Diary of a Crush: Sealed With a Kiss (11 page)

‘Poppy’s OK,’ I muttered. ‘She’s just a bit more driven than the rest of us. Makes her mouth say nasty things before her brain gets in on the act.’
 

Grace nodded. ‘I s’pose. Well, all I need now is a guitar.’
 

I looked at the guitar that I’d spent months saving up for and Dylan had painted pink for me. I picked it up, feeling the weight of it in my hands.
 

‘I want you to have it,’ I said to Grace who stared at me with her mouth wide open. ‘It’s not like I’m going to need it. I’m going to be busy with the book learning.’
 

‘But are you, I mean
…
’
 

‘Look, take it and get out of here,’ I mumbled, feeling tears prick the back of my eyes. ‘I have packing that is so not done.’
 

My last day at the café. Never again will I have to be splashed by the evil deep fat fryer. Or be told to ‘crack a smile’ by the gang of builders that come in for their special breakfasts every morning. Italian Tony won’t be able to tug on my pigtails and Anna won’t take breakages out of my paypacket any more.

So why do I feel so sad? Probably because, even though she’s spent the last few weeks glaring at me from behind the coffee machine, I won’t get to spend all day with Poppy.
 

‘Are you ever going to speak to me again?’ I asked her today when she’d come into the storeroom to get some mayonnaise. I was skulking in there because I knew the others were writing in my ‘surprise’ Bon Voyage card.
 

‘I don’t talk to people who dump on their friends,’ she growled. Then she stuck her chin out, which means there’s no reasoning with her and I had to let it go.
 

She didn’t even sign my card.
 

I moved back to the ’rents today too. I know I should be looking forward to Edie And Dylan’s Road-Tripping USA Adventure™ but it’s also important that I feel sad about this part of my life ending. There’s all these little things that have made up part of my day for the last year and now they’re not going to happen ever again. The future’s out there, it’s like just within my reach but it’s also scary. It’s this big leap into the unknown and I’m not sure how far I can jump.

We had a very low-key leaving do in the pub this evening, probably because there were parents there. Even Jesse was quite subdued with Mrs Poppy around. Dylan and I sat there holding hands and not really saying much apart from the odd, ‘Do we need to get travel sickness pills?’ and ‘Don’t forget to phone up and sort out the International Roaming on your mobile.’ Plus, my mum watched every sip I took so I couldn’t even get hammered, which is what I really felt like doing.

It was actually the most boring leaving do in the history of leaving dos until Poppy suddenly stormed in, followed by an unhappy-looking Grace.
 

I cowered against Dylan. ‘Oh no, this isn’t going to be good,’ I muttered as Poppy looked around wildly, clocked me and marched over.
 

‘How dare you go behind my back!’ she screeched. ‘It’s my band and I decide who’s in it.’
 

I could
hear
Dylan rolling his eyes, I swear. He gave my leg a reassuring squeeze under the table but then became very interested in the contents of his pint glass.
 

Grace was standing behind Poppy and mouthing the word ‘sorry’ at me as Poppy carried on carrying on.
 

‘I was going to get Grace to join all along,’ she ranted – or lied, to be more accurate. ‘I’m so glad you won’t be around to stick your nose where it’s not wanted.’
 

‘Poppy, don’t be like this,’ I said quietly, in the vain hope it might calm her down. ‘I don’t want to fight with you any more.’
 

‘Yeah, well you’re just a lightweight,’ she sneered. ‘I don’t need you, you hold me back.’
 

And when I was lying in bed and trying to sleep because I was going on holiday in a few short hours, all I could think about was the venom in Poppy’s voice.
 

It rained practically all the way to London, almost as if the raindrops were little messengers from some higher being telling us to get the hell out of England.

Dylan had managed to get all our stuff into the back of the Mini after forbidding me to take more than one suitcase and then standing over me as I re-packed and re-packed.
 

