Planet Janet (6 page)

(2) When we were in primary school, Catriona Hendley always made up dumb games for us to play, and I was always the dog.

(3) When we got to secondary school, Catriona Hendley asked me in front of everyone if I was a Taurus, but I didn’t know anything about astrology then and I thought she said tourist and I said no, I was born in London. It took EONS to live it down.

(4) One day last summer we were all hanging out in the park and Catriona was telling some incredibly boring story. I was lying on the ground, watching the clouds, and I sat up to ask Disha something, and Catriona told me to lie back down and eat another BAG OF CRISPS! Like I’d already eaten one! In front of everybody! (Disha said that was not what Catriona said, but I think Disha was just trying to make me feel better. Disha’s v loyal.)

(5) CATRIONA HENDLEY’S AFTER ELVIN WHATEVER HIS NAME IS!!! I can hardly believe it myself. I mean, I know the world’s a global village now, but it’s still not THAT small. How does she even
know
him? He doesn’t go to our school, she doesn’t have an older brother, and
she’s
not big mates with Disha. But the Eyes Don’t Lie. There I was, minding my own business and waiting for Sara after school (Disha had to go to the dentist’s), when who should come riding through the gates on his bicycle but Elvin! Now that I know he’s interested in ME his face has been burned into my brain and I recognized him immediately. He looked even cooler than I remembered. I reckoned he was meeting Calum, and I was just getting ready to go over and say hello in a hey-don’t-I-know-you sort of way when Catriona Hendley came flying down the steps behind me like a bat out of hell (nearly knocking me over) and practically tackled him as he got off his bike! If Catriona Hendley was built like a real woman (like some of us) and not a wood sprite, she would have floored him. Then she dropped her books. ON PURPOSE! (This is the twenty-first century. Can you believe it?) What could he do? He had to help her pick them up. And, anyway, she was practically standing on his feet so he didn’t have much choice. This really isn’t fair! He saw
me
first! If she’d batted her eyelashes any more, she’d’ve given him a RASH. Rang Disha on the way home to tell her what happened. She’s going to see what she can find out. I hope Nan’s right and there is a hell, because it would really make my life to know that Catriona Hendley will be going there. Then we’d see how cool Ms So Trendy You Could Break Your Teeth on Her really is.

It took ages to get Mrs Kennedy’s twins to bed tonight. They must have visited their dad at the weekend, because they were all wound up about him. Dad this … Dad that … Dad … Dad … Dad… Boring or what? I think they’re confusing him with someone who isn’t doing time for armed robbery. Shane said their dad was coming home soon, and I reminded him that soon was nearly a year away. Children have no real sense of time. I had to keep interrupting my conversation with Disha to tell them to chill out, and it was a v important one. (Disha managed to get the information that Catriona Hendley used to live across the road from Elvin, so that’s how they know each other – I’m not sure if I think this is good news or bad news.) I had to tell the twins to be quiet so many times that in the end Disha said she’d rather have a bath than listen to me screaming at Shane and Shaun so we hung up. Rang Sara Dancer. Now she’s having third thoughts. She says she’s going to have to have sex sometime, so why not now? And also she says it’s like putting off a haircut. I don’t think so. There’s nothing even remotely romantic about having your hair cut. Sara says maybe she’ll meet somebody Saturday night. She’s going to a party.

The MC was polishing off a bottle of wine when I got home. (On top of EVERYTHING, now she’s started drinking as well! I don’t know why, but it irritates me when she gets really inebriated.) First she told me what time it was and that these late nights had better not affect my school work. Then she wanted to know where Mrs Kennedy went tonight. Doesn’t she know they have pubs and cinemas in London and she doesn’t have to go to Bristol for a drink after her computer class? I felt like telling her to get herself on Prozac IMMEDIATELY. It’s bad enough she’s always on at me, but extending her attacks to the neighbours can’t be a good sign.

I had a nightmare last night that Johnny Depp was my brother and Catriona Hendley was going out with him. Every time I turned a corner, there they were frantically exchanging saliva and flu germs. It was so scary it woke me up. On the other side of love, the Mad Cow and Sigmund were shrieking at each other in the kitchen. You’d think they were trying to wake the dead the way they were carrying on. I wish they’d go back to just ignoring each other like they usually do. It was two in the morning, for God’s sake! I mean, REALLY! One minute she’s angry with poor Mrs Kennedy for staying out after her class and ruining my sleep, and the next she’s started World War III practically next door to my room! And they’re always telling me I never think about anyone else! I got my Discman and plugged myself in so I could get some sleep.

