Girl, 16: Five-Star Fiasco (21 page)

‘Let’s go to the internet cafe,’ she said as they strolled down the street. ‘I need to check my emails. And my cousin said she was going to Facebook me.’

‘Fine!’ Flora smiled.

As they headed towards the cafe, Jess’s mind raced through a number of hopeful scenarios. She was sure they’d find Fred there, and maybe he’d smile at her, properly this time, with a real smile, not that horrible faux grin he’d been using since they arrived, and maybe he’d crack a few jokes and put his arm round her. Maybe he’d have bonded with the other guys and they would have realised how funny he was.

They arrived at the internet cafe, and they found George and Jack there, seated at adjoining PCs. But no Fred.

‘Oh, Jess.’ George looked up and caught her eye. ‘Fredianus said he had to go. He got a text message about a possible band for the dinner dance or something – that event you’re organising – and he needed to go back home. He said he’d call you.’

Jess’s heart leapt. A possible band! Maybe the tide had turned and things were going to go right for them at last. Of course it was a shock that Fred had gone home, just like that, but if it meant that they’d got a really good band lined up for Chaos it would be worth it.

She felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. Her heart gave a leap. This must be from Fred, to explain the details of the situation. But no! It was from Mum.

WEATHER FORECAST SAYS IT’S GOING TO SNOW. MAKE SURE YOU KEEP WARM AND DON’T GO OFF ON ANY FOOLISH HEROIC EXPEDITIONS. LOVE, MUM X

‘So,’ said George tauntingly, ‘what’s he got to say for himsel
f
? Is he telling you to watch your step while he’s gone? Because, you know, Humph has got the hots for you, big-time!’

Jack, Flora and George all cracked up, as if it was the most ridiculous idea in the world that Humph should get the hots for anybody, let alone Jess. Jess had an uneasy feeling that now Fred had jumped ship, the butt of all their jokes would be her.

Chapter 26

‘Oh, it’s not Fred,’ Jess said with a light, dismissive laugh. ‘Only my mum fussing!’ She pulled a disgusted face.

‘I’m starving!’ said George, logging off and getting up. ‘What say we find the nearest cafe and binge on burgers and chips till we explode?’

‘Don’t forget Tom’s a vegetarian, though,’ Jack reminded him. ‘He’ll want to load up with freakin’ chickpeas and beans and whatever.’

‘Hey!’ George’s eyes lit up. ‘Let’s all eat some really heavy-duty gas-producing stuff for lunch! Then we can go down to the beach tonight and set fire to our farts! The sky will be lit up! Weymouth will think it’s a firework display!’

‘Lentil soup!’ suggested Jack. ‘Baked beans! Where’s the nearest vegetarian cafe?’

‘Stop it, guys!’ giggled Flora helplessly. ‘You’re totally gross!’ She didn’t look as if she minded much, though.

Swiftly, Jess checked her emails. Although Fred hadn’t sent her a text, she’d had a stupid and vain hope that he might have sent her an email explaining things. Failing that, there would be another episode of
Lord of the Wrongs
.

But there was nothing from Dad. In fact, there was nothing much at all. Her cousin Kim in Australia had Facebooked her about some photos of a barbecue they’d had. Everyone was standing around in shorts – amazing to think it was summer there. Australia – the other side of the earth.

Jess had a brief hallucination about the world, this beautiful blue and white planet rolling through space, covered with forests and mountains and beaches and thronged with lovely animals and fishes and birds. She thought the human race should be crazy with joy to have such a sublime place to live, but instead it spent all its time bickering over totally insignificant things.

‘Come on, Jess.’ Flora tapped her on the shoulder. ‘We’re going to find a veggie cafe so the guys can stock up with ammunition.’

‘OK,’ said Jess, ‘I’ve only got two minutes left anyway.’ Briefly she checked her mail one last time. There were no new messages. She was really irritated to find that she was still hoping for a message from Fred – that was so pathetic.

As George drove them home after a lunch of vegetable curry, stuffed peppers, butter-bean bake and lentil soup (and that was just George’s portion), Jess was still secretly fretting about Fred’s departure. He could have sent her something – just a line before he left – to explain what was going on and to apologise about having to leave so suddenly. But there was nothing.

She’d sent him a text message during lunch:
HEY, WHAT’S ALL THIS ABT A BAND? IS OUR LUCK CHANGING AT LAST? DETAILS ASAP! WISH YOU WERE HERE X

It was now two hours since she’d sent that message, and there still hadn’t been any reply. She checked her phone again, for the seventeenth time, even though she hadn’t felt it vibrate and knew there wouldn’t be anything. Then somehow her mood changed and she felt really fed up with herself for being so clingy. She was going to enjoy the rest of the weekend, Fred or no Fred. And knowing he’d gone off to fix things, like Superman, meant she could relax a bit more. In theory. And she wasn’t going to check her phone again until bedtime.

By ten o’clock that evening, she had checked her phone approximately seven hundred times, and there still wasn’t a message from Fred. What on earth was going on? Why couldn’t he just send the briefest message, to reassure her? Oh, pants! Now she
really
wasn’t going to check her phone again, or even think about him any more. Despite her decision to forget Fred and just enjoy herself, she had wasted the whole afternoon wondering where he was, why he’d gone and what was happening.