‘Who died and made you boss of all the luggage?’ I’d bitched at him after he’d pointed out that I didn’t need more than two pairs of sunglasses and I certainly wasn’t going to wear a winter coat. Even my mother had been impressed at the way Dylan had managed to halt my ‘I don’t do travelling light’ speech after only two minutes, before she went back to sniffing loudly and making more sandwiches.
 

‘
You’re leaving on a jet plane. Don’t know when you’ll be back again
,’ Paul warbled from the back seat. I craned my neck so I could look round at him and Shona who’d volunteered to drive Dylan’s car back to Manchester and Grace who was wedged between them and had come along for the ride.
 

‘I can’t believe I had to get up at five,’ moaned Shona for the tenth time.
 

I nodded sympathetically. ‘I hear you.’ I looked at my travel notebook for confirmation and then added: ‘But we have to check in at 14.00 hours GMT and the plane leaves at 16.40 hours GMT and we should get in to New York at 19.00 hours, EST – that stands for Eastern Standard Time.’
 

‘You want to run that by us one more time?’ Dylan chuckled.
 

‘I’m sorry, I just don’t want us to be late,’ I said. ‘Does anyone want a sandwich? The Mothership was up at four this morning making them. She even cut the crusts off.’
 

Paul leaned forward. ‘Well, pity to let them go to waste.’
 

Silence.
 

‘Can we stop for a pee break at the next services?’

‘No! We won’t make it. It’s already eleven o’clock now and we’ve got miles to go.’
 

‘Dylan! Edie’s gonna make me wet myself.’
 

‘Edie, don’t make Shona wet herself.’
 

‘It’s not my fault! I hope our road trip car goes faster than your Mini.’
 

‘Hey, Dylan, Edie, you do know there’s a fifty-five miles per hour speed limit in America?’
 

‘Yeah, right!’
 

‘No, really.’
 

‘Are you sure?’
 

‘Yeah, it says so right here in your guidebook.’
 

‘Oh. Hell!’
 

More silence.
 

‘So how much money are you taking with?’

‘God, Paul, it’s so rude to ask about money. You don’t have to answer that.’
 

‘’Kay.’
 

‘So give us a ball-park figure.’
 

‘I saved up about £3000 from tips and wages and guilt-tripping various relatives.’
 

‘Dylan?’
 

‘I have money from when my dad left. Don’t even think about asking any more questions.’
 

‘Oh, and my ’rents gave me a credit card for emergencies.’
 

‘And a dictionary definition of what an emergency is.’
 

‘Shut up Dylan, no they didn’t. An emergency could be anything from the car breaking down to, um, my roots coming through.’
 

‘Your parents are so deluded about you, Edie. I’m one of your best friends, right?’
 

‘Right! Aw, thanks Shona.’
 

‘Yeah, but I’d still never give you a credit card.’
 

Eventually, after one pee break and a tense moment when it seemed as if the engine had over-heated, we got to Heathrow. With an hour to spare.

‘I could yell at you about the extra hour I could have had in bed but you’re leaving and I feel sad so I won’t,’ said Shona as Paul and Dylan got our suitcases out of the boot.
 

‘We could get a coffee before you go?’ I suggested. ‘Dylan?’
 

Dylan nodded. ‘Let’s check in and dump our cases, then get coffee and food. Lewis says they don’t do bacon butties in America.’
 

‘Who’s Lewis?’ Shona wanted to know as we walked into the terminal.
 

‘This American guy who’s on Dylan’s course, whose brother we’re staying with in New York and taking the car from,’ I said vaguely. ‘I think that’s right
…
What?’
 

Shona was giving me one of her patented ‘engage your brain cell right now’ looks.
 

‘Do you think that you should have organised a proper fly-drive holiday?’ she asked bluntly. ‘This all sounds a bit, y’know, doomed to failure.’
 

‘Don’t listen to Edie,’ Dylan said rather unsupportively. ‘It’s all cool. Frosty cool. Parentally approved. We’re driving the car to LA so their little sister can take it with her when she goes to university.’
 

‘In New Mexico,’ I added helpfully.
 

‘Oh well that makes everything so much clearer,’ Shona muttered sarcastically.
 

