Anyway, the practice went pretty well. It might be our last practice before the rock school starts, so we wanted to make sure that we’re well prepared. I mean, I know we’re going there to learn the ways of rock, but we don’t want everyone else, including our mentor (whoever he or she is), to think we’re totally hopeless.
Oops, the doorbell just rang, so I think Cass has arrived − she had to go home and get her overnight stuff because she forgot to bring it to Alice’s house. I just hope my parents manage to refrain from singing anything from Oliver! while she is here.
Wow. Cass has just gone home, and she had some very big news. I feel a bit stunned. But not in a bad way.
I’d better start at the beginning. We all got a posh takeaway which was very nice even though we had to eat it with my parents. Actually, they were unusually well behaved, and took themselves off to the dining room to practise their Oliver! songs as soon as dinner was over (well, I suppose they were only relatively well behaved − we could still hear them through the walls) so Cass and I could have the telly and the DVD player to ourselves. Eventually, they basically booted us upstairs to my room − they wanted the sitting room back so my mother could watch one of the ridiculous crime programmes she’s so fond of. It was quite late by then so we got into our pyjamas and blew up the air mattress and made up Cass’s bed on it so we could loll about in more comfort. Then we got talking about the summer and the camp and everything. But Cass started to seem a bit down.
‘Are you okay?’ I said (as you can see, I am still sticking to the rule I made in February to pay attention to my friends’ problems and not be too self-obsessed).
Cass sighed.
‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘Well, sort of. I’m just … well, you know Liz is going to the Gaeltacht tomorrow?’
‘Yeah,’ I said.
‘Well, I’m just going to really miss her,’ said Cass. ‘I mean, I’m not going to see her for three whole weeks. It seems like forever.’
‘It’s only three weeks,’ I said.
‘Well, it’s going to feel like longer. I wish she wasn’t going.’
I was starting to feel a bit insulted.
‘Cass,’ I said, ‘I know Liz is your friend, but you do have other friends who are still here, you know. I mean, it’s not like she’s your girlfriend and your own true love or anything!’
I expected Cass to say, ‘Yeah, I know,’ but instead there was a longer than usual silence. And then Cass, in a slightly strained voice, said, ‘Well … she sort of is. My girlfriend, I mean.’
I was so surprised I didn’t say anything for a moment. I don’t even know why I was so amazed − it’s not like I don’t know any gay people. Mum’s friend Maria, who lives around the corner, is gay, and so are some of my parents’ other friends. But, despite this, I suppose I just take it for granted that everyone, including Cass, is straight. Which, now I think of it, is a bit silly, because obviously not everyone is. I mean, it turns out Cass isn’t.
‘Bex?’ said Cass. ‘Didn’t you hear? I basically just told you I’m gay.’
‘Oh!’ I said. ‘Yes! I did! Sorry. I was just a bit surprised. But … really? Wow.’
‘Yes,’ said Cass. There was silence for a moment, and then she said, ‘Are you … you’re okay with it, right?’
‘Oh God, yes!’ I said. ‘Of course I am! I just wasn’t expecting it.’ And then I was worried that I was saying the wrong thing and upsetting Cass. ‘Sorry, Cass. I really am okay with it. I’m more than okay. It’s cool. I’m just a bit surprised.’
‘Really?’ said Cass. ‘I actually thought it was getting kind of obvious. Especially recently.’
‘Well, not to me,’ I said. ‘But maybe I am quite clueless.’ I really think I must be. ‘Um, so are you and Liz, like, actually properly going out?’
‘Only since last weekend,’ said Cass. ‘I would have told you sooner, but there were, you know, the exams and stuff. But anyway, I’ve liked her for ages. Ever since we met, really. She told me she was gay a few weeks ago, and then last weekend we were in her house, and we were talking about, like, life and how things have been for her since she came out. She’s had a bit of a tough time because when she came out to Katie, you know, her bandmate from Bad Monkey, Katie was really weird about it for a while. Though things are a bit better now. I mean, they’re still going to the Gaeltacht together and everything. Anyway, Liz said something sort-of-jokey about how she wished I liked girls too. And I said that actually, I did, and we sort of looked at each other, and then she kissed me … and that was it, really. She said she’s liked me for ages too, but she was never sure whether I even fancied girls at all, let alone fancied her.’
