Just Peachy (6 page)

I felt my cheeks immediately start to glow. I stammered that of course it wasn’t. “And I did want to invite you back!”

“You didn’t really,” said Millie. She didn’t say it accusingly; just stated it like it was a fact. My cheeks by now were sizzling like bacon in a pan.

“Be honest!” she said. “You didn’t, did you?”

I swallowed. “It’s not like you think.”

“It’s all right,” said Millie. “Dad warned me when I got the scholarship I mightn’t find it easy being at a school like Sacred Heart. He didn’t really want me to go there; it was Mum who pushed me. Dad said there’d be bound to be some people that were prejudiced. Like Zoe.”

“Zoe’s just a stupid snob,” I said. “Not everyone’s like her.
I’m
not like her!”

“You’re not when we’re at school,” said Millie.

“I’m not when I’m at home either!”

Millie looked at me. She was obviously waiting for me to say something.

“If you must know…” I took a breath, trying to stop my voice from wobbling. “If you must know,” I gabbled, “the reason I was scared to invite you was cos of Dad.”

“Cos of your
dad
?”

“I didn’t want you finding out about him!”

Millie giggled. “You make it sound like he’s some kind of guilty secret. Like he’s been in prison or something!”

Glumly I said, “No. Just on the radio.”

“You didn’t want me to know he was on the radio?” How pathetic was that? “Why on earth not?” said Millie. “I don’t mind you knowing my dad’s on the buses.”

“That’s different.”

“You mean, cos my dad’s not a celeb?”

“
Minor
celeb.”

“Whatever.” Millie sat back, cross-legged, on her cushion. “I don’t get it!”

I sighed. “It’s not just Dad. It’s all the rest of the family.”

“You saying they’re celebs as well? Like your brother writing that bit of music full of holes?”

“Sort of.” I hooked my hair behind my ears and tried rather desperately to explain. “I sometimes think it’s like living on a film set. You know?” Millie nodded, a bit uncertainly. “Like they’re all busy being stars in this huge great movie and I’m stuck in the middle of it trying to be me!”

Millie said, “Ah. Right! Now I’m with you.” She nodded. “Just Peachy.”

“That’s why I asked if I could go to a different school. So’s nobody would know who I was.”

“Well, that’s OK.” Millie said it bracingly. “Who’s going to find out? Not like your dad’s a pop star or anything. And I don’t expect,” she added, “that people like Zoe are going to listen to a bit of music all full of holes!”

That made me smile a bit, in a watery kind of way.

“She hasn’t got the brain for it,” said Millie.

I said, “Neither have I. It’s all loud and tuneless and horrible.”

“Apart from the holes.”

I agreed. “The holes are OK. They’re quite peaceful.”

“Sing me one,” said Millie. “How do they go?”

“Like this.” I let my mouth fall open.

Millie giggled. “Like this?”

We sat there in solemn silence, our mouths agape, gobbling like goldfish, until in the end we both collapsed.

“Did I stay in tune?” said Millie.

I said, “No! I think you must be tone deaf.”

We collapsed all over again.

When we’d recovered Millie said, “So are we all right now? I mean, it doesn’t really matter
me
knowing about your dad. Does it?”

I said, “I s’pose not. It’s just…” I hesitated, wondering how much I could confess without sounding totally pathetic.

“Just what?” said Millie.

It all came out in a sudden rush, “It’s just I didn’t want you meeting Charlie!”

“Your sister?” Millie sounded surprised. “The one that’s totally useless?”

I said, “Well, she
is
totally useless cos Mum runs round after her all the time, but she’s like always being picked for the school play and getting into hockey teams and being asked to loads of parties and having a zillion boyfriends, and I wouldn’t mind,” I wailed, “except people seem to think I ought to be like her and then they find I’m not and they look at me like I’m just rubbish!”

“Oh, that is so nonsense,” said Millie. “We wouldn’t be friends if you were rubbish. I don’t
make
friends with rubbish people! I only make friends with people I find interesting. People that are funny, and clever. Like you!”

Nobody had ever said that to me before. Funny? And clever?

“You say these funny things,” said Millie. “Like about my dad being the cream of the cream. And you
are
clever, cos who got an A for her last bit of homework?”

I’d only got an A cos we had to write about our favourite place in all the world, and I’d written about Cornwall, where I’d once gone on holiday all by myself with Gran. Millie had said that her favourite place was home, and she had got an A*. She was always getting A*.

