Mumnesia (11 page)

But as the day goes by I feel less sure.
Megan sits by herself in every lesson. Even the Megababes keep as
far away from her as possible, choosing a table on the opposite
side of the room.

‘Have they fallen out?’ I ask Freya during
English.

‘I think they’re trying to distance themselves
from the embarrassment,’ she whispers.

‘Really?’ My stomach lurches.
‘Wow.’

‘Lucy?’ Ms Banks points a whiteboard marker at me.
‘Do you have something you’d like to say to the
class?’

Everyone turns to stare at me.

‘Um, no, miss,’ I mutter, feeling my cheeks
burn.

‘Well, maybe you could read out your short story for us
then.’ She folds her arms.

I freeze. ‘What story?’

Ms Banks’s face falls. ‘The short story I set for
homework yesterday?’

‘Um . . . sorry, I guess I forgot it.’ I wonder if
amnesia’s contagious?

Ms Banks’s braids swish as she shakes her head.
‘Then I guess I’ll be seeing you in after-school
detention tomorrow. You know the rules.’

Yep. What goes around comes around – and bites you on
the bum. #Karma

Ugh. How can
anyone’s
diary be
so BORING! And how majorly depressing that it’s MINE! I was
so psyched when I found the tiny book, but I can’t believe
it’s just filled with dreary appointments – and no
clues at all! I toss it on to the floor in disgust, along with
the rest of the useless contents of Sharon’s handbag, and
bury my head in a cushion in despair.

Then I hear it.

Something’s singing.

And buzzing.

OMGA, it’s the dinky singing phone!

I look around blindly. Where did I put it? I
listen carefully, picking my way through the debris as I follow
the sound like a dog chasing a scent. The noise is definitely
loudest in the kitchen – but WHERE IS IT? Argh! Why do they
make them so
tiny
?

Finally I spot it under a chair, buzzing and
jumping around like an angry insect.
Lucy’s School
is written on the screen.

Uh-oh.

Holy guacamole, I
have
to answer it! What
if something’s happened to Lucy? I pick it up and jab at it
until it stops ringing.

‘Hello?’ a woman says.

‘Hello?’ I say quickly. ‘Is
everything OK? Is Lucy all right?’

‘Lucy’s fine.’

‘Phew!’

‘But she’s got an after-school
detention tomorrow.’

‘Oh. Right. OK!’ I say, too anxious
about slipping up to even pretend to be angry.

The woman sighs. ‘I’m sorry,
it’s school policy.’

She’s
apologizing
for giving Lucy
detention? Her teachers are so nice!

‘It’s fine. Thanks for letting me
know—’

‘Are you OK?’ she interrupts before I
can work out how to hang up.

‘Yes,’ I say quickly.
‘Why?’

‘I thought you were ill?’

‘Oh yes! I am!’ I kick myself. I
totally forgot I’m supposed to be off work, sick.
Doofus!
‘I mean,
ATISHOO
, I’m not
feeling well at
all
actually. In fact, I’ve really
gotta go! Bye!’

I manage to jab the ‘off’ button
before I can make her any more suspicious. Ugh! Pretending to be
Sharon is majorly hard work!

‘At last!’ Shazza cries, rushing
to meet me as soon as I open the front door.

‘Sorry!’ I pant. ‘I hurried home as fast as
I could!’ Not that I’d
recognize
my usually
uber-tidy house as home any more – the discarded pizza
boxes are still scattered over the floor, which somehow seems to
have accumulated even
more
mess, and the whole lounge
looks like a tornado has hit it.

‘I can’t find ANY clues about why Sharon’s
stressed out!’ Shazza wails, her curly hair frizzier than
ever. ‘What are we going to
do
?’

‘Listen, Shazza . . .’ I say slowly, taking a deep
breath. ‘There’s something I need to tell
you.’

‘What?’ Her eyes light up. ‘Have you figured
it out?’

‘I . . . well . . .’
This is it. I can do
this
. . .

Suddenly the doorbell rings.

‘Not
again
!’ Shazza moans. ‘Ignore
it!’ she begs as I hurry to the window.

But I can’t. It’s Dad!

‘Who is it?’ Shazza frowns, peering over my
shoulder.

My heart beats fast. Should I lie? Stall for time? Pretend
we’re not in? What’s Dad
doing
here? And why
didn’t I tell Shazza the truth when I had the chance?!

‘Lucy!’ he calls, ringing the bell again.
‘Sweetheart, are you ready?’

