Love Bomb (6 page)

The next morning, I ‘accidentally’ run into Toby outside his tutor room.

‘Oh, hi,’ I say, all surprised.

‘Well hello, Betty.’ He leans against the wall and fixes his eyes on me. We are standing close enough for me to notice that he has a darker circle of blue around the edge of his pale eyes. I try hard not to stare. ‘You need to come to the hall after school to audition for Vanilla Chinchilla,’ he says.

‘Really?’

‘You’ll be perfect. I’ve asked a few other girls to come along.’
Other girls
? What does a few mean? Two other girls? Seven? Thirty-four? ‘Don’t worry,’ he says, resting his hand on my arm, ‘I know you’ll rock, B-Cakes. The moment you said you could sing I wanted you in my band.’ He smiles and everything inside me trembles, then he lets go of me and strolls into his classroom leaving me with a deliciously tingly arm.

I want to follow him, grab his hand and put it right back on my arm, but even I have some dignity. I drift towards my tutor room and slowly my arm returns to normal. My body has had a life of its own recently. Just this morning, when I walked past the attic hatch, the hairs on my arms prickled as I thought of Mum’s letters hidden up there, and then, at breakfast, a hole appeared in my stomach when Dad made me promise to go to Pizza Express with him and Poo
on Wednesday. I give my arm a final shake and Toby’s touch disappears.

I manage to make my body behave until the end of the day. I don’t mention the audition to Kat or Bea – it feels wrong to be trying to get into another band when I’ve only just formed one with Kat. But as I pull open the heavy door to the hall and push my way through velvet curtains I wish one of them was with me.

The rock music hits me immediately and so does the sight of Pearl, standing on the stage next to Toby and belting out the words to a song I know, but don’t particularly like. Pearl can sing and she knows it. Spotting me, she stares, a smile creeping over her face. She seems to be wearing more make-up than ever these days, and her eyes are covered in black mascara and eyeliner and her hair is a tangled mess. Unfortunately, she looks amazing and, of course, she knows it.

I walk towards the stage, my eyes following the long
ladder that runs up Pearl’s black tights and disappears under her rolled-up skirt. Standing next to Toby, his hair flopping into his eyes as he thrashes his guitar, she looks like she belongs in this band. She looks like she belongs with Toby – two dark angels making a dark noise together … oh, and Frank and Dexter from Year Eleven.

No one else is in the hall. It looks like Pearl and I are the only ones auditioning. The song finishes and, being the only member of the audience, I feel I have to clap. I don’t put much effort into it. ‘Hi, Sweaty,’ says Pearl into the microphone. Her words echo around the hall.

So *funny*. Pearl likes to make out that I smell. That’s her thing with me. Pearl’s got a thing with most girls in our school.

‘Is it my turn?’ I say, throwing my bag on a chair and standing as tall as my yellow DMs will let me.
Bring it on, Pearl
, I think as I walk up the stairs at the side of the stage. If I wasn’t sure about being in the band when I walked into the hall, now I want it more than anything.

Pearl and I swap places, shrinking away from each other as we pass by Dexter’s drum kit. I take my place next to Toby and she slumps in the front row and gets out her phone.

‘Here you go, B-Cakes.’ Toby hands me a sheet of lyrics.

I wave it away. ‘I know them.’ Even though I don’t like the song, I’ve heard it often enough to pick up the words. I can always do that with songs. Staring straight ahead, I take a deep breath and try to feel soulful and confident. The last time I sang on a stage I was in the Brownies and I was dressed as a pumpkin … and I was rapping.

The band start. They’re shaky, but Toby holds them together. Dexter’s passionate drumming thuds through my body and Toby nods me in. Facing the back of the hall, I start to sing. Pearl’s
sweaty
comment burns in my voice and all I think about is beating her and wiping the smile off her face.

The song stops abruptly, although Dexter can’t resist finishing with a series of drum fills. Toby takes the mike off me. ‘Betty’s in,’ he says, looking down at Pearl. Then, as an afterthought, he adds, ‘Sorry.’

