Hunky Dory (8 page)

“You know I said how they kept coming and looming over me and everything?”

“Did you?” said Will. “I can't remember.”

“Yes, well, I did. Cos they do! And what I was thinking…I was thinking maybe I could sort of, like. pass them on to you. Know what I mean?”

Will said, “No, I don't know what you mean, you patronising little turd! You think I want your cast-offs?”

“Some of them's quite pretty,” I said. “Sheri Stringer, f'r instance. Lots of boys fancy Sheri Stringer.”

“So think yourself lucky!”

“Yeah, but I'm not interested,” I said. “I got other things on my mind. It seems like kind of a waste.”

“I'll kind of waste you,” said Will, “if you don't belt up!”

All I was doing was just trying to help. He didn't talk to me for the whole of the rest of the evening. He didn't talk to anyone very much. Wee Scots must have really upset him.

Wee Scots went home this morning and I find that now she has gone I quite miss her. Whenever we got home from school she always used to ask us what we'd been up to.

“And what have ye learned today, laddie?” Or lassie, if it were the Microdot. And then she'd want to test us on stuff that she'd learned when she was at school, like dates for instance. She was really obsessed by dates!

“All right, laddie! The battle of Bannockburrrrn…when was it? Quickly, now! Ye shouldna have tae think.”

I quite enjoy a few dates myself, in fact I am rather
good at them, but I have never even heard of the battle of Bannockburn. Wee Scots used to do her nut.

“Och, awa wi' ye! What do they teach you at this school of yours?”

It got so that me and the Microdot, if we arrived home together, started taking it in turns which of us went in at the front and which of us sneaked round the back.

Today when I got in the house was empty. Dad was out delivering some garden furniture, and there was a note from Mum stuck to the fridge saying “Gone to pick up cat. Back soon”. I went outside and looked at the mothball necklaces that Wee Scots had made to stop the Russells using the trees as lavatories. I felt really fond of her! She may be the granny from hell, but she is lots more fun than Big Nan.

Dug for an hour; just me and the Herb. The Herb unearthed an unusual bit of rock with a hole going through it. It's not what you'd call important, but it is quite interesting. The Herb got excited and cried, “Is it a trib'lite?” I said, “No, it's just a bit of rock.”

“Well, thank
you,
” said the Herb. “All my hard work!”

I didn't mean to be ungrateful; I just didn't seem to be in a hole-digging mood. I'd have liked to suggest we
went up the park again, but ever since I had my dream I've been feeling self-conscious. Like suppose I suddenly lost control and made a grab at her? At her hand, I mean. She'd go ballistic! She'd bash me, for sure. Not that I'm scared of being bashed, I'm not a wimp like Aaron; I just don't like the thought of the Herb getting mad at me. Somehow the hole seems safer than the park. When I'm digging, I'm
focused.
It's only walking round the park I have these odd feelings.

Anyway, we weren't supposed to be alone; Aaron and Lottie were supposed to be helping. Aaron did actually turn up, but he said he couldn't stop, he had things to do. He didn't say what things.

“Guess he's walking the imaginary dog,” I said.

“He's gone soft,” said the Herb. “Soft and soppy!”

I said that he had been all right up until just a few weeks ago. “Then all of a sudden he seemed to go peculiar.”

“That's the way it happens,” said the Herb. “Just suddenly. It's like getting the flu…one minute you're normal, the next you're struck down.”

People get over the flu; maybe Aaron will get over Sophy Timms. I am not very hopeful, however. When I suggested it to the Herb she said that now he'd been stricken he'd probably stay that way.

“Even if he gets over her, there'll be others. There isn't any cure.”

I wish she hadn't told me that! Aaron is my best mate. The thought of him being permanently stricken is quite upsetting.

To change the subject, I asked the Herb what had happened to Lottie. She said, “Nothing's happened to her. Why do you want to know?”

There was a definite note of aggression in her voice. Nervously—cos you can never be sure, with girls, what you might have said to upset them, even the Herb—I explained that I was just asking.

“She seemed like she was genuinely interested.”

The Herb said, “In what? Digging?” and gave this sarcastic bray of laughter.

I said, “Well—yeah. Like she really wanted

“I told her not to bother.”

