Make Up or Break Up, page 5
Next, I tried talking about Ollie. Under normal circumstances, the topic would have seen her in a state of high excitement, but not today. Cat was not interested.
‘When he hears you sing,’ I said, ‘any thoughts of Louisa Andrews are going to fly straight out of his mind.’ But my compliment didn’t hit the mark.
‘He’s heard me sing, Ally. We were in the musical together last year.’
‘But you were in the chorus then. How could he have picked out your voice?’
Cat gave a dismissive wave of her hand.
I figured there was no point asking her what was wrong. I already knew. I’d broken my promise, and now I was paying the price. Nevertheless, I was getting pretty fed up with talking to a brick wall for days on end.
Usually Cat took up all of my time, so I didn’t really need to talk to anyone else. I knew that everyone at school saw us as an exclusive pair. Now that I thought about it, it was actually a little bit annoying. There were some other girls in my classes who I would like to get to know better, but Cat always seemed to want me to herself. Right at that moment though, sitting on the bus, the opposite seemed to be true. I was missing my best friend.
I wanted to tell Cat how nervous I was about joining the Year 10 Latin class, and how I’d made a fool of myself in the library this afternoon. I wanted to gossip about James Whisker and how cute he was, even though he wore glasses. But now all those things just seemed like reminders of how I’d abandoned Cat and the auditions.
I was also pretty sure that Cat didn’t like the idea of me joining a special class. It wasn’t because she didn’t care. She did care, and that was the problem. She hated it when people wouldn’t do what she wanted them to do. She thought Latin was dorky and a waste of time, and was mad that I didn’t agree with her. When I told her I was definitely going to join the class, she just said, ‘You’re going full dork on me, Ally.’ Then she had laughed, as if it was just a joke. But her comment had stung.
I was determined to break down the wall between Cat and me. When the bus arrived at her stop, I got off as well and walked her to her house.
Gina was in the front garden raking leaves. ‘Hi, Ally,’ she said. ‘Are you nervous about the musical audition too?’
I opened my mouth to explain, but Cat jumped in. ‘Oh, Ally’s not auditioning, Mum. She’s been picked for some brainiac whiz kid Latin class.’
‘Mrs Hawkins really wants me to do it,’ I tried to explain to Gina. ‘I wanted to do the musical with Cat, but –’
BANG! Cat had gone inside and slammed the door behind her.
Gina rolled her eyes. ‘She’s been really moody lately.’
‘Should I go after her, do you think?’
‘If you like. But she probably just needs some time alone with her headphones, to be honest.’
I considered going up to Cat’s room, but there was a little voice in the back of my head reminding me how little time I had to search for Catullus’s poetry on the internet.
‘I think I’ll just go,’ I told Gina.
‘I’m sure she’ll be a new person once this audition’s over. She just puts so much pressure on herself.’
I walked home through the park feeling pretty rotten. The Latin extension class had seemed like a great opportunity, but I was feeling so guilty for leaving Cat in the lurch. She’d never been so icy and distant with me before. Sure, we’d had arguments, but they’d always burned out quickly, leaving us better friends than ever. This time felt different.
I couldn’t help thinking that it was all my fault. This time I had chosen to do something different and not just go along with Cat’s plans. If I’d just agreed to do the musical she wouldn’t be treating me like this, I thought. But was that a good way for best friends to be? I couldn’t decide.
I was about four minutes from home, wondering whether our friendship was going to survive the strain, when it started raining. Not a good omen, I thought. I ran the rest of the way home, wishing I’d just stayed on the bus until my stop.
An hour later I was sitting at the computer in the study. I’d found a website with an English translation of all Catullus’s poems. Some of the poems, like the love poems to his girlfriend, were sweet and beautiful. But others – most of them, in fact – were crude and insulting, and very funny. I’d never thought of the Romans as having a good sense of humour.
