Have a Little Faith Page 3

  As long as she doesn’t look in my wardrobe.

  Or under my bed.

  Granny was supposed to come for lunch today, but she didn’t turn up, even though I had prepared for her by spending the morning cleaning out the biscuit tin. She’s probably out with one of her boyfriends.

  Mum wanted to know why I couldn’t manage my lunch.

  I told her that’s what three orange Clubs, four chocolate fingers and half a custard cream will do to you.

  About a million years ago, a conversation took place that must have gone something like this:

  Careers advisor: So, young lady, what would you say your key skills are?

  Girl: I’m mean, I’m petty, and I particularly dislike girls with red hair for no good reason.

  Careers advisor: And do you think you could falsely accuse young people of misbehaving?

  Girl: At fifty paces with my eyes closed.

  Careers advisor: Welcome to the world of teaching.

  Yes, Miss Ramsbottom has struck again. First, she bellowed at me down the corridor to stop behaving like a monkey. I don’t think a lady with freaktacular long arms like hers is in a position to make ape jokes. And what’s wrong with a little between-lessons swinging on the swing doors? Surely it’s good for my health? I told her this politely, but firmly, ‘I’m fighting off childhood obesity, Miss Ramsbottom.’

  But she has no sense of humour and made me go to her classroom to clean her whiteboard. Which, as a punishment, is pretty poor, especially since there’s a lovely swingy door right outside her classroom.

  I’m just saying.

  Megs was cross with me for getting into trouble with Miss Ramsbottom, but as I pointed out, Miss R had obviously had an extra-large bowl of Scornflakes this morning and everyone was finding it hard to stay out of trouble with her. At lunchtime I saw her yank out one of the Tarty Party’s fake ponytail and during year assembly she made Lily look really stupid. To be fair to Miss Ramsbottom it’s not hard to make Lily look stupid, in fact I once did it accidentally just by asking her to hold out her left hand, but I think it was rather unnecessary to haul Lily up in front of the whole year just because she didn’t think through trying to boil water in a plastic beaker during our Science lesson.

  To cap it all, in between harassing us, Miss Ramsbottom was swanking about with yet another lush new handbag, but as I have just said to Lily on the phone, ‘She should spend some of her handbag fund on electrolysis. Did you see her tash today?’

  ‘Yes, I think it quivered with delight when she made everyone laugh at me.’

  ‘Not everyone laughed at you, Lily.’

  ‘Oh! You are such a good mate, Faith.’

  Actually, I meant Hazel Hunt didn’t laugh. Although, that may have been because she has had her jaw wired. Her mother won’t let her be a bridesmaid unless she loses two stone. But I’m sure she wouldn’t have laughed anyway. Nothing’s very funny when all you can think about is whether you can liquidise a Big Mac and suck it through a straw.

  Anyway, I am not happy about Miss Ramsbottom terrorising people like this. I don’t care what promises I made to Megs under the influence of chocolate deprivation, if Ramsbottom keeps this up then I shall have to do something about it.

  Icky Blundell has got a boyfriend! Incredible! I don’t remember her actually talking to any of the boys at the rehearsal. She just kept smirking and swinging her spindly legs around. But apparently, after the rehearsal a whole group of girls went to McDonald’s with a load of the boys. I spent most of the day trying to find out who was in this ‘whole group’, but it seems like it was mostly Year Elevens and Icky Blundell. I can’t understand why the top year girls let her hang around. I don’t know how she does it, but people seem to think that Icky is fun and pretty. Why?

  The boyfriend is called Dan and he’s in Year Eleven. He must be desperate.

  I rang Megs to ask for some helpful insight. ‘Do you find Icky Blundell attractive?’

  ‘Faith, I’m not going to give an answer now, because it’s possible that one day I will wake up as a balding troll and then I will be grateful for the love of Ms Blundell.’

  ‘Fair point, but if you were to be turned into a human boy instead of a balding troll, do you think you would find her attractive?’

  ‘The thing about Vicky is that she thinks she’s attractive and that seems to convince everyone else.’

  ‘Surely it can’t be that simple? I mean I firmly believe that I am a model student but that’s never convinced Miss Ramsbottom, has it?’

