Blue Lavender Girl (2 page)

Well, if watching a skin form on hot milk is boring, then Claire Higgins’ party was like a
hundred
skins on a
hundred
old mugs of milk. These girls called Aurora and Bianca were ridiculous, all flirty and dancing together and giggling so the guys would all notice them. What’s worse is that the guys were such deformities that they actually fell for such an obvious act.

Well, there was
one
nice guy who came into where I was hanging out in the kitchen and he asked me how old I was. I asked him to guess and he said ‘fourteen’, which pissed me off because he was right, but I think I look older. Anyway he asked me my name, but then Claire walks in and
goes ‘Oh this is Tia, she’s in my class at school,’ like as if I couldn’t reply on my own. I just felt like I’d been beamed down from some other planet, like everyone else spoke the same language and had the same customs and I was like an ape, an alien ape. I couldn’t be bothered talking to him after that.

And then they both went back out to dance to that stupid song that everyone is learning the moves to. I would rather
die
than dance to a song that already had moves. In fact, outside of my bedroom I don’t dance at all.

Then when I saw Dee kissing this guy as if she was vacuuming something from his mouth, and Kira playing with her dangly earring in that way that signals that some poor victim is about to be targeted, I called my dad for a lift home. I was really glad I had worn my big sweater as it was kind of cold waiting on the corner, even though it’s supposed to be summer already.

As part of the new caring parent thing Dad was all jolly and asked me how it went.

I said ‘Fine’, and then said, ‘Thanks for asking’, as my part of the effort. And then because we had both been so amiable we could afford to drive
home in silence.

NOTE TO SELF:
No more parties.
EVER
.

Went round to Kira’s in the morning and Dee was there too. It sounded as if they were already on the twentieth telling of what happened last night, because they were getting really detailed like, ‘Did you notice how he looked at me for a split second and then angled his feet in my direction before looking again?’ I have to admit I’d missed all these cool signs and signals.

They had decided that I’d failed somehow because I hadn’t kissed a guy at the party, and started to lecture me about doing the counting to five hundred thing and asking me why I didn’t wear my red dress because it goes so well with my black hair and why I left when it was just getting good.

I wish people would stop telling me how pretty I could look, especially Kira going on about wearing my hair out of my eyes, and Dee having this thing about how I stand, it’s like she’s been hypnotised by Mrs Traynor. I don’t go round telling people what to do with themselves so why can’t they just like me as I am? And maybe I didn’t kiss anyone because I’m choosy, not because I’m a backward freak …

When I didn’t answer back Kira put on her serious ‘goddess’ voice and said, ‘Your aura has been a little yellow these past few days.’ I just stopped myself from saying that I felt the same about her face.

I was in such a pissy mood that I told them I had to go and meet my mum in town, which they know is a lie because I never meet my mum in town, I only ever see her in the kitchen by the microwave, or in front of a TV programme.

Sometimes I feel that Kira and Dee wish I didn’t hang out with them. They’re probably having a conversation about me right now, but I don’t care. All this afternoon I stayed in my room and played loads of songs and danced in front of the full length mirror I nicked from Aidan’s room seeing as he’s not here to use it. I would
love
an electric guitar, but I know that if I asked for one they’d get it wrong and find me a
flute or a cello instead, and I’d be stuck having to get lessons.

I love dancing more than anything and I’m much better than people I’ve seen at parties; sometimes I wish they could see me dance.

For absolutely no reason I think about Trundle all the time these day. I wish I still had him, I hope his new owners know he prefers beef to chicken. I’m too scared to ask for a new dog in case Dad feels bad again, or in case they get it wrong and get me the dog version of a cello, like a poodle.

Kira called me in the afternoon to check on me, and to tell me she and Dee were meeting the guys from the party whose names I can’t remember. She said that she’s worried about me and I told her I’m fine. I told her about my plan for tidying and decorating my bedroom and she said great, but she’s been hearing it for years so I can’t expect excitement.