“Honestly,” she said, “I only like clever people. Otherwise I find them boring. I suppose I shouldn’t say that, really. I’m always saying things I shouldn’t say. But know what? I don’t care! And I don’t think you ought to care either. Not about your silly sister
or
your dad. It’s like you said at the beginning of term, about concentrating on just being
you.
”

“Yes.” I nodded humbly. “You’re right.”

Millie cackled. “I’m always right!” She sprang up and bounced over to my bookshelves. “I’ve got a game you can play with books. D’you want to try it? What you do, you pick a book and you read bits of it out loud, without saying any of the characters’ names, and the other person has to guess what book it is. I invented it,” said Millie, “with a friend I had at primary school, only she’s at Winterbourne now, so we don’t hardly see each other. Anyway, you’ll be better at it than she was cos you’ve got all these books. She practically only read Harry Potter and the Rainbow Fairies
.
Shall we give it a go?”

I said, “Yes, let’s!”

Not being mean or anything, but I was glad Millie wasn’t seeing her friend any more. I wanted her to be
my
friend. Just the two of us together.

“I promise,” she whispered, as we parted company the next day, “I won’t breathe a word about your dad!”

I got back from school on Monday afternoon to find Charlie in the kitchen with Mum. As soon as I came in she swung round, catching me a hearty thwack on my thigh with her hockey stick. I yelped. “Ow! That hurt!”

“Oh, don’t be such a wimp,” said Charlie. “Not like I did it on purpose. Listen, want to hear some news?”

“What?” I said it rather crossly. I wasn’t being a wimp! Anyone would object to being whacked by a hockey stick. I wouldn’t have minded so much if she’d
apologised.
But she never does. “Look,” I said, “it’s already coming up in a bruise!”

“Put some arnica on it,” said Mum.

“And stop making such a
fuss.
I hardly even touched you!”

“Excuse me,” I said, “but being clonked by a hockey stick is really painful.”

Charlie made an impatient tutting sound. “Do you want to hear my news or not?”

I didn’t particularly, but there is never any stopping her.

“Guess what?” She took a swipe at an imaginary ball and bashed her hockey stick against the leg of the kitchen table. Mum didn’t say a word. “We’re playing your lot in the next round of the InterSchools Hockey tournament!” She announced it with an air of triumph.

Guardedly I said, “Oh?”

“Thursday afternoon,” said Charlie. “At your place.”

What???
Charlie was coming to Sacred Heart?

“Just make sure you watch!”

“I won’t be able to cheer for you,” I said.

“Don’t expect you to cheer for me. Just expect you to watch.”

“I don’t know if they’ll let us.”

“Of course they will!” said Mum. “It’s an important event.”

“Not as important as lessons,” I said quickly. “I don’t think Sister Agatha would let us miss a lesson.”

“What, not even to watch your own sister?”

Mum sounded indignant. I told her that the nuns were very strict, and that Sister Agatha was the strictest of all.

Mum pulled a face. “I could always write a note, asking her to make an exception.”

“Oh, Mum, no,” I begged. “Please!”

“But it’s your
sister
,” said Mum.

“Yes, but it would seem like favouritism. Please don’t!”

Mum looked slightly offended. “Very well, if you insist,” she said. “Have it your own way. I was only trying to help.”

I prayed that Sister Agatha would be as strict as I’d said she was. Surely she wouldn’t consider a hockey match important enough to miss class? Unfortunately, as I belatedly remembered, last period on Thursday was PE, when we normally had to
play
hockey.

“So as a special treat,” beamed Sister Agatha, “you may all go and attend the match.”

“I wish we could just go home early instead,” I said to Millie, thinking that she would be bound to agree with me. Millie isn’t any more sporty than I am. “I mean, who wants to have to stand around watching a stupid hockey match?”

“I don’t mind
watching
,” said Millie. “Just so long as I don’t have to join in.”

“But it’ll be so boring,” I moaned. “Maybe we could hide in the library or something.”

Millie shook her head. “They’d notice if we weren’t there.”

“Not if we slipped away really quietly.”

“Not worth it,” said Millie. “We could get into a whole load of trouble all for nothing.”

“Anything’s better than having to watch people whacking a ball all up and down.”

“Well, it’s not what I’d choose,” agreed Millie, “but it’s not as bad as all that. I’m just happy we’re getting out of PE!”