  ‘Anyway, Zoe’s sister says this Dan is fit-ish and not utterly thick.’

  ‘Maybe he’s got back acne.’

  ‘Thanks, Faith, I’ll use that happy thought to get me to sleep.’

  Now that I think about it, Megs was a bit odd on the phone. We had only chatted for a very short hour and a half then, when I wanted to tell her about Lily juggling shoes in History, suddenly Megs said she had to go. In fact, every time I mention Lily, Megs is weird. I don’t know why, they’ve always got on before.

  I can’t stop thinking about Icky. It seems so unfair that she has got a love life when I haven’t. I’ve been day-dreaming about Ethan asking me to be his girlfriend and Cameron asking Megs out and then we could all go somewhere really cool on a date. Then we could all get cast in a new reality TV series and live together in a loft apartment in London with a butler.

  That would be nice.

  Or I would settle for Dan publicly dumping Icky. That would be nice too.

  Dan was waiting for Icky at the gates. I knew it was him by the way she wiggled her way towards him and then attached herself to his mouth. I don’t think she even said hello. It’s not that I wanted to see Icky kissing, but I couldn’t help looking. It’s a bit like when you drive past a car crash. It’s pretty sick to stare, but it’s strangely compelling. Besides, I need to watch other people kiss, otherwise how will I know what to do when I finally get some lip action myself? I can’t believe I’m fourteen and I’ve never been kissed.

  I wonder if Miss Ramsbottom has got a boyfriend. What a scary thought. Kissing Miss Ramsbottom probably turns you to stone. I reckon her house is full of statues of poor frozen blokes. I bet she lures in pizza delivery boys with her long legs and her expensive perfume and then she pounces.

  I don’t think Icky was paralysing Dan. In fact, he seemed to be melting. He was sweaty and there was drool around his chin. They didn’t move much either. They were just locked together.

  To be honest, it looked a bit dull. If I’d been Icky I’d have been tempted to flick open a magazine behind his head.

  Megs and I got to the rehearsal early so we could save seats for Ethan, Cameron and Elliot. While we were waiting for them Lily arrived and I waved her over. Megs rolled her eyes so I said, ‘What? I thought you liked Lily. At my birthday party last year you two got on like a house on fire.’

  She sniffed, ‘Yeah, well, we didn’t use to spend quite so much time with her.’

  I need to have a chat with Megs about this stroppiness.

  The Radcliffe boys arrived and Ethan and co had just sat down with us when in walked the best-looking boy I have ever seen. He was tanned and had that messy blond I’ve-just-been-surfing hair down to his collar. He looked like someone from an Australian soap. Or like someone in a boy band – the lead singer of a boy band, not the slightly podgy one or the one with strange teeth that they always put at the back of the photo.

  So, he walked in. What a walk. I didn’t know walking could be so impressive. He strode along with a bunch of mates and everyone turned to look at him. Even Icky took her tongue out of Dan’s ear for a minute.

  Megs said, ‘Who. Is. That?’

  Ethan rolled his eyes, ‘Finn Ryland.’

  I said, ‘Why wasn’t he here last week?’

  ‘I expect he was getting his highlights done,’ Ethan replied.

  Cameron butted in, ‘Actually, he was still on holiday in the States.’

  Ethan went on, ‘Oh, so the ha
irdressers in this country aren’t good enough for him?’

  Which made me laugh, although this Finn doesn’t look like one of those horribly vain boys who spend hours making sure the points of their gelled hair are all the same height. In fact, there’s a kind of scruffiness about his loveliness. He looks like he just fell out of bed looking that gorgeous.

  Not only is Finn incredible-looking, he is also an amazing singer. He’s got a solo part in three of the songs we’re doing – I can’t remember which ones; they all sound the same to me. I must try and pay attention, so when I manage to wangle a chat with him I’ve got something intelligent to say.

  Angharad was unusually quiet at the rehearsal. I mean, she’s always quiet, but today she was so quiet that halfway through the rehearsal I said, ‘Where’s Angharad disappeared to?’