I can’t resist it. Looking down at her, I smile and do our Ladybird wave – thumb tucked in and four fingers wiggling. Pearl invented that wave and we used to do it to each other all day, driving our nursery teacher mad. Pearl stands up, grabs her bag and strides down the centre of the hall, one finger raised behind her back. That’s not our Ladybird wave.

She lets the door slam shut behind her and my hand drops down. My feeling of satisfaction evaporates into the huge echoing room.

‘You totally rocked,’ says Toby, looking slightly amazed. The rest of Vanilla Chinchilla nod enthusiastically, Frank’s red curls bobbing up and down. ‘Where did that big voice come from?’

‘Me!’ I say, laughing.

‘Well, look after it because our first rehearsal is at my place on Friday.’

As Dexter and Frank pack up, Toby walks me off the stage. ‘We could hang out together afterwards,’ he says, ‘but only after we’ve rehearsed. We’ve got a lot of work to do if we’re going to be ready for the concert.’

‘What?’ I pick up my bag, an icy feeling growing in my stomach. ‘We’re doing the Autumn Celebration?’

‘That’s why we need to rehearse.’ He leans against the back of a chair and studies me. The icy feeling spreads until I start to feel sick. I know the rules of our school performances: we can only perform once in the evening.

‘What’s the matter?’ Toby glances to the back of the hall, to the door Pearl has just stomped out of.

I have to choose: sing with Kat, or sing with Toby. If I sing with Kat, Pearl gets Toby. I saw them together. I know that’s what would happen.

I look up at him. ‘Nothing,’ I say with a smile. ‘Just looking forward to Friday.’

As I walk down the central aisle, my stomach churns, big time, and part of me seems to drain into the scuffed wooden floor.

Kat is going to kill me.

I walk home in the rain. Black leaves stick to my boots and the street lamps leave oily reflections on the pavement. A couple of times, I go to ring Kat, but I can’t do it. I can’t think of the words that will make what I’ve done OK, because it’s not OK.

When I get to my road, I turn off my phone and shove it deep in my bag. Then I let myself into a cold house. Dad’s not in. He hasn’t left a message and it doesn’t feel like he’s been back all day. I love it when I get home and hear his music blaring out from the kitchen, the crash of plates as he unloads the dishwasher and the smell of fresh coffee. I can’t remember the last time I smelt coffee when I walked in.

The house feels very empty.

It’s true when I say I don’t miss my mum. How could I? I can’t remember anything about her. But sometimes I feel as if something is missing from my life.

Without realising what I’m doing, I head upstairs and stare at the attic hatch. My heart thuds. What do I think is up there? A ghost Mum sitting on a suitcase, waiting for me to appear? I get the silver pole from the top of Dad’s wardrobe and use it to twist the attic hatch open. After clipping the ladder in place, I climb up, the metal icy and damp under my fingers.

Just as I stick my head into the dark space, a
tip tap
makes me turn round. Mr Smokey has his paws on the bottom rung of the ladder and is staring up at me.

‘Go away,’ I say. ‘Cats can’t climb ladders.’ But then I realise it would be nice to have him up here so I go back down, scoop him under my arm and carry him up.

The dim yellow light reveals paint pots, toys and overflowing bags piled high in every inch of space. I put Mr Smokey down and he disappears in a flash. I go to Mum’s
corner, treading over Disney roller blades and a pile of Mr Gum books. The things in Mum’s bit of the attic are more organised and each box is labelled with her familiar handwriting. I quickly find what I’m looking for: a pastel blue box with a photo of a lady caressing her silky legs.

I sit on a trunk of Swanette costumes and peer inside the box. At first, all I can see is the electric razor, smooth and white like an egg, but then I spot the familiar lilac envelopes tucked behind the polystyrene packaging. I pull out a handful of letters.

There are four, but they are thick, and each has a different title. There’s
The one where I have my first kiss, The one where my mum gets a boyfriend, The one where I fall in love
and, at the bottom of the pile,
The one where my heart is broken
.

I guess Mum was a
Friends
fan. I love
Friends
.

Rain falls on the roof and downstairs I hear the central heating click on. It’s so cold up here I can see my breath. I long to hear Dad’s key in the front door, but at
the same time I don’t want to know that he’s been with Poo, and I definitely don’t want him to find me up here. Mum’s right: this is between her and me.

