The Boyfriend Dilemma (6 page)

What
poor girl? I freeze, still trapped in the dress with the thick blue material tight across my face. Has the tent door blown open, or what?

“Cute knickers!” someone yells.

“And a
vest
?” sniggers someone else as my blood turns to ice. “A vest! Who still wears one of them?”

“She does, haha!” I know at least one of those voices – it's CJ, honking with laughter now.
Riiiip!
goes the dress as I tear it off over my head, throw it down on the floor and stare, horrified, at the faces all turned towards me. The tent has gone. It must have blown away. Maybe it wasn't pegged down properly. Some people are pointing and laughing, while others look so sympathetic I just want to melt away into the zigzag rug. I look frantically around to see the tent blowing away across the grass, and a couple of women chasing after it. My face is on fire as I pull on my jeans, then my raspberry top, not caring that it's inside out and back to front, the label sticking up into my chin. Shoes on next, and I'm blinking back tears as two women and a man manage to wrestle the tent back to its proper position and pin it down. The man beckons me into it but I shake my head.

Like it makes any difference now. The whole town has seen me in my age-nine-to-ten Hello Kitty knickers and a grubby-looking vest. I march away with tears pricking my eyes.

“You poor thing,” says an elderly man with a straggly grey ponytail.

“Hey, where are you going?” someone shouts after me. Realizing it's the woman from stall, I walk even faster. “Excuse me,” she cries out again, “are you OK, love? D'you have my dress?”

“Sorry, I left it in the tent,” I call back, knowing I should give her my tenner for ripping it, but CJ and Toni have appeared now, and are both snorting with laughter. As the word “vest” pierces the air I start running, past Jude and Danny, who are standing in a cluster with Harris and Kyle and – oh no, not Ben…

Someone's calling my name, and I think it's Jude, but I keep running away from the stalls and the blue-dress lady and all the people who think it's the funniest thing that's ever happened in our town. I tear across the road, causing a car to brake sharply and the driver to toot his horn. “Layla, wait!” Jude shouts, some distance behind me. Without looking round, I keep on running as fast as I can, all the way to the park.

The dodgems are still here but I have no intention of stopping. I'm just taking the quickest route home. I pelt alongside the river, with a stitch in my side and conscious of the flapping sole on my shoe. Worried that I'll trip up – the last thing I need is to fall flat on my face – I stop abruptly and pull off both shoes, figuring I might as well run home in my socks. It's not as if being seen shoe-less is worse than standing next to a bustling market in your vest and pants. Anyway, I'm past caring now, and the stitch is too painful for me to run any more. Clutching my canvas lace-ups in one hand, I start heading for home.

“Hey, Layla!” I ignore the shrill voice behind me.

“Layla Burnett! Are you deaf?”

I press my lips together and keep walking.

“Decided to get dressed, did you?” Oh, the sparkling wit.

“Very funny.” I turn and glare at Toni as she hurries to catch up with me.

“Why are you in such a rush?” she asks, catching her breath.

“I'm not,” I growl. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot CJ running towards us in her khaki T-shirt, jeans and Doc Martens. Great – so now I'm in for the Jamieson-sisters experience. I glance down at my feet and notice my left sock has a splodge of something green and slimy on it. Duck poo, possibly. Fantastic.

“We saw you pouting and posing in that mirror,” Toni continues. “Love yourself, don't you? Shame you couldn't get that dress off!” CJ guffaws. Obviously, her job is just to laugh on demand, rather than coming up with any insults herself.

“I was just trying it on, all right?” I snap.

“So we saw,” Toni says in mock seriousness. “Oh, I feel bad now but we couldn't resist it, could we, CJ?”

I frown at Toni. “What d'you mean?”

She smirks. “Well, when we set the tent free…”

For a moment, I don't get it at all. “You set the tent
free
?”

She nods and slips into an infuriating little girl's voice. “Yeah. Poor little tenty, all sad and tied up. We just let it go, didn't we, CJ?”

CJ nods.

“You mean,” I exclaim, “you
unpegged
it?”

Toni smirks. “Just a little joke.”

“You let the tent blow away so everyone could see—”

“Yeah,” she says. “Nice choice of underwear, Layla. Won't your mum get you a bra, then? Oh, I s'pose if you don't actually need one…”

My heart is thudding so fiercely it feels like it could burst out of my chest.

“C'mon,” CJ says. “Let's go back to the market. Ben said he'd see us there…”

Ben?
This day just gets better and better…

“In a minute,” Toni says, pulling a huge candy dummy from her pocket and giving it a lick. Wouldn't you think, at seventeen years old, you might not want to be seen with dummy sweets?