  And Lily pointed out that she was stood next to me and had been for half an hour.

  I said, ‘Come on, Ang! Speak up. Mr Millet loves it when we interrupt his long and boring instructions with our witty chat. I’ll be getting worried about you if you don’t give us a little mousy squeak at least once a day. Are you all right?’

  And she said, ‘Yes.’

  After a while I realised that she was taking a great interest in the chair in front of her. And then I wondered if she was interested in the contents of the chair, namely, titchy Elliot. I looked at Ang, then I looked Elliot and I said in a discreet fashion, ‘Woooooo! Ang! You love Elliot!’

  Angharad seemed ridiculously annoyed by my friendly interest in her love life, which was silly because as I was voicing my matey concern a boy called Westy was making farting noises with both armpits simultaneously, so no one heard except Angharad. (And maybe two or three rows behind us. Four or five max.) Even though I explained this, Angharad displayed an aggressive side I have never seen before. Not only did she say, ‘Shhh, Faith!’ She also tutted. Yes, she was that angry. But as I said to Lily and some other girls I’ve never met before, Angharad’s secret is safe with me. I will tell no one that she lurves Elliot.

  At the end of the rehearsal I thought I should do something to boost my own love opportunities, so Megs and I tried to sort of happen to end up near super-fit Finn while he was packing up his music. Unfortunately, all the rest of the girls were trying to sort of happen to end up next to him too, so there was a gridlock situation until Westy yelled, ‘Ferret!’ and all the girls ran, screaming.

  I’m bored.

  I told Dad and he suggested that I ‘play with Sam’. It’s sad the way he ignores my blossoming womanhood so that he can pretend I’m still seven.

  On the other hand, he’s given me an idea. Sam is still good for a bit of entertainment one way or another.

  Today I was forced to go to Granny’s house.

  I said to Mum, ‘If you’re trying to punish me for Sam’s hair, couldn’t I just go to church instead?’

  Personally, I don’t think I should be punished for what happened yesterday. If Sam’s stupid enough to believe someone when they say that Golden Syrup is a ‘great styling product’ then he deserves what he gets.

  Mum said, ‘This isn’t about punishment, Faith. It’s about family. Your grandmother is a part of our family. She also has the wisdom of age. You should respect that.’

  ‘I could go to the Russian Orthodox church? They make you stand for three hours in there.’

  But no, I had to go to Granny’s. I don’t know why Mum was defending her. She wasn’t so keen on Granny’s elderly wisdom when Granny told her that she read in the Daily Mail that being a vegetarian makes your teeth fall out.

  When we arrived, Granny inhaled the shortbread we’d taken her and then talked us through her ongoing battle with the neighbours over who puts their recycling bin where. She had the cheek to finish with a yawn. ‘I was out late with Geoff,’ she said, then she turned her laser eyes on me and said, ‘I hope you’re not out every night with boys. Has she got a boyfriend? Have you got a boyfriend?’

  I thought this was going to be one of those conversations Granny has where you’re not allowed to join in, so it took me a while to realise that she’d actually asked me a question.

  I said, ‘No.’

  ‘Well, we can’t all be the belle of the ball. Of course when I was your age I was practically married.’

  ‘Really, Granny? How old were you when you got married?’

  ‘Twenty.’

  Which made me think that either the old girl isn’t very good at maths, or she was imagining that I was a bit older than I am. I thought I might as well take advantage of this so I said, ‘That’s nice. Can I have a gin, Granny?’

  She wasn’t listening, but I’m definitely trying that one again at Christmas.

  Then Mum thought it would be nice to look at Granny’s photo albums. The old ones are full of my parents’ wedding day and rubbish like that, but the most recent one is jam-packed with pictures of Granny on different holidays with different men. Granny couldn’t remember all of their names, but she could remember other details. She jabbed her finger across the page saying: ‘Pilot, dentist, company director, millionaire, diamond thief, King of Spain.’ (I might have made the last couple up, but the point is that Granny is very shallow and really only interested in rich men. Not like me. I don’t care how much money they’ve got. I value what really counts in a relationship, like true love and sun-streaked hair.)