“Oh.” I said
oh
because it was the only thing which immediately occurred to me. The Herb didn't say anything; just went on shovelling earth with her trowel. “Could have done with an extra pair of hands,” I said. “I mean, like, if we're going to get anywhere before Dad wants his bit of garden back.”

She still didn't say anything. Just pursed her lips and went on shovelling. “I mean, if Aaron's not going to be coming any more…why did you tell her not to bother, anyway?”

“If you really want to know—” the Herb was going at it like crazy, shovelling for all she was worth “—if you really
have
to know, it's cos she's starting to get silly about you and I know you don't like that sort of thing. So there! Now I've told you. Now you can stop wittering.”

I found that really hurtful. I don't
witter
. “All I care about,” I said, “is getting the work done.”

“Yes, and all she cares about,” said the Herb, “is making eyes at you.”

“But she's your friend!”

“That's why I told her to stay away.” The Herb was bent over her trowel, her face bright red with the effort she was putting in. “You can do that sort of thing with friends. They understand.”

I said, “I don't!”

“No, well, you're a boy,” said the Herb.

That is the first time she has ever said anything like that to me. You're a
boy.
It hasn't ever mattered before! I've just been me. The Herb's just been the Herb. I don't know what to make of all this.

I have come upstairs with my piece of rock. I am going to examine it most carefully. When I have examined it I shall make some notes and put it with the rest of the artefacts.

There is something very
soothing
about a piece of rock.

Questions

No.1 What is the thing you would most like to acheeve by the end of the year?

The latest of her cruddy little tests. She assured me that it was going to be the last one, so I said that it had better be, as I was getting quite sick of them.

She said, “It
is.
I
told
you.”

I said, “Yeah, well, it had better be.” I then pointed out that in fact the first question was a total nonsense since there isn't any such word as acheeve. I suggested
that maybe she meant
achieve
, spelt with an i and an e.

She shrieked, “That's anelephant!”

I said, “It could be a kangaroo, it's still spelt wrong.”

She was silent for about two seconds (which is practically a record), then in irritable tones she said, “What are you going on about kangaroos for?”

I said, “Well, you were going on about elephants.”

“
An
elephant. It doesn't matter how it's spelt, it's completely anelephant!”

That was when it struck me: she meant
irrelevant.
It cracked me up so much I was bent almost double and couldn't speak for laughing.

Angrily, she said, “
You're
anelephant! You're a total waste of space!”

I felt a bit mean, then, cos she'd gone all red and puckered. She hates it if she thinks someone's making fun of her.

I said, “Oh, give me the stupid thing!” and snatched it from her. “You don't have to watch,” I said. “I'll show you when I've finished.”

“Well, but you've got to take it seriously.”

I said that I would, as I still felt guilty for laughing at her. I guess irrelevant is quite a big word if you're only ten years old.

This is how I answered:

Question: What is the thing you would most like to acheeve by the end of the year?

Answer:
Find a dinosaur egg.

Question:
Who is the person you would most like to acheeve it with?

Answer:
The Herb.

Question:
What is the thing you would most like to happen to you?

Answer:
Go back in time and see a real live dinosaur.

Question:
If you had one wish for humanity, what would it be?

Answer:
That girls would stop giggling.

Question:
Would you rather eat dog dirt or go out with Linzi?

“Answer it,” she said, “answer it!”

“You didn't get that one out of a magazine,” I said.

“No, I didn't,” she said. “I made that one up specially, and if you don't answer it I'll know you've got something to hide!”

To humour her—as it's the last time—I wrote,
Go out with Linzi.
I thought she'd be pleased. I reckoned it deserved at least a gold star.

“So is that the right answer?” I said.

Gloatingly, she said that it was, but that it was “too late”.

“What d'you mean, ‘too late'?”

“She doesn't want to go out with you any more. She wouldn't go out with you if you fell on your bended knees and
begged
her! She's gone off of you. She's got a crush on someone else.”

“That's a relief,” I said.

“Don't you want to know who it is?”

“Don't care, so long as it's not me.”

“It's your friend Joey.”

I said, “Joe Icard?”

“He's your friend, isn't he?”

Yes, he is, and he's never mentioned anything to me about some silly little Year 6 having a crush on him.

“I'm not making it up,” said the Microdot. “She thinks he's really cute. She used to think you were, but she's decided there's more to people than just the way they look.”

