Acting Friends (3 page)

Grace chatted about her family. She was the eldest of three but her little sisters were much younger 19

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than my brother – four-year-old twins. Grace showed me their picture. They looked so cute with their blonde hair just like Grace’s, tied in bunches.

Grace’s parents were in the picture too – her mum pretty and smiling, her dad big and balding, with a protective arm around his wife.

I thought of my mum and dad. I couldn’t

remember the last time I’d seen them smiling together. They always seemed to be arguing now. At least, Mum harangued Dad for not being ambitious and for leaving her to earn all the money while Dad just sat, silence, looking miserable.

‘So what’s your brother’s name?’ Grace asked, putting her photo away.

I made a face. I hated having to say his name. It was even worse than my own.

‘It’s Stone,’ I explained. ‘Mum and Dad were total hippies when we were born.’

Grace nodded. If she was thrown by the name she didn’t show it. ‘You mean they’re not hippies now?’

‘Mum isn’t,’ I said. ‘She got a new job last year and now she’s all suits and meetings. Dad works at a garden centre; he likes being outdoors.’

When we got back to the form room after lunch, a small crowd was gathered at the front of the class, close to Mrs Bunton’s desk . . . and my own. I walked forwards, a terrible knot tightening in my tummy.

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Shaz was in the centre of the crowd, holding my desk lid open. I gasped. She was pointing to the pile of blue invites that I’d left there before we’d gone to the canteen.

‘I told you,’ she said. ‘She’s so full of herself, she thinks everyone’s going to want to come to her party.’

I stood stock still, unable to speak. All eyes were on Shaz. About half the class were here, though not Emmi. Had she told Shaz about my invites? Shaz looked up and saw me.

‘What made you think anyone would want to be
your
friend?’ she snarled.

I stared into her dark, vicious eyes. Why was she being so mean?

‘I didn’t,’ I stammered. ‘It was just. . . my birthday.’

‘
Just my birthday
.’ Shaz’s thin voice mimicked the shake in my own exactly. I could feel Grace tensing beside me. The other girls around the room were shrinking back, not wanting to get involved, but still watching.

‘Register, ladies.’ Mrs Bunton’s voice cut through the taut atmosphere. In seconds the crowd had melted away. Shaz was gone. And I was staring down at the blue invites, feeling worse than I had ever done in my life.

I left school with Grace and, after we parted at the 21

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corner at the bottom of the hill, I dumped the invites in the first bin I came to.

I wasn’t going to have a party. What was the point? Emmi had practically laughed in my face when I invited her. And Shaz had poisoned everyone else against me.

Mum and Dad were both waiting when I got in.

Great.

I didn’t want to answer their questions. Neither of them would understand about Shaz and how awful she’d made me feel, laughing at me in front of everyone.

‘How did it go, River?’ Dad smiled his crinkly smile as he gave me a hug. His jumper smelled of earth from the garden centre, and of roll-ups. He tried to hide his smoking from me, but I’d known for years anyway. Parents always think they can keep things like that from you, and they’re useless at it.

‘Fine.’ I shrugged.

Mum tutted. ‘Come on, River,’ she said. ‘I left work early so I could be here when you got back.

Tell us about your day.’

I slid into a kitchen chair. ‘They gave us planners with a map,’ I said, drawing my notebook planner out of my bag. ‘But nobody uses these school bags.

They’re stupid.’

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‘Well we paid for it, so—‘

Dad put a restraining hand on Mum’s arm. ‘Did you meet anyone nice . . . anyone who might be a friend?’

I shrugged again. I thought Grace was becoming a friend – but no one else had really talked to me.

Apart from Emmi, and I’d totally embarrassed myself in front of her, so . . .

‘I got chatting with one girl. She just moved here with her family.’

There was a silence. Mum sat down opposite me.

‘Was it a problem not knowing anyone from Primary?’ she said.

Yes.
‘It was fine.’

‘Did you hand out your party invites?’

I hesitated. ‘Mum, it’s not like that.’

‘Not like what?’