Tomorrow Disha’s going with me to the yoga centre to buy a mat so I don’t slip over again. I have to pay for it myself, of course. Sigmund won’t give me the money because he says it’ll just wind up with a bunch of plants on top of it like the piano. The Mad Cow can usually be worn down eventually, but she won’t cough up either this time. She says she paid for the leotard and the leggings, and that was enough. What did I think she was – MADE OF MONEY? I’m beginning to think she’s made of toxic waste. I wonder if I should suggest hormone replacement therapy.

OH MY GOD!!! YOU ARE NOT GOING TO BELIEVE THIS!!! Disha and I were coming out of the yoga centre with my new mat (lilac because they didn’t have black) and a Tibetan meditation CD (to help me get in the right mood, which is v important) when, as if drawn by the invisible forces of the universe, we happened to glance through the window of the veggie café next door. Sitting right in the middle of the room was Elvin. I was struck anew by how excruciatingly attractive he is. (I’m amazed it never really hit me before.) I swear, my heart LITERALLY skipped a beat (a sure sign of the first stirrings of
Passion
). And then my heart hit my kneecaps when I saw who was sitting with him. You could have knocked me over with a crisp wrapper. OH YES!!! None other than Catriona Hendley. She’s like a germ the way she gets everywhere. Elvin and the Hendley were eating salads and having a v intense conversation. At least she was. She was leaning over so much she was practically in his lap! (It’s just as well she doesn’t have boobs or she would’ve suffocated him.) And then it hit me! Elvin and the Hendley have something in common besides being ex-neighbours! Everybody at school knows Catriona Hendley is the biggest vegetarian since the cow because she’s always banging on about it (you’d think she’d invented it, the way she goes on). But I’d no idea about Elvin. I could see it all clearly. Catriona was trying to worm her way into Elvin’s life through lettuce and herbal teas. I asked Disha why she hadn’t told me about Elvin being a VEGETARIAN Serious Film-Maker, and she said that since she didn’t hang around trying to see Elvin eat she couldn’t possibly know a thing like that, could she? She said she didn’t think it was important anyway. (I’d like to know what she thinks
is
important!)

Nobody else at home tonight. Justin sloped off as soon as he’d stuffed his face, and then a while later Sigmund and the Mad Cow rushed off shouting at each other. Isn’t life ironic? If I’d known I was going to have the flat to myself I’d’ve stayed home and enjoyed the luxury of all the peace and quiet, but I’d already planned to go over to Disha’s. So, to take some advantage of this
Gift from the Gods
, I helped myself to some of the politically correct bath oil Sappho gave the Mad Cow for the winter solstice (which is tested on nothing except chemists and is more expensive than plastic surgery) and had a long soak before I went. (Can you believe how childish my mother is? She hid the bath oil behind the tinned vegetables because she thought I’d never find it there!) The bath was bliss! Oh, how I long to live on my own! When I can’t sleep and I don’t feel like a
Romantic Fantasy
, I plan my entire flat. I choose the furniture and the kitchen units, everything. I even invite people over for dinner.

