Freaks Out! (2 page)

“I know, I know!” I clapped my hands. “Not getting A+ for her maths homework!”

“And for her French homework!”

“And for geography!”

“And for history!”

Now I was going off into giggles myself. Skye is
like the class brain; it would frighten the life out of her if she ever got a B for anything. She once got A-for an essay and it threw her into total depression for a whole week.

“You are such
morons
,” she said.

I suppose it is not quite fair to laugh at a person, especially if they are one of your best friends, but all the same I do think people should be able to take a joke now and again. I know I can. I am always being laughed at. It doesn't bother me in the slightest. Even if it does, I don't make a big thing of it.

“Where are you going?” said Jem.

“I'm going to
school
, if that's all right with you.” Skye flung it at us over her shoulder. “I want to get there
on time.
”

We watched as she went stalking on ahead of us, her legs, long and spindly, clacking to and fro like a pair of animated chopsticks.

“What's her problem?” said Jem.

I shook my head. It is a known fact that Skye doesn't have the hugest sense of humour. Unlike
me and Jem, who have been known to giggle ourselves senseless, Skye is a very serious-minded person. But still there was something not right.

I said, “I dunno. In some kind of a mood. Thing is, about horoscopes –” I folded up Crystal Ball and put her back in my bag – “they might just be all made up, but that doesn't mean they're rubbish. Loads of what they say actually does come true.”

“This is it,” said Jem. “I remember once my auntie was told she was going to have a shake-up in her career, and the very next day she shook a bottle of tomato ketchup and the top flew off and it went everywhere, all over the place, and look what happened!”

“What?” I said. “What happened?”

“She got a new job!”

“What, because of the tomato ketchup?”

“No, cos she went down the job centre.”

“Because of the ketchup.”

“
No.
She was going there anyway. The ketchup didn't have anything to do with it.”

Excuse me?

“Just that she shook it,” said Jem. “Like it said in her horoscope… a shake-up. And then she got a job. See what I mean?”

I nodded slowly. I do sometimes find that I have a bit of difficulty following Jem's train of thought. She has a brain that hops about all over the place.

“My auntie was really miffed about the ketchup,” she said. “It went all down her blouse, and she couldn't get it out. You can't, with ketchup. But if it hadn't been for that, she might never have got the job. Least, that's what she told Mum, so I reckon you're right. There's got to be something in it.”

That was better. At least I'd got one of them to agree with me.

“Know what?” I said. “We could do horoscopes. We could ask everyone what their star signs are, and then we could make up horoscopes for them, and wait and see if they come true.”

Jem liked that idea. I could tell, already, that her brain was whizzing into overdrive, thinking what
sort of things she could make up.

“What about Skye?” she said. “Are we going to tell her?”

I said yes, we had to. She was our friend; we didn't do things separately. Besides, it might cheer her up. Stop her being so glumpy.

“Even though she thinks it's rubbish?”

“We'll tell her it's just a game,” I said. “After all, it's not like we're really
expecting
things to happen.”

“So long as it
is
only a game,” said Skye.

I assured her that it was. “Just a bit of fun!”

“So long as that's all.”

“It is. I just
said.
”

“Cos I think it's really stupid, when people take this sort of stuff seriously.”

I laughed, as if the very idea was absurd. “Whoever would?”

“You'd be surprised,” said Skye.

“Well, but sometimes –” Jem jumped in eagerly
– “sometimes they get it right. It's just a question of working out what they mean. It's not always straightforward. Like if your horoscope said
'Beware of big hairy monsters!'
and later that night a bunch of spiders went marching across your bedroom ceiling, well, you mightn't realise that that's what it had meant. You might have been expecting something more, like, a load of big hairy muggers coming along and…” Her voice faltered slightly under Skye's withering gaze. “And mugging you,” she said. “Or something.”

“You might,” agreed Skye, “if you were dumb enough.”

“No, honestly,” said Jem, “they
can
predict things! Like with my auntie. There was this one time—”

Omigod! She was going to go on about the tomato ketchup again.

“I think we should get started,” I said.

“But I want to tell Skye about my auntie! See, her horosc—”

“Later!” It's important, with Jem, to stop her
before she gets going. Preferably as soon as she opens her mouth. Mr Hargreaves, our maths teacher, once said that if uncontrolled babble was an Olympic discipline, Jem could babble for England.
And
get a gold medal. “We don't have time for all that now,” I said. “We've got horoscopes to write.”

Jem looked at me, hurt. “Just because you've already heard it!”

Just because I didn't want Skye hearing it. Fortunately, Skye came to my rescue.

“No, Frankie's right,” she said. “If we don't get started we'll never get anywhere. Everybody pay attention! First we need to get organised.”

