‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Oh, right. Well, I wasn’t expecting that.’
‘I’d much rather have Barney as my friend than my boyfriend but that’s only going to happen if that’s all right with you,’ I told her, and it was hard to admit that someone as blah as Scarlett had a say in my destiny. It stuck in my throat like a piece of dry chicken, but she was the kind of person that needed to have everything spelt out for her. In fact, I should have prepared some flash cards just to make this whole exercise a little more humiliating than it already was. ‘If you two do get together then Barney isn’t going to want to hang with me unless you say it’s OK.’ I paused. ‘Which is kinda wrong because people aren’t personal property, they should be able to do what they want and be mates with who they want regardless of what their special friend thinks, but not everyone is as enlightened as me.’
Scarlett certainly wasn’t. Maybe that’s why she was frowning. She was a very hard person to read when she wasn’t cowering in fear. ‘But we’re not together, Barney and me,’ she said. ‘Not right now anyway.’
‘You prefer Michael Lee to Barney?’ I asked incredulously, because anyone who’d spent more than ten minutes in Barney’s company would infinitely prefer him to Michael Lee if they possessed more than two working brain cells. ‘Then what the actual hell have you been playing at?’
‘No, no! You don’t understand.’ We were blocking a path for two tutting mothers who were brandishing their Bugaboos at us. Scarlett sighed as I took a step to the right just as the mums veered right so I was almost tangled up in the pram wheels. She yanked me to safety and the weirdest thing happened: Scarlett Thomas and I were suddenly sitting on a garden wall and talking about boys. Or she was talking about two boys in particular and I had no choice but to listen. Barney was going to owe me big-time for this.
‘ … and I really like Barney, like, really really like Barney, ’cause he gets me, which is weird because you wouldn’t think he would and now that we’ve been hanging out a lot, I think he’s actually quite cute, but I’m with Michael and I don’t know how to not be with Michael, you know?’
‘It’s simple. You just, well, dump him. Say, “You’re dumped,” but maybe you want to find a slightly nicer way of putting it,’ I advised her. ‘Like, “You’re an all right person as persons go, but let’s not do this any more.”’
‘I couldn’t say that!’ Scarlett gasped. ‘It’s way too mean but whatever I say there’ll be an argument and he’ll get angry and when people get mad at me, I start to cry. I wish I didn’t but I do.’
I did squirm at that, just at little. ‘It’s impossible to get through life and never have anyone get angry with you. Usually I can’t go an hour without someone wanting to kill me, but it’s just ten unpleasant minutes that you’ll have to suffer before you can get to the good stuff.’
‘Hmm, I didn’t think about it like that,’ Scarlett mused, before her face squinched up again. She’d have been much prettier if she didn’t keep crinkling and scrunching and creasing her face. ‘And it’s not like Michael would shout at me, because he’s too nice to do that, but he sighs and he gives me this look like I’m being really lame and I have been lame because I thought that if I was a rubbish girlfriend then he’d break up with me, but he hasn’t. He just sighs even more. It’s, like, so stressful.’
The time for tact was over. ‘For God’s sake, Scarlett, stop being so pathetic!’ I snapped. I was being cruel to be kind because if she could face my wrath then she could easily face Michael Lee’s sighing, which sounded strictly amateur hour to me. ‘You have this amazing opportunity to seize happiness. You like Barney loads, he likes you loads back and the only thing standing in your way is your own lack of guts.’
‘Yeah, but …’
‘Here’s what’s going down. You’re going to go back to school and you’re going to find Michael Lee and tell him that he doesn’t make you happy but Barney does and you need to follow your bliss. You got that? Follow your bliss! Think of it less as breaking up with someone and more changing the course of your future, right?’
‘Right!’ Scarlett nodded jerkily. ‘Yeah! Like, I totes deserve to be happy. And it’s not Michael’s fault that he’s kinda boring and doesn’t make me happy, but it’s not my fault either.’
