Strawberry Sisters (21 page)

‘What do you think? Because Mrs Henderson said that she hoped I wasn’t going to continue making a fuss now that I’d got what I wanted.’

‘I think that “making a fuss” is what they call it when a girl points out that she ought to be treated equally with the boys.’

Chloe raised her eyebrows. ‘You sound like Suvi.’

‘I can think of worse people to sound like.’

She swallowed a large bite of sandwich. ‘I do understand what Suvi means, but I’m really happy with training. It’s what I wanted and I don’t know what more I could do,
even if I decided that I should do something.’

‘Mmm. It’s tricky; concentrating on the training seems right, but now Suvi’s saying you can’t let people treat girls differently just because they’re girls, even
when it’s only a little thing. And that seems right too.’

‘Can they both be right?’ she asked.

I nodded. ‘I suppose so. It depends on the thing that’s happening. And it depends on the person. Some people are good at fighting over everything and some people have to . . . pick
their battles.’

‘So what do you think I should do?’

‘That’s the point. I can’t tell you. You have to decide what you think yourself.’

Chloe wiped up a blob of sauce with her finger. ‘Urgh. Why does everything have to be so complicated?’

‘I don’t know. But I think you’ve done a good job so far.’

‘Are you giving me a compliment, Amelia Strawberry? No way!’

‘Shut up!’ I flicked soapsuds at her. ‘Do you want me to call you a hairy-faced baboon to reverse the effects?’

‘Nothing can reverse the effects. You said something nice! You love me!’

I sloshed a whole handful of water at her and she squealed and splashed me back.

‘What? What is it, girls?’ Dad called and we heard the sitting-room door open.

Then we had to shove all the sandwich stuff back in the fridge as quick as we could while we fell about laughing.

On the night of the Christmas concert, I spent longer than usual getting ready. I knew there were going to be a ton of people there and, while the most important thing to me
was to sing well, I thought that looking nice couldn’t hurt. As the time to leave got nearer, the fluttery feeling in my stomach got worse.

Lauren called me to say good luck. ‘Are you still coming?’ I asked. I tried not to sound pushy, but I really, really wanted her to be there.

‘Of course I am,’ she said. ‘I can’t wait to watch you.’

For once, Mum was super strict about everyone being ready on time. When Lucy tried to dash back into the house for something, she grabbed her round the waist and bundled her into the car.
‘Amelia has to be punctual,’ she said firmly.

‘What did you want anyway?’ Ella asked Lucy when we’d got going.

‘I need something to read,’ Lucy whined.

‘It’s not a long drive,’ Mum said. ‘We’ll be at Amelia’s concert in five minutes.’

‘That’s what I need the reading for! I’ve been to Amelia’s singing before. It goes on and on and on.’

‘Lucy,’ Mum said in a warning tone.

‘There’s probably something to read in the car anyway,’ Chloe said. ‘Everything else is in here.’

She’s right. Our car is extremely messy. The footwells are full of junk: crisp packets, mini juice cartons, apple cores, lost gloves, pens, toys, flip-flops. Chloe swears she saw a mouse
once.

Lucy started rummaging through it all and I ran through my song in my head until we arrived at school.

Performers had to go in a different door to the audience so I said goodbye in the car park.

Mum gave me a quick squeeze. ‘Your father sent me a text earlier. He should be here any minute. Good luck, sweetheart.’

‘You’ll be brilliant,’ Ella said.

‘Yeah, break a leg!’ Chloe said.

Lucy’s head was buried in
A Guide to British Butterflies
, so I gave up on good wishes from her and walked away on rather wobbly legs.

‘Don’t forget what I said about farting on stage!’ Chloe called.

I pretended I wasn’t related to her.

Before I went to what Mr Garcia was calling the green room but was actually Miss Espinoza’s Spanish room, I stuck my head in at the back of the hall. The rows of chairs were already
filling up. It was loud and crowded and hot. I wondered if I could get someone to open some windows; when Lauren gets hot, it makes her feel worse.

In fact, the whole set-up wasn’t exactly ideal for her. The chairs were hard and the concert was going to last for hours. I remembered the last time Lauren had a late night; she’d
slept in the next day until lunchtime. If she came tonight, I wondered if she’d make it in to school tomorrow for the last day of term. The last day is always really good fun. Lauren was
particularly looking forward to it because Mrs Holt had put us in a team with Cute Josh for an end-of-term quiz.

For a moment, I was frozen with indecision. I really wanted Lauren to come. But then I realised that I really wanted things to be the best they could be for her. And I knew that meant choosing
school tomorrow with Christmas presents and cards from her friends, and chocolates from the teachers, and doing the quiz with Josh. Not the long, hot crush of tonight. So I called her.

‘What do you mean you don’t want me to come?’ she asked. ‘I was just about to leave.’

‘It’s not that I don’t want you to, but it’s a late night. I’m not on till near the end. It’s going to tire you out, isn’t it?’

‘Maybe, but I don’t mind; it’ll be worth it.’

‘I don’t want you to miss tomorrow.’

She was quiet for a moment. ‘I don’t mind,’ she said again. She’d obviously already realised that tonight might take its toll and I was really touched that she’d
decided she was prepared to miss the last day of term to see me sing. But I wasn’t going to let her make that sacrifice.

‘My mind is made up,’ I said. ‘I need you here tomorrow so you’d better get your sleep tonight. Don’t worry, I’ll get Dad to film me singing because obviously
you won’t want to miss it completely.’

She laughed. ‘Obviously. But are you sure you’re OK with me not being there?’

