Apple and Rain (15 page)

I think about Egan Winters. I’ve been besotted with him since I was in Year Seven. But I can’t write about him. I’ll have to think of someone else.

On the way out of class Mr Gaydon calls me to his desk. ‘Apple, can I see you?’

Mr Gaydon waits for everyone, including Del, to leave the room before speaking. ‘While the class were working on the stories today, I had a chance to look over your homework. It was very well written. I mean, it was beautiful. Do you ever write in your spare time?’

I shrug. Lately, I haven’t had any spare time to do anything. And anyway, I know the piece I wrote about football fans wasn’t very good. I didn’t even spellcheck it.

‘Well, I’m impressed by your work. I want to read more. But I’m also concerned.’ He pauses. ‘Is everything OK?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Really? Because I rather thought this was your way of asking for help.’ He hands me the paper with my homework on it. I scan the page. I can’t believe it. The poem about Pilar and Donna is staring at me in black and white. The librarian printed out the wrong document.

I stuff it into my school bag. ‘That’s not my homework. That’s something else. I wrote about football,’ I say.

Mr Gaydon twiddles the hair at the end of one of his sideburns. ‘Would you like me to get all three of you girls together to sort this out?’

‘No! I never meant you to read it.’

He squints. ‘Hmm.’

I can tell that he thinks I handed in the homework on purpose. But I don’t need anyone’s help. And I don’t want Pilar and Donna thinking I’m so desperate I went to a teacher behind their backs.

‘Can I go?’ I ask.

I look at the door. Del is making faces through the round window.

‘I want you to promise to come to me, if it gets worse.’

‘I’m OK,’ I say.

‘And I want you to take this.’ He reaches for a clean grey exercise book, identical to my English one. ‘It’s for you to scribble down poems that come to you.’ I stare at the exercise book. ‘No need to look so glum. It isn’t extra homework. It’s for fun. And if you don’t fancy it, no worries.’

‘Thank you,’ I say. I head for the door. ‘And sir,’ I turn around.

‘Yes?’ He looks hopeful.

‘Donna’s dad is in Afghanistan. I think she’s really proud of him. All that stuff about war we were doing probably made her upset with you.’

Mr Gaydon doesn’t move. ‘Afghanistan?’ he asks.

‘Yes, sir,’ I say, and join Del in the corridor.

28

The rest of the week at school is worse than ever. Pilar looks horrified each time she bumps into me and Donna does everything she can to make me feel left out – whispering behind her hand or laughing hysterically whenever I pass by. I make sure I don’t flinch when she’s mean. I won’t let her think she’s getting to me.

To stay cheerful I think about Saturday and how Egan Winters is coming to our place for drinks. When I tell Mum I’ve invited him, she gives me a high five.

‘My girl! So we’ll have to make this party extra cool.’

‘
Extra
cool,’ I say.

‘I don’t want another stupid party,’ Rain says. She’s ironing Jenny’s tiny clothes. She doesn’t even iron her own clothes. None of us do.

‘Oh, come on, it’ll be good fun. I’ll invite Pete. You like Pete,’ Mum says.

‘Who’s Pete?’ The iron hisses and huffs.

‘You know Pete. He’s the one who does all the accents. He looks like the British prime minister.’

‘What’s a prime minister?’ Rain asks.

‘The leader of a country,’ I tell her.

‘Well, I’m American, how should I know that? We have presidents. Anyway, I don’t want another party,’ she says.

‘One last one, Rain. Then we’re done with parties. OK?’ Mum says.

Rain pouts.

‘We’ll need drinks,’ I say.

‘Alcohol? I don’t want people saying I ply young boys with booze,’ Mum says.

‘You ply Apple with booze,’ Rain snaps.

‘Don’t be cheeky, Rain.’ Mum scowls. It’s a look she reserves for when Rain is being a real pain. She never looks at me like this and even though it makes me feel special, and I like being a favourite, I can’t help feeling sorry for Rain.

‘Why don’t we make cakes for the party, Rain?’ I ask.

‘You’re only being nice because you’re scared I’m going to spoil everything, and then you won’t get to make out with that boy you’ve got a crush on.’

