Bad Influence, page 12
“GUESS WHAT?” Hannah screamed in my ear as she practically jumped on me walking home.
“You’ve finally figured out a way to deafen me?” I said, rubbing the side of my head.
“No, dummy. I got Head Girl!” I stopped walking. “Isn’t it AWESOME!” Hannah’s voice went a few octaves higher than usual. “Mrs Weaver pulled me out of maths this afternoon for a special meeting. Look – it’s already on the school’s Instagram.” She shoved her phone in my face and I tried my best to smile. “I mean, it’s going to be a lot of work,” she went on. “There’ll be meetings and I’ll need to get prom committee organized and stuff but OH MY GOD! Can you believe it?”
“Yeah, amazing. Well done.” I know I should have felt happy. I mean, she is my sister and everything. But it was like watching her star rise higher and higher, and all I could think about was how far I was below.
Needless to say, Mum cried. And I’m pretty sure the neighbours could hear Dad’s voice over FaceTime shouting congratulations. Gramps put on an old jazz album and waltzed Hannah around the living room. I said I had to do some cello practice and go over my speech for the competition, and went upstairs to my room.
I played Mozart’s “Requiem in D Minor”, letting my fingers tremble on the strings to create the vibrato. I closed my eyes, and the melody lifted me out of my cottage and up into the clouds, where there was no such thing as maggots, or sisters who got Head Girl.
Later, I was rehearsing my environment speech when my phone vibrated on my desk. It was a photo of Evan holding Pride and Prejudice.
Evan: Just started this
My stomach dipped like I was at the top of a roller coaster. That feeling kept happening when Evan messaged me. I thought that fancying someone meant you felt stuff in your heart. But actually, I was mostly feeling it in my stomach. I wasn’t sure if that was normal or not. I tapped out a reply: Awesome! I hope you like it.
Evan: It’s proper old fashioned lol
Well, obviously! I thought. I typed back: It was written in 1813. I reset the timer to practise my speech, but my phone went off again.
Evan: If you liked it I’m sure it’s good
I tried to concentrate on my speech, but now I was worried Evan would find Pride and Prejudice boring.
“Amelia!” Hannah said, bursting in. “The production is in three weeks!”
“I know,” I said, feeling an extra flurry of butterflies in my stomach as she mentioned it. Hannah was the main part, but I was the one opening the evening with my cello solo. So we were kind of evens.
“Why aren’t you practising?” Hannah picked up the music next to my stand and wafted it at me.
“It’s the debate final tomorrow.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my phone light up. I prayed Hannah wouldn’t notice. I hadn’t told her about Evan. I don’t know why. Mainly because I didn’t want Mum to find out and I knew Hannah would tell her immediately.
“The debate competition?” Hannah sighed. “The production is more important!”
“Fine.” I pulled the music out of Hannah’s hand, put “Part of Your World” on my stand and waited for her to leave. I readied my bow and found myself closing my eyes, falling into the music like it was a warm sea. By the time I had finished I had tears in my eyes. That happens to me with music sometimes. Mum says it’s the sign that I should be a musician when I’m older like she was. Dad says that’s a great idea if I want to be a poor, struggling artist my whole life. I just hoped the crying didn’t happen during my solo. It would not be a good look.
Hannah was right. The production was more important than anything. My solo had to be good enough to fully reinvent myself. Obviously I’d pray for a terrible but non-fatal accident to befall DJ and his friends, meaning they had to be home-schooled for ever too. But maybe – just maybe – even they would be impressed.
I was reading my book in bed when Evan’s name lit up on my phone again. I felt that familiar flip of my stomach.
Evan: It is a truth universally acknowledged that I am ready for bed
Which was a Pride and Prejudice joke. Then a photo came through. It was Evan lying on his bed. His hair was spread across the pillow in a dark curly mess and he didn’t have a top on. I felt a sort of flutter but not just my stomach this time, like the gentle beating of wings. Then another message flashed up: Your turn.
My turn for what? I replied. I have not the pleasure of understanding you. Which was also a Pride and Prejudice joke. Only as soon as I sent it, I felt like an idiot in case he hadn’t read that bit yet.