I start to walk away. God, I wish Zoe was here. Not to stick up for me – no one around here stands up to Toni – but just so I'd feel less alone.

“Your T-shirt's on back to front,” Toni yells after me. “Can't your parents afford to buy you new stuff, Layla? Not even shoes?” Tears are filling my eyes now, and I daren't look back in case they're following me. As I leave the park, I allow myself one quick glance over my shoulder. The pair of them are giggling away as they head back to the market.

Off to meet Ben, probably. Well, see if I care. I'm barely aware of running the rest of the way, and when I burst into our house, Gran lets out a little yelp of surprise from the kitchen. “You gave me a shock there!” she says.

“Sorry, Gran.” I try to steady my breath. “Where's Mum?”

“Still at the swimming pool. Won't be long now. So where've you been today?”

“Just a vintage market, Gran,” I say, praying she won't comment on my pink, teary eyes or my inside-out, back-to-front T-shirt.

“Was it fun?” she asks, smiling.

“It was great,” I fib.

“What did you buy? C'mon, show me!”

The beautiful dress flashes into my mind. “Nothing,” I blurt out, scampering upstairs to my room and nearly skidding on Amber's glass beads before throwing myself onto my bed.

Chapter seven

The first couple of days at Dad's, he takes Matty and me out shopping, then to the cinema and the park for a picnic, so it's not too bad. We're hardly in the house at all, and it's fun to hang out together, just the three of us (luckily, Olivia's too busy with horsey stuff to join us. Or maybe Dad just wants to spend time with his own kids). But on Thursday he says he's sorry but he has to go back to work, and leaves us alone with Rosalind and Olivia.

“Come and say hello to Popsy and Lilly,” calls Rosalind, tossing back her thick mane of blonde hair.

“It's all right, thanks,” I call back nervously, loitering by the fence at the edge of the paddock. “I can see them fine from here.” I peer at the horses in the distance and try to look as if I'm appreciating them.

“You are funny,” Rosalind laughs. “You need to get to
know
horses, Zoe. Learn how to relax around them so they realize you're not a predator.”

I can't help laughing at that. “How could I be a predator? They're about ten times bigger than me!”

Rosalind smoothes her hands over her jodhpur-clad hips and flashes her dazzling teeth. According to Olivia, she has them blasted with a whitening laser every month. “Doesn't your mum have her teeth done?” Olivia once asked in a sneery voice.
No
, I replied, wanting to say,
She's too busy treating children to be obsessed with her teeth
. Rosalind also has her eyebrows done – not just plucked or waxed, but actually tattooed. A thin brown arch hovers above each eye.

“All of Olivia's friends love horses,” she goes on. “You're the first girl I've met who doesn't!”

I glance down at the huge green wellies Rosalind has lent me for this glittering occasion – i.e. watching Olivia having a riding lesson in the drizzle. “It's not that I don't like them,” I explain. “I think they're beautiful. I'm just a bit scared of them.”

Rosalind smiles and shakes her head as if she doesn't understand me at all.

The instructor – a skinny woman who's so tanned she looks grilled – has arrived now, and Olivia climbs onto one of the horses. “Er, how long is Olivia's lesson?” I ask Rosalind.

“Just an hour,” she replies.

An hour! I think of the things I could do in that time. Like run seven miles – in fact, I'm seized by an urge to do that right now. To run, I mean. To kick off Rosalind's wellies, which are two sizes too big, and pull on my trainers and get out of here… I don't care that we're getting an au pair any more. I'd rather be at home with a stranger than trapped with the world's most irritating eleven-year-old girl. And because Matty's a boy – and therefore not expected to be interested in watching Olivia canter around – he's allowed to sit at the picnic table inside the stable and play games on Rosalind's iPad.

“Are you watching?” Rosalind shouts as Olivia trots past me.

“Yes,” I say quickly, trying to adopt a fascinated face. “Er, aren't you riding today, Rosalind?”

She pulls a tight smile. “Not at the moment. I have a little, uh … injury. Anyway, don't you think Olivia's doing well? See how relaxed she looks?”

I nod.

“Maybe we should book you a lesson sometime?”

