Boy Trouble (16 page)

“And cool music,” I add. “And amazing artwork.”

“A page so impressive that everyone will forget the coming out statement ever existed. And it would totally sicken the girls who stitched her up. Who needs friends like that?” Clover pulls out a pink glittery notebook and gel pen. “So tell me about your ultimate Bebo page, Beanie. Think big!”

I consider this for a moment. “My other half would obviously be Johnny Depp or if he’s a bit busy in Hollywood, Dermot O’Leary. I’d have an original song written especially for
moi
by The Script called ‘Dear Amy’, and a voice file by Dermot himself saying how much he adores me. Swoon.”

“Interesting. I didn’t know you were an O’Leary fan as well as a Depp fan. Good taste, Beans. OK, let’s email Alanna and get her wish list. And then we should have a meeting with Brains from work.”

“Brains? Why?”

She taps her nose twice. “Wait and see, Beanie.”

We
meet Brains in a gourmet burger bar in Dun Laoghaire.

When we walk in a boy of about Clover’s age waves at her frantically, stands up and insists on pulling out the heavy wooden chair for her, making it screech on the floor. He’s wearing a yellow cotton jacket over a red Hawaiian shirt. I wonder if he’s a bit colour-blind.

“Hi, Clover,” he says, beaming. He can’t take his eyes off her. Definite crushville. Which means I can stare at him and he doesn’t even notice. He has really nice teeth, straight and even. In fact if he got better glasses – his current ones are black-framed and geeky – and a haircut he’d actually be quite cute. And he has the most amazing skin, coffee-coloured, glowing and not a spot in sight. Plus Bambi eyelashes. Wasted on a boy.

“Brains, this is Amy, my niece,” Clover says. “She’ll be joining us today.”

His face drops a little. He’s obviously a bit surprised to see me. “No problemo,” he says. “Now what would you ladies like? I’m having the chilli burger. I like my food hot, hot, hot.” He sings the “hot, hot, hot” like a Latin American salsa singer and I hear Clover give a little sigh under her breath.

After we order – burger and fries for Clover and Brains, salad and fries for me – Clover gets down to business.

“We need your help,” she tells him.

“Always happy to help such a
purdy
lady,” he says with a toothy grin. He leaves his mouth open and his teeth clenched, like something from a cartoon. “Ding,” he says, and points to his exaggerated smile.

“Give me patience,” Clover murmurs, and I try not to laugh.

“I want you to create a very special Bebo skin,” she says.

“For you?” he asks, as eager as a puppy.

“No, for a friend of mine. Alanna is her name. Now, this is all top secret…” Clover tells him the full story.

After listening carefully, Brains sits back in his seat. “I have a sis, Ria. She’s eleven. I’d kill anyone who hurt her. I understand, amigo. It’s a beautiful thing you’re doing, Clover. I knew you were one special lady.” He starts to sing again. “Lady, lady, lady, lady,” he croons like Frank Sinatra.

“Two Cokes,” the waitress interrupts. “And an orange juice?” She smiles down at him. “Nice voice.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he says in his best deep Elvis voice. “You’re too kind.” He breaks into “Are You Lonesome Tonight?”

The waitress walks off giggling.

“Dear Lord, spare me,” Clover says. “Would you stop flirting with the staff, Brains, and concentrate?”

“Sorry, Clover. I didn’t realize you were the jealous type. But you know I only have eyes for you, don’t ya?” He wiggles his eyebrows up and down theatrically.

“Don’t you dare start singing again,” Clover says quickly. She pulls out her notebook and pen. “Now, here are our ideas. We’d like lots of animation. And lots of widgets and quizzes. Fancy stuff, OK?”

“Fancy smancy is ma middle name,” he says. “Hold on to your hats, gals, I’m the sheriff of fancy smancy town.”

Clover gives him a withering look but I just laugh. I love Brains already – he’s crazy, but funny.