I could tell, being an intuitive person, that Dylan wanted some alone time with Shona to say goodbye to his oldest friend before we disappeared into the wide blue yonder. He shot me a grateful look when I announced that they should go and do the Bureau de Change stuff because they were good with figures, leaving Paul and Grace to help me make an all important decision between a fry-up (lots of protein, less carbs) and a continental breakfast (less protein, lots of carbs).

The three of us grabbed a table and I reached into my backpack.
 

‘Hey, guitar girl,’ I said to Grace. ‘I got you a present.’ I handed her a little box I’d plastered in anime stickers.
 

Grace beamed. ‘Ooooh, I love presents,’ she squealed excitedly, opening the lid. Then her lip started wobbling. Paul peered over her shoulder.
 

‘What is all that crap in there?’ he asked, raising an eyebrow.
 

I punched him on the shoulder. ‘There’s my lucky plectrum and my lucky magic marker that I used to write our set lists with and my lucky Hello Kitty hairslide that I wore when we played our first gig and
…
’
 

‘Oh and your lucky piece of material that you kissed before you went on stage,’ finished Grace.
 

‘It’s probably from one of Courtney Love’s dresses,’ I explained to Paul, who snorted, opened his mouth to say something really crushing and then thought better of it.
 

‘I’m not going to go there,’ he decided.
 

‘Best not to,’ I agreed. ‘So how’s Poppy?’ I added as an afterthought because I hadn’t been able to get her red, angry face out of my mind. ‘Still mad at me?’
 

Grace looked uncomfortable. ‘Well, she has deep emotional problems.’
 

‘That doesn’t really answer the question,’ I muttered, taking a sip of the most disgusting cappuccino in the world.
 

‘She doesn’t understand why you don’t fancy the idea of being one of her sidekicks on the route to stardom,’ Grace finished angrily.
 

I looked at her in surprise. ‘Is she still giving you a hard time about learning the songs?’
 

‘She’s giving me a hard time about everything,’ Grace complained. ‘I wish I had the chance to be the eldest
…
And as for Jack
…
he’s started spending all his time with Jesse, who is a totally bad influence on him. He’s become all flippant.’
 

There was obviously trouble in Grace and Jack’s wiggy version of paradise but once Grace got onto the subject of her and Jack, I just didn’t have the energy.
 

‘Look why don’t you email me while I’m away,’ I suggested. ‘It’s
[email protected]
. I’m going to be checking my mail whenever I can find free wifi.’
 

‘Cutiesnowgirl?’ Grace spluttered.
 

I glared at her. ‘What? It’s a cool address.’
 

‘Whatever!’
 

I definitely liked Grace better when she was too scared to even say hello to me.
 

Check-in was torturous. It was all ‘Who packed your suitcase?’ and ‘Did anyone give you a package to take on to the plane?’ I mean, duh! Dylan, in particular, was given a good old grilling. I guess his torn jeans, Powerpuffs T-shirt (an ironic statement, apparently) and haircut with nail scissors was never going to get us upgraded to first class.

Saying goodbye to Shona and Paul and Grace was horrible. Shona alternated between murmuring endearments about how much she was going to miss us and dire warnings about drive-by shootings and the dangerous additives they put in American food.

We loitered by Passport Control, trying to say goodbye but not really getting anywhere until Dylan grabbed his bag with one hand and me with the other.

‘We’re going,’ he said firmly. ‘They’re about to call our flight and Edie reckons she can get a sizeable shopping hit in the Duty Free.’

‘So this is goodbye then,’ Shona sniffed. She hugged us fiercely and started walking away. I knew she was crying, the sappy cow. Grace looked like she was about to seriously lose it too. I flung my arms round her and took deep breaths of her scent: vanilla perfume and fabric softener and Hubba Bubba.

‘Go on, get out of here,’ I muttered, giving her a little push and she gave a sob and rushed after Shona.

Two down, one to go. Paul shifted from foot to foot and then gave us a little wave before rushing after Shona.

Going away would be all right if it wasn’t for the goodbyes.