‘Holy guacamole!’ Shazza gasps. ‘Is that
Danny
?’ I swallow hard. ‘Yes,
but—’

‘AWESOME!’ she squeals, racing to the door.
‘Detective Dan will figure this out in no time!’

‘Wait!’ I hurry after her. ‘Shazza,
STOP!’

But I’m too late.

Shazza flings open the front door and Dad’s face turns
white with shock.

‘Sharon?’ he frowns. ‘You look . . .
different.’

‘So do you!’ she exclaims. ‘You’ve got
so . . . so
hairy
!’

He stares at her as if she’s an alien.

‘Sha— Mum, I need to talk to you.’ I grab
her arm and try to pull her back inside.

‘Lucy, what’s happened to your
hair
?’
Dad cries. ‘Is it
permanent
?!’

‘Um . . .’

‘It looks gorgeous, Lucy!’ My stomach tightens at
the sound of the familiar Aussie twang. What’s
she
doing here? ‘Are you ready to go?’ she calls out the
window of Dad’s car.

I frown. ‘Go where?’

‘Chez Charlotte.’ Dad glares at Shazza. ‘I
spoke to your mother about it on Sunday. Didn’t she tell
you?’

Shazza looks at him blankly. ‘Sorry, I must have . . .
forgotten!’

‘Well, we’ve got a table booked in twenty
minutes!’ Dad glances at his watch.

‘Awesome!’ Shazza grins. ‘I’ll just
grab—’

‘I’ll get my stuff!’ I interrupt, dragging
Shazza back inside. ‘Just give me five minutes, OK,
Dad?’ I say, slamming the door.

‘Chez Charlotte sounds very fancy!’ Shazza gushes.
‘Will I be OK in these pink jeg-legging-things, or should I
get changed?’

‘No, listen, Shazza—’

‘I’ll get changed.’ She nods.

‘Wait!’ I block her way. ‘There’s
something I need to tell you. About Dad.’

‘I can’t believe how much he’s
changed!’ Shazza exclaims. ‘I mean,
obviously
he’s changed – it’s been, like, over thirty
years!’

‘Shazza—’

‘But you can still totally tell he’s Danny,
because he has those same twinkly green eyes – but
he’s got so OLD and TALL – and I can’t believe
he’s got a
beard
! I can’t believe I married
Danny Andrews!
I can’t believe I’m married at
all!
’

‘You’re
not
!’ I cry.

Shazza’s smile slips slowly from her face.
‘What?’

#Crumpets. It wasn’t meant to come out like that. If
only she’d
listen
!

‘What do you mean?’ Her voice trembles. ‘I
saw the wedding photos . . .’

‘I know, but . . .’

‘But . . . what?’ she whispers.

I take her hand. ‘Shazza,’ I say, as gently as I
can, ‘you’re divorced.’

The word hits me like a bucket of icy
water. ‘
Divorced?
’

‘I’m sorry,’ Lucy sighs,
squeezing my hand. ‘I didn’t want to tell you like
that.’

‘Wow!’ I feel dizzy.

‘Here, sit down.’ She helps me to the
sofa and I sink into it, my head spinning.

‘H-how long have we been divorced?’
My eyes prickle.

‘About six months,’ Lucy says
softly.

I swallow. ‘So . . . Danny wasn’t on
a business trip?’

She shakes her head. ‘He doesn’t live
here any more.’

That’s why he didn’t use a key.
Duh.

I frown at Lucy. ‘Why did you
lie
to
me? I thought we could tell each other anything?’

She sags down beside me. ‘I didn’t
want to upset you. I-I thought you were only here for a day! And
then it was too late and—’

‘This is my
life
, Lucy,’ I
snap, flinching away from her, my face flushing with humiliation.
‘I have a right to know if I’m married or not! I feel
like such a doofus!’

‘I’m
sorry
!’

The doorbell rings again. ‘You’d
better go,’ I mutter. ‘You’ll be
late.’

‘No – Shazza, I can’t leave
–’ She touches my shoulder but I shrug her off.
‘You must have so many questions . . .’

Like, a million.

‘What happened?’ I sniff. ‘What
went wrong? Why did we split up?’

She shakes her head. ‘I don’t know.
But . . .’

‘But what?’ I demand.

Lucy squirms. ‘Well. Dad got together with
Ingrid pretty quickly, so . . .’

‘Who’s Ingrid?’ I frown.
‘Wait, that
Australian girl
?’

Lucy nods slowly.

I stare at her. ‘They’re
dating
?’