A photo, Evan replied. Of you in bed
I sat up on my knees and looked at myself in the mirror on my bedroom wall. It is not an exaggeration to say it was a displeasing sight. I pulled my hair out of its untidy ponytail and wiped the spot cream off my forehead. It was a slight improvement. But my hair had a kink in it from the bobble, and my forehead was red from where I’d rubbed it. I leaned back against my bed and tried to arrange my hair into something that did not resemble a highland cow. I took a few selfies, added a black and white filter to the best one, then cropped out the giant rainbow on my pyjama top. Goodnight x I added and pressed send.
The next morning, I noticed Evan had messaged me back late last night. I must have fallen asleep before he sent it. Cute. Do I get to see what’s underneath? I read it a few times, trying to figure out what he meant. Surely Evan didn’t want to see what was under my bed? I was brushing my teeth when it dawned on me what he might have meant. A weird tremor ran over my body like a heat rash. Surely he didn’t mean…?
“Hurry up!” Hannah shouted, banging on the bathroom door. “You’ve been in there for ages.”
I spat out the remainder of my toothpaste and rinsed my mouth. “I’m coming!”
I thought for a minute about showing Hannah Evan’s message. Asking her whether or not I was understanding it right. But she started singing “About Damn Time” and shoved me out of the door the second I undid the lock. So I decided to leave it.
Miles had thankfully listened to reason about the debate team for the final. (Reason being me.) It was me, Miles, Aakesh, Flora and William as sub. Between us we’d read practically everything there was to know about climate change, and Miles and I had practised our opening speeches until we knew them backwards.
The competition was at Atherstone Boys’ School, so Flora and I were literally the only girls in the whole building. If you think that intimidated me, think again. I’d been playing baseball on mixed teams since I was in Little League with my dad yelling at me from the sidelines. Speaking in front of this crowd had to be easier than that. Besides, after Mr Hall’s erratic minibus driving, I was thankful to still be in one piece.
Their head teacher welcomed us in the hall as the audience was filing in. A mixture of different year groups, including Years Twelve and Thirteen from the looks of it. Okay, maybe it wouldn’t exactly be a piece of cake. But, like Amelia Earhart said, Use your fear, it can take you to the place where you store your courage. My fear, however, was only taking me to the bathroom. I shot to the nearest toilet and felt a little better with an empty bladder. I took a few deep breaths, removed my glasses to splash water on my face, and looked at myself in the mirror. I was ready.
Miles’s opening speech went well. He timed it exactly so he finished just before the buzzer. Then it was my turn.
“When I say the words ‘eighth continent’, you may wonder what planet I’m on. But – as you can see – my feet are right here on Planet Earth. Our only home. The only hospitable home for thousands of light years, perhaps the only one that exists in our universe at all…”
By the time the buzzer sounded, a ripple of excitement went through my body. I’d done it. Word perfect. The only thing missing was my vice-captain badge which Mr Hall had forgotten to bring. I tried not to let it ruin the moment.
A boy sitting on the table opposite us stood up. “Climate Emergency,” he began. I tried not to roll my eyes at the predictable opening. But then he launched into one of the greatest speeches I have ever heard. He talked about ice, wind, fire, the utter destruction of humanity. He painted the bleakest possible picture of Armageddon. Then halfway through his imagery switched. To waterfalls and plentiful fields and peace. It was incredible. I had to stop myself giving him a standing ovation. Miles’s face looked almost green.
Their vice-captain’s speech wasn’t as powerful, but it was still very good. So it all rested on our debating skills. Anyone can write a brilliant speech, I told myself, but not everyone can debate.
The head judge stood up and declared the debate open. He put the first question to us, the visiting team. “St Clement’s Academy, in your speeches you talked about the negative impact of human behaviour. Is that what you see as the greatest emergency facing Planet Earth?”