‘Now you’re getting it.’ I patted Scarlett’s arm and took a moment to revel in my own power. I would make an amazing motivational speaker. Let’s face it, I would totally kick all kinds of arse as a public figure, say an MP, or even Prime Minister, or even staging a coup d’etat and becoming a dictator, but a benevolent dictator, which would make a great blog post. ‘Come on! Let’s go back to school so you can follow your bliss!’
Scarlett jumped to her feet and had even taken three purposeful strides before she came to a halt. ‘Um, Jeane, could I follow my bliss by dumping Michael via text message?’
‘No! What is wrong with you?’ I punched her on the arm, very lightly, but she still jumped back and rubbed her bicep reproachfully as if my fists were made of reinforced concrete. ‘Remember, breaking up with him will only take you ten minutes out of your whole entire life.’
‘Well, I s’pose …’
I could tell Scarlett was wavering again so I spent the whole walk back to school whipping her up into a state of near hysteria. It wasn’t just about dumping Michael Lee, it was about taking control of her own life, no longer standing in the wings but being the star of her own movie.
As soon as we marched through the school gates, Scarlett was all, ‘He should just be getting out of Maths now. Right. I’m going to find him and then I’m going to tell him that he’s getting in the way of me and my bliss. I am my own leading lady, aren’t I?’
‘You so are,’ I said, and I’d never admit it to anyone, especially not Barney, but when she was all riled up and indignant, Scarlett was almost fun. ‘Good luck!’
‘I don’t need luck,’ Scarlett called over her shoulder as she strode down the corridor. ‘I make my own luck.’
I still had doubts that Scarlett would follow through. The moment she was in front of Michael Lee and his cheekbones, she’d crumble and she and Barney would never get beyond the what might have beens and he’d still be mad at me.
To take my mind off things I engaged Mr Latymer in a lively debate in Business Studies about bankers’ bonuses and big corporations scrooging their way out of paying taxes. We were meant to be talking about globalisation but I hadn’t done the reading, so I could buy myself some time and, as an added bonus, it was always funny when he got worked up and his face went bright red and spittle started flying out of his mouth.
We’d been going back and forth about exactly how much the national debt would be reduced if everyone paid the right amount of tax when I realised that the rest of the class weren’t paying attention, but instead of the disinterested muttering that usually happened in these circumstances, I could hear people giggling behind me. For one moment I wondered if Rufus Bowles had stuck a rude note to the back of my chair again – ‘Jeane Means Whines’ had been his finest moment – but no one was looking in my direction. I glanced over my shoulder to see everyone in the class, and I mean everyone, looking at their phones and making no attempt to hide it.
‘Right, Jeane, enough of this.’ Mr Latymer took advantage of my distraction to clap his hands. ‘I don’t want to hear another word out of you for the rest of the lesson.’
My plan had worked, because my plans always did. Now I could lean back in my chair and hiss at Hardeep, who always sat next to me in Business Studies because he got to class even later than I did: ‘What’s going on?’
‘Scarlett’s dumped Michael Lee,’ he hissed back. ‘By the Year 13 lockers. She was acting like a total mentaller, kept shouting at him about being in the movies or something.’
‘You shouldn’t use words like that,’ I said automatically, even though inwardly I was punching the air in triumph. Sometimes I almost feared my own power.
‘Says the girl who called her a retard,??
? Hardeep snapped and then Mr Latymer was snapping at both of us in a way that promised detention if we didn’t shut up.
So I shut up and while they debated globalisation I did the reading on globalisation that I should have done the night before and even made a start on the next chapter.
All in all, it had been a very successful Business Studies lesson, I thought as I made my way to the bike shed. And Barney was probably ordering me a muffin basket at this very moment due to my stellar work on Scarlett and her self-esteem issues.
There really was no way that the day could get any better.
Then I saw Michael Lee waiting by my bike, waiting for me, if the pissy look on his face was any indication, and all of a sudden the day had got a lot, lot worse.
Jeane Smith walked towards me in yet another eye-hurting outfit of stuff that didn’t go together and orange tights. Why did anyone ever think it was a good idea to design and sell orange tights and why did Jeane think it was a good idea to buy them?
