‘Heidi, could you go and find a chair … Or, look, have my chair.’ She was forced to get off my lap as I stood up and retrieved my phone from my back pocket to read a text from Jeane.
Are u & Hilda/Heidi/whatever her name is together? U should hv said
Really? Really? This thing between us was weird and freaky but it was still a thing and that meant I didn’t do other things with other girls.
NO! I texted back. Wish Heidi would get the message.
But Jeane had tucked her phone away so she could crouch down next to Barney. ‘I don’t care about auto-focus,’ she told him. ‘Just explain how to zoom.’
‘But Jeane…!’
‘Barney! I’m shooting vox pops, not recreating Inception shot for shot.’
They stayed in a huddle for a while, heads touching, not that Scarlett seemed to mind. She was talking to Mads and Anjula about taking a road trip to Brighton. Only Heidi kept glaring at Jeane’s bent head.
‘Why are you spazzing around with a camcorder?’ she asked really aggressively when Jeane finally straightened up.
‘Well, I’m asking girls and people who identify as girls what they like most about being a girl,’ Jeane said flatly.
Heidi folded her arms. ‘Why the hell would you want to do that?’
I had no idea why she was being such a bitch. Jeane didn’t have time for anyone at school and they treated her a bit like a circus sideshow, but there was never open hostility. Not until now, anyway. Even Scarlett felt moved to mutter warningly, ‘Hey, Heids, back off.’
‘It’s for a charity that works with young girls to promote self-esteem and body positivity,’ Jeane explained. Her voice was so monotone that it was like listening to a Dalek. ‘The video clips are going to be part of a viral campaign.’
‘Whatever. Sounds well boring,’ Heidi drawled and I wondered if she suspected that there was something between Jeane and me, especially as she seemed to think she had a prior claim. But how could she? We’d been so sneaky. ‘Your new look is, like, literally making my eyes bleed.’
Martin made a long-suffering face. ‘What kind of bitchery is this, Heidi?’ he asked. ‘Are you on the blob again? Seems to roll round every week.’
Jeane didn’t need anyone to fight her battles. ‘I’ll send you the link to the videos once they’re online,’ she told Heidi. ‘They might help you with that insecurity that makes you lash out at other girls.’ She held up the camera. ‘Or you could do a vox pop. You might find it empowering.’
Heidi slunk down in her chair. ‘I’m totes empowered,’ she said sulkily. ‘Anyway now that you know how to turn that stupid thing on, could you, like, go? We were having a private conversation.’
To their credit, Anjula, Mads and Scarlett all glared at her. ‘We weren’t,’ Anjula said. ‘Your dress is mad sick.’
Jeane shook out the folds of her ginormous puffy skirt and before she could say anything, or, God forbid, start bonding with my friends, a scruffy man in a suit and a pork-pie hat came hurrying over and suddenly burst into song …
‘Jeane, the low life has lost its appeal and I’m tired of … looking for you everywhere!’ he finished in a broad Mancunian accent then scooped her up in an enthusiastic hug. ‘We’re all upstairs on the balcony.’
‘Hey, Tom,’ Jeane said, struggling to free herself. ‘I have to finish doing my interviews but I’ll be up before Duckie come on.’
‘Ah, that reminds me,’ Tom said, tapping his nose as he pulled an envelope out of an inside pocket. ‘Backstage pass and aftershow tickets, and Molly wants to know if it’s still OK to crash on your sofa.’
Jeane pulled a face. ‘As long as she doesn’t start moaning about my housekeeping skills. She called me a dirty slut last time she stayed over.’
‘Because she realised she’d been using an old pizza box as a pillow,’ Tom said, and his arm was round Jeane’s shoulders and she was being led away and when she turned and looked over her shoulder with a half wave, it could have been at any of us.
‘That’s Molly as in lead singer of Duckie Molly?’ Mads asked. Everyone turned to look at Barney for clarification. ‘Jeane’s friends with Duckie?’
‘I suppose. Molly does a rock ’n’ roll summer camp for girls and Jeane ran some workshops for it.’ Barney waved a hand dismissively. ‘Don’t start spreading it around or Jeane will kick my arse. She tries to keep her work stuff and her school stuff completely separate.’