‘Wow,’ I said. ‘How romantic. But Cass, why didn’t you tell me or Alice sooner? Not about you and Liz, I know the whole week has been about exams. I mean, why did you never tell us that you like girls? We’re your best friends!’ I have to admit, I felt hurt.
‘I know you are,’ said Cass. ‘But I didn’t know how you’d react.’
I felt quite insulted by that.
‘Cass, how could you have thought I’d be horrible about it? I’m not homophobic!’
And Cass looked, not exactly annoyed, but much more serious than she generally looks. ‘Bex, I do know you’re cool with it, and I’m very relieved that you are, and it’s not like I really expected you to be anything else, not really.’ She sighed. ‘But there was always a chance that you wouldn’t be okay. I mean, people can be fine about gayness in theory, but not in, like, practice. If you know what I mean. That’s what happened with Liz and Katie.’
‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘I see what you mean.’
‘I mean,’ Cass went on, warming to the theme, ‘it may not seem like it to you, but this is a really, really big deal. Me, you know, coming out to you. It was really scary. I’ve basically been dreading it for ages. I … I dunno. I was scared that if I told you, things would never be the same, and we wouldn’t be normal friends anymore or maybe even friends at all, and I was really scared about that.’
She looked like she might cry. And I almost felt like bursting into tears myself.
But I just gave Cass a hug (which shows what an emotional moment it was, we’re not usually terribly huggy). And we both sniffled back tears.
Anyway, after that we stayed up talking about it for ages, and I tried to say the right thing, though I’m not sure I always did. But I wanted to, anyway. And she didn’t seem to mind. I think once she knew I was cool with it and that I appreciated what a big deal it was for her to tell me, everything was okay between us. She said she’d fancied girls for as long as she’d fancied anyone.
‘But only in, like, theory,’ she said. ‘I mean, the famous people I fancied were girls. I never met anyone I really liked in real life until I met Liz.’
‘Which isn’t really surprising when you look around in our school,’ I said. ‘Imagine anyone falling in love with Vanessa. But I remember you saying how good-looking Paperboy and Jack Rosenthal from Laurel Canyon are! Were you just pretending? You never needed to do that!’
But she said she wasn’t, really.
‘I’m gay,’ she said. ‘But I’m not blind. Obviously I can appreciate, you know, when someone’s really good-looking, whether they’re a boy or a girl.’
She still hasn’t told her mum and dad. She’s really nervous about it.
‘I can’t imagine them being upset about it,’ I said. ‘I mean, it’s not like they’re really anti-gay, or anything. Isn’t your mum friends with my mum’s friend Maria?’
‘But people can be one way about their friends and another way about their kids,’ said Cass. ‘I dunno. Imagine how awful it would be if Mum didn’t get it. Like, if she thought it was just a phase. Or if she, like, cried with sorrow.’
And I realised it was easy for me to say that everything would be okay. As long as there was a chance that it wouldn’t, poor Cass would be very nervous about it.
‘Yeah, I understand,’ I said, and I think I did. ‘When
are you going to tell Alice?’
‘Tomorrow, I hope,’ said Cass. ‘Oh, no, she’s doing more family stuff, isn’t she? Well, Tuesday, then. I’ll text her tomorrow and arrange to meet her. I was actually going to tell both of you together, but I suppose it just … came out tonight.’
‘Like yourself,’ I said, and we both laughed like loons even though that was not one of my finest jokes. It was good to laugh after all that seriousness, though. And then we realised it was nearly two in the morning, and we were both kind of knackered, so we went to bed.
‘I feel quite exhausted after all that soul-bearing,’ said Cass, through a giant yawn.
‘So do I,’ I said. ‘I’m glad you told me, though.’
‘Me too,’ said Cass. ‘Night night.’
