Mumnesia (4 page)

‘Er . . . no, he’s an
accountant.’ Lucy gets up quickly and shoves the wedding
album back on top of the wardrobe.

‘Ugh! Boring!’ I grimace. ‘I
suppose it could be worse. He could be a traffic warden or
something. Wait, what do
I
do?’ I ask anxiously,
twirling my hair.

‘You’re . . . a traffic
warden!’ Lucy laughs.

‘WHAT?’ I flop backwards on the bed
in horror. ‘I can’t be! Please, please,
PLEASE
tell me you’re kidding!’

‘I am.’ Lucy giggles, grabbing my
hands and pulling me back upright. ‘You’re a
librarian.’

‘What? No way!’ I say, surprised.
‘Bizarro. Though I do majorly love books. I always dreamed
of being an author one day.’

‘Really?’ Lucy smiles, sitting next
to me. ‘I never knew that.’

‘I’ve never told anyone
before,’ I admit shyly. ‘It’s so strange. Even
though we’ve only just met, somehow I feel like I can tell
you anything. I guess it’s a mother– daughter
thing.’ I hug my knees, a warm feeling flooding through me.
‘Do we tell each other all our secrets?’

Lucy hesitates. ‘Not exactly,’ she
mutters, fiddling with her hair.

‘That’s a shame. But I guess I
don’t tell Ma everything either! If she knew how often I
bunk off school, she’d probably kill me!’

Lucy’s eyes widen. ‘
You
bunk
off
school
?’

‘Doesn’t everyone?’

‘No!’ She gasps. ‘You’d
ground me for life!’

‘Wow.’ I wince. ‘I’m
majorly strict, huh? Weird. Well, not today! Today we are gonna
have FUN!’

Listening to Shazza call in sick has got to
be in my all-time top ten moments ever!

‘I’m –
sniff
– really sorry but
–
cough cough
– I just don’t think
I’ll be able to –
sniff
– make it in
today –
aaaatishoo!
’ she says in a really
pathetic voice. ‘Ever since I woke up I just feel really
–
cough cough
– weak and –
sniff
– like I’m totally about to be . . . um . . .
Bleurgh!
’ She runs to the kitchen sink and yanks the
tap on and off as she makes a noise like she’s throwing up
and I have to clap my hand over my mouth to stop myself laughing
out loud. #Genius

Shazza winks at me. ‘I-I’m so sorry, I . . . yes,
thanks, I’ll let you know when I’m well enough to
return. Bye.’ She hangs up and gives me a high five.
‘Sweet! I’m free!’

‘That. Was. Amazing!’ I laugh. ‘How did you
learn to make such authentic-sounding sick noises?’

‘Practice. Every girl should know how to pull a sickie.
It’s one of life’s vital skills!’

‘And the thing with the tap? That was epic!’

‘It’s all about the details.’ Shazza
grins.

‘So we’ve both successfully blagged the day
off.’ I grin back. ‘Now what?’

‘Now . . .’ Shazza says dramatically, ‘I
want to see the future!’

As Lucy and I walk through the town centre
my eyes nearly pop out of their sockets. The future is majorly
strange! I hardly recognize any of the stores – and
what’s with the gazillion coffee shops? Are people in the
future, like, addicted to caffeine or something? And what’s
everyone
wearing
? Jeans are either so tight they look like
leggings or so baggy they hang down, revealing people’s
pants!

‘Gross! Are those guys trying to show off
their underwear, or what?’ I nudge Lucy.

‘That’s what Mum always says!’
She laughs. ‘It’s fashion!’

‘Really? Whatever happened to leg warmers
and shoulder pads?’

‘OMG! They disappeared, like, three decades
ago – thank goodness!’

‘Why do you keep calling me O.M.G.?’
I ask as we cross the road in front of a bizarro car so tiny it
looks more like a golf buggy. ‘They’re not even my
initials.’

Lucy laughs. ‘I’m not calling
you
OMG – it stands for Oh My . . .
Goodness.’

‘Oh right! So, like,
Oh My GiddyAunt
would be OMGA?’

‘Uh, I guess,’ she says, leading me
to a fancy-looking parade of shops.

‘Sweet! So it’s like, “OMGA,
those shoes are so rad!” or, “OMGA, these clothes are
so bogus!”’ I stop dead as I catch sight of my
reflection in a shop window.

‘Kind of,’ says Lucy. ‘Though
“rad” and “bogus” are pretty
outdated.’

‘So am I – look at me!’ I
groan, staring miserably at my frumpy beige dress, grandma shoes
and boring handbag. And this was the best outfit I could find in
Sharon’s wardrobe. Majorly tragic! Grown-up Sharon
definitely needs a kick up the fashion butt!