‘I don’t think I want a party,’ I said. ‘Maybe it could just be us, going bowling.’

‘What?’ Mum now sounded disappointed. ‘But your birthday’s such a great opportunity to break the ice . . . make new friends . . .’

Dad patted Mum’s arm again. ‘Maybe River

wants to make friends in her own time.’

I flashed Dad a grateful glance. Somehow, whereas Mum was always pushing, Dad knew how to hold back . . . how to let
me
come to
him
.

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Mum rolled her eyes. She stood up. ‘All right,”

she said, sounding injured. “You can tell us more when you’re ready.’

I sighed as the terrible thought occurred that maybe I would
never
make new friends at Langton Grammar. Maybe I would
never
fit in.

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The next few days passed much as the first had, in a whirl of new things: new teachers, new lessons and new subjects. I was taking Spanish for the first time as well as Chemistry and Biology, and getting my head around all of that was exhausting in itself.

At least some things got easier. I was starting to get to know the building and the faces of my classmates. I could make my way between lessons without getting lost or being late and, so far, I’d managed to keep track of both my gym kit and my homework assignments.

But, apart from Grace, I still hadn’t really talked to any of the other girls. It was weird, I’d been so confident at primary school, but I felt really nervous here at Langton. When it came to Friday, I was dreading the teacher saying it was my birthday the next day like they do at primary. But she didn’t.

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Nobody else mentioned it either, though after Shaz’s outburst earlier in the week I knew that everyone must be aware I had a birthday coming up.

At least I could talk to Grace. I was really grateful that she wanted to come bowling. We’d arranged that her mum was going to bring her over to our house tomorrow, before we set off, and that she could stay for the pizza afterwards. Mum had asked several times if I didn’t want to ask more people – maybe some of my old friends from Primary – but I’d thought it would be hard mixing everyone before and now it was just too late to ask them without it looking rude.

No, it was better if my birthday was as low-key as possible. To be honest, right up until Mum and Dad drove us to the bowling alley, all I wanted was for the whole thing to be over. But as I sat in the back of our big estate car, sandwiched between Grace and Stone, I couldn’t help wishing that things were different. I’d seen how I looked in my new black top. Black was supposed to be a slimming colour, wasn’t it? And yet I looked like a lump of mud wearing it. Plus my hair was all wiry and it didn’t suit my face-shape and my shoes were hideous because Mum wouldn’t let me wear anything with any style because she said my feet were still growing and that narrow designs and high heels were bad for them.

I shoved my hand inside my new handbag. It was 26

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blue and white, with tiny sequins sewn around the rim. I’d chosen it last week, with money my grandparents had sent for my birthday. Mum had only let me have it today. I’d opened it this morning along with the new phone Mum and Dad had given me – a smart phone with a proper contract. I’d already downloaded a picture of Frankie Clarke to use as wallpaper. I took the phone out, and gazed down at Frankie’s smiling face.

He was
so
gorgeous, with his soft brown eyes and spiky blond hair. Beside me, Stone was chattering on about his collector cards. I glanced sideways at Grace. She was listening and smiling. Good, I was glad she hadn’t seen me looking at Frankie. Someone as glamorous and successful as Frankie Clarke wouldn’t look twice at me.

‘Here we are.’ Dad pulled into the bowling alley car park.

As we got out of the car, Grace pressed a small package into my hands. ‘If you don’t like it you can change it,’ she said.

I opened up the tissue paper. Inside was a tiny chain with a small, blue ‘R’ dangling from the end.

It was very pretty and delicate – much like Grace herself.

‘It’s lovely,’ I breathed, fastening it round my neck. ‘Thank you.’

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As we walked inside the bowling alley, Grace was still chatting with Stone, while Mum and Dad went on ahead, towards the payment booth.

I caught sight of myself in the entrance mirror. My new black top was all hunched and ruckled up round the shoulders and the fine chain just made me look bigger and bulkier than ever. My eyes filled with tears. No wonder I hadn’t made lots of new friends. No wonder I’d never kissed a boy.

No wonder Shaz thought I was useless.