Everyone nodded except Heidi. ‘Why are we still talking about that horrible little troll? She made you cry, Scar, and she called you a retard.’
‘Oh, we sorted all that out,’ Scarlett said. ‘And she was cool about me and Barney so stop giving her such a hard time.’
In the short while that she’d been going out with Barney, Scarlett had turned into a whole new girl. A girl who answered back and stood up for herself and a girl who was at least ten times the girl she was when she’d been going out with me, like I’d been holding her back or something.
‘She’s completely evil and she smells of dead people’s clothes.’
‘But, secretly, aren’t you a little bit obsessed with her?’ Mads asked. ‘I always look to see what she’s wearing every morning and, sorry, I’m kind of wanting to talk some more about her new look.’
‘Me too,’ Anjula said, switching her phone on. ‘And now I’m kind of wanting to tweet about her being BFF with Duckie.’
‘Oh God, I’m going if all you’re going to do is talk about Jeane Smith for the rest of the evening,’ Heidi snarled. I had to agree with her.
I was even thinking of pleading a headache and going home but then the first band came on and it was Barney’s round and by the time the second support band came on, I was in a much better mood, though I could have done without Heidi clinging to me as we struggled through the crowd to get nearer to the stage.
Jeane hadn’t replied to my text but she was tweeting throughout the evening and just as she told her followers:
adork_able Jeane Smith
Here come Duckie sashaying on stage. There’s not many bands that sound like Duckie. Come on, Molly, give it to us good.
Heidi tugged at my arm.
‘Michael, we really need to talk,’ she shouted as Duckie launched into their first song. ‘Like, now!’
‘Look, we’ll talk after the gig.’
‘No, now,’ Heidi insisted, and when I turned to scowl at her I realised she was crying, or she was scrunching up her face, eyebrows almost touching, and her bottom lip was wobbling as if she was about to cry.
I had no choice but to leave the crowded dancefloor so we could find an empty table and listen as Heidi told me that: ‘I thought we had something so why have you been harshing me all evening?’
Of course I denied all knowledge of harshing her and then I had to do the whole, ‘We’re good mates, let’s not spoil that,’ which Heidi wasn’t buying. Then I said that I’d never really got over Hannah, which was true, and that I was still a bit wary after what had happened with Scarlett, which wasn’t even a little bit true but by now Heidi had managed to squeeze out an actual tear, so I said that I didn’t have time to get into a relationship because I needed to concentrate on my A-level studies, which was complete and utter bollocks.
Heidi brought the drama. We’d got off with each other maybe three times almost two years ago so she had no real reason to sob and pant and say that she was having a panic attack though it was the feeblest panic attack that this doctor’s son has ever seen (and why have all the girls suddenly started having panic attacks and hyperventilating like it’s the cool new thing?) but she went for it anyway. I had to go and get her some water and hunt down a paper bag. If I’d had even the tiniest bit of interest in Heidi then her antics tonight killed it stone-cold dead.
None of the crying had smudged Heidi’s make-up but I’d just about calmed her down when the music stopped, the house-lights went up and apparently the show was over. As soon as the others emerged from the crowd, dishevelled, sweaty and
glowing, Heidi started crying again. It was the kind of faux crying that Alice did when she’d been thwarted in her attempts to blag chocolate, but the other girls fell for it and there was lots of hugging and, ‘Oh, Heidi’s.
Predictably, Heidi stormed off and, with reproachful looks at me, Mads, Scarlett and Anjula stormed off after her.
‘What was that about?’ Ant asked.
‘I hate it when girls get all pushy,’ I said. ‘Anyone would think we’d been together for five years and had a couple of kids from the way Heidi was acting like a total mentaller.’
‘Aw, poor Mikey. It must be such an ordeal to have girls throwing themselves at you.’
‘Piss off!’
Ant slung an arm round my shoulders. ‘Shall we get a drink somewhere before we head off?’
I shook my head. The evening had been a total shambles so it was best to cut my losses before it got even worse. ‘Nah, I’m going home.’
I started going home. I even made it to the bus stop when my phone beeped with a text message.
Hey. Aftershow at The White Horse. Meet me outside the M&S opposite or be incredibly boring instead.