At first I thought I would lie there pondering Cass’s announcement. But actually, I fell asleep straight away. Cass is right, those sort of conversations are very tiring. Anyway, I didn’t get to sleep very long because the noise my dad makes banging around the house in the morning would wake anyone up. Why he makes so much noise just getting ready to go and correct some exams is beyond me. It’s not like he’s, like, a carpenter and has to gather together lots of noisy spanners and hammers and stuff. Anyway, he woke us both up by slamming the bathroom door by accident, which happens almost every morning, and we sat up and looked at each other. Well, we sort of looked at each other; Cass can’t focus very well without her glasses.
‘Did you tell me you were gay last night or was that just a magical dream?’ I said.
‘It wasn’t a magical dream,’ said Cass, putting on her glasses. There was a slightly awkward pause. ‘Um, you’re still okay about it all, aren’t you?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘I have turned into a lesbian-hater overnight. I’m joking! Sorry! That wasn’t very funny. I am definitely still okay about it.’
‘Good,’ said Cass. ‘Can we talk about other stuff now? Even I am getting slightly bored talking about myself.’
‘We could talk about our sweet-making plans,’ I said.
‘Ooh, yes,’ said Cass. ‘Do you think your mum would let us try again?’
She said we could try again, but there was no condensed milk or indeed sugar left so we’d have to go out and buy some. So we did, after breakfast, and then we went back to my house and made some more fudge. I think we are really getting the hang of it − it was much better than the last batch. Even Rachel grudgingly admitted that it wasn’t bad, which is a lot coming from her. So by the time Cass had to go home (with an old plastic takeaway box filled with half of the batch of fudge), we were feeling very pleased with ourselves. When I walked her out to the door it felt a bit formal for a second.
‘Well,’ I said, ‘um, thanks for telling me. You know, last night.’
‘Oh, yeah,’ said Cass. ‘Um, thanks for … listening?’
And then we started laughing, and everything was normal again. And then she went home. And now I am writing this. Although I’d better stop, I can hear my dad calling me. He probably wants to me to do the hoovering or some other servant-like duty.
I have just realised something. Now Alice is going out with Richard and Cass is going out with Liz, I am the only one of the three of us who isn’t going out with anyone! I know I shouldn’t feel bad about this, but I sort of do. It’s not that I feel I really need a boyfriend, but I’m starting to wonder if I will ever find love again. Maybe I will meet someone at the rock camp, although the last time I met a boy while doing some sort of creative activity it was John Kowalski, and look how that turned out. Perhaps I will just be on my own for the rest of my life. That makes me feel a bit crap.
I have written a poem about my loveless state:
All of my best friends
Have got boyfriends or girlfriends
Frankly it’s not fair.
I have a feeling this poem makes me look a bit selfish. I know I should just be happy for the others. But I do kind of feel like this.
Cass told Alice today. Alice rang me later to tell me, and it seems it didn’t all go exactly as planned. They met up in town and went to the Pepperpot Café for hot chocolate. Alice says she was a bit worried because Cass seemed much more serious than usual. And when they were sitting down, Cass said, ‘So … I’ve got something to tell you.’
I have no idea why, but Alice was somehow immediately convinced that it was, well, a matter of life or death. She says she was practically in tears as she said, ‘Oh Cass, no – do you have cancer? Are you … dying?’
Cass, understandably, stared at her in amazement.
‘What?’ she said. ‘No! I’m fine! Oh God, Alice, don’t cry all over your hot chocolate, you’ll make it all salty and gross. I’m not dying. I’m gay!’
‘Oh, thank God!’ said Alice.
Anyway, they both realised that this was pretty funny, so things were okay after that, and they drank the nice hot chocolate and then went off and looked at amps in a music shop.
‘Did it ever cross your mind?’ said Alice when she rang me to tell me about it (Cass had told her about coming out to me the night before), ‘That Cass liked girls, I mean?’
‘No,’ I admitted. ‘I never thought about it.’
‘Me neither,’ said Alice. ‘I just assumed she was straight. Like I assumed you were.’