“No, it's OK, thanks,” I reply, wondering if this would be any more bearable if Dad was here. When he told Mum that it would be fine for me and Matty to stay, I assumed he'd be here the whole time. Like Mum, he's also a doctor, only he specializes in bones. Rosalind worked on reception in his hospital – that's where he met her. Luckily, Mum works at different hospital, or things would be even more complicated than they already are. Anyway, Rosalind doesn't have time to go out to work any more, “because of the horses”. Or she doesn't need to – now she has Dad to pay for the special magnetic blankets that stop her horses being “tense”. Huh.
I'd
be tense if I had Olivia yapping commands at me the whole time…

It's raining properly now. I'm tempted to join Matty in the stable – I can see him in there, jabbing at the screen – but can't face the comments about me “not liking horses”, like I'm some kind of animal hater. Finally, after what feels like a thousand years, the lesson ends and Olivia trots back to the stables.

Well, thank God for that.

“Matty, you idiot!” comes a cry from the stable.

“It wasn't my fault!” he exclaims. “It was an accident—”

“I hate you!” Olivia snaps. “Why'd you have to come here? Mum! MUUUM!”

Rosalind and I run towards the stable. I burst in ahead of her and find Olivia gripping her pony by the reins with one hand and her mum's iPad in the other. Matty's mouth has crumpled and his face is wet with tears. The only other time I can remember him crying is when a wasp snuck up his T-shirt sleeve and stung him when he was about six.

“Don't yell at him!” I glare at Olivia and put a protective arm around Matty's shoulders.

“I said I'm sorry,” he snivels, wiping away the tears with his hand.

Rosalind clatters in behind me. “What's going on here?”

“Guess what Matty did, Mummy!” Olivia announces, waving her mother's iPad in her face. “He dropped your iPad!”

“What?” Rosalind snatches it and glares at the cracked screen.

“It wasn't on purpose,” Matty cries. “I was just playing and suddenly your horse was right in my face—”

Rosalind lets out an exasperated cry. “Look, calm down, everybody. Matty, that was very careless of you and – well, let's wait till your dad gets home. I can't deal with you right now…”

“But, Mummy,” Olivia wails. “Your iPad!”

Rosalind sits down on the bench and puts her head in her hands. “Just … leave it, Olivia. I'm not up to this. It really is
too
much.”

Chapter eight

“Speak up, Zoe,” I yell. “I can hardly hear you.”

There's a whispered jumble of words that I can't decipher, no matter how hard I try. It doesn't help that Kyle's still playing music in his room, even though it's half eleven at night and Mum asked him to turn it down ages ago. Amber, who could probably sleep through an earthquake, is snoring softly on the top bunk.

“… hate it here…” Zoe sounds as if she's choking back tears. “She's horrible, Layla. They both are. I can't stand coming here any more…”

“You mean Rosalind and Olivia?” I whisper. Uh-oh – Amber's stirring now, muttering in her sleep. Still clutching my phone, I slip out of bed and creep to the bathroom, locking the door behind me.

“… yelled at Matty,” Zoe goes on. “I'm sure he didn't do it on purpose…”

“Do what?”

“Broke Rosalind's iPad.”

“Oh, God…”

“… I know it's bad,” she adds, “but she shouldn't have gone on at us, saying she couldn't handle us and it was all too much for her…”

“That's not fair,” I exclaim, and I mean it. Zoe
is
lucky, but she knows that not everyone has a massive bedroom and balcony, and besides, she doesn't get everything she wants. While I had my ears pierced years ago, she's not allowed until she's about twenty-seven or something.
I'm not having some stranger puncturing your lobes!
is how her mum put it, making it sound as if they pin you down and stab you with a needle. “Didn't your dad stick up for you?” I ask.

She sniffs loudly. “You know what he's like. He'd never do anything to upset Rosalind. He was pretty mad at Matty and then he said we don't appreciate what we have…” I think about Rosalind, who gave up her job about five minutes after Zoe's dad moved in so she could spend more time with the ponies. “And Mum confiscated my phone,” she adds, “'cause I was late picking Matty up from holiday club…”

“Oh, no… I wondered what had happened. I've been trying to call—”

“And you know what else? We're getting an au pair!”

“What?” I gasp.

“Mum thinks we need one, after I forgot about Matty…”

I pause, not knowing what to say to make her feel better. “Well, things have been pretty bad here too,” I murmur, filling her in on the changing-tent horrror, and CJ and Toni following me to the park.

“That's awful!” she gasps as another voice cuts through the air. “Uh, sorry, better go. I snuck downstairs to use the phone…”

She stops abruptly as Rosalind's voice booms out, “Zoe! What are you doing up at this time? It's nearly midnight!”

Seconds later, I hear her dad's voice. “Rosalind, go back to bed, sweetheart. Zoe, what are you thinking, phoning someone in the middle of the night? Is it Mum you're talking to?”