‘I’ll miss you, but this way we get the last day of term together. And look on the bright side: once it’s on film, you’ll be able to watch me performing over and over
again.’

‘Fantastic.’

When that was done, I sent a text to my dad to make sure he videoed me singing. Then I sent another text to Suvi to get her to make sure my dad looked at his messages.

Inside the green room, everyone was getting excited. There was a lot of giggling and people flapping about when they didn’t really need to be flapping about.

I raised an eyebrow at Bartek to show that I thought they were all being childish, but I’ve got to admit that my insides were flapping about a bit themselves. I hoped I’d feel a bit
less sick once I’d got onstage.

Mr Garcia came in and glared at us. He looked awful. There were rings around his eyes, his skin looked waxy and when he said, ‘Quiet, please,’ his voice broke. I thought he was going
to give us a lecture, but he clearly wasn’t up to it because he just took us through a quick warm-up and finished with, ‘Let’s get this over with.’

Fortunately, Mr O’Brien obviously felt a lot less doomed about the whole thing. He beamed at us and said, ‘This is it! Have fun!’ And led us out onstage.

The audience fell silent. We shuffled into our positions and Mr Garcia counted us in for ‘Walking in a Winter Wonderland’. The audience seemed to really enjoy it; Mr O’Brien
was right about getting people in the mood with something they know.

The more we sang, the more the audience seemed to warm up. Some of them were even swaying and mouthing along with the words. I looked out into the hall for my family. I spotted Lucy first; she
was reading a road map. She was sitting with Mum on one side and Chloe on the other. Dad was next, then Suvi with Kirsti on her lap. But on the other side of Mum was a gap. Where Lauren should have
been. It did give me a little pang. But I’d realised that Lauren was going to have to make decisions about what she could do and what was the best way to use her limited energy. She
wasn’t going to be able to be there at all the places I would like her to. But I knew that she
wanted
to be with me. And that’s how things were. It wasn’t perfect, but it
was enough.

Finally, it was time for my duet with Bartek.

I stepped out of my row and moved up to the front spot. My legs managed to get me all the way there without buckling.

I looked at Bartek; as always, he was grinning away at me. I tried to smile back, but my lips stuck to my teeth so it was probably more like a werewolf snarl, but there was no time to think
about that because Mr Garcia was counting the orchestra in and I needed to concentrate.

I took one last look at my smiling family, then I focused back on Mr Garcia’s conducting hand, took a deep breath and started to sing.

‘
AHHHHHH!
’ Lauren shrieked at me when I came into our tutor room the next morning. ‘You were amazing!’

I laughed.

‘Fabulous!’ She squeezed me into a hug. ‘I fell asleep before your dad sent me the video, but I have watched it three times already this morning. I might fit in another viewing
before English.’

‘Well,’ I said, freeing myself from her crushing embrace, ‘when you watch me and Bartek, you are probably seeing the best bit. Really, you’ve got to feel sorry for the
poor people who had to sit through all that other nonsense.’

‘Hmm,’ she said. ‘Talent and modesty.’

‘I thought you said I was good!’

‘You were, but aren’t you supposed to blush and tell me I’m too kind when I give you compliments?’

I laid a hand on her arm in mock seriousness. ‘Lauren, I’m very sorry to tell you that if that’s the kind of girl you’re looking for, you’ve got the wrong
Amelia.’

We cracked up.

It was a brilliant day. None of the teachers tried to make us do any work. Instead, we played games and watched videos.

All day long, I kept sneaking looks at Lauren and wondering what she’d say when she saw her new bedroom.

After lunch, I walked her to the car park.

‘You know my dad’s taking me to my grandma’s tomorrow, don’t you?’ she asked. ‘But how about coming over on Sunday afternoon?’

I almost let out a laugh because I knew that I’d be at her house before that, but I nodded instead. ‘Sure, see you then.’

And she climbed into her mum’s car. It’s a good job Lauren didn’t look back at me because, as they drove off, I swear Mrs Anderson winked at me, and then I really did start
laughing.

In the morning, as soon as Lauren and her dad were safely in the car, Mrs Anderson sent me a text and I walked round to Lauren’s house.

‘Hello, Amelia,’ Mrs Anderson said when she opened the door. ‘Thank you so much for coming.’ She led me up the stairs. ‘We’ve got some extra help because
Matthew arrived back yesterday, so we’ve already got started.’

They’d done more than that: they’d moved every single thing out of his room.

‘Right!’ Lauren’s mum said. ‘I’ll fetch the paint from the garage.’ And she left me alone with Matt.

‘How’s it going, Amelia?’ he asked.

‘Fine, thanks. Hope you don’t mind about your room.’ I felt sort of responsible that he was losing his bedroom.

‘Nah, I’m hardly here. And it’ll be really nice for Loz.’

Mrs Anderson came back and we got going. Last time we painted a room in our house, Mum just threw some sheets over things and we got on with it, but Lauren’s mum was much more methodical.
We carefully covered the carpet and put masking tape on the skirting boards and the picture rail. Once we actually began painting, it went pretty quickly.

‘That’s gone on well, hasn’t it?’ Lauren’s mum said while we were having a break and a cup of tea. ‘Now I think we’ll leave Matthew to finish the fiddly
bits and we’ll pop to the shops.’

So we got in the car and drove to one of those big out-of-town home stores. We chose a purple rug, a purple lamp and a sort of patchwork-effect duvet cover in purple and lilac, with matching
curtains. When we got back, Mrs Anderson showed me the desk that Lauren’s dad had already assembled in the garage and I helped her carry it up the stairs and place it in the middle of
Lauren’s new room, along with everything else.