I hold
The one where my mum gets a boyfriend
, but I don’t open it. I’m almost scared about what’s inside, and the shadowy attic and howling wind aren’t helping.

Suddenly, Mr Smokey lands on my lap, squashing the letter. I scream and then laugh. ‘You scared me,’ I tell him.

I climb down the ladder with Mr Smokey and the letters. I still have a cold ache inside me when I think about what I’ve got to tell Kat and the fact that Dad’s probably doing a ‘downward dog’ with Poo, but the ache has shrunk from the size of a pineapple to the size of a pear.

‘Come on,’ I say to Mr Smokey, rubbing my face against his pointy chin. ‘Let’s give Dad a heart attack and unload the dishwasher. I think we can do it in two minutes and beat his personal best.’

‘Are you joking, Betty?’

Kat stares at me, her blonde hair shining in the sun. We’re standing outside school at the end of the day.

‘I really am sorry, Kat,’ I say, fiddling with the pompoms on my hat. I force myself to look at her. All around us, students stream out of school, laughing and yelling. ‘If I don’t sing in Toby’s band, Pearl will, and you know how much I like him.’

‘What am I supposed to do?’ She shakes her head as she works out what this will mean. ‘This was going to help me pass GCSE music … I thought you enjoyed rehearsing the other day?’

‘I did … I loved it!’

‘This is Jesus all over again,’ she says, and this would be funny if tears weren’t spilling out of her eyes. She’s being shoved on all sides, but she just stands there, crying and letting herself get pushed around.

‘We’re still friends aren’t we?’ I say, sounding like I’m in Year Seven.

‘
You
are a selfish …’ She pauses for a moment, then says, ‘
moo
!’ I want to smile again, but I know she’d never forgive me. ‘You were selfish when you took Jesus and you’re selfish now!’

Something burns inside me. ‘What about
you
, Kat?’ I say. ‘Remember when you dumped Bea so you could dance with Pearl in
Starwars
? And then totally ignored her for weeks? That was a pretty
selfish
thing to do.’

We stand there staring at each other. ‘I wouldn’t do that now,’ she says quietly.

‘Wouldn’t you?’

‘No,’ she says. ‘Never.’ Then she pushes past me and joins the stream of students heading away from school.

I walk home, feeling cold and empty. Kat’s right, I am being selfish, but I have to sing in Toby’s band so I can keep seeing him. Just being near him makes me forget all about Dad and Poo, and I feel like something amazing might happen. I don’t know how I can explain this to Kat.

I stop walking. The wind has picked up and leaves are swirling around my feet. My legs are freezing because I’m wearing boots with socks and no tights. Suddenly, I don’t want to go home. I’m going to go and see Bill. He always cheers me up.

Soon, I’m building an immense train track with Eric, Bill’s brother. Bill’s upstairs doing his homework and
his mum says he can’t see me until he’s finished. I told her it was deadly serious, but she said so were his GCSEs.

‘Let’s do a massive crash this time,’ I say as I put in the final piece of track.

‘Can we put yoghurt on the track?’

‘No, your mum told us off the last time we did that. I promised not to do it again.’ I think for a moment. ‘How about it crashes into Bubblegum? She’s got thick fur and she’s quite fat so it won’t hurt her.’

‘Yes!’ says Eric, jumping up and down. ‘You are
so
cool, Betty.’

‘No, she’s not,’ says Bill, who’s appeared in the doorway. As usual, he’s wearing board-shorts and a T-shirt. Bill wears shorts for about eleven months of the year. ‘Betty’s
irresponsible
, Eric. There’s a difference.’

‘I am cool,’ I say. ‘Don’t listen to him.’

‘Please let us use Bubblegum for the crash!’ Eric wraps himself round Bill’s leg and sits on his foot. ‘I
won’t let go until you say we can.’ Bill looks down at him and tries to shake him off, but Eric just clings on even tighter.

Suddenly, with an Incredible Hulk roar, Bill lifts Eric up, booming, ‘Leave my dog alone!’ Then he flies him around the room, Eric giggling like mad, before dropping him on the sofa. ‘Come on,’ he says to me, voice back to normal. ‘Let’s go upstairs.’