“No,” Zoe says miserably, “it's Layla.”

“Tell her goodnight then,” her dad says.

“She shouldn't be using our phone without asking, Mark,” Rosalind snaps.

“It's only the phone, for goodness' sake…”

“Well, it all adds up,” she argues. “Our last bill was huge.”

“Yes, I'll remember that when you're ordering horse blankets that cost four hundred pounds, not to mention the iPad—”

“The one your son broke!” Rosalind shrieks.

My teeth are jammed together now. I should probably just put the phone down, but I don't want to hang up on my best friend.

“Now, Zoe,” her dad says in a calmer voice, “off to bed. You need some sleep.”

She sniffs again and mutters, “Talk to you soon, OK?” then ends the call.

I sit on the loo, wondering which of us had the worst day today – Zoe, being stuck with Rosalind and Olivia, or me, with Toni and CJ's tent prank. At least having the whole town gawping at me in my vest and pants was a one-off horror, whereas poor Zoe's stuck with Rosalind and Olivia for ever. I pick up the soap from the side of the bath and run my nails along it. Things don't feel right when Zoe's not around. The days are too long and … well, it's not the same without her.

The bathroom door handle rattles. “Who's in there?” Dad asks.

I rip off a square of loo roll and scrunch it up. At Zoe's place, the loo roll is quilted and scented. They have three bathrooms and one has a bidet for washing your bum. But right now, I don't envy her at all…

“Hello? Hello?” Dad booms out. “Is that you in there, La-la? You should be in bed!” Ooh, I wish he wouldn't call me that. “Hello! Calling La-la!”

“Just a minute, Dad,” I mutter.

“Hurry up, love. My bladder's about to explode here.” Ugh – do other families describe their body parts in this way? I still haven't quite recovered from Gran mentioning her bunions over breakfast yesterday.

As I'm washing the soap from my hands, something catches my eye. Draped over the radiator is a white T-shirt with a scratchy drawing of a polar bear on the front, just like Ben was wearing the day I met him. I stare at the bear's quizzical expression, wondering if he left it here when he stayed over. Maybe Mum found it lying around and washed it for him?

“La-la!” Dad is becoming impatient now. I pick up the T-shirt and sniff it. It doesn't feel quite right, smelling a boy's T-shirt, but I can't help myself. It's kind of warm, sweetish, biscuity… “Don't tell me you're doing a number two in there,” Dad retorts. “Oh, hello. Sorry – bit of queue here…” Who's he talking to now?

“That's OK,” comes a cheery voice.

“So, how's your family settling in, Ben? D'you like it here?”

Ben?
I might as well end it all now.

“Yeah, great, thanks,” Ben replies, and he and Dad fall into conversation about our town, and Kyle's band, and how great it is that my brother's made a new friend. Yeah,
fantastic.
Ben's obviously been in Kyle's room the whole time. He's heard Dad complaining about his bursting bladder and demanding to know if I was doing a number two. I glance at our tiny frosted bathroom window, wondering if it might be possible to squeeze through it. It's a horribly long way down to the back yard, and I might break a limb or smash my head open, but it still feels better than facing Ben.

“Where's your place again?” Dad wants to know, obviously not caring that it's gone midnight.

“It's, uh, a bit out of town. Kind of on its own…”

“Up by the quarry?” Dad asks, obviously having forgotten about his desperation for the loo, now there's this interesting new person to talk to.

“Sort of in that direction, yeah,” Ben replies.

Taking a deep breath, I unbolt the door and march out. “Oh!” I say, acting surprised. “Does someone need the loo?”

“Er, sort of,” Ben says with a grin as Dad jumps in, leaving the two of us trapped on the landing.

“Hi,” I croak, sensing my ears burning.

“Hi.” He glances down at T-shirt I'm still clutching. “Erm … is that mine?”

“Oh! Er … I thought it was Kyle's… Here you go.” My hand shoots out like a robot's as I hand it to him.

“Thanks. Must've left it here last time.” There's a horrible pause, filled by the sound of Dad peeing for what feels like a week.

“Um, guess I should go to bed,” I murmur.

Ben nods. “Me too, once your dad's finished…” A smile tweaks his lips. Dad's wee is
still
going.

Now I'm starting to giggle too, and manage to splutter, “So you're staying the night?” Which is kind of obvious.

“Yeah, we were just listening to music and it got so late…” He shrugs. Dad's brushing his teeth now. It sounds like he's trying to scrub rust off a car. “Kyle's asleep but I'm not tired,” Ben adds. “Are you?”

