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Authors: Penelope Bush
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door Mum’s there giving me The Look. Before I even think about it I’m saying, ‘Sorry, Mum – I had a detention.’ Wow, where did that come from?
‘A detention? Why?’
‘Oh, nothing drastic,’ I lie. ‘It wasn’t even my fault. Someone passed me a note and I got the blame.’ Mum is not looking particularly convinced.
‘I thought they had to give twenty-four hours’ notice, and anyway why are you so late? I thought detentions only lasted an hour.’ How come my mum is suddenly an expert on detentions? I’ve never had one before. Even I didn’t know all that.
‘Yeah, I’m sorry, I forgot to mention it yesterday, and then I had to get off the bus a stop early so I could go to the chemist and get some
things
,’ I say, looking meaningfully at Rory who has just joined us in the hall.
Finally Mum seems to have swallowed all these amazing lies that keep popping out of my mouth. ‘Well, you should have rung. I rang you and texted you, I was just starting to get worried.’ I follow her into the kitchen.
‘What do you mean you texted me?’ Then I spot a mobile phone on the table.
‘I got Gwen at work to teach me.’ Mum looks a bit sheepish. ‘The thing is, love, I bought this phone for you.’ She picks up the mobile. ‘I was going to give it to you for your birthday but then Dad gave you one, and well . . . I thought I might as well keep it and then we can stay in touch when I’m not here . . .’
Oh, great. My worst nightmare. She might as well have sewn the umbilical cord back on.
‘How did you get my number?’ I know I sound grumpy but I can’t help it.
‘I called your dad and he gave it to me. Like I say, I was worried.’
I look at the mobile in Mum’s hand and suddenly realise why she got so upset when Dad gave me a phone. It wasn’t because she didn’t want me to have one and it wasn’t even about the money. It was because she was planning on giving me one for my birthday. She must have saved up for it for ages, even though it looks like quite a poxy one. I know I’m being horrid. This always happens when I feel bad. It’s like, by being angry, I can cover up the fact that really I feel sad. I think about Mum looking forward to giving me the phone on my birthday and I feel like crying. Instead I shout, ‘Well, don’t think you can ring me every minute of the day.’
Mum looks hurt, which makes me even more angry, so Ishout even louder as I leave the room, ‘And don’t expect me to look after Rory on Saturday, because I’m going to Imogen’s for the night.’
When I’ve shut myself in my room I lie on my bed, exhausted. I’ve got a tight knot of anger in my chest, but at the same time I feel ecstatic because of Seth. I decide to concentrate on the ecstatic bit for the moment and drift off into a wild and wonderful daydream that encompasses all my former daydreams.
I’m living at Dad’s, in the new house, with my super-cool bedroom, and Trish and Dad have gone away on their honeymoon leaving me on my own for a whole week. Of course Seth comes to stay to keep me company. We go out for long romantic walks in the park and by the canal, holding hands, and when we stop to look at the ducklings, he stands behind me and wraps his arms around me and I lean back into his hard, broad chest. Then it’s snowing and we’re in the park larking around, throwing snow at each other and eventually we end up rolling around laughing and making snow angels and then he’s kissing me . . . mmm . . . and then we’re at home and we’re snuggled up on the sofa in front of the fire, watching a romantic film together and sharing pizza and popcorn and then we’re kissing again and I realise that soon it will be time for bed . . .
There’s a banging on my bedroom door. Bloody Rory. ‘Mum says dinner’s ready.’ He’s rattling the door handle but I’ve wedged a chair under it so he can’t get in. I roll off the bed.
‘Go away. Tell her I don’t want any.’
He thuds down the
‘A detention? Why?’
‘Oh, nothing drastic,’ I lie. ‘It wasn’t even my fault. Someone passed me a note and I got the blame.’ Mum is not looking particularly convinced.
‘I thought they had to give twenty-four hours’ notice, and anyway why are you so late? I thought detentions only lasted an hour.’ How come my mum is suddenly an expert on detentions? I’ve never had one before. Even I didn’t know all that.
‘Yeah, I’m sorry, I forgot to mention it yesterday, and then I had to get off the bus a stop early so I could go to the chemist and get some
things
,’ I say, looking meaningfully at Rory who has just joined us in the hall.
Finally Mum seems to have swallowed all these amazing lies that keep popping out of my mouth. ‘Well, you should have rung. I rang you and texted you, I was just starting to get worried.’ I follow her into the kitchen.
‘What do you mean you texted me?’ Then I spot a mobile phone on the table.
‘I got Gwen at work to teach me.’ Mum looks a bit sheepish. ‘The thing is, love, I bought this phone for you.’ She picks up the mobile. ‘I was going to give it to you for your birthday but then Dad gave you one, and well . . . I thought I might as well keep it and then we can stay in touch when I’m not here . . .’
Oh, great. My worst nightmare. She might as well have sewn the umbilical cord back on.
‘How did you get my number?’ I know I sound grumpy but I can’t help it.
‘I called your dad and he gave it to me. Like I say, I was worried.’
I look at the mobile in Mum’s hand and suddenly realise why she got so upset when Dad gave me a phone. It wasn’t because she didn’t want me to have one and it wasn’t even about the money. It was because she was planning on giving me one for my birthday. She must have saved up for it for ages, even though it looks like quite a poxy one. I know I’m being horrid. This always happens when I feel bad. It’s like, by being angry, I can cover up the fact that really I feel sad. I think about Mum looking forward to giving me the phone on my birthday and I feel like crying. Instead I shout, ‘Well, don’t think you can ring me every minute of the day.’
Mum looks hurt, which makes me even more angry, so Ishout even louder as I leave the room, ‘And don’t expect me to look after Rory on Saturday, because I’m going to Imogen’s for the night.’
When I’ve shut myself in my room I lie on my bed, exhausted. I’ve got a tight knot of anger in my chest, but at the same time I feel ecstatic because of Seth. I decide to concentrate on the ecstatic bit for the moment and drift off into a wild and wonderful daydream that encompasses all my former daydreams.
I’m living at Dad’s, in the new house, with my super-cool bedroom, and Trish and Dad have gone away on their honeymoon leaving me on my own for a whole week. Of course Seth comes to stay to keep me company. We go out for long romantic walks in the park and by the canal, holding hands, and when we stop to look at the ducklings, he stands behind me and wraps his arms around me and I lean back into his hard, broad chest. Then it’s snowing and we’re in the park larking around, throwing snow at each other and eventually we end up rolling around laughing and making snow angels and then he’s kissing me . . . mmm . . . and then we’re at home and we’re snuggled up on the sofa in front of the fire, watching a romantic film together and sharing pizza and popcorn and then we’re kissing again and I realise that soon it will be time for bed . . .
There’s a banging on my bedroom door. Bloody Rory. ‘Mum says dinner’s ready.’ He’s rattling the door handle but I’ve wedged a chair under it so he can’t get in. I roll off the bed.
‘Go away. Tell her I don’t want any.’
He thuds down the
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