Mumnesia (8 page)

I nod dumbly.

‘Great reflexes, Zak!’ Megan coos. ‘Must be
all that football training, huh?’ She flicks her hair, but
Zak’s frowning at my phone. He turns the volume up and I
suddenly realize my favourite album is still playing!

#KillMeNow

Zak tilts his head to one side. ‘Is this the
Star-Gazers?’

I nod helplessly, my cheeks blazing as my heart crashes
through the floor. Great. My rubbish taste in music has ruined my
chances before I’ve even managed to utter a single word. So
much for taking control of my destiny!

He raises a perfect eyebrow. ‘Good taste.’

#JawDrop

As he passes me my phone, his hand brushes mine and a tingle
shoots straight up my spine, making me dizzy.

‘See you around.’ He winks and my legs turn to
mush.

OMG! This is the best day of my life! Zak looked at me! Zak
spoke to me!

This is
insane
!

This is INSANE. I munch through a packet of
crisps as I stare at the computer screen, majorly flabbergasted.
How has the world changed
so much
in just a few decades? I
can’t believe you can find out anything about everything
with just a click of a button. This would’ve made my
homework WAY easier! And then there’s online shopping, and
movies, and games – it’s endless!

I look up my favourite pop stars and am horrified
to see that most of them are really old and wrinkly – or
dead! OMGA, Michael Jackson’s
dead
? I click a
picture, and a video of his greatest hits starts playing –
half of which I’ve never ever
heard
before!
They’re songs from the future! This is SO RAD!

I crank the volume up and dance around the living
room, but soon I’m totally puffed out.
What’s
wrong with me?
Then I catch sight of myself in the mirror.
Ugh!
That’s
what’s wrong – I’m not
a twelve-year-old, rocking out. I’m a red-faced middle-aged
woman! I slump into a chair, tossing the packet of crisps in the
bin.

What happened to me? Why didn’t I go back
to the eighties this morning? How will I get home? What if
I’m trapped here forever? SO MANY QUESTIONS!

Suddenly it hits me – the Internet!
It’s
bound
to know the answer! It knows
everything!

I pull the computer on to my lap and type in
‘Waking up in the future’. A long list of sci-fi
films and books pops up, then – holy guacamole! – an
article about a woman just like me!

I read it quickly, learning that she had a form
of amnesia that usually passes in time, but can recur, and
it’s caused by . . .
emotional stress
.

My mind races.
Amnesia?
That means . . .
it wasn’t magic after all. I’ve just lost my memory .
. .
of the last thirty-odd years
! This is so bizarro! On
one hand, I’m kind of gutted that I haven’t travelled
through time, but on the other, I’m majorly relieved to
discover that there might be a way to fix this – I
don’t fancy being a twelve-year-old stuck in a middle-aged
body forever!

All I need to do is work out what Sharon was
stressed about and fix it . . . but besides being old, unfit and
severely lacking in fashion sense, she seems to have a pretty
good life: a nice house, a cool-if-underconfident daughter, good
job, lovely husband . . . What could she
possibly
be
stressed about? I tap the mouse absent-mindedly as I rack my
brains – and suddenly all the websites disappear. Oh
fudgeballs, what have I done?

The screen is now dotted with little pictures
with writing underneath. I scan them quickly, then spot one that
reads ‘Emergencies’. This is totally an emergency! I
click on it and a whole new screen pops up, filled with little
white rectangles labelled: ‘Home Insurance’;
‘Car Insurance’; ‘Travel Insurance’;
‘Lucy’s School Round Robin’ . . .

I remember these – we’ve got one for
my class too. If there’s ever, like, an emergency, each
parent rings the next one on the list, who does the same until
everyone’s got the message.

I click the square and a list of names and numbers appears.
There’s Lucy’s friend Kimmy’s number, and
Megan’s . . .

I think of Lucy’s longing expression when
she saw Megan and her clones hanging out yesterday, of how
she’s too shy to even talk to Zak, and how sad she sounded
as we lay in bed last night when she told me about Kimmy never
having time for her any more . . . If anything, it’s
Lucy
who’s unhappy.

Maybe that’s it.
That’s
why
Sharon’s stressed out? She’s worried about
Lucy
? Of course!

And I know
exactly
how to fix
everything.

‘I’m glad you’re feeling
better today, Lucy,’ my English teacher says as I walk past
her in the corridor. ‘And I like your hair!’