A couple of Year 8s rushed past and almost knocked her off her feet, because they were bigger than her, and I wondered how someone so small could cause so much trouble. She was a wrecking ball in human form.
‘I know you’ve come to yell at me,’ she said crossly once she was in earshot, ‘so just do it now because I’m on a schedule here.’
No one but Jeane Smith could make me feel like I wasn’t that big of a deal. Even if I rescued small children and puppies and kittens from a burning building with no thought for my own safety, Jeane still wouldn’t be impressed. That thought made my top lip curl up like a Quaver.
‘What the hell did you say to Scarlett?’ I demanded, as Jeane reached my side and started attaching her pannier to the back of her bike.
‘I was apologising to her,’ Jeane said haughtily. ‘And then we got talking about girl stuff. I wouldn’t expect you to understand.’
‘I definitely didn’t understand when she started screaming about following her bliss and starring in movies, but I managed to decipher enough of it to know that I’ve been dumped.’
Jeane smiled serenely. Actually, she smiled smugly. ‘Look, if it’s any consolation, she’d been wanting to do it for ages …’
‘No, it’s not,’ I ground out.
‘You knew there was something going on between her and Barney …’
‘You’re singing that tune now, are you?’ I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. ‘I taught you that tune.’
‘Whatevs.’ Jeane shrugged. ‘You and Scarlett weren’t making each other happy, that’s what she told me, and her and Barney will make each other very happy, though God knows what they actually talk about, and I’m sure you’ll find another girlfriend to validate your existence by the end of next week, so, really, what’s the problem?’
‘You! You’re my problem. You had no right—’
‘Excuse me! You were the one who told me I needed to do something about Barney and Scarlett, so I did. You should be thanking me.’
It was bullshit. She hadn’t cast her dorky spell over Scarlett in the name of girl power and sisters doing it for themselves. I’d read her blog the night before when she’d been baying for Barney’s blood, and it was obvious she’d decided that if she was going to be miserable then I was, too. She absolutely hated me, though I couldn’t imagine why. I’d done nothing to Jeane, but my mere existence seemed to really piss her off.
‘Why should I be thanking you? There was no need for you to get involved; I was dealing with it.’ The only way I’d been dealing with it was by delaying the inevitable dumping but I wasn’t going to tell Jeane that and see her face light up with spiteful glee.
‘The reason why you’re mad at me is because this is obviously the first time in your life that things haven’t gone your way,’ Jeane informed me. ‘This whole sitch will help you to build character and anyway, we’re at school, it’s not like Scarlett was your one true love and you were going to get married and have children. You’re totally overreacting.’
‘Look, whatever problems Scarlett and I had, they were our problems. No one asked you to stick your fat nose in them.’
‘Well, actually, you did.’ Jeane reached up to touch the tip of her nose. ‘And my nose isn’t fat, it’s big-boned,’ she added, and I wanted to laugh because it was one of the best comebacks I’d ever heard, but I would never, ever give her that satisfaction. ‘Look, are you going to bang on much longer, because I have a ton of stuff I need to do this evening? Scarlett was right when she said you were boring. You’re like a CD that keeps skipping – you never get to the end.’
‘But … But … But …’ I couldn’t believe I was standing there blustering and ‘But’ing and at a loss for words because, yes, Scarlett had dumped me, but I’d known we were well on the outs and though it had been humiliating, it wasn’t the end of the world. Still, there was a right way and a wrong way to dump someone. ‘Why did you have to get Scarlett so mad? In fact, how did you manage to make Scarlett lose it like that?’
‘It’s one of my superpowers,’ Jeane said. She crouched down to unlock her bike. ‘I can’t say it’s been fun because it hasn’t but I’ve got to go.’