Mum and Dad were both home before bedtime so we ate a meal. Very good, nice family event. I’d already eaten a bag of crisps earlier but I pretended I was still hungry just in case Mum was going to order Chinese food. Unfortunately she was in an optimistic mood and got three ready-meals from the freezer. I totally understand why we say a prayer before eating
– protection. I made a joke about how maybe Mum should throw out the contents and nuke the box, which didn’t go down all that terribly well and now I am in charge of cooking dinner tomorrow night. I called Aidan and he gave me this recipe for fish pie, but I have decided to cook beans on toast or something similar, just so they don’t get any ideas about me doing things on a regular basis.

I really miss my chats with Aidan, even though it was usually just ten minutes whenever he came in from somewhere better. Going upstairs without those chats I sort of feel like I haven’t spoken to anyone all day, even though I have.

This morning the post arrived after Mum and Dad had left for work. I read my end-of-year report and binned it. I know they won’t ask. I used to get really good grades, As and Bs, and now I do really badly. I just can’t be bothered. Anyway, don’t need to think about it for another six months at least.

Parent-teacher meetings are in the bag. When my folks get the letter from the school asking why they weren’t there, I say that I
definitely
told them about it last week. They know they forget about a lot of things when it comes to me and they feel guilty. They say they’ll call in and talk to my teachers at some other time, but they never do (luckily for me!)

I think they peaked with my brother Aidan, I’m like
that second Mars Bar when you are full from the first one – OK, but not really worth it.

Mum and Dad have either

a) found my report in the bin

b) had a phone call

c) heard something on the radio about teenagers

d) decided my frozen pizza pockets for dinner were so bad that I must be evil …

Or anyway something has made them feel like making a decision about me.

Now I have three days to come up with a ‘constructive and educational’ plan for the summer or I am being sent to Aunt Maisie’s for six weeks.

Aunt Maisie is a proper aunt, she buys me things, leaves me alone when I need it, doesn’t ask awkward questions, talks to me, doesn’t boss me about … did I mention she buys me things?

She is more fun than the rest of us put together and being with her instead of Mum and Dad would be bliss. BUT I couldn’t stand to live in the countryside.

Mum says it’s not the middle of nowhere (but it is) and that there is plenty to do. There is plenty to do if you are a granny, not if you are a teenager. I do not
consider making rag dolls from old socks to be a ‘fun activity’, even if I did love it when I was seven. Anyway, it doesn’t matter, I’m not going. I’m off to talk to Kira’s mum, she’s a genius at coming up with stuff to get me and Dee off the hook with our folks.

FACT
:
I am now just about angry enough to do something reckless, but too angry to think what that might be. If not even Kira’s mum is on my side, then it’s safe to say that everyone is against me.

Kira was sitting there too and we were all drinking chamomile tea because they had just read up about it. While Kira’s mum said, ‘Tia, I think it would be a really good idea for you to get away for a while,’ Kira was nodding like she was the wise woman of the west or whatever.

Then they both started this double-attack about me not being happy. Well, show me anyone who is happy! They are not even happy, they’ve just got more feel-good sayings and CDs than the rest of us. Really.

I called Dee and said that if I can get out of this Aunt Maisie plan then we can both go into town this weekend and hang out at the market stalls and see if we can pretend we are sixteen and get jobs. She said that she was hanging out with Timmy this weekend, except that it took her half an hour to say it because she kept going on about all the cool things he said about her.

I called Aidan and he was out.

INTERESTING INFO
:
If you get my dad away from my mum you can sometimes encourage him to have an independent thought. But the plan was bigger than the both of us and he said that he and Mum would visit every second weekend, which for some bizarre reason was supposed to make me feel better.

No-one wants me here.

Well FINE!

I will probably be dead in two days anyway from having eaten nothing but cornflakes. I even had to make milk out of yoghurt and water tonight, which doesn’t really work.

