Worse Than Boys (4 page)

Sonya was on me now. She sank her teeth into my ear. I screamed so loud that for a split second Wizzie turned to me again. A grin flashed across her face when she saw why I was screaming. I elbowed Sonya in the chest and heard her gasp for breath, but she let go of my ear. I staggered to my feet, clutching my ear. So much blood was pouring from it. The roars from the crowd were louder now, yelling at us, egging us on.

‘Get right in there, Driscoll!’

‘Bite off her other ear, Sonya!’

‘There’s nothing to beat a cat fight!’

I took a second to look around. And that’s when I realised that the girls from the school had stepped to the back of the crowd, or maybe they had been pushed there. The cheering, the roaring, was all coming from the boys. We were surrounded by them. Cheering, jeering at us. I saw Zak Riley and his mates watching, taking bets on the winners.

All the boys were there.

And we were entertaining them.

‘There’s nothing to beat a cat fight.’ The words repeated themselves in my head and made me angry.

We were the entertainment for this bunch of morons!

I pulled at Heather, hauling her off Lauren. ‘Are we going to put up with this?’

Heather blinked and looked, saw what I saw: boys laughing at us, betting on us.

At the same moment, so did Lauren. She stood straight, shouted, ‘Wizzie!’

Wizzie gave Erin a final push, sending her stumbling to the ground. Then she stood, legs apart, following Lauren’s gaze. Erin saw it too.

Boys.

Laughing at us.

Jeering at us.

One of them shouted from the crowd, ‘Don’t stop now, lassies. This is great. I’ve got a bet on you to win, Wizzie. Get right into them!’

And a chant went up from his mates all around him.

‘Win Wizzie! Win Wizzie!’

I saw Wizzie really angry then, her eyes go round as moons. She yelled back, ‘This Wizzie isn’t going to win for any boy!’ She glanced round at her mates. Her eyes seemed to miss the rest of us. ‘We don’t win for anybody but us. Right?!’

‘Right!’ Grace Morgan yelled back.

Neither do we
, I was ready to shout. But it was Erin who roared it first, and suddenly she was charging at the boys, Wizzie right by her side.

Wizzie yelled, ‘Get them!’

Chapter Nine

Boys jumped to their feet. They leapt from the walls. They hooted with delight. But they didn’t run. They stood, looking puzzled, as if they couldn’t quite figure out what was going on.

I began hooting too, like some kind of wild animal, and, after a second, the others took up the chant. Some of the boys were still smiling, but the smile soon dropped from their faces as we charged towards them. Worry took its place. We began to circle them, howling like wolves, like wild female wolves.

They stepped back. ‘Hey, come off it.’

‘Fun’s fun, but this is beyond a joke.’

‘Think ye can scare us?’ a weedy voice shouted.

‘I think we can,’ Wizzie said. She moved first. I’d never seen her move so fast. She almost leapt, and a couple of the boys stumbled and fell.

‘Get them!’ Erin shouted, just the second before I
planned to. Why was I always a second too late?

And we chased them. The boys turned and ran, wondering what was happening. Wondering what we would do to them if we caught them. Humiliate them, embarrass them? Maybe being chased and caught by a bunch of girls would be humiliation enough.

But the boys were determined not to be caught. I could see that in the way they ran, pulling at their friends to keep them ahead of us. They were still laughing, but there was a panic in their laughter now.

I saw little Rob Bolton squeeze through a broken rail in the school gates. His jacket caught and he pulled so hard he finally ripped his sleeve, he was that determined to get away from us. Two of the other boys threw their rucksacks over a wall and leapt after them, and got stuck on the top. I’d never seen Zak run so fast either, as if somebody had wound him up.

I was laughing as I ran. I was screaming with laughter. We were all laughing. I lifted a stone and hurled it. It smashed against a wall, narrowly missing one of the boys. He got such a fright he tripped, rolled over and ran off without even lifting his rucksack. We didn’t stop chasing them until they had all disappeared. Jumping
on buses, racing behind houses, vanishing into shops, belting round corners.

Finally, we stopped running. I bent over, rested my hands on my knees, trying to get my breath back.

Erin leant against a wall. ‘That was brilliant.’

Rose was already fixing her hair. ‘They won’t laugh at us in a hurry again,’ she said.