‘Well, maybe if you had a proper job I wouldn’t have to pay for everything.’ Mum’s voice rose, all shrill and angry, over the small queue.

I spun round. She’d been speaking to Dad, of course. All their arguments recently had been about him not being ambitious enough and her earning all the money. Dad himself was grim-faced, but he said nothing – as usual.

A terrible silence fell. Grace looked embarrassed.

Stone was shrinking away, towards the wall. My face burned. Mum was still fuming, itching to have another go at Dad. She looked over at me and I could see her fighting with herself not to give way to her temper and spoil my birthday.

Don’t bother, Mum
,
I wanted to say,
my birthday’s
rubbish anyway.

But Mum muttered an apology and we entered 28

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the bowling alley. It was crowded and noisy. Mum and Dad started talking in fake cheerful voices. They made me cringe, but at least Stone – and Grace –

seemed convinced that everything was okay again.

The tension in the air eased.

We set ourselves up: Grace, Dad and I played against Mum and Stone. That sounds like it would be unfair on them, but actually Stone’s pretty good at bowling. He was certainly better than Grace who sent ball after ball into the gutter, despite Dad’s best attempts to coach her. Grace didn’t seem to care. She just smiled and shrugged and apologised for not being better.

We’d each had about four throws – and Mum and Stone were well ahead on points – when I looked up to find Emmi standing by our station. She looked completely different now she was wearing her own clothes. Her legs in her skinny jeans seemed to go up to her armpits and her fitted white T-shirt showed off her tanned arms.

‘Hey, River, happy birthday,’ she said with a smile.

I stared at her. ‘What are you doing here?’

Emmi’s grin deepened. ‘What kind of welcome is that? You invited me, remember?’ She looked around. ‘Where’s everyone else?’

I’d completely forgotten the invitation I’d pressed into Emmi’s hand back on the first day of school. ‘I 29

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didn’t think you’d come,’ I blurted out. ‘And I . . . I didn’t invite anyone else in the end.’

‘Cos of Shaz taking the mickey over your invites?’

Emmi shook her long hair disdainfully over her shoulder. ‘Yeah, I heard about that.’

I stared at her. Emmi spoke like it was just a tiny bit annoying, not deeply hurtful as it had been for me.

‘If I’d been there, I’d have stood up to her for you,’

Emmi said with a grin.

‘Hello there,’ Dad said as he walked over. Mum was beside him, smiling.

‘Hi.’ Emmi extended her hand towards first one, then the other. ‘I’m Emmi. I’m in River’s class. I’m sorry I’m a bit late. I showed them the invite outside, they said it was okay for me to come in.’

‘No problem at all,’ Dad said cheerily, shaking her hand.

‘I’ll pop over and pay in a minute,’ Mum said. ‘It’s nice to meet you, Emmi.’

I couldn’t believe Emmi was here. I looked around quickly, half-expecting it to be a wind-up and other girls from our class to be here too, watching and laughing at me.

But Emmi was alone. And she was soon charming the pants off Mum and Dad.

‘Ooh, I love your nail varnish,’ she cooed at Mum.

‘That’s such a cool colour.’

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Mum gazed down at the glittery blue of her nails.

‘Well, thank you Emmi.’

‘Why don’t you take over from me?’ Dad

suggested. ‘Join Grace and River?’

‘And come for a pizza with us afterwards?’ Mum added. ‘If it’s okay with your parents?’

‘I’d love to, thanks.’ Emmi nodded and skipped across the station. She gave Grace – who looked as surprised to see her as I was – a hug, waved at Stone and picked up a bowling ball.

A second later, she’d bowled a strike. ‘Yay!’ She punched the air.

‘Well done!’ Grace said admiringly.

I sat down on the bench, the truth sinking in. Far from laughing at me, Emmi
wanted
to be here. As we carried on bowling, it was soon obvious that she had transformed the afternoon. Mum and Dad were now joking properly with each other, their earlier argument forgotten, while Stone was blossoming under the warmth of Emmi’s smile and even Grace seemed more confident now she wasn’t the only outsider spending time with my family.