Miles was stumped. I nudged Aakesh while I thought of my own answer. Aakesh paused to take a breath then said, “Could one species really be responsible for the destruction of an entire planet? Well, when it comes to humans, I’m afraid the answer is yes. Already, humans have destroyed approximately seventy per cent of the world’s wildlife…”
He went on to give the most brilliant answer. When the opposing team suggested that the climate crisis was partly due to natural climate change, I came back with a barrage of evidence that put them off their stride for the rest of the debate. I added that humans were destroying land on an unprecedented scale. The judges ticked something on their score sheet when I said “unprecedented”. Mr Hall gave me a thumbs up. The New Word Every Day poster is worth its weight in gold when it comes to debating.
When we were announced as the winning team, an unenthusiastic applause rippled around the room. It always happens when you’re not the home team. But I was elated. In the minibus on the way back I texted Dad saying we’d won.
Awesome Amelia! he replied. I knew you could do it. So proud of you!
And that was the icing on the cake. We’d won the debate final with me as vice-captain; Evan definitely fancied me; I had 223 followers on TikTok, Dad was proud of me, and Mrs Weaver was bound to announce our win in assembly. Especially considering it meant our school would be hosting the first round of the competition next year! It was a chance for Evan to see another side of me. The winning side. He’d see what Vice-Captain Amelia Bright looks like. Advocate of the Environment. Champion Debater. And I would probably officially be his girlfriend by then too. I couldn’t wait.
The next day, Mrs Weaver told our debate team to come to the front of the assembly hall and made everyone give us a round of applause. She said we had “excelled ourselves” and that the entire school should be “enormously proud”. Miles got to hold the trophy, but we all got special certificates and Mr Hall said it would be in the school newsletter.
I tried my best to bump into Evan that day so he could congratulate me in person. But it proved impossible. At break and lunchtime, he hung about on the basketball courts with everyone who was considered cool. I walked past a couple of times – even though it’s the long way to get to the library and miles away from my locker. I looked over and I thought I caught his eye. But he didn’t wave or anything, so I guess he didn’t see me. I didn’t tell Nisha about the message he’d sent asking to see underneath my pyjamas. She already thought the way he ignored me wasn’t right. I dreaded to think what she’d say about that kind of message. But I didn’t think Evan was ignoring me. Not exactly. Our paths just never seemed to cross at school. No matter how deliberately I strayed from my usual places. In a weird way I suppose it was for the best. The last thing I needed was for Evan to hear someone shouting Maggot at me again.
Every night, I practised my solo for the production until my fingers ached. I had to get it perfect in order for everything to go as I planned. I couldn’t give a mediocre performance. This performance had to be the best thing the school had ever seen. I needed people to talk about it. To rave about it! To greet me in the corridors the next day and tell me how mind-blowingly amazing it was. Okay, maybe I had my sights set a little high. But I truly felt like everything – my survival at school and my potential relationship with Evan – depended on this one musical moment. The chance to turn my social life around was less than two weeks away. And I was going to grab it with both hands – literally.
On Friday, after school, Evan waited for me at the top of the hill. “Want me to carry your cello?” he asked as I approached.
I clutched the straps a little tighter. “It’s okay, thanks. I don’t trust anyone with my cello. Don’t take it personally.”
There were a few steps of awkward silence, then he suddenly blurted out, “I heard people call you Maggot.” It felt like being whacked round the back of the head with a baseball bat. I did not see it coming. “I figured it was random when I heard someone shout it that night at the park. But everyone calls you it, Amelia. What’s that about?”
My heart dropped out of my body and rolled all the way down the hill. What was I supposed to say? I thought about lying. And decided that was my only option. “It’s a running joke!” I said, laughing awkwardly. “This thing from ages ago.”
Evan carefully wheeled his bike around a lamp post. “Are you sure about that?”
“Yes!” I said. “It’s hard to explain how they came up with that nickname but it was really funny at the time.” I laughed again, a bit louder this time. I did such a good job, I half-convinced myself it was funny. “It’s just this thing from Year Seven.”
“It doesn’t sound that funny.” I avoided Evan’s eyes by keeping mine firmly on the pavement.