I’m glad I didn’t waste brain cells thinking of anything else to do for the summer, because I just found out that I’m going to Aunt Maisie’s anyway. She always comes here so I’ve never seen her place. Mum tells me it’s a large cottage in its own grounds, but if she thinks that will change me into one of those
Pride and Prejudice
girls she’s very much mistaken.

I’m sort of relieved though, because I hate everyone right now, but I won’t let them know that.

I need to use every minute I have to make it so they won’t go into my room while I’m away. That way they can’t pull another stunt like the salmon-coloured, flowered wallpaper that appeared when I was off on
the weekend school trip to that farm. I am going to push all the mess near the door so it’s impossible to get through.

I put all my favourite clothes into a big suitcase and then took them all out again deciding to wash everything first in case she doesn’t have a washing machine. I know she will, I just … God, I don’t know.

I went around to meet Kira and Dee at the burger place, but they sounded worse than my mother. They kept saying that I’d have a good time and they wish they were going and that I might find a boyfriend there. I told them I don’t want a boyfriend, but I didn’t say that I didn’t want to be all ridiculous like they are over the Timmys. The other guy’s name is not actually Timmy I just can’t be bothered learning any more names of guys they like, so from now on they are all just Timmy. Once we are all ancient and they get to the altar, then I’ll learn the guys’ real names.

I didn’t even get to say goodbye properly because Dee’s brother’s friends arrived in, and this needed the girls’ full attention in case things don’t work out with the current round of Timmys.

I had to ask Dad for money and he said ‘How much?’ That bugs me because he should really have
thought of it and then he should have given me more than I asked for just to make sure I was OK. Instead he gave me exactly what I said and counted it out really carefully like it was a million.

Mum put her head around the door to say goodbye. Then said she had to give me a hug as she wouldn’t be seeing me for a couple of weeks, and gave me one of her hugs where there is enough room for two extra people between us, so it’s really just her hands on my shoulders and bending a bit to the left.

Trundle used to snuggle up to me and nuzzle my hair with his nose. Aidan gives these big bear hugs, but only when he is coming or going for ages, or on special occasions. He still hasn’t called back, which makes me feel like I’ve lost my only real parent.

I looked up at the sky and wondered what’s happened to the stars these days. There are never any when I think to look up. When I was really little and we spent time in Dad’s uncle’s place by the beach, there were loads of stars. We used to all lie on the beach and Dad would teach us the names of the stars and Mum would get them all muddled up and not on purpose. It was such a laugh, but I haven’t explained it very well. It was one of those ‘you-had-to-have-been-there’ things.

I nearly forgot to pack this diary, good thing it was on top of my jeans with the beads otherwise I would have left it behind. It’s weird that I have written more in this than in English class for the last year.

I am in bed early.

PRETEND REASON:
To get enough sleep to be up bright and early to get to the train in time.

REAL REASON:
I am so angry with them that I keep wanting to bite someone’s head off whenever either of them says anything, and I don’t want to fall out with them just before I go or they might never let me come home.

Dad was already in the car so he didn’t hear Mrs Traynor go ‘coo-eee’ over the wall. Seriously, she does that. It’s like living next door to someone from a washing powder ad.

‘Off on a little trip, dear?’ she said with this fake smile.

‘Reform school. See you when I’m eighteen.’

And she looked all flustered and scuttled back inside.

Dad stood there with me on the platform until the train came, but I know he was dying to go.

He kept saying, ‘Got your ticket?’ Then, ‘Got your money?’

I even said, yes I had got my raincoat, even though
I don’t own one.

I was glad Mum wasn’t there so I didn’t have to see her smile apologetically at strangers for my ripped black sweater and long black skirt. As if her lace-up brown shoes were not the most disturbing things anyone ever paid money for.