They’d spent the evening playing charades round the fire, and Jess couldn’t help thinking how much Fred would have enjoyed that, and been good at it – much better than George and Co. Then, to round off the evening, they’d gone down to the beach and the guys had set fire to their farts. Gross and base though this was, Jess had managed to laugh a few times, because it was quite funny in a revolting way.

‘Have you still not heard from Fred?’ asked Flora, folding up her sweater. She always folded her clothes and put them away tidily at night – Jess just chucked hers on the floor. Jess was already in her bed, staring at the ceiling. There was a zigzag crack in the paint, shaped like a bolt of lightning.

‘No,’ Jess sighed.

‘I expect he’s just out of credit or something,’ said Flora, sitting on her bed and looking concerned. She was wearing a Donald Duck nightie, which was working against a serious heart-to-heart somehow. Jess didn’t have the heart for a heart-to-heart anyway.

‘Yeah, he’s so disorganised,’ Jess admitted. ‘Like me.’ As she said it she realised, with a faint sickening twinge, how stupid it had been for two such disorganised people to decide to organise a dinner dance – they’d been carried away on a wave of sympathy for Oxfam’s development project.

‘I hope the guys didn’t get on Fred’s nerves too much,’ said Flora tentatively. ‘Jack’s OK really, he’d never mean any harm . . . but George is a bit relentless.’

‘Oh no, I’m sure Fred was fine about that,’ Jess hastily reassured her – even though, in the pit of her stomach, there was still a horrid little twinge. She recognised what Flora was saying – indeed the same thought had occurred to her, though she had tried instantly to banish the possibility from her mind. ‘He probably got a message from Mackenzie about some band he’d managed to find, and Fred thought he ought to go back right away and meet them and hear them play or whatever.’

‘I felt a bit awkward about Fred going off like that,’ murmured Flora as she got into bed. ‘Because of Mrs Stevens, you know – this weekend is a big deal for them, because of their anniversary.’

‘Oh no!’ gasped Jess. ‘I hadn’t thought of that! Is she annoyed about it?’

‘She seemed completely nice and understanding,’ said Flora. ‘But somehow that made it worse.’ She snuggled down in her bed and gave Jess a rather accusing glance. Jess could see how Fred’s sudden disappearance had put Flora in an awkward position, and she hadn’t realised, till now, how it affected anyone apart from herself.

‘Oh, Fred!’ she sighed. ‘I’ll apologise to Mrs Stevens tomorrow and I’ll help with the lunch and everything. And if he doesn’t send me a text message soon, telling me what’s happening, I’ll tear him to pieces when we get home.’

‘You could start by ripping his pyjamas into tiny shreds,’ suggested Flora with a giggle. ‘Apparently he left them up in the dorm – and his sponge bag and his books.’

‘Typical!’ said Jess in exasperation. ‘I suppose I’ll have to cart all that back home for him. Three Stephen Kings, wasn’t it? They must weigh about a ton.’

Fred leaving his stuff behind made Jess feel kind of ashamed. Until now she had nearly always been proud of Fred – of his jokes, his wit, his intelligence. Now she realised his behaviour didn’t look good – not just to her and Flora, but to his hosts. If only he would ring! This was turning out to be an uncomfortable weekend. When she finally, finally managed to drift off to sleep, she dreamed of landslides and houses collapsing.

‘Hey, Jess – it’s snowing!’

Flora’s excited cry woke Jess up. There was an unearthly light in the room. Jess stared blearily at the window; she saw a white whirl of falling flakes.

‘It’s amazing!’ cried Flora. ‘Quick! Let’s get dressed!’

Jess scrambled out of bed and dived into her clothes – all of them, layer after layer. This was going to be a Scott of the Antarctic experience. With a heroic effort, Jess left her phone on the bedside table without even looking at it. It was turned off and so was she.

The snow was brilliant, though. Out on the veranda they found George, wrapped in his dressing gown with a college scarf round his neck. He seemed quieter than usual. They surveyed the amazing sight of millions and millions of snowflakes falling on the sea. They obliterated everything; there was no distant curve of coastline, no Weymouth, no horizon, just a mass of blue and white.

‘Every snowflake is unique,’ said George thoughtfully. Jess remembered that he was studying some kind of science at uni – Mrs Stevens had been rabbiting on about it. This was the first time he had said something serious. ‘You know, its structure.’

‘Crystals!’ said Flora, catching one on her finger and staring at it in fascination. Jess stuck out her tongue and several snowflakes entered her mouth. It was like eating fairies – although not so cruel, obviously.

‘Is that what you’re into, George?’ Jess asked.

‘Environmental geology,’ said George. ‘Yeah, rocks and fossils and stuff.’ Suddenly Jess realised George wasn’t just a joker.

‘What kind of job will you have, then?’ asked Flora.

‘Oh, doing boring things,’ said George, yawning and stretching. ‘You know, uh . . . maybe working out how to deal with flooding or erosion. Or how to manage pollution. It’s kind of
. . .
the interaction between the geosphere – well, the world really – and human stuff.’

‘Cool!’ said Flora. But George evidently didn’t feel like talking about it any more. He turned to go in, but paused briefly and looked at Jess.

‘Jess,’ he said, ‘I’m sorry if we got on Fred’s nerves a bit too much, you know. We’re just incredibly childish at times, I’m afraid.’

‘No, no,’ said Jess hastily, ‘it was fine. Everything was fine. Fred’s just gone to sort some music out for our dinner dance. Don’t worry. We were having a bit of a crisis about it – that’s why he had to leave so suddenly.’