Desperate times call for desperate measures, and if starting to
Fall in Love
with someone who is being stalked by Catriona Hendley isn’t desperate times I don’t know what is. So even though the book says that
constructive
spells (like making someone have a hormone rush every time he sees you) should be made during a full moon, I called an
Exploring Other Dimensions Night
last night. It was a new moon, so I decided to think laterally the way Sigmund is always telling me to. I reckoned we could trick the Other Dimensions into thinking there was moonlight. We rounded up every candle we could find (including a Frosty the Snowman one left from Christmas, a pack of birthday candles and Calum’s skull candle, which he wouldn’t be needing since he wasn’t home). Then we waited till Disha’s parents went to bed so we didn’t have to worry about being interrupted. That got us to one in the morning. Disha’s mother is a phenomenal snorer (MUCH worse than Sigmund). Her snores are to ordinary snores what a nuclear bomb is to a slingshot. We left the transom over Disha’s door open, and as soon as we could hear the earth-shaking snorts and wheezes that meant Mrs Paski had passed out, Disha started lighting the candles while I started lighting the incense. The candles were going out as fast as she was lighting them, so we shut the window (Disha’s father believes in AIR the way my father believes in Freud). Her room looked well wicked when we were done. Holding hands, we sat in the middle of the floor with our eyes closed. I started the incantation. “Pray to the moon when she is round—” But I didn’t get any further, because Disha told me to be quiet and listen. I didn’t hear anything. Disha said that was exactly what she meant. Her mother had stopped snoring! Disha has a more pessimistic nature than I do. She immediately decided that this meant her mother was getting out of bed to come and check on us. I said not necessarily (if I didn’t have such an
Artistic Soul
I might consider being a solicitor, since I also have a very logical mind). I said maybe Mr Paski rolled her out of bed to shut her up. That’s what the Mad Cow used to do to Sigmund (though lately she just makes him sleep on the couch, which is pretty bloody inconvenient if you want to sit up late watching a film). Anyway, Disha started blowing out the candles in a frantic sort of way. We just got them all out when a sound even more horrific than Mrs Paski’s snoring shattered the peaceful silence of the night. Disha clutched my hand. Her palms were already sweating. “Oh my God!” she whispered. “We’re being burgled.” I told her that it definitely wasn’t the house alarm. I’m an authority on house alarms. Ours was always going off till Sigmund ripped it out in a fit of temper, so I know what they sound like. This was more like an air raid siren. It wasn’t easy getting to the light switch because of all the candles. Every time we took a step we knocked another one over. We were still groping around in the dark when Mr Paski started running through the hallway shouting, “Fire! Fire! Everybody get out of the house!” We didn’t need to be told twice. I once put the iron on my hand (I was thinking of something and wasn’t looking), and Disha once set her shirt on fire with a candle, so we both knew the agony of burning flesh. We trampled over the candles and hurled ourselves through the door. Mrs Paski had a blanket over her shoulders and a pair of high heels on her feet, but Mr Paski was just wearing pyjama bottoms, a ratty old Pink Floyd T-shirt and one sock (God knows what he’d been up to!). We all ran into the road to wait for the fire engine. Every time we heard a siren Mr Paski shouted, “There they are!” But they weren’t. Disha wanted to go back inside to save her new leather jacket, but her mother wouldn’t let her. There was a bit of an argument about that, but then Mr Paski started ranting and they both shut up. After a while Mrs Paski said she didn’t see any smoke. Mr Paski told her that was the most dangerous kind of fire, the kind without smoke. Mrs Paski pulled her blanket tighter and sniffed. She didn’t smell smoke either. Mr Paski said he smelled smoke. He asked me and Disha if we smelled smoke, and we said we guessed so since agreeing was a lot easier than disagreeing. Mr Paski started standing on one foot. I wondered if he’d ever done yoga. After another while, one of the neighbours poked his head out of an upstairs window. Mr Paski explained about the fire. The fire engine was there in minutes. Apparently, in all the confusion, neither of the parent Paskis thought of actually ringing the fire department!!! By then half the road was out on the street. Disha and I were just about to go next door for a cup of tea when a fireman came out of the Paskis’ with Frosty in one hand and the skull in the other. Apparently the smoke from all the candles set off the alarm in the hall. Mrs Paski mumbled something, and then she started laughing. Mr Paski didn’t laugh. (He didn’t laugh later either, though Disha and I did.) Mrs Paski told him to look on the bright side. If Calum had been home, he would have been filming the whole thing.

The MC and Sigmund weren’t laughing either when I got home. Nobody told me, of course, but Nan broke her elbow falling off a bus yesterday. Apparently that’s where they went rushing off to last night – the hospital. They had to put a pin in her elbow to hold it together. I didn’t quite get the whole story. Sigmund and the Mad Cow were busy moving their stuff out of their bedroom so Nan could sleep in there so all I got was a garbled account from Nan. She kept laughing and saying I should’ve seen the other guy (I presume she meant the pavement). They must’ve given her some heavy drugs for the operation. The major part of the story is that Nan and Mr Kipling (her cat) have moved in with us until her elbow’s healed enough for her to be on her own (which could take MONTHS considering how old she is). Her arm’s all wrapped up in plastic like a hunk of meat. It looks really GROSS. Sigmund’s wigged out completely. “Is this what Jesus would do if He broke His elbow?” he kept asking. “Move in with His son?” I hope he remembers this when he’s old and feeble and wants to move in with me!