Heather was breathing so hard I thought she was hyperventilating.

I looked round for Wizzie and her crowd. They had stopped too. On the other side of the road, but miles apart from us. They gazed across. We gazed back. For a second I thought we might wave at each other, or give some kind of sign that we had beaten them. A moment of togetherness that would change everything.

But real life isn’t like that.

Wizzie spat on the ground, and turned and walked away. The rest followed after her.

‘That was funny though,’ Heather said. ‘Wizzie and them joining in, chasing them as well.’

‘Had to,’ Erin said at once. ‘They knew they were beat. It gave them an excuse to stop fighting us.’

Heather said nothing to that.

‘Have you got a problem with that?’ I asked her.

She shrugged. ‘It’s just for once we did something together,’ she said.

‘They followed our lead,’ I told her. ‘Could never have thought of chasing the boys for themselves.’

‘I suppose …’ Then she grinned at Erin. ‘I suppose you’re right. They could never have thought of that for themselves.’

Erin was right?
I almost yelled at her. Wasn’t I the one who just said that?

Why did that always happen? Erin always got the credit.

It was all round the school next day. We had chased the boys, and the boys had run. Someone even put a photo of Erin on the school noticeboard and sketched a crown on her head. By lunchtime, she had a moustache and glasses as well. Everyone blamed Wizzie and her friends. But it was actually me. I couldn’t resist it.

I met Zak Riley as he lounged outside a classroom. ‘Nearly caught you yesterday, Riley. Fresh underpant time for you boys.’

‘Oh aye,’ Zak said. ‘And what would have happened if we’d stayed and fought you? The boys are the ones who would have been blamed. Not you lot.’

I supposed in a way that was true. We were girls. We
got off with a lot more than the boys did. I didn’t like it, but it happened.

Wasn’t going to admit that to Zak Riley. ‘Any excuse,’ I said.

‘You’d never have caught me anyway. I’m the best runner in the school.’

‘Just as well. Who knows what we might have done if we had caught you?’

Zak stood straight, looked me right in the eye. ‘What makes you like that, Hannah? Always ready for a fight. See, lassies, they’re really evil.’ He said it seriously. ‘Boys fight wi’ you. End of story. But with girls, you’re never done with just a fight. You keep it up, wi’ your back-stabbing and your dirty tricks. I’d hate to be a girl.’

‘You’d never pass the physical,’ I laughed. Zak didn’t laugh back. ‘Anyway, we wouldn’t have you. You’re not tough enough. And you’re wrong about girls. We’re the best. Girls are loyal. They stick by you. They don’t let you down. Friends for life. Give me girls any day.’

And I meant it. So sure nothing would ever change my mind.

Chapter Ten

It didn’t take long for word about the fight to sweep all around the school. We all got letters to take home. The ringleaders were taken into Mr McGinty’s office. And guess who the ringleaders were supposed to be? Wizzie and Erin.

‘I think we should all have been taken in,’ I said to Heather. ‘We’re all just as guilty.’

Erin bounced back into the classroom as if she’d just been made head girl. ‘It was old Wizzie who got most of the rollicking,’ she told us later. ‘ “You’re nothing but trouble!” McGinty told her, and when it came my turn all he said was, “Your mother will be so disappointed in you, Erin.” You should have seen Wizzie’s face.’

When I came home with my letter and showed it to my mum you would have thought I’d just shot JFK. She sat down at the kitchen table with the open letter in her hand. I think she watches too many soap operas –
everything she does seems like an act to me. No wonder I hardly listen to her.

‘Did Erin get one of these as well?’ she asked me. She answered her own question. ‘I suppose her mother will be phoning me up now, saying her daughter wouldn’t be in this kind of trouble if it wasn’t for you. Her mother won’t want you to be pals with her any more. And then where will you be?’

‘Heather and Rose got letters too.’

‘They’re only friendly with you because Erin is. You don’t want to lose Erin as a friend.’

She always made me so angry. She always made out I was lucky to have Erin as my friend, never that Erin was lucky to have me.

‘You talk as if Erin was our leader … as if everyone listens to her and not to me.’

She looked up at me and sneered. That’s the only way to describe the cruel smile that was on her face. ‘You’re like me, Hannah. Nobody listens to you either. I’m a loser, and if you go on like this,’ – she waved the letter about as if it was on fire – ‘you’ll end up a loser too.’