‘I don’t want to make out with anyone.’

Rain looks at me sceptically. ‘
Sure
.’

Mum sits on the couch, tucks her bare feet under her bum, and turns on the TV. ‘We’re having a party on Saturday whether you like it or not, so get over it.’

Rain stomps off to our room.

‘There she goes again,’ Mum says. ‘What’s
wrong
with her?’

I unplug the iron and put it away. Watching Rain using it was making me nervous. ‘Maybe she should go back to the doctor,’ I say.

Mum nods. ‘Maybe. But I can’t work out this country’s health system at all. I think I have to register with a local GP first or something.’

‘You do,’ I say. And she has to register me too, now I don’t live on the other side of town with Nana.

‘What a drag. I need a beer. Get me one would you, Apple,’ Mum says.

I go to the fridge and take out a cold green bottle. ‘Don’t you want some spaghetti first?’ I ask. I made it when I got home from school, so it’s already gone cold.

Mum shakes her head. ‘No thanks. I should’ve told you that I’m not a fan of pasta. Do we have any chocolate digestives?’

I try to hide my disappointment. ‘We have custard creams,’ I say.

‘Pass the packet here,’ Mum says. ‘And don’t forget the beer.’

29

By seven o’clock on Saturday we’ve laid out a spread of olives, cheeses, baguettes and hummus. I’m so nervous I can’t eat or drink anything. I’m wearing one of Mum’s short black dresses with a pair of her high-heeled shoes again. Even though from the side you can see my stomach popping out, from the front I look OK.

Mum hands me a coral-coloured lipstick. ‘Smack a bit of that on,’ she says. I go down to the bathroom to use the mirror.

Rain is in there. She’s lying in the bath with Jenny. There is no water in the bath and they’ve both got clothes on, but it’s obvious Rain’s been crying; there are maroon circles beneath her eyes; her cheeks are dappled pink.

‘What’s happened?’ I ask. I wish she could be normal for one night.

She turns Jenny’s face to me. It’s covered in red dots. Rain asked to use my felt-tip pens earlier and this must have been why. ‘Jenny’s sick,’ she says.

‘What?’ I gaze at the limp doll in Rain’s hands.

‘We have to go to the hospital. She could have the measles.’

I want to scream and tell her that Jenny’s only a plastic doll and that she’s crazy for believing otherwise. Egan Winters will be here any minute and she’s basically ruining my life. But I don’t scream or say any of those things because I know that would make it worse. The only way out of this is to be very nice to her.

‘That’s definitely not measles,’ I say. ‘It looks like an allergy.’

‘An allergy?’ Rain examines the dots on Jenny’s face like she’s seeing them for the first time. Like she wasn’t the one to put them there in the first place.

‘Yeah. I had a rash a few days ago. I think it’s because Mum bought that cheap washing powder.’

‘Laundry detergent?’

‘Laundry detergent, exactly.’ I hold out my hands. ‘Give Jenny here to me a minute. I’ve got some spray in my school bag that’ll make her all better. I promise.’

‘I’ll get it,’ she says. She hands Jenny over, hops out of the bath, and pounds up the hall. Anyone would think she was seriously worried. It’s so strange and sad I can’t help holding the doll tight against me and kissing its head. She smells of Rain – a bit biscuity.

I lock the bathroom door and break off a few pieces of toilet roll. I poke around underneath the sink. When I find the nail varnish remover, I soak the toilet roll with it and rub Jenny’s face. Hard. I feel a bit bad – I’d hate to have someone rub nail varnish remover all over my face. Then I think about Egan Winters who could be on his way up our stairs right this second and rub even harder. After a minute, Jenny’s face is clean of marks and Rain is banging on the bathroom door.

‘I’m peeing,’ I shout.

‘I can’t find any medicine in your bag,’ Rain says.

‘It was actually in here all along. Wait a second.’ I squirt Mum’s tulip-scented body spray over Jenny’s face and rub it in with my thumbs. Then I flush the toilet and open the door.

‘It’s working already,’ I say. I hand Jenny over.