Catullus liked to make fun of people in the meanest possible way. There were a bunch of poems about his foul-smelling friends. In a poem called Odorous: To Rufus, he accused Rufus of having armpits like a wild goat! And in another poem, he compared someone’s face to a mule’s bottom …
Wowsers, I thought. You wouldn’t have wanted to get on the wrong side of Catullus. His enemies had been dead for over two thousand years and here I was, reading about their bad breath and BO! And I thought falling over in the library was embarrassing …
Most of the poems were short and I managed to get through all of them before it was time for dinner.
Mum and Dad were distracted, talking about the cockroach problem they had just noticed in our kitchen. But Catullus phrases and images kept popping into my head as I ate, and my parents finally noticed I was being quieter than usual.
‘What are you smiling about?’ asked Dad during dessert.
‘Oh, nothing really,’ I said. ‘I was just thinking about something funny I read on the internet.’
‘I hope you haven’t been looking at inappropriate websites,’ he said.
Mum scoffed. ‘When I poked my head in she was looking at Roman poetry. Hardly inappropriate!’
Mum and Dad both laughed, and I just smiled.
After dinner, I rang Cat, but she didn’t answer. I had just wanted to tell her about the clever, vulgar poems. Instead, I took a photo of Chris Hemsworth and sent it with a text:
Break a leg @ the audition tomorrow. Love Chris. PS Ally says stop looking at me – I’m hers.
I waited all night for her reply, but it never came.
On Friday I tried to get Cat to come to the library at lunchtime, but she wasn’t interested. ‘I only read Latin under extreme pressure,’ she said. ‘I would never do it voluntarily.’
‘But this is different,’ I told her. ‘This guy is really, really funny …’
‘Still no.’
‘Aw, come on … I’ll be lonely in the library without you.’
Cat paused, taking a long sip of her juice. ‘Well, then you’ll know how I’ll feel at the musical auditions this afternoon, and all those rehearsals, too.’
There was no point arguing with her. She could be so unreasonable sometimes. I thought about what Gina had said the day before, about Cat putting herself under pressure for the audition. Maybe I wasn’t totally to blame for her foul mood. Maybe she was just taking her stress out on me.
Eventually I said, ‘Did you get Chris’s text last night?’
Cat pulled her phone out of her pocket. When the photo and message appeared on the screen, she smiled thinly, clearly pretending she hadn’t already seen it.
‘Maybe Chris will go to the library and read poetry with you,’ she quipped.
‘Okay,’ I said, trying to go along with her joke. ‘I’ll ask him.’ Then I said, ‘If you’re not coming to the library, then I won’t go.’
Cat shrugged quickly. ‘No, you should go.’
‘Nah, I’ll hang with you.’
‘Actually,’ Cat said breezily, ‘I was planning to meet Ollie and Paul. We’re going to have a jam session. You know, warm up for the audition.’
‘Who’s Paul?’ I asked, trying not to frown.
‘He’s Mrs Carey’s son.’ Mrs Carey was our Head of Music. ‘He’s doing the sound production and lighting for the musical.’
‘Oh. When did you meet him?’
‘Yesterday, while you were in the library. I bumped into Ollie in the hall and he introduced us.’
‘Oh.’ So I’m not the only one keeping significant boy events to themselves, I thought grimly. I felt slightly betrayed – which made me feel even more guilty for keeping not only the Tony thing to myself, but James, too. But if I brought it up now it would seem a bit pathetic.
‘Okay,’ I said, trying not to sound upset. ‘Well, I guess I’ll see you later then, in English.’
‘Sure.’
I went to the library by myself and sat down with the Catullus anthology. But the words just swam before my eyes. I couldn’t concentrate, not with the sick feeling twisting my stomach. I was definitely nervous about the extension class this afternoon, but it was much more than that. My best friend was giving me the cold shoulder, and as far as I was concerned, there was no blacker feeling.
I kept playing my last conversation with Cat over and over in my head. I thought about what would happen if she stopped speaking to me altogether. What if we never walk each other home again? What if we’re not friends anymore? My heart raced wildly as I considered the worst possible scenarios. I slammed the book shut, breathing hard. I didn’t want to do the musical – I wanted to learn Latin. But how was I going to patch things up with Cat?
