My Sister Jodie (30 page)

She'd always nibbled her nails, but now they were bitten so badly they were just little slivers, the exposed finger flesh very pink and raw.

‘Oh well, paint your nose purple instead,' I said,
trying to make her laugh. She was starting to look anxious.

‘Ha ha,' Jodie said, sighing.

She shook the towel off and ran her hands through her hair. ‘It really needs a new style to go with the colour. Something wild.'

She started rattling in the drawer. I was scared she was searching for scissors. She had a habit of snipping at her fringe so that her hair already had a ragged uneven look, as if a sheep had been grazing on it overnight.

‘Don't cut any more off!'

‘No, no, I was looking for . . . yeah, your beads. I could string them on a strand or two, just the purple ones, to make out the colour's deliberate.'

Sheba was next in line for a friendship bracelet. She'd asked for a purple one, her favourite colour. I badly wanted to please Sheba and all my new friends, but I wanted to please Jodie more.

‘Purple will look seriously cool,' I said, fishing in my bead jar. ‘Though if you stick beads in your hair, it will look as if you're copying Jed.'

‘So?' said Jodie. ‘Don't you think
he
looks cool?'

‘No. I think he looks horrible,' I said.

‘So what's your definition of cool?
Harley?
'said Jodie.

‘You can be as mean about Harley as you want, seeing as we're currently not speaking,' I said, picking out purple beads.

‘Oooh, have you had a lovers' tiff?' said Jodie.

‘I wish you'd stop going on about us like that. We're just friends. Well, we
were
before we fell out. Don't you want to make friends with any of the other boys in your class, Jodie?'

‘Are you
mad
?'

‘Some of them are OK. Not James and Phil, they're horrid, but some of the others?'

‘No, I hate them all. And the girls are worse. Do you know their new nickname for me? They think they're oh so witty and hilarious. It's the Ginger Minger. They're so dense they don't even know how to pronounce minger. But anyway, I'm not ginger any more so that'll shut them up. Come on, give us those beads.'

She ran her hands through her hair, suddenly biting her lip, her eyes big. ‘Oh God, it looks awful, doesn't it!'

‘No, no, it looks great, truly,' I lied. ‘Look, I'll go and find Mum's hair-dryer. I'm sure it won't be quite
so
purple when it's dry.'

I blew Jodie's hair bone-dry. The colour looked even more startling now, a freaky purple-plum, deepening to black at the ends. I threaded the beads onto a couple of strands and tied them in place with purple thread.

‘There!' I said.

‘Well. It's different,' said Jodie. She took a deep breath. ‘What rhymes with purple?'

‘Nothing,' I said.

‘Good. Oh well. I think I'll just go and have a wander,' Jodie said, turning this way and that in the mirror.

‘Is Jed working late then?' I asked.

‘He's mowing the big field beyond the dormies,' said Jodie.

‘So you're going to tag after him?'

‘Look, you tag after Harley.'

‘No I don't.'

‘Come on, you're all set to scurry off for your badger-watching date.'

‘No I'm not. I'm staying in tonight,' I said.

‘Well, I'm not,' said Jodie. ‘I'm going to make myself scarce before Mum clocks my hair.' She took my felt pens, outlined her lips with purple, gave me a wave and then ran out of the room. I heard the back door bang a few seconds later.

I tried not to care. I got out my homework and set about it diligently, though it was hard work concentrating. I didn't know what Harley was expecting me to do. Maybe he was mad at me for shouting at him. Perhaps he'd tell me to clear off if I turned up at the badger set. Maybe we'd never make friends again. I'd had so
few
friends I didn't know how it worked.

I lay on my bed, juggling with Edgar, Allan and Poe. I thought of Mr Rigby Peller lounging on Harley's bed. I knew I'd never find another friend on the same wavelength as Harley. I stuffed my little bears under my pillow and jumped up. I decided to go and find Harley whether he wanted my company or not.

It was much harder sneaking off to the set in the woods now. There were children skipping about everywhere: little girls wandering along arm in arm, murmuring together; little boys charging about playing football; big girls and boys giggling together, six of them sharing a single can of lager, sipping as solemnly as if it was communion wine. They hid it behind their backs when they saw me. I didn't care. They could drink themselves stupid as far as I was concerned.

‘Watch out, that's the Ginger Minger's sister,' said one.

‘You shut your gob, bumface!' I yelled.

They looked astonished. Then they burst out laughing. I stuck my finger up at them and then scurried further down the path. I heard the distant roar of the garden tractor in the playing fields, then sudden silence. I wondered if Jodie was with Jed. I thought about what they might do together. I couldn't stand the idea that she might let him kiss her again.

I found the little trail that led to the badger set. I looked around carefully, making sure I was out of sight of the lager loonies. Then I dodged into the woods, through the bushes. There was the sandy bank with the entrance to the set and the extensive earthworks and the old badger bedding – and there was Harley, lying on his front, reading a book. He was absent-mindedly running his finger round a half-empty jar of honey. He looked up and smiled at me.

‘Hello,' he whispered.

‘Hello,' I said, sitting down beside him.

‘Was that
you
yelling
bumface
just now?' asked Harley.

‘These kids said something horrible first,' I said, blushing.

‘About Jodie?'

I nodded.

‘Are you going to call
me
Bumface?' Harley asked.

‘I might, if you call her names,' I said.

‘But you're speaking to me now?' he said.

‘Evidently.'

‘That's good,' said Harley.

We nodded at each other and then settled down
to badger-watch. We stayed silent while the birds sang in the trees above us and children called to each other far away. Harley offered me the honey jar and I had a little lick too.