Rain sniffs. ‘What’s that smell?’

‘Huh?’ I turn to the mirror and carefully dab my lips with the coral lipstick.

‘Where’s the medicine? Are you sure it’s safe for babies?’ Rain is studying Jenny’s clear face, unbelieving.

‘I’m sure. But I’m such a twit I managed to drop it in the toilet before I flushed it. I’ll have to get some more.’

When I turn around, Rain is examining me. She doesn’t look afraid and miserable now. But she isn’t happy either.

‘What?’ I ask.

She blinks. ‘Nothing,’ she says.

When Mum’s friends arrive, they stand by the open window smoking roll-ups. The neighbours from downstairs, who Mum invited because they’re students and would make the crowd seem a bit younger, sit on the kitchen counter drinking whisky and talking loudly about ‘the nature of reality’. Egan Winters isn’t here yet even though it’s almost nine o’clock. Mum tells me not to worry. ‘He’ll be here. I have a feeling,’ she says. ‘Where’s your sister?’

‘Jenny wasn’t well, so . . .’

‘Be careful or she’ll have you convinced that thing’s real,’ Mum says.

At that moment Egan Winters appears at the top of our stairs along with two other boys from the sixth form.

Mum charges towards them and throws her arms around Egan. He smiles awkwardly. I totter over in my heels.

‘This is Andrew and that’s Dean,’ Egan says.

His friends grunt.

‘Come on in. It’s a manky night out there, isn’t it? Glad you could make it. Now, what’s it to be, beer or wine?’ Mum asks.

‘Beer,’ Egan says.

‘Yeah, beer,’ the other two say.

Mum turns and bumps into me as she goes to get the drinks. ‘Egan’s here,’ she says.

Egan looks at me, taking in what I’m wearing. His eyes linger on my chunky legs for a second. I pull at the hem of the dress.

‘All right?’ he says.

I nod. ‘Yeah.’ And we stand in silence until Mum comes back with three wet beer bottles.

‘How did you get here?’ Mum asks.

‘I just passed my test, so I drove,’ Egan says. He looks at his beer guiltily. ‘I’ll have half this bottle.’

‘Do I look like the police?’ Mum says. She’s trying to be funny and even though there isn’t anything funny about drink-driving, Andrew and Dean laugh and nudge each other.

Egan is looking at Mum with a half-smile. I can’t tell if that means he thinks she’s cool or something else. That’s the only bad thing about Egan Winters – you can never tell what he’s thinking.

I stand listening while Mum keeps the boys entertained. They talk about cars and music and films, and it’s all great because they’re in
my
flat and talking to
my
mum, but I don’t get half of what they’re saying: the films are all 15s or 18s, which I haven’t seen; I never listen to music except boy band stuff that Pilar has on her iPhone; and I don’t drive. I probably seem like a stupid kid in my mum’s clothes, trying to act like a grown-up.

‘I’m going to mix myself a cocktail. Anyone want one?’ I ask.

The boys all look at their beers and shake their heads. ‘If you’re making calimocho, sign me up,’ Mum says. ‘Go easy on the Coke.’

I make two glasses of calimocho, one with extra red wine for Mum. When I get back to the huddle, Egan Winters is telling her about where he wants to go to university. Warwick, apparently, which I’ve never heard of. ‘My brother goes there, so I’ve visited it loads,’ he explains.

‘That’s
swell
,’ Mum says, her American accent coming out again. She’s probably bored listening to Egan Winters, but you can’t tell. She looks completely captivated which makes him talk and talk and talk. I’m not used to hearing his voice but it’s nice – deep and kind of soft for a boy, like what he’s saying is really serious even when he’s talking about something that isn’t. His two friends aren’t chatty. Andrew finishes his beer quickly then stands chewing on a crust of baguette. Dean grabs another beer and is already halfway through it.

Someone waving a roll-up calls Mum to the window. ‘I gotta mingle. You guys help yourselves to drinks and food. You’ll be safe with Apple,’ Mum says. She gives me this long look. I know I’m meant to understand what it means, but I don’t. When she wanders off, I stand there speechless.