“Not really,” I say truthfully.

“D'you think it'd be OK for us to hang out downstairs for a bit?”

I pause. “Um … yes, if we're quiet. It's only Gran who sleeps downstairs and her hearing's not too good.”

“C'mon then,” he says, padding downstairs ahead of me.
Don't panic
, I tell myself.
You're only going to sit and talk. There's nothing to be scared of AT ALL.
Still, my insides are swirling with excitement and nerves as I follow him to the kitchen and flick on the kettle. It sounds ten times louder than it does in the daytime, so I quickly switch it off again.

“Here you go,” I say, fishing out a bottle of flat lemonade from the fridge, and pouring it into two mismatched glasses.

“Thanks.” He sits opposite me at the table and sips from his glass, while I pray that my brother doesn't come down. It's the middle of the night. What are we
doing
here?

Ben brushes back his tousled hair and smiles. “I just wanted to say, I felt so bad for you at the market today.”

“Did you see?” My cheeks flare hot instantly.

“Er … kind of.”

“Oh,” I say dully, picturing my horrible, dishcloth-coloured vest.

“What is it with those girls?” he asks. “I mean, what made them do that?”

“CJ and Toni?” I pause for a moment, then it all spills out: about how CJ started picking on Zoe after her mum had been on TV, and how she calls me a tinker because I wear clothes from charity shops.

“That's pathetic,” Ben retorts. “Who cares about stuff like that?”

I shrug. “They do, obviously.”

“The thing is not to let them get to you,” he remarks.

I look at his beautiful face. Even here, in our dingy kitchen, his eyes are bright, bright blue. “It's not as easy as that,” I murmur.

“No,” he says firmly, “it really is. Trust me.”

I blink at him, wondering how he could possibly know what it's like to have someone hate you, to feel your heart sinking whenever they're heading your way. “What d'you know about being picked on?” It comes out sounding sharper than I intended. “I mean, you're popular and smart,” I add. “Everyone likes you and you've only just moved here…”

He meets my gaze, making my heart turn over. “All I'm saying is, they're not worth it.”

“I suppose you're right.” We fall silent for a moment. Although it no longer feels awkward being with him, it
is
chilly down here. My parents are pretty careful about turning on the heating (as Mum says, what's the point of it being on when everyone's in bed?). “Sorry it's so cold,” I say, feeling suddenly embarrassed by our shabby kitchen and bubble-less lemonade.

“I'm not cold, but I can tell you are.” Before I can protest, he's taken off his black hoodie and handed it to me. “Put it on,” he says.

“Erm, OK.” I pull it on over my head, aware of that smell again – warm, sweet and oddly comforting.

“That better?”

I smile. “Yes, thanks.”

“Erm, I was wondering,” he adds, “if you'd like to hang sometime? Just us, I mean?”

“What, you and me?” I blurt out.

Ben nods. “Maybe sometime in the holidays?”

You mean you're asking me out?
I want to shriek.
Me, whose dad goes on about number twos? Me, who's never ever been asked out by a boy in her whole life?
My thoughts turn to panic. What'll Kyle say if he finds out? Will Ben even tell him? I picture my brother's sniggering face. And what about Zoe? She said she's never met anyone like him. I just don't know what you're supposed to
do
in this kind of situation. Actually, I do. I should say no, of course.

“Er … that'd be great,” I reply in a strangely calm voice.

Ben grins. “Great. Can I have your number then?”

“Course,” I say as he takes his phone from his pocket. Just as I've recited the last digit, the kitchen door flies open.

“Did I sleep in? Have I missed breakfast?” Gran is standing there, barefoot, in her flowery nightie with an ancient yellow cardie on top.

“No, we were just talking,” I say, jumping up from my seat.

She peers at Ben. “That nice boy's here again.”

“Yes, Gran.” I take her gently by the arm and guide her through to the room that used to be our dining room, even though there was hardly enough space for a table. It's Gran's bedroom now and smells of lavender and talc.

“You're a very kind girl,” she says, clasping my hand with her papery fingers as we step carefully in the darkness.

“D'you think so, Gran?” I hear Ben treading lightly upstairs.

“Oh, yes. You're a good person, darling.” As I help her back into bed, my mind replays the incredible thing that's just happened.
Ben has asked me out.
The most gorgeous boy I've ever set eyes on wants to go out with ME.

Right now, though, I'm not sure that I'm such a good person really. Zoe likes Ben too, and things are obviously not that great for her right now. But she'll be fine about it when I tell her … won't she?