She winces. ‘They’re, er, living
together.’

‘Holy guacamole, Lucy!’ I jump up and
start pacing the room. ‘What
else
have you been
hiding from me?’

‘Nothing! I swear!’ Lucy looks as if
she’s about to burst into tears.

‘So not only am I
not
married
happily ever after, I’m divorced and my ex-husband is
dating some surfer chick straight off
Neighbours
!’ I
kick a pizza box hard and it tumbles across the room, spilling
its greasy contents over the carpet.

‘Shazza—’

‘I
asked
you if there was anything
else that could’ve been stressing Sharon out!’ I
round on her. ‘And you just . . . you totally lied to my
face!’

‘I’m sorry!’ Lucy wails,
staring miserably at her feet.

‘No
wonder
Sharon was
stressed!’ I shake my head, everything suddenly making
sense.

The doorbell rings again, for longer this time.
‘Lucy!’ Danny calls. ‘We’ll lose our
table!’

‘Go,’ I tell her.

‘No, Shazza—’

‘
Go!
’ I fling the lounge door
open so hard it slams against the wall, startling us both.
‘I need some space.’ I turn away from her, hugging my
arms.

‘Lucy!’ Danny calls again.

She sighs. ‘I’ll be back as soon as I
can, and I’ve got my phone if you . . . if you need
me.’

I nod. But I still can’t look at her.

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispers.

I close my eyes, listening to her footsteps as
she walks away. The front door clicks shut, then gravel crunches
as they drive off.

Then I crumple on to the sofa and cry my eyes
out.

I wish I’d told Shazza about the
divorce before. And I wish
Mum’d
told
me
how
stressed she was, instead of bottling it all up and pretending
everything was fine. Maybe if we’d talked more, she
wouldn’t have got so stressed out she lost her memory?

I check my phone again, but Shazza still hasn’t replied
to any of my texts.

I don’t blame her.

‘I really like your earrings, Lucy.’ Ingrid beams,
turning in the passenger seat. ‘Very chic.’

‘Uh, thanks. Mum bought them for me,’ I
mumble.

‘Are they
pierced
?’ Dad splutters. ‘I
thought you had to wait until you’re thirteen?’

I shrug and look out of the window. ‘Mum changed her
mind.’

‘That’s not all she’s changed!’ Ingrid
cries, her eyes sparkling. ‘She looks so . . .
striking
!’

I glare at her.

‘Is your mum all right?’ Dad’s eyes meet
mine in the rear-view mirror. ‘She didn’t seem quite
herself.’

I hesitate.
Should I tell him the truth?
After all,
maybe if I explain how secretly upset Mum is about the divorce,
they’ll get back together and that’ll fix
everything.

‘Actually she’s been off work this week,’ I
begin.

‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ Dad frowns.
‘Maybe that’s why she hasn’t returned any of my
calls.’

‘That’s probably why she forgot about dinner today
too,’ Ingrid adds.

I grit my teeth. She
did
forget! That and everything
else from the last three decades!

‘Well, we made it in time, and the three of us are going
to have a lovely meal together.’ Dad smiles as we pull into
the car park. ‘That’s all that matters.’

The three of us. Ugh! If Mum and Dad are going to get back
together, I’ll have to get Ingrid out of the way first . .
.

Operation Break-Up is on.

I have never felt so lonely in my entire
life. Sitting here on an unfamiliar sofa, in an unfamiliar house,
in an unfamiliar time, everything just feels so WRONG. I find
Zebby and hug him tight, breathing in his comforting smell
– the only familiar thing in this entire world.

Except Lucy. She’s the only person I know
here, and the only person who understands what’s happened
to me. But she’s the last person I want to talk to. She
lied to me. She treated me like a child, not her friend.
Especially not like her mother.

Mother.

My throat swells. I miss Ma and Pa so much. What
if I never see them again?

But wait – maybe I
can
see them!
I’ve only travelled forward a few decades after all; maybe
they’re still around, still at the same address.

I grab the phone and quickly dial the one number
I know off by heart, then cross my fingers tight.

‘Hello,’ a familiar voice says.

‘Ma!’ I cry, my heart leaping.
‘Ma, it’s me!’

‘You have reached the phone of Sheila and
Alfred Miller.’

My heart plummets. It’s just the –
what’s-its-name –
voicemail
.

‘Please leave your message after the
tone.’

I hang up. I can’t explain what’s
happened on a machine! I need to see them. I need a hug! I need
Ma to make everything better, like she always does.