And a makeover.

If listening to Shazza blag herself a sick
day was in my top ten moments of all time, Shazza getting a
makeover is
definitely
in my top five.

Especially as I’m getting one too! Finally I can go
blonde! I have
always
wanted blonde hair. To be honest,
anything’s better than my long, lanky, mousy-brown locks.
But would Mum ever let me dye them? #AsIf

Luckily today Shazza’s in charge!

‘Hi, I’m Lisa.’ The spiky-haired hairdresser
smiles at me as her colleague leads Shazza to the other end of
the salon. ‘What can I do for you today?’

‘I’d like a blonde bob, please!’ I beam.
‘And can you pierce my ears too?’

‘Well, you’ll need parental consent for piercing
and colouring,’ Lisa says.

‘No problem.’ I grin. ‘Mum!’

Shazza doesn’t even look over.

‘Mum!’ I shout louder.

Still nothing. OMG, has she forgotten she’s my
mother?

‘SHAZZA!’

‘
What?
’ She spins her chair around so
quickly she nearly knocks her hairdresser over!

‘Sorry! Just – you give permission for me to get
my hair dyed and ears pierced, don’t you,
Mum
?’

‘What? Oh yeah, whatever you want!’ Shazza says
excitedly. ‘I didn’t know they did ear-piercing here
too!’

‘Of course,’ Lisa smiles. ‘We do all kinds
of body-piercing.’

‘Rad! I’m gonna get my hair dyed too – what
colour are you going?’ Shazza asks. ‘Wait!
Don’t tell me! It’ll be a surprise! Let’s have
a big reveal when we’re both done!’

‘Ladies, we do recommend having an allergy test
forty-eight hours before we dye your hair,’ Shazza’s
hairdresser says. ‘Just to be safe.’

My heart sinks.
Forty-eight hours?
Shazza will be gone
by then!

‘But . . . it’s an emergency!’ Shazza
exclaims. ‘We have a . . . um . . . wedding to go to.
Tonight!
’

‘Oh.’ The hairdresser looks startled. ‘Well,
we don’t advise it, but if you sign a consent
form—’

‘Deal!’ Shazza says quickly, winking at me.

I grin. I can’t believe Mum was ever this cool!

‘Are you sure, Sharon?’ my
pretty blonde hairdresser says when I explain what I want.
‘It’s quite a change from your usual root-touch-up
and trim . . .’

‘That,’ I say with a grin, ‘is
the whole idea . . . Michelle,’ I add, reading her name
badge.

‘OK!’ She stamps on a pedal and my
chair actually
rises
– the future is so cool! My
skin tingles with excitement. This is my first time in a proper
salon! Ma usually cuts my hair at the kitchen table – I sit
there with a tea towel round my neck, trembling with nerves as
the kitchen scissors clack loudly and skim my skin, hardly daring
to breathe in case she lops off an ear!

Today could not be more different. Michelle
treats my hair with exotic-smelling dye, then brings me a pile of
glossy women’s magazines –
magazines
! Not
comics! I cross my legs daintily like grown-ups do and pick up
the top one – I feel totally sophisticated!

‘Black coffee, no sugar, right?’
Michelle asks.

‘Ugh! No thanks!’ I grimace. OK, so
maybe I’m not
that
sophisticated! ‘Um . . .
have you got any Coke? Or squash? Or hot chocolate?’

‘Sorry,’ she says. ‘Just tea,
coffee or water.’

‘Water would be great, thanks.’
Seriously, what’s with all the caffeine?

I flick through the magazine, but although it
says it’s a ‘celebrity special’, most of the
featured ‘celebrities’ don’t seem to have any
profession at all – except being famous. How is that
possible? HOW CAN YOU BE FAMOUS JUST FOR BEING FAMOUS?

Reading the captions underneath, loads of them
are ‘reality-TV stars’ – what does that even
mean? Is there some kind of ‘
pretend
TV’ these
days? And why are nearly all of them ORANGE? Is it some kind of
disease? Oompa-loompa-itis? Or some bizarro modern fashion?

OMGA . . . I hope Lucy hasn’t decided to go
orange!

Butterflies flutter in my stomach as I stare
at my reflection. I barely recognize myself! My new blonde bob
curves neatly under my chin, and swings smoothly as I turn my
head from side to side, admiring it from every angle. It’s
better than I ever dreamed! And the pretty heart studs glittering
on my ears are the icing on the cake – and all without any
blood or ice cubes! – though it did sting a bit.

‘Happy?’ Lisa smiles.

‘Ecstatic!’ I beam. ‘I can’t wait to
show Sha— my mum.’

I hurry back to the waiting area, but she isn’t
there.