‘Me too,’ I said. ‘You are okay with it, aren’t you?’
‘Oh God, yes,’ said Alice. ‘I mean, I was surprised when she told me. But it’s not like she’s any different, is she? I mean, she’s still the same Cass. It’s not like it means she fancies any of us. So what difference does it make? I’m mostly just sad she didn’t tell us before.’
‘Me too,’ I said. ‘But at least she’s told us now.’
And it’s true, it doesn’t make a difference. I mean, obviously I was thinking about it when she was telling me. But in the morning, when we were making fudge and stuff, it wasn’t … an issue. I mean, I can hardly spend all my time imagining my friends’ love lives, can I? That would be pretty creepy.
I didn’t mention to Alice that I feel a bit bad about being the only single one of us three. I knew it would sound very babyish and selfish. But I do feel like that, even though most of our other friends aren’t going out with anyone either. It’s different when it’s your very best friends.
I have decided I am going to do something daring to get out of this blah mood. I am going to get my hair cut and finally get a fringe, so when we start the summer camp next week I will look like a new and exciting person. I have been dreaming of having a fringe for years, but I haven’t got one because of my weird wavy hair. But I bet hairdressing techniques have improved a LOT since the long-ago days when I last had a fringe and it just kept sticking out like a shelf. I mean, it was years ago AND I was a very small child at the time. I told Cass about my plan today.
‘Are you sure about this?’ she said. ‘You’ve always been sure you couldn’t have a fringe. It’s a big commitment. And it can go horribly wrong.’
‘But you have a fringe!’ I said.
‘I know,’ said Cass. ‘But remember, I’ve had one for years. I was trying to grow it out for ages and ages until I finally just gave in and accepted it. Fringes can be tricky things. And your hair is even thicker than mine.’
‘But Cass, they can DO things now,’ I said. ‘I was looking in one of Mum’s magazines, and it said if you start the fringe high up on your head, the weight of the hair will keep it straight, even if it’s really thick.’
‘I suppose,’ said Cass. ‘It’s still risky, though.’
‘What’s the name of your hairdresser?’ I said. ‘The one who gave you the proper fringe a few months ago? I want to go to someone who has, like, proved their fringe-cutting skills.’
Cass told me the name. ‘But you’re not going to get exactly the same style as me, are you?’ she said. ‘It would look very odd if we turned up at the rock camp as hair twins. Like it was a band uniform.’
‘Of course I’m not!’ I said. ‘An
yway, my hair’s much longer than yours. Well, a few inches, anyway. And I’m not going to get much cut off most of it, just the front. You’re not the only person who’s allowed have a fringe, you know!’
‘Okay, okay,’ said Cass. ‘On your own head be it. Literally,’ she added. But I refused to laugh at her terrible jest.
Alice was slightly more supportive of my great reinvention plan. But only slightly.
‘Well, if you don’t like it, you can grow it out,’ she said. She didn’t sound as if she thought I actually would like it, though.
Anyway, perhaps in the past I would have been persuaded by all of this, but somehow it has just made me even more determined to do it. I asked Mum if she’d give me money to get my hair cut and she said she would.
‘It could do with a bit of a trim, you’ve got some split ends,’ she said, rudely. Really, she has no manners. I told her about my fringe plan, and she liked the idea, though not for a particularly good reason.
‘You looked lovely with your fringe when you were little,’ she said. This is a total lie, obviously. But maybe it just means I will look brilliant with a proper fringe as a sophisticated teenager?
Quite a nice lazy day today. The weather was really nice so I spent ages just lying out in the back garden on a blanket, reading and listening to Best Coast on my iPod. I was actually in the mood for it, unlike Saturday. I generally like lazing around doing nothing when I know I could actually go and do something if I really wanted to. It’s just boring when you feel you don’t have a choice. I was reading a brilliant book called Howl’s Moving Castle. It’s set in a magical world, and the heroine is a teenage girl who gets turned into a hideous old lady, but, although that sounds pretty grim, it is very funny and exciting.