A week later Clover sends me an email.

I open Alanna’s page and laugh out loud. Clover’s right, it diamond rocks! It’s called “All About Alanna” and the hazy blue and silver skin is like nothing I’ve ever seen before. The surface shimmers and sparkles, like oil on water. The “Alanna” is hand drawn, each letter interlaced with tiny dragons, rainbows and Celtic symbols, sparkling with moving stardust. As I watch, a tiny fairy, more Pussycat Dolls than Tinkerbell, flutters her purple wings, flies off the “A”, blows me a kiss and says, “Welcome to Alanna’s Bebo page. Enjoy the trip. ’Cos it is a trip.” Then she laughs and disappears off the page.

I scroll down. Alanna has 19,773 profile views already! In case you’re not a Bebo aficionado, that’s a hell of a lot of views. Mine has 293 and I thought I was doing well. Plus 2,257 people have sent Alanna love. And that’s truly amazing!

But the best is yet to come. Alanna’s other half, her most special Bebo friend in the world, is none other than Gordon D’Arcy, or “My Very Own Mr Darcy” as she calls him, the Irish rugby hero, ultimate D4 and Crombie idol. Her so-called ”friends” are going to wet themselves with jealousy. And seven of the Irish squad, including Brian O’Driscoll, another huge star, are her friends. Many of them have left her a special message. Along with Snow Patrol,
Goss
magazine, and several delicious male teen models, one in the shower, not that you can see anything. I chuckle to myself. Clover!

I click on the first of Alanna’s flash box clips.

“Hi, Alanna,” an incredibly handsome man says in a wonderfully deep voice like gravel. I give a little scream. It’s Gordon D’Arcy! His face is shining and his chest heaves up and down. From the muck on his shirt he’s obviously just come off the pitch. “Just saying howdy to my favourite Bebo chick. How’s tricks, Alanna? Hope you got the tickets to the next match.”

The second clip is Snow Patrol. “This song is brand new,” the lead singer, Gary Lightbody, says in his sexy Northern Irish drawl. “Just for Alanna. Enjoy, Alanna.” He winks at the camera. “And a shout out to all the girls in the
Goss
office, especially Saffy and Clover.” I squeal again. This is just amazing.

Clover is a genius. I don’t know how she’s managed it, but this page will go down in Bebo history. It’s without doubt the most fab, rocking page I’ve ever seen. Alanna will be the coolest girl in school.

And that’s not all. On her flash box there’s a video of a
Goss
fashion shoot. As I watch, a tall, dark-haired girl is walking down a catwalk, smiling from ear to ear, like she’s just sucked on a helium balloon. Her make-up is fantastic, all peacock blue sparkling eyes and candy-floss pink lips.

She sashays up and down in a gorgeous red chiffon dress, flipping the floaty hem with her hand, looking a million dollars. She turns to the camera, beams and says, “Clover and Amy. You’re the best! I don’t know how to thank you.”

I collapse back into my chair, shaking my head. Clover really is something.

The
exams are finally over – yeah! I think I’ve done OK in most subjects, apart from Irish and Spanish. And I hate to say it, but maths was easy peasy.

But far more importantly – it’s the end of term party and I’m mega nervous. It’s at Sophie’s house for a start and she’s completely ignoring me at the moment. I don’t really care about that, but Mills is still under her evil sorceress spell. I miss Mills horribly. But at least I have Clover.

I ring her in a panic at eight. The party’s supposed to start at eight. “Clover, help! I have nothing to wear to this party. And I’m late already.”

“Hey, Beanie.” Clover’s voice sounds strange, like she’s underwater. I can hear a spitting noise and then she says, “Sorry, I was just brushing my tongue. Hot date tonight. Say that again.”

“Lucky Ryan.”

“Not exactly. He dumped me.” She makes a loud raspberry noise. “He’s now going out with a girl in his English class.”

“When did this happen?”