Suddenly an ear-splitting scream fills the air and I freeze.
SHAZZA!?

I race towards the sound, my heart pounding. I should never
have let her out of my sight. She’s from the eighties!
She’s a twelve-year-old in a middle-aged person’s
body! She could be in danger!

‘Where’s my mum?’ I cry, spotting
Shazza’s hairdresser at the counter. ‘What’s
happening to her? Why aren’t you with her?’

‘She’s out the back.’ She points towards a
door. ‘But –’

I burst through the door before she can finish and find a
large, heavily tattooed man leaning menacingly over a woman with
bright red curly hair.

‘Shazza?’ I cry, uncertainly.

‘Lucy!’ Shazza wails, turning in her chair, her
eyes streaming with tears.

‘Get away from her!’ I shout, grabbing the
guy’s bulky arm.

‘Hey!’ he yells, trying to shake me off.

‘Shazza, run!’ I scream.

‘What?’ She blinks at me. ‘Why?’

‘Because he . . . Because you . . .’ I look from
the man to Shazza. They both stare back at me blankly.
‘Wait, what’s going on? Why did you
scream
?’

‘Sorry,’ Shazza says, wiping her eyes. ‘It
was just a shock, that’s all – I didn’t expect
it to hurt so much, but it’s fine now.’

‘What’s fine? What hurt?’

She turns her head slightly and her nose glints in the
light.

#OMG. It’s pierced. Shazza got her nose pierced.
Mum’s gonna
kill
me!

‘Isn’t it rad?’ Shazza squeals. ‘I
feel like a punk! And I love your earrings, Lucy – and your
hair! You look totally grown-up!’

‘Thanks!’

‘D’you like mine?’ She tosses her head and
her tight red curls bounce wildly in every direction.

‘I . . . it’s . . . like, er, wow!’ I force
a smile. She looks like a cross between Sideshow Bob and a lion.
‘Is that a
perm
. . . ?’

‘No, it’s just curled.’ Shazza sighs as we
head back to the counter. ‘I really wanted a perm, but
Michelle says they can’t colour and perm at the same
time.’

#Phew! I can just imagine Mum’s face if she woke up with
a perm! At least she can take a nose stud out or dye her hair
again if she doesn’t like it – but a perm is like,
well . . . permanent!

‘I can book you in for a perm in three weeks if you
like, Sharon?’ Michelle offers.

Shazza and I exchange glances.

‘Um, I’m not sure I’ll be here in three
weeks,’ Shazza says.

‘Oh, going away, are you?’

‘Kind of!’ Shazza laughs and I smile.

‘And are you paying for everything today, or shall I put
it on your account?’ Michelle asks.

‘Oh – on my account would be awesome,
thanks!’ Shazza flashes me a thumbs-up.

‘Would you like anything else?’ Michelle smiles.
‘Any shampoos or styling products, or—’

‘Ooh! How about a heart nose stud to go with your
earrings, Lucy?’ Shazza interrupts, eyes gleaming.

‘Er, no, thanks!’ I say quickly.

‘Are you sure? Or a lip ring? Or eyebrow stud?
Rodney’s really good – I know I screamed, but it only
hurt for an instant, and—’

‘I’m good!’ I insist, backing away.

‘We do tattoos too,’ Michelle adds.

‘
TATTOOS?!
’ Shazza’s eyes light up.
‘Lucy, I’ve
always
wanted a tattoo!’

‘
No way
!’ I gasp, grabbing her arm and
dragging her out of the salon.

Mum would
never
forgive me!

We laugh all the way through our burger and
chips.

‘You should’ve seen your face when
you stormed into the piercing room!’ I giggle as I steal
the last chip from Lucy’s plate. ‘I don’t know
who was more shocked – you or Rodney!’

‘OMG, that is so not like me –
usually I’m scared of my own shadow!’ Lucy groans,
burying her face in her hands. ‘I don’t know what
came over me!’

‘Aw, it was sweet. You were protecting your
old mum!’ I grin. ‘And it was totally worth the pain.
My nose-stud is so awesome – and OMGA, this is the best
burger I’ve ever tasted!’

‘It’s the
first
burger
I’ve ever seen you taste!’ Lucy giggles, wiping
ketchup off her chin. ‘Mum’s a vegetarian!’

‘What?’ I clap a hand over my mouth
in horror – then burst out laughing. ‘Whoops! Oh
well! LTS!’

‘
LTS?
’ Lucy frowns.

‘You know: life’s too
short!’

She laughs. ‘You can’t just make up
your own acronyms, Shazza, that’s not how it works! You
mean “YOLO”.’

‘Huh?’ Keeping up with future-speak
is EXHAUSTING!