Jem pulled a face. Normally I'd have pulled one too, and even given an inward
gro-o-an
, cos when Skye starts organising she turns into this really evil dictator type, bossing and bullying and laying down the law, but at least she'd managed to stop Jem going on about her auntie all over again.

If Skye had heard the tale of the tomato ketchup she'd have gone into full boffin mode and started
lecturing Jem about being gullible, cos you can just bet
she'd
know what gullible meant. Jem would then have got upset, and then they'd have had words, and then they'd have tried dragging me into it, both of them wanting me to be on their side, like, “Frankie, tell her!
You
heard about my auntie,” and “Frankie, for goodness' sake!
You
don't believe in all that rubbish?”

I wouldn't have known what to say. I mean, I did
sort
of believe. Sort of. Just not in the tomato-ketchup story. What we needed was some kind of definite proof, which was exactly the reason I was conducting my experiment. Cos that was what it was, I suddenly realised. Not just a game or a bit of fun, but a proper bony fido experiment. Or whatever the expression was.

“What's that thing you say when you mean something's, like, real?” I said.

“You mean, like, real?” said Skye.

“I mean like bony fido, or whatever it is.”

“
Bona fide
. It's Latin,” said Skye. God, she's like an
encyclopaedia, that girl! I guess it's cos of her mum and dad both being teachers. Always telling her to find things out and look things up. “
Bona
means good and
fide
means faith, and what's it got to do with anything, anyway? I thought we were going to get started?”

“We are, we are!”

“Then let's work out the ground rules.”

“What
ground
rules?” Jem was sitting cross-legged on my bed, cuddling Rags. She was obviously in a bit of a sulk. “What do we want
ground
rules for? Why can't we just make up horoscopes like we said?”

Oh, but it wasn't that simple! Nothing is ever simple, with Skye. First off, she made me Google “Star Signs” on my laptop. Then she told me to write them all down.

“
Neatly.
”

Jem and I exchanged glances. Jem put a finger to her forehead and tapped. I just did what I was told. It seemed easier, somehow.

These are the star signs:

Aries (ram)

Taurus (bull)

Gemini (twins)

Cancer (crab)

Leo (lion)

Virgo (virgin)

Libra (scales)

Scorpio (scorpion)

Sagittarius (archer)

Capricorn (goat)

Aquarius (water carrier)

Pisces (fish)

 

Now, said Skye, we would cut them up.

Excuse me?

“Cut them up!”

She held out her hand for the scissors. I passed them across. Me and Jem watched without saying anything, as Skye turned my list into a load of shredded strips.

“What we do is take out our
own
star signs – well, go on! Take them!” Meekly, we did so. “Put those to one side. Then fold the others over, so we can't see what they are. Now we do our horoscopes. Four each!”

“You mean –” I said it slowly, trying to fathom the workings of her superior brain – “you mean we won't actually know which star sign we're writing stuff for?”

“Exactly!”

“What's the point of that?” said Jem.

The point, said Skye, was that nobody would be tempted to write nice things for some star signs – like if they knew who the sign belonged to – and nasty things for others.

“Though personally,” she added, “I'm only going to write nice things, anyway.”

“Why?” Jem said it aggressively. I guess she was still pretty mad at Skye for siding with me and not letting her tell the tomato-ketchup story. Not to mention bossing us around. “If you think it's all
rubbish, what's it matter
what
you write?”

“Cos I'd feel awful,” said Skye, “if I wrote something nasty and then it actually came true. Even though I'd know it was only coincidence.”

I saw Jem's mouth open, and quickly shoved my elbow in her ribs. We didn't have all day. We'd come back to my place after school and Skye and Jem would have to be getting home pretty soon.

“Just write,” I said.

These are my four that I did:

An exciting new opportunity will arise. It should be grasped with both hands.

Big changes are coming your way. They will take your life in a different direction.

A treasured possession will be lost, but do not despair. It will turn up.

Be on the lookout: trouble ahead!

“OK, I've finished,” I said.

“Me too,” said Skye.

Jem was still sitting hunched up like a little gnome, furiously scribbling. Now and again, a
giggle would burst out of her.

“I hope you're not being
gross
,” said Skye.

“What's it to you if I am?” Jem threw down her pen. “
Now
what d'you want us to do?”

“Cut them into strips,” said Skye, “then fold them up and shuffle them about so you don't know which is which.”

Jem rolled her eyes.

“Do it!”

“Yes, do it,” I said.

“All
right
,” said Jem. “I'm doing it!”

Skye said that now we would each take one for ourselves. “I'll take one from Frankie, and Frankie can take one from Jem, and Jem can take one from me…
go
!”

“Can we look?” said Jem. “Well, I'm going to, anyway!”

We all opened our bits of paper. On mine, in Jem's round squiggly handwriting, it said:
Things will happen.
Hm! It didn't make much sense, but at least she hadn't said
bad
things.

