Boys Beware (17 page)

Tash then gave this enormous snore and woke herself up and said, “Wozzappnin?” I switched on the light and we saw Ali, trailing her duvet cover.

I shrieked, “What are you doing?” I mean, it was practically the middle of the night. Ali said, “This duvet cover
smells.”

Well! I’m surprised she even noticed. Tash muttered somewhat sourly that Patricia had probably sat on it. I suggested that maybe Fat Man had had an accident. Ali said, “It’s nothing to do with Fat Man. It’s just been on the bed too long. I expect yours smells, too.” So we picked it up and sniffed it, and omigod she was right! It was
putrid.
So then we sniffed the sheet and the pillows, and they were putrid, as well.

Tash said, “How long have we been here?”

I unlocked my diary and looked it up. I said, “Six weeks.”

Tash said it was no wonder they stank. “We should have changed them ages ago. Mum does it every week!”

More
work. But actually it was quite fun as we decided to have a wash-in and we stuffed both the sheets and all the pillow cases in the machine, and re-made the beds, and had a cup of tea and sat round drinking it and cosily chatting, which is something we hardly ever do. Well, not all three of us together. Certainly not at midnight! It was good that we did cos it made us fond of Ali all over again. We talked about boys (among other things) and Tash said she hoped Ali didn’t think we’d been getting at her the other day, when we lectured her. She said, “We worry about you.” Ali admitted that most
of the girls in her class have boyfriends and that they all think she is peculiar. I suddenly felt this strong kind of protective thing. I said heatedly that that wasn’t fair. I said, “You’re far cleverer than any of them are!”

Tash added that she could be far prettier than any of them, as well, if she just took a bit more trouble. She said, “You can still be clever! Being clever doesn’t mean you can’t make the best of yourself.”

We then had this long, intense, girly discussion about what Ali could do to improve herself, with me and Tash offering advice from all our years of experience. As we pointed out, Ali is just starting: we have been at it for ever! Well, since we were about ten, I suppose. I think Ali was grateful. At any rate she listened to what we had to say and she seemed to take it all in. Now perhaps we shall see some improvement!

I was quite tired this morning and found it hard to wake up, but now I seem to have got my second wind. I enjoyed last night’s session! I am so pleased that we have been able to help Ali.

Wednesday

Something so weird! In the middle of the night, bombs started exploding. Me and Tash shot out of bed in a panic. We thought it was terrorists! I crashed into the table, and Tash stubbed her toe against a chair and screamed, at the top of her voice, at which point Ali
came rushing out of her broom cupboard going, “What is it, what is it?”

Tash shrieked, “We’re under attack!” and clutched at me with both hands. Then I clutched at her and we both shrieked together. I mean, it was really scary!

Ali said, “It’s somewhere in the room.”

Whatever it was, it was still going off.
Bang. Crack! Fizz. Pop! Bang.
Like fireworks, except that it seemed to be coming from the food cupboard, where we keep all the tins. I moaned, “They’ve planted something!”

Tash yelled at Ali to “Keep away!”

I don’t know whether Ali is brave or just foolhardy. Me and Tash were already halfway to the door. We implored her to “Get out, get out!” The cupboard was still exploding; quite honestly, we thought the whole thing was going to go. We crouched there, ready to run
for our lives. I am not ashamed to say this! I think self-preservation is a duty. After all, how would Mum and Dad feel if we got blown up? I screeched, “Ali! Leave it!” But she wouldn’t. She just had to go and look. We watched, shaking like jellies, while Ali went on tiptoe across the room and ever so, ever so slowly reached out a hand and … opened … the … cupboard … door …

Grapefruit. It was grapefruit! A mouldy old cereal bowl, full of exploding grapefruit!

Ali, in disgusted tones, said, “This must have been here for weeks! When did anyone last eat grapefruit?”

Sheepishly, as we edged back into the room, Tash said, “That was the day we were going to be late for school and I didn’t have time to finish breakfast.”

I said, “You mean that day when we’d already been late the day before?”

“Yes, and Miss Selby caught us trying to sneak in and almost went ballistic.”

I couldn’t believe it. I said, “That was way back before half term!”

Tash said, “Yes, I know. I shoved it in the cupboard and forgot all about it.”

We were standing there, watching the grapefruit as it fizzed and popped, when there was a knock at the door. It was Gus! Oh, dear, so embarrassing! We were in our nighties!!! He seemed as embarrassed as we were. He gave this little smile, like sort of half bewildered and half apologetic, and said, “What’s happening?”

Tash assured him, in her brightest and breeziest tones, that it was quite all right. “Just a few problems with a grapefruit.”

I giggled and said, “It’s exploding!” I guess this confused him even more. He said, “Exploding?” Like he had never heard of such a thing. (Well, who has?)

I said, “Oh, yes, they explode all the time, you know.”

Ali, picking up the bowl, said, “Only if people put them in cupboards and forget them.” She held out the bowl for Gus to see. “It’s been there so long it’s fermenting.”

Gus peered at it and said, “Way out!” I think he was quite impressed. I was impressed! I had no idea that grapefruits could turn themselves into bombs. Upon reflection, this is probably how most of the world’s great discoveries have been made i. e.
by accident.

Gus said, “Dangerous stuff! Doesn’t exactly make you feel like eating grapefruit again, does it?” He then added something which I thought was truly witty. He said, “Kind of gives a whole new meaning to grapefruit cocktail.”

And then he said goodnight and went back downstairs, and
we let him go.
Why didn’t we ask him in??? I know it was three o’clock in the morning, but we could all have cosily sat round with cups of tea, like we did the night before. We might have got to know him properly at last. Oh, I do wish we had! He looked so cute in his dressing gown and pyjamas. It’s not like me and Tash to be slow on the uptake, we are usually alert for every opportunity. (Like it says in
Glam Girl
: WAIT, WATCH AND POUNCE!)

“I thought it was – you know!” Tash looked a bit shamefaced. “Terrorists.” I had to admit that so did I. Of course it all seems funny
now
– now that we know what it really was. But to be woken up in the middle of the night by guns going off is actually quite frightening,
and has made us far more in sympathy with all those poor people that live in places where it happens the whole time.

We sat there, gravely discussing it, while Ali cleared up the mess. I said, “You’re our bomb disposal expert!” which made Tash giggle.

Ali said, “I’m glad you find it amusing.”

“Well, you must admit,” I said, “grapefruit cocktail …”

Tash giggled again. Ali glared.

I said, “What? What’s the matter?”

Tash said, “What have we done now?”

Ali snapped that it was what we hadn’t done that was the matter. “You didn’t either of you care about Fat Man!”

It took us a second or so to get over our surprise. I mean, Ali almost never snaps. Tash was the first to recover. As Ali disappeared into her broom cupboard she yelled, “I didn’t notice you caring that much, either!”

Ali stuck her head back round the door. “I knew it wasn’t gunfire,” she said.

Tash said, “How? How could you possibly know that?”

Ali gave us this really pitying look. “Why would anyone be sitting in our food cupboard firing a gun?”

Tash, blustering a bit, said, “Well, they could have been hiding.”

“Not in our food cupboard,” said Ali.

Tash and I are agreed, Ali simply has
no
imagination.

Thursday