She climbed on her bike and she was about to go even though there were many things I had to say, though I couldn’t remember what they were at that exact moment. ‘Well, we should really not do this again sometime,’ she said jauntily, and she stood up on the pedals and moved forward and I grabbed hold of the back of her bike because I’d just remembered that I wanted to tell her that she was an insufferable, stuck-up cow …
It seemed to happen in slow motion. Jeane went pitching right over the handlebars. I watched helplessly as she seemed to stay airborne for several long moments then she hit the ground with a dull thud, arms and legs at horribly weird angles like she’d broken all her limbs. I’d broken all her limbs.
She lay there silent and still, which would have been a relief at any other time, but not when I was sure I’d just killed her. Oh God! This is going to seriously screw up my Cambridge interview was the immediate thought that popped into my head before I remembered that I was a trained first aider. Partly because my dad was adamant that everyone should learn basic life-saving skills but also because my mother had been equally adamant that it would look good on my UCAS form.
I needed to check that Jeane was still breathing but to do that I had to turn her over and she really shouldn’t be moved. Or should she? Was I meant to be putting her in the recovery position?
‘Heavens to fricking Betsy,’ she suddenly groaned and rolled over. She wasn’t dead and I wasn’t going to be charged with manslaughter. Maybe aggravated assault, because her tights were shredded and there were steady streams of blood running down her legs, which made her orange tights look even worse. ‘My phone? Is my phone all right?’
Jeane wasn’t yelling at me, which was good, unless she was saving her energy for when she called the police. I picked up her bike – the front wheel was completely buckled – and set it on its kickstand. ‘Where was your phone?’ I asked her hoarsely.
She frowned or else her face creased up in pain, it was hard to tell. ‘Maybe it’s in my pannier.’
I unbuckled the flap and pulled out her bulging ‘Dork is the New Black’ tote and placed it in front of her. Jeane sat up and groaned before she began to root through her bag, so at least her arms weren’t broken, which just left legs, ribs and possible concussion because Jeane was too much of a rebel to wear a safety helmet.
‘Maybe you shouldn’t move?’ I suggested. ‘You might have internal bleeding.’
‘I need my phone,’ she insisted, looking up at me with plaintive eyes that made her seem more Bambi than battleaxe. ‘I can’t find it.’
‘Are you sure it was in your bag?’
Jeane looked around the yard and I even squatted down and looked under a few parked cars until she gave a yelp. I turned round so quickly that I nearly fell over because it sounded like a pained yelp but it was actually an I-found-myphone yelp.
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‘It was in my pocket,’ she said, then she actually kissed her phone and rubbed it against her face until she realised that her cheek was grazed.
‘Are you all right?’ I asked her, because the way she was acting made me think that she was suffering from shock, though it really wasn’t any more crazy than how she usually acted. ‘Does anywhere hurt?’
‘I’m a little winded,’ Jeane said, and she was taking this much better than I’d ever expected. She hadn’t screamed or said anything bitingly sarcastic so maybe she did have a brain-bleed. ‘Everywhere’s kinda stinging a bit.’
‘I am sorry. I didn’t mean to do what I did. It was a moment of madness. I’ll pay to get your bike mended.’
Jeane gave her bike a cursory glance then turned her attention back to her phone. I’d never seen anyone type so fast. ‘It’s all right,’ she said. ‘It’s only a bike. No bones broken.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘I think I’d know if my bones were broken,’ she mumbled. ‘And the bike is just a thing, things can be replaced.’
I stood there, arms hanging uselessly down by my sides. I wasn’t used to feeling useless and not knowing what to do next. Should I make Jeane stand up? And after she was upright, should I offer her a lift home? And sometime after that, should I beg her not to file an official complaint against me that would in any way impact on my choice of university?
‘Well, you should probably stand up …’
‘Yeah, just finishing my tweet. I’ve spent all day totally tweet-blocked so this is a bit of a blessing in disguise,’ Jeane said, and then she looked up and then she looked down and then, only then, did she scream.
It was a horrible, piercing sound that rent the air, scaring a flock of pigeons, which were scavenging by the bins, into flight. ‘You utter, utter bastard! Look what you’ve done to my tights!’ Jeane pointed at her shredded tights. ‘They’re ruined!’
They were and, quite frankly, it was an improvement. ‘You just said that things can be replaced.’