‘Thanks, Ms Banks – you too!’ Her long black
trademark braids are twisted into a funky sideways knot, and she
looks amazing. She might be a teacher, but she’s pretty
cool – and today, it seems, so am I! All day, girls I
don’t even know have been coming up to compliment me on my
new look. Everyone seems to love it!

Except Kimmy.

By the time I’d finished talking to Zak she’d
disappeared, and she’s been giving me the cold shoulder all
day, which is uber-frustrating as I’m
bursting
to
tell her about Shazza! But she’s deliberately sat at a
different table to me in every lesson, disappeared at break and
played sports all through lunch (surprise, surprise).

I finally catch up with her heading back to the sports block
after school. ‘Kimmy, wait!’ I call, running up to
her. ‘Can you come over to my house?’

‘I’ve got netball practice,’ she replies,
walking away.

‘Can’t you miss it just this once?’ I plead,
following her.

She shakes her head. ‘We’ve got a match
tomorrow.’

‘But I need to talk to you about yesterday!’ I
beg. ‘Please, let me explain!’

Kimmy glances at her watch, then sighs. ‘You’ve
got five minutes.’

‘OK! Well, on Sunday night Mum and I had this mahoosive
argument about whether or not I could go to the ball and I made a
wish—’

‘A
wish
?’ Kimmy interrupts. ‘Like
Cinderella? Lucy, you know there’s no such thing as magic,
right?’

‘Well, that’s what I thought as well!’ I
exclaim. ‘But on Monday morning when I woke up Mum had
changed
!’

‘You mean changed her mind?’ she scoffs.
‘That’s not
magic
!’

‘No, that’s not what I—’

‘OMG!
What
is
that?
’ Kimmy cries,
staring at something behind me.

I follow her gaze to a bright pink limousine parked just
outside the school gates.
It’s so cool!

‘That’s so tacky.’ Kimmy winces. ‘I
bet it’s here for the Megabimbos, It’s their garish
signature colour after all.’

Sure enough, the back door opens and Megan leaps out –
but to my surprise she runs straight towards us, grabbing me in a
tight hug that nearly knocks me off my feet.

‘I’m outta here!’ Kimmy rolls her eyes.

‘No! Wait!’ I call after her.

‘I’m late, Luce!’ Kimmy yells over her
shoulder as she hurries away. ‘See ya.’

‘Lucy Andrews –’ Megan pulls back from me,
her eyes sparkling – ‘your mum is
MEGA-cool!’

‘Uh . . . r
eally
?’ A trickle of fear runs
down my spine. Shazza was supposed to stay inside, keep a low
profile . . .

‘I can’t believe she organized a retro pizza party
for all the girls in our class – and a limo to pick us
up!’

‘She did
what
?’ I gasp. OMG. That is the
polar opposite
of keeping a low profile!

Megan’s hand flies to her mouth. ‘Was it supposed
to be a surprise? I didn’t know anything about it till just
now, but she’s cleared it with all our parentals, and
I’ve been rounding everyone up since I know, well,
everyone
.’ She beams as she flicks her hair.
‘And you’re the last one! So let’s
go!’

‘Wait – what about Kimmy?’ I turn towards
the sports block. ‘I should tell her.’

‘She looked pretty busy to me,’ Megan says.
‘Why don’t you text her and she can come over
later?’

‘I dunno . . .’

‘Hey,’ Megan interrupts. ‘Is that Zak
talking to your mum?’

‘
What?
’ I spin round quickly.

#Disaster!

Lucy’s face is priceless –
she’s so surprised! This is the best plan ever! I wave
across the playground at her, when suddenly I notice a teenage
boy standing beside me.

‘Hi,’ he says.

‘Hi.’ I smile, curling a strand of
hair around my finger. Boys in the future might have bizarro hair
and baggy trousers, but they’re still
really
cute.

‘You’re Lucy’s mum,
right?’ he says.

‘Oh. Um. Yeah.’ I clear my throat,
reminding myself I’m old enough to be
his
mother
too. Plus he looks kind of familiar . . . ‘OMGA! You must
be Zak!’

His brown eyes flicker. ‘How did you know
that?’

‘Oh, er, Lucy tells me about everyone at
school.’ I shrug in what I hope is a nonchalant way.
I’ve read about being nonchalant around boys. I’m
still not
quite
sure what it means though . . .

He nods. ‘Cool jacket, Mrs A.’

‘Oh, Lucy’s the cool one,’ I
insist, seizing my chance to big her up. ‘She chose
it.’

‘She’s got good taste.’ Zak
smiles.