It wasn’t as if Jeane was drama-free but her dramas were completely different to other girl-related dramas and I couldn’t justify it any further than that. Instead I was retracing my steps past the venue, taking a left, then a right, and there was Jeane standing outside Marks & Spencer with a smile on her face like she was pleased to see me.
17
There was something different about Michael Lee, I thought as he walked towards me. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, then he passed under a streetlight and he wasn’t wearing one of his awful fake-distressed shirts with the logo of an overpriced US chain store on it. He was wearing a long-sleeved white tee with a green short-sleeved tee over it, leather jacket and skinny black jeans, and while his outfit was unimaginative and yawnsome, at least he wasn’t going to completely show me up.
The other thing that was different about him was that he was smiling at me. Like he was pleased to see me. Totes bizarre.
When he reached me, I could tell that he didn’t know whether a hug or a kiss would be appropriate given our unique situation. I saved him the effort by holding out my hand.
‘Jeane Smith, pleased you could make it.’
He grinned. ‘Michael Lee. I’ve heard a lot about you,’ he said as he shook my hand. ‘Your tweeting of the show, by the way, was a lifesaver.’
‘But you were there. You were experiencing Duckie in all their fully-faceted, physical glory,’ I exclaimed as we crossed over the road. ‘You didn’t need to read about it on Twitter. Anyway, I thought you didn’t do Twitter. Do you follow me on Twitter then?’
Michael’s smile faltered. ‘I said I didn’t get Twitter, but I needed the distraction tonight – and your play-by-play tweets, because I didn’t get to see much of Duckie,’ he muttered. ‘There was a thing with Heidi …’
Michael possibly following me on Twitter to scrutinise my tweets and find out if I was talking shit about him (which I wasn’t) didn’t seem that important any more. ‘A thing with Heidi? Oh, yeah?’
‘Don’t be like that,’ he sighed, giving me a little shove so I nearly fell off the kerb. ‘I’ve been getting it from her for, like, an hour at least.’
‘Getting what from her?’ I asked and I was pleased, for once, that my voice lacked any oomph because if it had, I was sure that I’d be sounding very wronged. Not that we’d discussed whether we were exclusive or not.
‘OK, summer before last, Heidi and I snogged at, like, maybe three different parties and then I had a serious relationship with someone and then I was heartbroken and then there were some other girls and then I was with Scarlett. And now Heidi has decided that we’re meant to be and when I didn’t agree with her, she went all hysterical on me.’
‘I hate it when guys say that girls are being hysterical just because they’re daring to have feelings and emotions about stuff,’ I pointed out, but Michael shook his head vehemently.
‘No, she was proper hysterical or she pretended to be. I even had to find a paper bag because she said she was hyperventilating and she needed something to pant into.’ Michael gave me a perplexed look. ‘I didn’t give her any encouragement so I don’t know why she thought I was.’
‘Well, objectively speaking, I s’pose you are a catch,’ I sniffed. ‘You’re fairly easy on the eye and you’re involved with stuff that people like Heidi seem to think is important and, well, you’re popular.’
‘You make it sound like those are all terrible things,’ Michael snapped. He came to a halt. ‘Look, Heidi made me feel like shit and now you’re making me feel like shit all over again. I’m sick of it. I’m going home.’
Then he went and I was left gaping at the spot on the pavement where he’d been standing. I hadn’t meant to make him feel bad about himself and anyway, he was Michael Lee. He was golden. He didn’t ever feel bad about himself because, apart from huge amounts of parental pressure, his life was perfect. He was perfect.
The idea that he might not be quite as perfect as I’d thought was suddenly the most attractive thing about him and besides, I’d tried to do a nice thing by inviting him to the aftershow and now I’d ballsed it all up.
I had no choice but to run after him. However, I was far from perfect and running was yet another item on the huge list of things that I was rubbish at. There he was, striding down the road with his big, long-legged stride and covering huge amounts of ground while I hobbled after him but never seemed to catch up.
‘Michael!’ I was forced to shout. ‘Please don’t make me run after you. It’s so clichéd and I have heels on and my ankle hasn’t been the same since you accidentally threw me off my bike.’
That got his attention. I’d had a feeling it would. He turned round.