There was no way I was going to sit and listen to anyone, even my mother, calling me a loser. I stood up
and stormed off to my room. ‘Come back here, Hannah. I’m still talking to you.’

But I didn’t go back and she didn’t follow me. I marched into my room and slammed the door shut. I was on the phone to Erin right away. Her number was engaged. A moment later my phone rang. Heather’s number. ‘I thought it was you who was on the phone to Erin. It must be Rose.’

So we’d all phoned Erin first. I was every bit as bad as the rest. But Erin was
my
best friend, wasn’t she?

‘Did your mother go spare?’ Heather asked.

In the ‘going spare’ stakes, my mother always won hands down.

‘Mine too,’ Heather said. ‘But she blamed it all on Wizzie. I told them we had no choice but to fight back, and they believed me. It was self-defence, I told her. My mum said violence doesn’t solve anything, and my dad said it was good I could stick up for myself. Now they’re not talking to each other. It’s hilarious.’

Heather wanted us all to come over to her place. But by the time I got hold of Erin – how long had she been on the phone to Rose and what could they possibly have to say to each other? – it was too late. Rose’s parents were angry. They’d got together to discuss it, but
blamed her brother, who was in the school too, for not looking after her properly. And as for Erin, her mother had sat her down and discussed the whole thing with her, and told her not to let it happen again. In fact, her mum did all the things they would tell a mum to do in one of those agony columns. I’m telling you, Erin’s mum is perfect. All she seemed worried about was how this would affect Erin and her grades.

‘Want to swap mothers?’ I said, only half joking.

‘Take your mother? I don’t want to be cruel, Hannah … but I’d rather have my teeth drilled without anaesthetic.’ Erin said it for a laugh. But I couldn’t laugh. I knew it was too near the truth.

‘Mum wants to just forget about it, and I don’t blame her.’ Erin was changing the subject. ‘She’s got enough on her plate with Avril’s wedding.’

Avril’s wedding … I was looking forward to it too. My first chance to get all dressed up and go on a big night out with my friends.

Didn’t know it was going to change my life.

Chapter Eleven

The morning of the wedding Junior Bonnar was at his door, throwing confetti over me and Mum. Junior has been our next-door neighbour for as far back as I can remember. He used to live with his mum, but she died a few years ago and I was surprised that Junior was allowed to stay in the house. I won’t say there’s anything wrong with Junior, but he is definitely one sandwich short of a picnic. I mean, he holds down a job – and he drives a car, very badly, I might add. He’s even taught me how to drive … just as badly. But in spite of all of that, you know that there is something not quite right about him.

Mum actually does a lot for him. Washes his clothes and irons them, and makes sure he’s eating the right kind of food.

‘Oh, Terry,’ he said when he saw me emerge from our flat. ‘You look lovely. You’re that grown-up looking.’

That’s what I mean about there being something not quite right about Junior. He calls me Terry. He’s lived next door for years, but for some reason he still can’t get my name right. Terry, he always calls me.

I don’t even correct him any more. ‘Thanks, Junior.’

‘And you too, Mrs Driscoll. You’re a doll.’

‘I’m not going to the wedding, Junior,’ Mum told him. ‘These are my working clothes.’

Didn’t bother Junior. He only grinned. ‘You’re still a doll.’

‘I think he fancies you, Mum,’ I said, as we went downstairs.

‘That makes him a definite case for care in the community then.’

That was so typical of Mum. She could never accept a compliment with any grace. She always turned it into an insult.

It was one of those real West of Scotland days, with battleship-grey clouds hanging so low you felt you could reach up and sink your hands into them. They hovered above us, threatening at any minute to open up and flood us with a downpour. ‘Don’t you dare ruin my hair!’ I yelled at them, as we stood outside the church, waiting for the bride to arrive.

‘Or my dress!’ Heather added. She was resplendent in pink. A bit too much like a marshmallow, if you asked me.

Rose looked gorgeous in petrol blue. She always looked older than the rest of us. She even had boobs, big ones too.

I was wearing a green jacket and skirt. My mum had already told me green just wasn’t my colour. Now she was hanging about outside the church doors with her camera, gushing compliments on the wedding party as each of them arrived in their taxis – much to my embarrassment.