Thursday loomed over me. I kept telling myself that I was simply being silly. Who was going to know that Charlie was my sister? Millie wasn’t going to tell anyone. In any case she’d only met her once, for about two seconds; she probably wouldn’t even recognise her. I was doing my usual thing, worrying myself sick for no reason.

And then Thursday arrived and I really did get sick. It happened at the end of the lunch break, as we were about to go back into class. I suddenly came over all limp and sweaty. I thought for a moment that I was going to faint.

“You all right?” said Millie.

I pressed a hand to my mouth. “Think I’m going to throw up.”

Millie is not the sort of person to dither.

“Better get you to the sick room,” she said; and she took me by the arm and firmly marched me off. I tried bleating a protest, but Millie can be very forceful.

“What’s her problem?” said Zoe, passing us in the corridor.

“Going to the sick room,” said Millie. “Like it’s any of her business,” she added under her breath.

I spent the next half-hour lying down, sweating and feeling sick, and then the nurse rang Mum and asked her if she could come and take me home.

“What on earth have you been up to?” said Mum when she arrived.

“Haven’t been up to anything,” I said. “I just suddenly came over all funny.”

Mum seemed at a bit of a loss. We don’t get sick in our family; it’s like it’s not allowed.

“I hope you’re not incubating something.” Mum looked at me almost accusingly.

“Like what?” I said.

“I don’t know! One of those childhood things… mumps or something? Chicken pox? You haven’t got a rash, have you?” She peered at me. “Whatever it is, I just hope it’s not catching. I don’t want all the others going down with it – especially now, when Charlie and Coop have so much on.”

“It’s all right,” I said, “I won’t breathe over them. And actually,” I said, “I think I’m starting to feel a bit better. It’s such a nuisance, cos it means I’ll miss the hockey match.”

“Yes, that’s a shame,” said Mum. “Were they going to let you watch it?”

“Instead of doing PE,” I said.

“Well…” Mum glanced at me. “Your colour seems to have come back a bit. Do you want to give it a go? I could always come and watch with you.”

“No!” I almost yelped it. Why do I
say
these things? Just trying to impress Mum – that’s all it was. Trying to assure her that I’d been really looking forward to seeing Charlie cover herself in glory. Which I knew she would, cos she always does. “I think p’raps it would be more sensible if I went home,” I said.

“Well, it’s up to you,” said Mum.

As soon as school let out, Millie rang on her mobile.

“How are you?”

I told her that I was loads better. “I think it must have been food poisoning or something.”

“Hmm.” Millie seemed doubtful. “Dunno how you’d have got that.”

“School dinner?” I said darkly.

“But we both had the same!”

“I had a pot of yoghurt,” I reminded her.

“Don’t think yoghurt gives you food poisoning.”

“Well, whatever it was,” I said, “I’m OK again.”

“At least it got you out of having to watch the hockey.”

“Was it boring?” I said. I was still hoping she wouldn’t have recognised Charlie, all mixed up with a bunch of others. “Did we win?”

“You must be joking! They did… 11–3.”

“Does that mean we’re out of the tournament?”

“I guess.”

I said, “Oh, well.”

“Know what?” Millie giggled. “Sister Agatha was there. She actually called out, ‘Come on, Sacred Heart!’ and started jumping up and down. Can you imagine? Sister
Agatha
?”

I said that I couldn’t.

“Honestly, you should have seen her,” said Millie. “It was really funny; everyone was giggling.”

“I shouldn’t have eaten that yoghurt,” I moaned. “I knew it didn’t taste right.”

Millie grunted.

“I’m over it now though,” I said.

“Good,” said Millie. There was the slightest of pauses, then abruptly she said, “Why didn’t you tell me that was the school your sister goes to?”

“I…” I swallowed. “I’d forgotten.”

“That she was at Summerfield?”

“That she was in the team.”

“She scored five goals,” said Millie.

“I know,” I said. “She’s a genius.”

“Dunno about that. Just good at hockey.”

“She’s good at everything.”

Millie’s voice came briskly over the phone line. “Nobody’s good at everything. That’s just silly. Here’s my bus, I’m getting on it… I’m on my way up the stairs… see you tomorrow.”

I was left with this uncomfortable feeling that Millie hadn’t been very sympathetic. She had sounded almost impatient, like it was my own fault I’d been sick. Like Charlie, when she arrived home all flushed with success and eager to know what I thought of the match.

“Who won?” said Mum.

“We did, 11–3, and I scored five goals!”