“Does he know about it?” I said.

“Course he knows about it!” scoffed the Microdot. “He's not blind—not like some people. He
smiles
at her. He doesn't walk past and ignore her. He likes girls. You're only interested in your nerdy dinosaurs. What's this about
girls stopping giggling
?”

I said, “That's my wish for humanity.”

“You mean, you just want everyone to be
miserable
?”

“I wouldn't be miserable,” I said.

“Everyone else would! That is such a
sick
answer.”

“So what did you put? What's your great wish for humanity?”

She drew herself up to her full height (about ten centimetres). “World peace,” she said.

Oh, spare me!

“I'm going to go away, now, and do your profile. I can tell you already,” she said, “it's not looking good!”

I dunno why she's got it in for me. I once heard Mum explaining to Wee Scots that we were too close in age and it made us competitive. But I'm not competitive! It's the Microdot that always has to be one up. I just want to be left alone to get on with my life. What's so wrong with that?

I know she's going to tell me I'm weird and geeky, all because I'd
rather dig for dinosaur remains than go out with girls. It's not that I have anything against girls! I know that they are necessary, and I even quite like some of them. Lottie, for instance. We got on OK! And, of course, the Herb. We've always got on.

Come to think of it, the Herb's a bit of a giggler; she giggles quite a lot. I wouldn't want her to stop doing it! But the Herb's different. She's not like other girls, she's—well! She's the Herb.

Dad reminded me this evening that this weekend is my last weekend for the hole. “Come Monday, it all gets filled in!”

“And don't forget,” said Mum, “next Saturday and Sunday are
out
. OK?”

I said, “Yes. OK,” trying not to heave a sigh.

Saturday is Gran and Granddad's golden wedding anniversary. They will have been married for fifty years! There is going to be a big party, with lots of people coming from all over. I am quite looking forward to it, though I can't help thinking of all the digging I could get done if I didn't have to go. Unfortunately Mum insists.

“Of course you have to go! Miss your gran and granddad's golden wedding? No way!”

I suppose I wouldn't want to, really; it will probably be quite fun. It is being held in a hall which Dad and Uncle Clive have hired. It is going to go on practically all day. It seems strange to have a party in the daytime, but Gran and Granddad are too old, I guess, to stay awake in the evening.

They are spending the night with Uncle Clive and Auntie Jess, where there are no Jack Russells to upset them, then on Sunday we are all going out for a family lunch, before driving Gran and Granddad back to Eastbourne. By the time we get home it will be too late to do any digging. I am really going to miss my hole!

This morning, at school, I had a long talk with Joe on the subject of girls. I started off by asking him about Linzi. I said, “Did you know my sister's friend has a crush on you?”

He denied all knowledge! He said, “Who is she? Who told you?”

Bitterly, I said, “My sister.” I should have known better than to pay any attention to the Microdot. “Just forget about it,” I said. “She's nuts!”

But he didn't seem to want to forget about it. He said, “So who is she, then?” I told him she was in Year 6 and
that according to the Microdot—not that she can be trusted—he had actually smiled at her.

“Oh! Yeah. I remember. She's the one with the plaits.”

“She has got plaits,” I said. “Yes.”

“Hangs around in a bunch by the gate.”

“Yes.”

A big grin suddenly split his face. “I did sort of smile at her. Cos she smiled at me, you know? Wouldn't have been polite not to smile back. Anyone would've. Even you would've.”

I couldn't think what to say to this. What did he mean, even I would have?

“It's only natural. It's only
normal
.” He looked at me, earnestly. “You can't just ignore them.”

“What,” I said, “girls?”

“That's right! You gotta get along.”

I said, “I do get along.”

“Yeah, but more than just like…
getting along
. You gotta—”

“What?”

“Well! Like—mingle, an'—an' talk an'—show 'em you care. That kind of stuff.”

I'd never have thought of Joe as being someone that would want to mingle and talk. He's always been what
Mum calls “a bit of a lad”. The grin broke out again, right across his face.

“You're saying she's got this crush on me?”

I told him that that was what the Microdot was saying. “Only I dunno how reliable she is. Sometimes she makes things up.”

“No, I reckon she's gotta be right. Way she looked at me…what d'you say her name was? Lindy?”