‘The badgers could have a veritable feast. I've smeared honey all over the shop,' Harley whispered. ‘They just need to get up early.'

‘Come on, badgers,' I murmured. ‘Badger, badger, badger!'

‘That's it, badger the badgers to come and have breakfast,' said Harley.

I willed them awake in my head. I made them wriggle and stretch and open their eyes in their musty sleeping quarters. I had the large male scratch himself with his long claws and then scrabble upright. The female nuzzled the two sleepy cubs. They started rolling around their mossy beds, playing hide-and-seek. The male grunted at them irritably. He squared his powerful shoulders and then burrowed his way down the dark earth trench towards the daylight. I willed him onwards, nearer and nearer, his snout starting to quiver as he caught a whiff of honey. Then his head poked out of the set and he paused, peering around.

He was
really
there, big and black, the white streak very marked on his face, his little amber eyes staring straight at me. I sat utterly still, barely breathing. Harley's long body tensed. The three of us freeze-framed for a good minute and then the badger took two steps forward, shoulders right out of the set now. He turned his head to the left, to the right, left, right, as if he was watching a tennis match. Then he padded forward, standing
right in front of us. I could have reached out and patted him, but of course I knew better. I stayed still while the badger bent his striped head and idly picked at a grub in the grass. Then he stopped, tasting honey.

He paused a moment, head bowed, maybe saying a badger grace. Then he started rootling round in earnest, sucking at the honey. He made little grunting sounds. After a minute the female emerged, sniffing the air cautiously. She stood by the entrance to the set, waiting, though she could see her mate gorging himself. Then two heads popped out of the set simultaneously, snouts quivering. They barely gave their patient mother a glance. They scrambled over to the thickest grass where the honey glistened and started eating greedily. The mother trotted forwards now, finding her own private pool of honey in the fork of an old branch. She stuck in her snout and feasted.

I took hold of Harley's hand. His long spidery fingers gripped mine. We sat still, watching over our family as the sun slowly sank in the sky. The female stayed by her branch, enjoying honey-sauced beetles and ants. The big male prowled around, sniffing along honey trails, pausing to guzzle. The two half-grown cubs tumbled about, fighting over a honey patch, darting here and there, chasing each other as if they were playing tag. Their mother lifted her head and watched over them, anxious when they roamed too far.

It was getting late now. The children had stopped calling. They were back in their dormitories in the girls' house and the boys' house. The master would be looking for Harley, Mum would be looking for
me. We didn't care. We sat there, still as statues.

We heard the garden tractor start up again, far away at first, then slowly getting nearer and nearer. Jed must be driving the tractor along the lane back to the school grounds. It made an ugly rattling roar in the still twilight. The badgers tensed.

‘Oh no!' Harley groaned in a whisper.

The male grunted, and then started making for the safety of the set. The female paused, then ran this way and that, trying to organize the cubs. One ran to her, cowering against her, but the other panicked and darted off through the bushes towards the path.

‘No, go back to the
set
!' said Harley, stumbling to his feet.

I jumped up too and we started running.

The garden tractor roared – and then there was a high-pitched scream.

IT WAS JODIE
screaming. The garden tractor cut out. There was a sudden ominous silence. I ran right through the bushes, tripping over, staggering up again, desperate to get to the lane.

Jed was at the wheel of his tractor, scowling. Jodie was crouching by the side of the road, making little whimpering noises, her wild purple hair hiding her face.

‘Jodie! Are you hurt?' I cried, running to her.

‘Look!' she mumbled.

She was cradling something in her arms. Something black and white, only now there was red blood oozing out of the thick fur.

‘The badger cub!' I whispered.

‘Let me see,' said Harley gently. ‘Is he still alive?'

‘Yes, but look, he's bleeding so. It's his head – it's all bashed in at the back.'

‘If we carry him back to the school, your dad could drive us to a vet,' said Harley.

‘You're a right nutter, you are,' said Jed. ‘What's the vet going to do, give it a head transplant?'

‘The vet could give him an injection to put him out of his pain,' said Harley.

‘I'll do that easily enough,' said Jed.

‘You've done enough!' said Jodie. She stared up at him, her face contorted. ‘You
aimed
at the badger, I know you did. You ran him over deliberately.'

‘It's vermin. They all are. They're taking over the whole bloody grounds and you aren't even allowed to gas them any more. They're eating away the Melchester land, making it unstable. Of course I aimed at it.'

‘You're horrible!' I said, starting to cry. ‘This is one of
our
badgers. He lives in the woods and doesn't do anyone any harm. How
could
you!'

‘You don't understand. You're just soft little townie kids,' said Jed. He looked at Jodie. ‘Come on, it's practically dead now. Leave it be. Hop back on the tractor. We'll go and have a bit of fun somewhere, take your mind off it.'

Jodie stared at him. ‘I'm not going anywhere with you,' she said.

‘OK. Suit yourself. Bet you'll be fawning round me like a little puppy dog tomorrow though.'

‘I don't think so,' said Jodie.

‘Well, your loss, you silly little purple bonce,' said Jed.

He started up the tractor and roared off, dust flying in his wake.

We knelt beside Jodie. She gently rocked the poor badger. He started making awful little whinnying noises. Then his legs started scrabbling horribly.

‘I think he's fitting,' said Harley. ‘Poor little badger.'

He stroked the quivering paws. The badger gave one last moan, sighed and then went still. We looked at each other.

‘Is that it?' I whispered. ‘Is he dead now?'

‘I think so,' said Harley.