Over the Moon (11 page)

Mum clicked her tongue, impatiently. She said, “I’m fighting a losing battle, aren’t I?” And she swept out of the room, leaving me and Dad to exchange rueful glances.

“She’s doing it again,” I said.

“I know, I know.” Dad waved a hand, as if to say,
tell me about it.
“Women get to a certain age— ”

“She’s not that old!” I said.

She was only forty-two: not exactly ancient. “If she’d had me when you were first married,” I said, “she’d only be thirty-two. Why did you wait so long?”

“Ah. Well.” A slightly shifty look came over Dad’s face. “That was, like – I guess – my fault. In a way.” He gave me this guilty grin. “I didn’t want her to lose her figure!”

I said, “
Dad
.”

“Well, and also I wanted to keep her all to myself … just at the beginning, you know?”

“Is that the reason you never had any more?” I said.

“Why? Would you have liked us to have more?”

I’d sometimes thought about it. Hattie had two sisters and a brother, and I had occasionally wondered if I would like to be part of a large family. But on the whole I couldn’t honestly say that it bothered me. I quite enjoyed being an only child. I said this to Dad, and he said, “Well, there you go, then! I shouldn’t talk
to your mum about this, by the way. She – ah – she needs a bit of time to get herself sorted.”

I wouldn’t have dreamt of talking to Mum! Talking to Mum was the very last thing I wanted to do. I wrote about it in my diary:

Mum is behaving so oddly these days. I just can’t make her out any more. These last few months it’s like she’s almost become a different person. Like always NIGGLING. Always on at me not to be obsessed with the way I look, or the way other people look. Like for her looks just aren’t important. But Mum has been a beauty in her time! Dad’s always said that I take after her. I’ve seen photos of when she was young, when she and Dad were first married. The way she dressed, the way she smiled
at the camera, like giving it the old come-on.

So what’s changed? Whatever it is, it’s not fair on Dad! He’s so proud of her, he just loves to be seen out with her. What he loves best is to be seen out with B0TH of us, me on one arm, Mum on the other. “My two girls!” I guess some people might say that was a bit yucky, but I don’t see what’s wrong with it. Not if it makes Dad happy. God, you’d think Mum would be flattered, after all these years, having a man that still wanted to show her off. I would be!

Mum was a puzzle, but I really didn’t have time to cudgel my brains over her because all of a sudden life had become just hugely full of promise. Not just the fundraiser, not just the beauty contest, but …

Hooray hurrah and five thousand cheers! All my hard work has paid off. I HAVE BEEN SELECTED FOR FOUNDER’S DAY!!!

Hattie had been selected, too, but that came as no surprise; I’d known all along that she would be. But me!!! I could hardly believe it, even when the list was read out to us by Mr Frazer and I heard the names, Hattie Anstruther, Tanya Hoskins, Scarlett Maguire … I did this like huge sort of double take and then screamed, really loud, and clapped a hand to my mouth. I noticed one or two people giving me these rather sour looks, like they couldn’t believe it, either, and didn’t think I deserved it. But I had worked
so
hard, and I hadn’t been late for school once, not for the whole of last term, and I knew that my attitude was better cos lots of the teachers had remarked on it. And I wouldn’t cheat and slacken off
just because I’d been selected! I might relax just the tiniest little bit, but not enough to affect my grades. Whatever some people might think of me, I do have my principles and it wasn’t fair of Inga Martin to go round telling everyone that it was nothing but favouritism. Just because she hadn’t been selected! How could it be favouritism? I wasn’t anybody’s favourite! Up until the start of Year 8, I bet most of the staff thought I was a total pain. (Which I can see now that I probably was.)

Lots of people that hadn’t been selected said they wouldn’t have wanted to go, anyway. They said what could possibly be more boring than a stuffy old dinner and dance with teachers and governors and draggy old dignitaries from the Council. I didn’t mind them saying that cos it was what I would most likely have said in their position. You have to put a brave face on things
and strictly speaking they were right, I mean there
were
going to be teachers and governors and draggy old dignitaries.

But there would also be reporters and photographers, and pictures in the paper and the school magazine, not to mention, as Hattie said, the honour and glory!

Christopher Pitts, who is this huge troublemaker who would never be selected to go anywhere, unless it was in chains, actually had the nerve to suggest I should invite him as my partner. He grinned this gappy grin at me (someone had recently knocked out one of his front teeth) and said, “Go on, I dare you! Why not?”

I said, “Apart from the fact that you’d probably start chucking bread rolls at people or puking all over the place, I happen to already have a partner.”

Christopher said, “Oh? Who’s that, then?”

I told him it was nobody he knew. “But it’s someone who won’t embarrass me!” He seemed to find that amusing, for some reason. I relayed the conversation to Hattie, thinking she would agree with me that Chris Pitts was gross (though he’s quite good looking, unfortunately) but Hattie just sighed and said, “I’m wondering whether I really want to come.”

I said,
“What?”

“I’m not sure,” said Hattie, “I really want to come.”

“Why not? What are you talking about? Of course you want to come!”

“But who can I ask to partner me?”

It came out almost in a wail. Hattie hardly ever wails. I do! I do it all the time. But Hattie is not a drama queen, and she is not as a rule self-pitying. Trying to cheer her up, I said, “You could always ask Christopher!”

“He wouldn’t want to go with me,” said Hattie.

“Well, he wants to go with someone!”

“No, he doesn’t. He wants to go with you.”

“You could ask him.”

“
No
!”

“What about Weed?” I said. “He’d go with you!”

Like,
Weed would go with anyone. Weed’s not fussy. He can’t afford to be.
The minute I’d said it, I could have bitten my tongue out. I felt so ashamed! Hattie had turned scarlet.

“Weed’s OK!” I said, quickly. “He’s not nearly as geeky as he looks. He’s not really geeky at
all.
You shouldn’t judge people by appearances. I mean … he’s actually quite a nice boy! He’s far nicer than Chris. Chris is just a thug, but Weed – well, what I mean is, I wouldn’t mind going with him. If I hadn’t already asked Matt. And I know he likes you!”

Hattie let me burble myself to a standstill. “I’ll think about it,” she said. “There’s no rush, it’s not happening till half term.”

“But you will come,” I said. “Promise me you’ll come!”

“I’ll think about it,” said Hattie.

“Yes,” I said, “and I’ll think, too … I’ll think of someone you can ask to go with you!”