“Linzi.”

“Linzi…” He rolled it lovingly off his tongue. “Linzi what?”

“I dunno.”

“Ask your sister. Ask her what her name is and where she lives.”

“Why? What d'you want to know for?”

“If someone's got a crush on me,” said Joe, “I need to know about 'em, don't I?”

I shook my head. I couldn't make any sense of this conversation.

“You'd just better watch it,” I said. “You give her any encouragement, she'll start making a right nuisance of herself.”

He waved a hand. “I can cope.”

“But she giggles,” I said.

“I like 'em when they giggle! Think she'd go out with me?”

“She's Year
6
,” I said.

“Year 6 is good. You might think Year 8, but forget about it. They're rubbish! Reckon they know everything. Even Year 7 can get a bit above themselves. Cal went out with Janine Edwards last week. Know what she said to him? Said he was too young for her. Didn't have enough experience. She's got some nerve!”

I said, “
Janine Edwards
?” She was the great lumping girl that fell on me in the PE cupboard.

Joe said, “You'd better believe it! Take it from me, Year 6 are the ones to go for. They are
the best
!”

I found the whole discussion somewhat alarming. Not only Joe, taking an interest in the Microdot's little giggly friend, but Calum, going out with Janine Edwards and
nobody telling me
. When I asked Joe why nobody had told me, he said, “Didn't think you'd want
to know. Anyway, he's not going with her again. Says he doesn't want to be insulted. Maybe your sister would like to go out with him? She's not bad looking.”

I said, “No, but she's very bad-tempered.”

I don't want the Microdot going out with one of my mates. No way! And why would they
want
to go out with her? All of a sudden, life is very confusing. Once upon a time it used to seem so simple. There was me and Aaron, and Joe and Calum, and, of course, the Herb. Now there's only me and the Herb, and even she has started acting strange just lately, not letting Lottie come and dig, telling me I was a
boy.
What did she mean by that? Why did she say it? I can't understand! I can't understand anything any more. I am beginning to feel quite depressed.

Did a bit of digging after school today. Just me and the Herb. It is probably the last real digging we shall be able to do. The Herb said, “It's a pity Aaron isn't here.”

I said, “Pity Lottie isn't here.”

I said it without thinking. The Herb instantly banged down her trowel and gave me this long, hard look. “Do you
want
her to be here?”

I said, “No!” I could almost hear the terror in my voice. The Herb can be quite scary.

“So why did you say it was a pity?”

“I just meant…you know! We'd get a big more digging done. That's all.”

“If you
want
her here,” said the Herb, “I'll
ring
her. You only have to
say.
If you really can't
live
without having her—if you're likely to go into some kind of
decline
—”

“I'm not!”

“Just
tell
me. All right? Cos I don't want to be responsible for you having this massive mental breakdown all because
Lottie
isn't here. I can get her here! No problem. You want me to get her here?”

“No!”

“Then why keep on about her?”

I protested that I wasn't. I wasn't keeping on! “It's just…you said about Aaron, so I said about Lottie.” She obviously doesn't want her coming; I don't know why. Maybe they have stopped being friends. Girls do seem to quarrel a lot more than boys, at least if the Microdot is anything to go by. Except that the Microdot is a very quarrelsome sort of person, which I didn't think the Herb was. It is very confusing.

“Let's just
dig
,” said the Herb. “And stop keeping
on
!”

We dug for just over an hour. The Herb worked really well, she is definitely better without Aaron. For the first time in ages, we uncovered an artefact. It is an old soap dish, made of some kind of metal. It has a top half and a bottom half and is greyish in colour. At first glance, it looks a bit like a hand grenade. The Herb actually thought it was a hand grenade. She shouted, “Take cover!” and hurled herself to the ground with her hands over her head, so that all the Russells got madly excited and started barking, and jumping up and down.

I am glad to say that I
did not panic.
I picked up the soap dish and hurled it as hard as I could out of the cage and into the bushes before flinging myself down,
on top of the Herb,
and waiting for the bang. I am

quite pleased with the way I behaved as I have often wondered what I would do in an emergency.

It
could
have been a hand grenade; it's the sort of thing you read about.
LOCAL MAN FINDS UNEXPLODED BOMB IN BACK GARDEN
.