The final class of the day was English. Our teacher was Miss Lindsay, who Cat and I usually drove crazy with our chatter. This afternoon, we were so quiet that a few minutes into the class Miss Lindsay turned to Cat and asked, ‘Did you get shot with a tranquilliser dart?’
The entire class erupted into laughter. Cat and I didn’t even look at each other.
‘Don’t you want us to listen, Miss Lindsay?’ cooed Cat.
There were more laughs, but I just blushed and looked down at the desk.
We were studying Jane Eyre for English, and during class that day we got to watch part of the film version. I kept watching Cat out of the corner of my eye, half-expecting her to turn to me and say something funny like, ‘Ooh, look at Mr Rochester’s monobrow! It’s got a life of its own.’ But her eyes remained glued to the screen.
I so wanted – needed – to gossip with her about James. I wanted to analyse yesterday’s scene in the library. Did he like me or not? Why had he pulled my hair? Had he done it because he liked me and was trying to get my attention? I could really have used some help sorting out the whole thing. Cat was so good at reading into what people did and said, but I wasn’t. Without Cat to help me, I felt clueless.
Towards the end of English, I leaned over to Cat and whispered, ‘I met a guy in the library yesterday.’
Cat remained in profile, her only reaction a slight twitch of her eyebrow.
I continued, trying to make my voice as low and intriguing as possible. ‘James Whisker. He’s in Year 10. He told me that Mrs Hawkins is always talking about me in his Latin class. Can you believe it?’
‘Of course, I’m sure you’re always the hottest topic of conversation, Ally,’ Cat replied at a normal volume, drawing glances from those around us.
‘Oh no, I didn’t mean it like that,’ I whispered back. ‘It just freaked me out … that’s all.’
In a flash, all kinds of doubts sprang into my mind, mostly about the Latin extension class. What if everyone has already made up their minds about me? What if I can’t make friends? What if James has already told everyone how stupid I am? I could imagine everyone talking about me. The thought made me feel sick.
I was afraid of Cat’s reply, so I didn’t say anything else. I realised how insecure I was without her attention and approval. I felt so wound up about everything that I actually got a fright when the final bell rang.
Cat picked up her bag and took off with a quick wave.
‘Hey, Cat!’ I called after her. ‘Good luck! I’ll swing by the auditorium after Latin and hopefully I’ll get to …’ I trailed off as she bounded out of view.
Feeling empty and tired, I packed my bag and headed for Mrs Hawkins’s classroom – slowly, so I wouldn’t be the first to arrive.
By the time I got there, the room was full of people, all talking to each other. No-one seemed to notice me hovering in the doorway. This was a good sign. I looked around the room and then my stomach flipped. James was sitting up the back, having an animated conversation with the boy next to him. There was a spare seat on his other side. What would happen if I sat next to him? I wondered. Would he remember me? Of course he would! I was the famous – perhaps even infamous – Ally Motbey. But would he want me to sit next to him? That was another question altogether.
It had been a long time since I’d had to make a friend. I felt out of my depth, especially because there was a boy involved, and a cute, crushworthy one at that. It was one thing making a fool of myself with him in the library with no-one looking on, but now there were lots of people around. People who thought I was a teacher’s pet and who probably wanted to see me fall flat on my face. Maybe it would be easier if I just sat by myself.
The other thing was that there was no chair at the empty desk next to James. If I was going to take the plunge and sit next to him, I would have to carry a chair to the back of the room. I scanned the room for spares.
While I was looking around, I noticed a thin-faced, dark-haired girl in the front row trying to catch my eye.
‘Ally?’ she asked, when I met her gaze.
‘Yeah.’
The girl smiled warmly. ‘Thought so.’ She exchanged a knowing look with the girl sitting next to her. ‘I’m Ruth and this is Margaret.’ She gestured to the red-haired girl beside her. ‘We’ve heard a lot about you from Mrs Hawkins.’
‘Yes, your reputation precedes you,’ added the redhead, Margaret, in a fake posh voice.