“Oh, darling, that’s wonderful,” said Mum. “Wait till your dad hears!”

“Did you watch?” Charlie spun round to look at me. “Did you see that last goal?
Wham!
” She made whacking motions with an imaginary hockey stick. “I couldn’t believe it when it went in!”

“Unfortunately,” said Mum, “Peachy missed it all. She was feeling sick and I had to go and bring her home.”

“You’re joking! You didn’t see
any
of it? Honestly,” grumbled Charlie, “it’s almost unbelievable… one of the most important games I’ve ever played in and she goes and misses it!”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I couldn’t help it.”

Charlie said, “Huh!” And then, “Trust you.”

What did she mean, trust me? It wasn’t like I made a habit of getting sick.

“I reckon it was food poisoning,” I said.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah!” Charlie grabbed a carton of juice from the fridge. “I don’t think you ever really
wanted
to watch.”

“I did!” I said, but it was a feeble kind of protest.

When Dad came in and heard the news he shouted, “That calls for a celebration!” and marched us all up the road to the Indian restaurant. Charlie said, “I’m not sure people with food poisoning ought to be eating curry.”

“Food poisoning?” said Dad. “Who’s got food poisoning?”

“Oh, just Peachy,” said Charlie. “She didn’t see
any
of my goals.”

Next morning as I got off the bus I heard a voice calling after me: “Hey! Peaches!” I turned and saw Zoe, with a couple of her mates, Rhiannon and Lola. Zoe was waving at me. I slowed down, waiting for her, wondering what she wanted. Zoe and her lot didn’t usually take much notice of people like me and Millie.

“Wanted to ask you something,” said Zoe. “Is Charlie McBride your sister?”

Without even stopping to think I said, “Who’s Charlie McBride?”

“The one that scored half the goals in yesterday’s match!”

“And we know she’s your sister,” said Lola, “cos Millie O’Dowd said she was.”

I felt my cheeks go crimson. How could Millie do such a thing? She knew I didn’t want people discovering about my family!

“Why is she at Summerfield,” said Zoe, “and you’re at Sacred Heart?”

“And why say you don’t know her?”

They were all looking at me like I was mad.

“Hey!” Lola prodded at me with a bony finger. “Your dad’s that man on the radio, right?”

Weakly I said, “What man?”

“That one that’s always being rude to people? My mum says he’s a shock jock. She says he just likes winding people up so he can yell at them.”

“You might have told us,” said Zoe.

“Yes, like at the beginning of term, when we all had to introduce ourselves? You didn’t say a thing!”

“Didn’t want to boast,” I mumbled.

“Boast?” Zoe gave a short laugh. “Don’t see what’s to boast about if he’s as rude as all that!”

“Even if he is on the radio,” said Lola.

“Right! Might be different if he was on TV.”

“He is sometimes,” I said, and then immediately wished I hadn’t cos they all started jeering.

“Get her!” Zoe pranced triumphantly. “Now she
is
boasting!”

“I’m not,” I protested. “I’m just saying.”

“Well, you might have said sooner,” said Lola. “We all said what
our
dads did.”

“Even your friend Millie –
my dad’s on the buses
!”

They all sniggered. Normally I would have said something. I would have said that bus drivers did an important and responsible job. Far more important than being rude to people on the radio. But I was still feeling shaken by Millie’s treachery. How
could
she have told them about Charlie?

Millie was already there when I entered our classroom. Her desk was right next to mine. As I sat down she whispered, “You OK now?”

I nodded, but couldn’t bring myself to actually say anything.

“You sure?” said Millie. “You look kind of pale.”

I frowned, and concentrated on taking my books and pencil case out of my bag.

“Want to hear something funny?” Millie leaned across, giggling. “The ridiculous Diddy People wanted to know when my fruit friend was coming round again. That’s what they call you – my fruit friend!”

I pursed my lips.

“Sometimes they pretend they can’t remember what sort of fruit you are and they start saying Apple, or Pear, or Strawberry, like they’re being
so-o-o
clever!”

I tried to smile but my lips refused to do more than just quiver. I was relieved when Mrs Bradbeer came in and we all had to stop talking.

At break, me and Millie wandered off together as usual. We’d got into this habit of walking round the edge of the playing field, sharing a Kit Kat or a packet of Maltesers, talking as we went. This morning it was Millie that did all the talking; I stayed silent. After a bit she stopped and said, “What’s the matter? Have I done something?”