘Just leave it, Faith!’
And then she completely ignored me for the rest of the lesson, which was particularly unkind because Mr Hampton was reading from the text book and I could have done with a little chit chat to drown him out.
TUESDAY 15TH MAY
Megs is still not coming on the French trip, but Icky definitely is. And not only is she going to be in the same country as me, she’s going to be in the same house. It turns out that Josette’s twin sister is also doing the exchange and she’s been paired with Icky.
Since Megs has banned the ‘F’ word and I’m not allowed to talk about anything French with her, I found myself in the ridiculous situation of actually sharing my misery with my mother. She wasn’t very helpful.
‘You’ll be fine,’ she said without taking her eyes off her detective programme.