‘Oh!’ I squeaked. I could feel my cheeks getting hot. I didn’t want to be known as the Year 9 Latin try-hard. I wanted these girls to like me. It would be great to make some new friends. Especially with Cat’s mood swinging like a trapeze – it seemed wise to have some back-up friends.
‘Don’t worry,’ Ruth reassured me. ‘You’re all good.’ Then she narrowed her eyes, still smiling. ‘A little too good.’
I covered my blushing face with my hands.
‘Speaking of too good …’ continued Ruth, a look of anticipation on her face.
For a brief but terrible moment, I thought there might be a practical joke coming my way. But when I lowered my hands, I saw that Margaret was retrieving a Tupperware container from her bag. Inside the container were lots of tiny cupcakes with white icing and tiny nuts on top.
‘Do you want one, Ally?’ asked Margaret.
‘Yum!’ I exclaimed, clapping my hands together. ‘What kind are they?’
‘Carrot with cream-cheese icing,’ she said proudly. ‘And chopped walnuts sprinkled on top.’
I picked one out and took a bite. ‘Oh my god! Double yum!’ I wasn’t exaggerating. It was absolutely delicious.
‘Pretty darn good,’ agreed Ruth, taking one as well. ‘You’ve outdone yourself, Margaret.’
Margaret plucked a cupcake out for herself then put the container back in her bag. ‘I made them during Home Economics,’ she said.
‘That’s the best cupcake I’ve ever tasted,’ I said, wiping cake crumbs from the corners of my mouth. ‘How did you get the icing so fluffy?’
‘I whipped it,’ explained Margaret, beaming. ‘You just need to get a bit of air into it.’
Our conversation was flowing fast and easy. These girls are so nice! I thought. Maybe making new friends wasn’t going to be hard after all. I could feel myself beginning to relax.
‘Why don’t you sit with us, Ally?’ asked Margaret. There was a spare desk next to her.
I was just about to sit down when a familiar male voice boomed from the back of the room. ‘I can smell cake!’
The three of us turned around. Grinning back at us cheekily was none other than James Whisker.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Margaret with mock seriousness, ‘but it’s all gone.’
‘Come on, Margaret,’ pleaded James. ‘You know how much I love your cakes.’
‘I know,’ replied Margaret, shrugging, ‘but when it’s gone, it’s gone.’
James sighed. He looked super cute, but I didn’t want to get caught staring, so I turned back around to face the front.
‘That’s James Whisker,’ explained Ruth in a hushed voice. ‘He lives in my street and he adores Margaret’s baking. Once he came around to watch a movie and he ate a whole tray of her brownies.’
‘They were particularly great brownies, though,’ added Margaret.
I didn’t mention that I’d already met James. And I certainly didn’t say that I’d been thinking about him ever since that meeting. I found myself wishing that James lived in my street, instead of Tony Rickson. I tried to imagine what it would be like having a hot Year 10 guy just over the fence.
‘Hey, Ally,’ said Ruth. ‘Sit down. Are you waiting for a written invitation?’
‘Um …’
Sitting with the girls was definitely a safer, and more subtle, option than lugging a chair to the back of the room just to sit next to James. Who knew what James might say or do if I plonked myself beside him? And anyway, how could I turn down Margaret and Ruth after they’d been so nice to me? And after I’d just scoffed one of Margaret’s cupcakes? What was I going to say … ‘Er, thanks for the snack, but I’m long-sighted and I won’t be able to see the whiteboard from the front of the classroom’?
On the other hand, how great would it be to sit next to James for the whole class? I’d get to exist in that same bubble of nervous excitement I’d floated in yesterday at the library. And maybe – just maybe – I’d find out that my growing crush was mutual. After the whole thing with Tony, where nothing ever got resolved because we were both too shy to say anything, I wanted to actually talk to James.
So where was I going to sit? With the cute boy up the back, or the nice girls up the front?
I checked myself in the mirror one last time. I was wearing my favourite skinny jeans with an oversized tank top and my new Aztec-print Converse. Cat said it was an outfit I rocked because I was built like a beanpole. Pulling my shoulders back, I smiled casually at my reflection. A maniacally grinning weirdo looked back at me.