  While I was looking at a photo of Granny in Blackpool with a man who she said was ‘very big in the plastic cutlery business’, she asked again, ‘Have you got a boyfriend?’

  If she’s going to forget things, why couldn’t she do something useful twice? Like slip me a tenner.

  I said, ‘Well, it’s hard to choose. There are two nice young men who are battling it out for my affections.’

  ‘Goodness! Well you know what to do in that situation, don’t you dear?’

  ‘No, what should I do?’

  ‘Find out what their fathers do. I don’t want a coal miner in the family.’

  And that’s the wisdom of age for you.

  On the way home we stopped at the twenty-four-hour supermarket ‘as a treat’. Seriously, that’s what my dad said.

  I may as well have gone to school today.

  I have just discovered that Icky is doing a duet with Finn at the concert. I said to Megs, ‘Why? What has she got that I haven’t?’

  ‘Perfect pitch?’

  ‘Don’t tell me that the poisonous pixie can sing?’

  ‘Faith, you knew that. Don’t you remember last year when we had to listen to her warbling at the carol service?’

  ‘Megs, when I step inside a church I enter a deep state of calm and I am oblivious to the bustle around me.’

  ‘You mean you slept through it.’

  ‘There’s no need to say it like it’s a bad thing. It was for her own good, if you look at Icky when she’s showing off it only encourages her.’

  ‘Yeah, well I’m afraid that she’s pretty good.’

  ‘She might be good, but she’s not pretty. I think the best solution for all concerned would be for her to sing from the wings and I’ll stand next to Finn and mime.’

  ‘Is mime your solution to everything?’

  ‘Actually, I’ve got a whole range of problem-solving strategies. As well as mime, I also use water pistols and dirty looks.’

  I have been behaving my socks off and no one seems to have noticed. I haven’t so much as set off a single explosion, but I still haven’t been moved back with Megs. It’s true that I am spectacularly popular with 10SW and everyone was clamouring to sit next to me in Geography today (I chose Lily, but it honestly had very little to do with the fact that she was packing three tubes of Rolos), but the thing is that still I feel lost without my Megs. I miss our chats. I miss the way that I would say something quite rude but funny about her and then she would say something quite rude but funny back. No one else seems capable of having a proper conversation like that. If you say something rude to Angharad she cries. If you say s
omething a bit cheeky to Zoe she wraps your ponytail around your neck. And it doesn’t really matter what you say to Lily, you’ll end up having to look at the smiley faces she’s painted on her toenails anyway.

  Basically, it’s hard work getting some decent conversation at the moment.

  After school I rang up Megs to tell how much I love and appreciate her.

  I said, ‘Hello, Fatty, I think you’ve put on some weight. It’s probably because you are not getting the usual stimulating workout from trying to keep up with me both physically and mentally.’

  She said, ‘If you weren’t such an imbecile you wouldn’t have got us into this mess in the first place.’

  It was nice to have a heart-to-heart with my bestie.

  Later on, I started wondering whether we are going about this the right way. All this exhausting good behaviour doesn’t seem to be getting us anywhere. Maybe I’m not the problem, maybe what we need to do is get rid of Miss Ramsbottom.

  I’m just saying.

  Someone set off the fire alarm today. Luckily it was during PSHE, so we didn’t miss anything that we’ll need to know about in the real world.

  10NM were in the middle of getting changed for PE, which meant we were treated to Icky Blundell in her underwear (funny how everybody else managed to fling on some clothes). Anyone else might have been embarrassed to be caught out in their knick-knocks, but Icky cartwheeled over to her friend in 10LV to cadge a lollipop and twirled about like the Sugar Plum Scary. Then she met up with the popular crew in Year Eleven and talked about what they’re going to wear on Saturday night. Unbelievable. Meanwhile I was spending my time sensibly by asking Megs if she knew the answers to the work we were doing in PSHE. I was also keeping up my energy for learning with a few of Lily’s Dolly Mixtures. Lily offered them to Megs, but she said no.

  When we were marching back into school I said to Megs, ‘Why are you being funny with Lily? I know she’s bonkers, but she’s pretty funny really and she’s generous with her sweets and—’