I asked Skye which one of mine she'd picked, but she wouldn't tell me. She said, “It's got to be
secret.
Like a secret ballot.”

“So what happens to all the rest?” Jem wanted to know.

“We randomly assign them,” said Skye.

Jem blinked. “You what?”

“We randomly assign them!”

There was a pause.

“I do wish, just occasionally, she would speak in normal English,” said Jem.

Skye made an impatient tutting sound. “It's perfectly simple! What we're left with is nine horoscopes and nine star signs.” She laid them out in two rows on the floor. “We're going to staple one horoscope to each star sign.” She clicked her fingers. “Stapler!”

“Haven't got one.”

“Paper clips!”

“Haven't got any.”

Skye breathed heavily, like Mr Hargreaves when
he's about to blow up.

“
Sellotape?
”

“Oh, yes,” I said. “I've got some of that.”

Just as well! It doesn't do to cross Skye when she's in one of her schoolteacherly moods.

With brisk efficiency, she began picking up horoscopes and picking up star signs, folding them over and sticking them together. Jem immediately began bleating.

“If they're all going to be secret, how are we supposed to know if any of them come true?”

Skye said we would wait till the end of term, and then we would open all the bits of paper and see.

“But we don't know what people's star signs are!”

“We know what our mums' and dads' are.”

“I'm talking about people at school. I thought we were supposed to be asking them?”

“You can ask, if you want,” said Skye. “No one's stopping you. Honestly, I've never known anyone make such a fuss! It's only a
game.
”

“So if it's only a game, why can't we look?”

“Cos even games have rules. There's no point playing, if you don't have rules. I'm going to go now, I promised Mum I'd be back by five. You coming?”

“In a minute,” said Jem.

“I've got to go
now.
I'll take these with me.” Skye scooped up all the bits of paper, neatly stuck with Sellotape. “Cos I know what you two are like.”

“Are you saying we'd
cheat
?” said Jem.

“Well, you would, wouldn't you?” Skye opened her schoolbag and stuffed the bits of paper into one of the inside pockets. “They'll be safe there.
I
won't look.”

To be fair to Skye, we knew that she wouldn't. After she'd gone, Jem giggled and said, “D'you want to know what I picked?”

I struggled for a few seconds with my conscience. There wasn't any reason I shouldn't know. Just cos Skye had decided it had to be kept secret. Me and Jem hadn't decided. But it was true that Skye was honourable, and we weren't, so I very nobly said no.

“Better not tell me.”

“Don't see why not,” said Jem. “What right's she got to dictate?”

None at all, really, except that she was our friend and if she wanted to make up rules – well! That was just Skye. At least she'd joined in.

“Wouldn't be fair to go behind her back,” I said.

Jem looked for a minute as if she might go off into a sulk again, but then she gave me this mischievous grin and said, “If I was doing your horoscope now, know what I'd say? I'd say,
Keep an eye on Daisy Hooper.
”

“Why?” I couldn't resist asking.

“See if she gets a clonk on the head!”

“Is she likely to?”

“Well…” Jem cackled. “Someone's going to. Hope it's not you! You didn't pick that one, did you?”

Before I could stop myself I said, “No.”

“That's good,” said Jem. “Means it could be her!”

 

Me and Jem watched eagerly the next couple of days, waiting to see if Daisy Hooper would get
clonked on the head. See if
anyone
got clonked on the head. Just cos Jem had written it for one of her horoscopes, didn't necessarily mean it was going to happen.

“Skye could be right,” I said. And Mum, and Tom. And Dad. “
Could
all just be coincidence.”

It wasn't what I wanted to believe, cos I like to think there's stuff going on that's a bit mysterious. But if you're conducting a scientific experiment it's important to keep an open mind. Jem already seemed to have made hers up.

“If it's all just coincidence,” she said, “why would anyone bother? There's got to be
something
in it. I mean, look at my auntie! You're not telling me that was just coincidence?”

I didn't wish to talk about Jem's auntie. Rather sternly I said, “We are conducting an
experiment.
We must wait for proof.”

“But that is proof!”

“
More
proof.”

Jem giggled. “Want to know another one I wrote?
Beware the hairy monsters…
I thought I might as well use it. Wonder who got that one? Wasn't you, was it?”

“We're not supposed to be telling,” I said.

“Oh, pooh!” Jem tossed her head. “What's it matter?” She danced round me, waggling her fingers. “Big hairy monsters! It
was
you, wasn't it?”

“Not saying.”

“It was, it was! You're going to get a bunch of huge enormous spiders marching across the ceiling!”

“Yeah, or I might get mugged by a load of huge hairy muggers. Might end up in hospital. Then what'd you have to say?”

Jem's face fell. She looked at me, suddenly uncertain. “It wasn't really you, was it?”

“Well, if it wasn't,” I said, “it's someone else, and then you'll be responsible if it comes true.”