“I guess you had to be there.” I felt kind of weird. Like I’d betrayed myself or something. The words from Wuthering Heights echoed around my head: Why did you betray your own heart, Cathy? I watched a seagull fly off from the side of an old, upturned boat and thought about running the rest of the way down the hill, away from this conversation. But it was no use. With the weight of my cello, I’d fall over before I reached the bottom. “I do honestly find it funny.” I forced my face into a smile.
“Okay,” Evan said, changing the subject about as subtly as he’d started it. “So when do I get to meet Morph?”
Then I smiled for real. “You want to meet my gecko? Really?”
“Of course!” he said. “You’re the only person I know with a lizard.”
It wasn’t exactly the compliment of my dreams. But it meant Evan was coming to my house! It meant he knew about the M-word and still wanted to know me.
“So can I come round now?” Evan’s hair caught the wind. For a few seconds I watched his curls dance in the breeze and his eyes shimmer in the sunlight.
My heart pounded like a storm at sea. I really needed to get a hold of myself. I smiled. “Sure.”
Inside, Gramps was asleep in the armchair as usual. He half opened an eye as we walked in. “Is that you, Hannah?”
“It’s Amelia, Gramps,” I replied. “Hannah’s at rehearsals. This is my friend Evan, from school. He plays on my baseball team.”
Gramps sat up and wiped his mouth with a handkerchief. “Baseball? Oh dear. And what do you have to say for yourself, young man?”
“Gramps,” I said as I watched Evan squirm. “He just wants to meet Morph.”
“Hi, erm, Mr Bright,” Evan said. And the words that shot through my head were: Big Mistake.
“Bright?” Gramps leaned forward like he was considering giving Evan a “clip round the ear” like he used to threaten us with when we were little. “Bright is the name of Amelia’s father, young man! My name is Mr Wilson, and I’d appreciate it if you remember that in future.”
Evan looked mortified. I wanted to vanish into the wallpaper.
“Sorry, Mr Wilson,” Evan stuttered.
“We’ll be upstairs, Gramps,” I said, and bundled Evan out of the room as quickly as I could.
“You bring that lizard down here!” Gramps called as we went upstairs. “I’m not having you taking strange boys up to your bedroom.”
“Sorry,” I whispered to Evan. “He’s usually…asleep.”
“Looks like he could do with a haircut if you ask me!” Gramps added, and I heard him chuckling as we got to my room.
“Sorry,” I said again. “My gramps has a weird sense of humour.”
Evan smiled awkwardly. “I don’t think he likes me.”
“You should see what he’s like with my dad,” I replied. “Anyway, this is Morph!” I felt like saying “ta daaaah!” but I stopped myself just in time.
“Woah,” Evan said, peering into the tank. “He’s wicked!”
“You can hold him if you want.” I stood on tiptoes to open the lid and scooped up Morph from the branch he was sitting on. “They’re nocturnal,” I explained, gently stroking Morph’s scaly back. “So he’s really sleepy during the day and they can—” Suddenly Morph sprang out of my arms straight onto Evan’s chest. “Jump.” I grinned.
“Hey, little fella,” Evan said, stroking his finger down Morph’s nose.
“He likes you,” I said. Evan looked at me and smiled, his eyes bright as cornflowers.
“He’s unreal!”
“He was left in a shoebox outside the vet’s in town. My mum’s friend, Yvonne, is one of the vets but they didn’t have space for him. Mum and Dad eventually agreed to let me have him. But only because Hannah got Barnacles the year before.”
“Barnacles?”
“Hannah’s cat.” Morph jumped back into my arms and I nodded for Evan to follow me. I pushed open Hannah’s bedroom door. As usual, it was absurdly tidy. Barnacles was curled up on Hannah’s bed. His ears pricked as soon as we walked in. “That’s him. He was abandoned too.” Just then, Barnacles hissed at us. “He’s still kind of angry about it.”
“Why did you shave him?” Evan said.
“He’s a Sphynx!” I laughed. “They don’t have any fur.”
“I know,” Evan said. “I was joking.”
“Oh.” For a few moments it was kind of awkward. I felt like a complete idiot for not getting his joke. I could feel Morph’s claws clinging onto me through my shirt and the thump of my heart like a bass drum. “I should put Morph back in his tank. He gets cold.”