In boys too, I think. ‘Lucy’s totally
awesome,’ I gush. ‘She’s so smart, and funny,
and kind. We’re more like friends than mother and
daughter!’

‘Sha—
Mum
!’ Lucy runs
over. ‘What’s up?’

‘Nothing!’ I insist. ‘I was
just talking to Zak.’

‘Hey, Luce.’ Zak nudges her gently on
the arm and Lucy’s cheeks flush bright pink – it is
SO cute!

A car horn beeps.

‘Gotta go!’ Zak grins. ‘It was
nice to meet you, Mrs A. See ya, Luce!’

As soon as he’s out of earshot I turn to
Lucy. ‘OMGA! He is so phat.’

‘What?’ Lucy glares at me.
‘Zak’s not fat!’

‘No – “
phat”
– you know. Like cool!’

Lucy shakes her head. ‘What happened to
keeping a low profile?’ she hisses. ‘And what’s
with the limo? And the party?’

‘Don’t you like it?’ I ask
anxiously. What if I’ve got this majorly wrong? What if she
hates it?

But Lucy’s faces breaks into a grin.
‘I love it!’

‘Hooray!’ I beam, flinging open the
door. ‘Tonight, Cinderella, I am your fairy
godmother!’

‘This is MEGA-fun!’ Megan cries,
copying Shazza as she teaches everyone to moonwalk around the
lounge. I feel as if I’ve stepped into a time warp.
Shazza’s wild clothes and hair fit in perfectly now
she’s given everyone eighties makeovers – complete
with side ponytails and bright make-up – while Michael
Jackson struts around on YouTube on the TV.

How does she do it? If I tried to throw a party, no one would
come, and anyone who did would think it was uber-lame –
especially if I chose an eighties theme! But everyone loves
Shazza, and Megan seems to be her new best friend – and
mine too.

‘Come on, Lucy!’ Megan calls. ‘It’s
better than Just Dance!’

‘What’s Just Dance?’ Shazza asks.

‘You know, the Wii game?’

‘The
wee game
?’ Shazza looks horrified, and
I laugh. As I join in with everyone moving in sync, I finally
feel like I belong. If only Kimmy was here, everything would be
perfect.

Suddenly the doorbell rings.

‘Pizza!’ Shazza cries, and everyone cheers as I
hurry to get the door.

But it’s Kimmy!

‘You came!’ I beam.

‘Yeah,’ she mutters. ‘I got your text . .
.’

‘Woo! Madonna!’ Megan cries as ‘Material
Girl’ starts playing and everyone instantly starts doing
the dance moves Shazza taught us earlier.

‘
What
is happening?’ Kimmy looks around
uncertainly. Her eyes widen as she spots Shazza.

‘Come on, Kimmy!’ I smile. ‘The moves are
really easy – or I’d never have got the hang of them!
You just put your arms like this, then—’

‘I’m OK,’ she interrupts, backing away from
me. ‘This is more of a
blonde
song anyway. Can I
have a drink?’

‘Course,’ I say, frowning as I follow her into the
kitchen. ‘What’s the matter?’

She rounds on me. ‘What’s the
matter
? You
throw a party without me, and then
you
ask
me
what’s the matter?’

‘I didn’t know about the party!’ I protest.
‘Mum organized it!’

Kimmy raises an eyebrow. ‘Since when does your mum
organize surprise parties?’

‘That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you
– she’s changed!’ I say, pouring cherryade into
plastic cups.

‘No kidding – she’s really got into the
eighties theme, huh?’ Kimmy says, eyeing suspiciously the
neon-pink drink I’ve handed her.

‘You have no idea!’ I shake my head. ‘Kimmy,
she says she’s
from
the eighties!’

‘Well . . . she
is
!’ Kimmy shrugs.

‘No, that’s not what I mean—’

‘So that’s what’s going on?’ she
interrupts. ‘Your mum decided to get a makeover so you got
one too?’

‘It’s more than just a makeover!’ I
protest.

‘That’s what I’m worried about!’

‘Me too!’ I cry. ‘I mean, it was great at
first, but now I’m getting worried because it’s
lasted longer than a day, and what if—’

‘What has?’ Kimmy frowns. ‘Your hair dye?
Was it meant to wash out?’

‘What? No!’
Why doesn’t she ever
listen?
‘Mum’s weird behaviour! I’m really
worried about her!’

Kimmy rolls her eyes. ‘Don’t be. Dad says everyone
goes a bit wild after a divorce. It’s normal.’