‘Please come to the aftershow with me,’ I wheedled, and it wasn’t even as if I was too scared to go to a club on my own: there were going to be megatons of people I knew there. But none of them went to our school and, for once, I thought it’d be cool to do something together that didn’t involve kissing or groping. ‘There’ll be free drinks and I’ll introduce you to the band, not in a wanky, “Hey, I’m with the band” kind of deal but just, y’know, because I can. Come on …’
‘Well …’
‘But I’m not begging,’ I added, just so we were clear on that point. ‘So stop sulking and get your arse over here.’
‘You really know how to make a winning argument, don’t you?’ Michael said when he reached my side.
‘I bet you wish you had me in the school debating club,’ I said as he fell into step beside me, and he stayed by my side without fidgeting or getting irritated as I had a long chat with Debbie, the girl on the door, about a hat she was knitting, and when we climbed the rickety staircase to the upstairs bar and I realised that pretty much everyone that I’d ever met in my entire life was in the room, Michael didn’t get mad that I had to stop and talk to people.
Barney had taken months before he was properly housetrained and could make polite conversation with a total stranger and not tug at me and ask in a whiny voice how much longer I was going to be. Michael wasn’t like that at all. He could talk to anyone, even Mad Glen, who I normally avoided because he was, well, absolutely bonkers. Word was that he’d done some dodgy E back in the nineties and he also had personal hygiene issues but Michael patiently talked to him about his crackpot conspiracy theories on 9/11 and the moon landings, then switched seamlessly to chatting about football with Tom, while I talked to Tabitha about the dress I was wearing that she’d sourced for me and why I still smelt of mothballs even though I’d sprayed a whole can of Febreeze on it.
I’ll admit I was nervous when Molly and Jane from Duckie came over. I don’t think there’ll ever be a time when I’ll get used to being hugged by a woman who’s been my idol since I was eleven. I almost succeeded though.
‘Love the new look,’ Molly said, as she sat down in t
he empty chair next to me. ‘It’s a little bit Frenchy from Grease and a little, well, drag queen.’
I nodded happily. ‘Not quite what I was going for, but I can deal.’
Molly fluffed up her honey-blonde hair. ‘I miss dyeing my hair crazy colours but I don’t miss my towels and pillowcases being stained pink. Anyway, wouldn’t go down too well at work.’ When she wasn’t setting the world on fire through the medium of song or organising rock ’n’ roll summer camps, Molly worked in a museum. ‘I’ll just have to live vicariously through you.’
‘Even when I was going through my little old lady phase?’
‘Yeah, that was an odd one.’ Molly looked around then her gaze settled on Michael, sitting on the other side of me still talking to Tom about football, and stayed there. ‘Oooh! Hello! This isn’t Barney.’
Michael looked up and his eyes widened fractionally before he smiled. ‘Nope, I wasn’t Barney last time I checked. I’m Michael.’
‘I’m Molly,’ she tugged Jane over by her sleeve, ‘and this is Jane. Jane, this is Michael, his status is yet to be determined.’
‘He’s my friend,’ I said vaguely.
Jane smiled slyly and nudged me. ‘Is he your special friend, Jeane?’
Michael and I looked at each other. I’m not sure what I was conveying through my eyes, possibly it was: ‘Make me look like a tool in front of either of these women and I will kill you.’ My telepathic skills weren’t always that effective but he smiled again. ‘Aren’t all friends special?’
‘Well, yeah, but some of them are more special than others,’ Jane noted. ‘Just how special are you?’
‘Oh, Jane, we’re all rare and unique snowflakes in our own way,’ I said quickly. ‘Stop trying to embarrass us.’
Jane thought about it. She was the most beautiful person I’d ever seen in real life. Like nineteen-forties-Hollywood-siren beautiful, which she totally played up with her Marcel-Waved hair and perfect winged liquid eyeliner, so it only seemed right that she was in a band. I knew that during the daylight hours she was a counsellor for youths with alcohol and substance addiction, but I didn’t like to think of that side of Jane. When I did think about it, I had a fuzzy notion that she probably just intimidated the youths into not ever binge drinking or scarfing huge amounts of class-As again under pain of death. She was that type of person; a pretty bloody awesome type of person.