“The day we went to the zoo. He’d been a bit off for a while; I should have guessed something was up.”

“I thought you were quiet that day. But you never said anything.”

“To be honest, I didn’t really want to talk about it. Besides, after all your dad’s news you had enough to deal with. Anyway, I’m fine now. I’ve moved on as you can see.”

She doesn’t sound all that fine. I know she liked Ryan a lot more than she let on. But I don’t want to upset her just before a date.

“So who’s the lucky guy?” I ask.

“Don’t get too excited. It’s only Brains. I owe him one, remember?”

“But I thought you said he was nuttier than Nutella.”

She sighs. “Tell me about it. But a promise is a promise. I’m wearing my sunglasses in case anyone sees me.”

I laugh. “Where are you going?”

“God knows. He says it’s a surprise. Probably some-where dorky like the library or a chess competition. Anyway, what can I do you for?”

“I’m having a wardrobe meltdown. I have this end of term party later.” I groan. “Maybe I’ll just stay at home.”

“Oh no you won’t! Give me ten minutes, I’ll grab some gear and be straight over. But I’m a bit stuck for time, so I can’t give you the full works. Throw on your black skinny jeans and I’ll concentrate on your upper half.”

Clover arrives with an armful of tops: floaty chiffon tunics, cotton vests in rainbow colours, vintage T-shirts and silk shirts in funky seventies patterns.

“Where’d you get all these?” I ask, sifting through them before she has a chance to put them down.

“You should see the amount of clobber in the mag’s offices. It’s like a branch of Topshop. All kinds of things get left behind after photo shoots, and then there are the samples and freebies. Saffy says I can borrow what I like. They all do it. And some are actually mine.”

She eyes the bed, which is already cluttered with piles of clothes. All tried on and all discarded. My whole room looks like a bomb’s gone off in a clothing factory.

Clover drapes her tops over one end of the bed. “You’re not usually so bothered about clothes, Beanie. It must be some party.” She looks at me and then smiles. “Is it a boy? Is there someone you fancy?”

“No!” I busily flick through the tops. I hold an emerald green shirt up against my chest and look in the mirror. I wince. I look washed out; the colour’s far too strong for me. Instead I pick up a fitted red cotton top with tiny pearl buttons down the front.

But Clover’s like a dog with a bone. “So who is he? Is it Seth?” As soon as she says his name my skin prickles and I get that funny feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I spin round. “How do you know about Seth? Have you been spying on me?”

She just grins. “Keep your knickers on, Beans. Sylvie said a Cure Head called Seth’s been calling round, that’s all. Actually, I think she quite likes him. She says he’s brilliant with the little ones.”

Great, so now Mum’s telling everyone about my private life. Typical! “What’s a Cure Head?”

“That’s what ancients like Sylvie call goths and Emos. In Sylvie’s day Cure Heads wore black lipstick and white make-up. And they worshipped a band called The Cure.”

“I’ve of heard them. Eighties band, right? ‘Love Cats’.”

She nods. “Cute lead singer. Used to live in Killiney.”

“Really?”

“Yep. I saw him once in Supervalu.”

“You’re making that up.”

“On Johnny Depp’s life,” she says, crossing herself. “So go on, tell me about Seth. Does he really wear make-up?”

“Of course not. Just a bit of eyeliner.”

“Eyeliner? Hey, that reminds me. Hang on a sec.” She runs out the door.

“Clover! You’re supposed to be helping me.” I put down the red top, it’s far too big. It would flap around on me like a circus tent. Instead I find a cool black T-shirt with a woman’s head on it; she looks a bit like Marilyn Monroe, bleached blonde hair and pouty red lips.

The black material is so faded it’s almost green. The word “Blondie” is splashed across the front in red glittery writing that matches the woman’s cracked-with-age lipstick. Most of the glitter has worn off but that only makes it look even more authentic. I hold it up against me and smile. I think Seth will like it; it’s perfect.