The train ride was fine. I bought some sandwiches from the trolley, but for some reason eating on my own makes me feel really sad, which is why I always do it in front of the TV. I was hungry, but I couldn’t eat.

As we were pulling into the station I got a strong feeling that something strange is going to happen during this visit. Not that Kira is right about me being psychic, she just says that to everyone when she wants something out of them, that they are ‘psychically attuned’.

Aunt Maisie looks way younger than she must be, and is nothing like my mother, I guess she was the family rebel. She’s like one of those older models you see in expensive magazines for elegant country homes. My mum would look ridiculous in jeans, but Aunt Maisie looks better than I do. She’s always so stylish. Her hair is now red and to her shoulders, but I know that it could change again by next week.

The station is so small that she could pretty much park on the platform. I don’t remember what we talked about first, but once we got to the house she told me that she was really pleased that I had finally agreed to come and visit. That means that I was invited before now and they didn’t tell me!

‘So, rough few months then?’ she sort of half-said and half-asked.

I like that about Aunt Maisie, she gets right to it. She says stuff in two seconds that it would take my mum and dad two centuries to get out of their mouths!

I said, ‘Yeah, rough enough,’ and she smiled and left it at that.

We had hot crumpets with blackcurrant jam and big cups of tea in the glass conservatory, looking out over the herb garden. I felt so good and relieved just to be somewhere where people weren’t against me. I’m sure I won’t be serving my full six-week sentence here, but for now it’s nice.

Then she said, ‘What’s your favourite colour?’ and I smiled and said, ‘Black,’ and she said, ‘Well, what would be your favourite colour to sleep in?’ I thought that was a very Kira and Kira’s mum type question, so I said ‘Huh?’ to buy a little time.

She explained that she’d left off redecorating the room I’m to sleep in, and that we might paint it and it would be ready for tomorrow night. I thought how not being ready for me was just like my mum, but in fact Aunt Maisie had all this amazing stuff done and had waited on purpose so I’d get a colour I liked. I felt more welcome when she showed me the new towels she had bought, and the handmade soaps and the new mirror. The mirror is quite small, but as there is no sound system I won’t be dancing in there anyway, so I don’t really need a mirror. The room is smaller than my room at home, but because there’s nothing thrown on the floor it’s
way
bigger in reality. The brass bed is
huge
and there’s a soft, light-blue carpet and cotton curtains in the same colour; the window looks out to the back garden.

I don’t know what I’ll do without being able to shut the door and just put on a track and dance, it’s like my version of stress release. But maybe I won’t be so stressed here.

Driving to the village we passed this huge field of lavender that looked
amazing
so when we got to the paint shop I chose pale lavender paint. I am now worried that it is close enough to lilac to make me a total hypocrite, but it’s not really lilac, it’s more of a
bluish kind of lavender. Anyway, what’s OK for walls is not necessarily OK for wearing outdoors where people can see you.

When we were in the paint shop this almost-ancient man in muddy jeans and a checked shirt came in and started bossing everyone around and not waiting his turn. He ordered twenty tins of Jasmine White and looked as pleased with himself as if he had ordered twenty cars. He must live in a pretty big house, or else he owns a bridge! He was really nasty and reminded me of my geography teacher who shouts because he has a crap haircut and can’t get anyone to marry him. (That’s my theory anyway.)

We got my room painted pretty fast because of these new spongy roller things and the fact that Aunt Maisie had already covered the carpet and taped the bits near the windows and all that.

Tonight we brought the duvet down to the living room and pulled out the sofa bed so I can sleep here while the paint dries. This is the coolest ever room, with bookcases of old books (duh!, like what else would be on bookcases, Tia?!), statues, leather chairs, a huge writing desk with antique pens, paintings … all sorts.

I don’t know why, but I really feel like crying since yesterday, and I never cry. Wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. Once they see you cry they think they are better than you and walk all over you. But I guess it’s OK to cry in front of old portraits, and it’s just because I’m tired from the journey.