I’m nearly eight.’
‘You’re not nearly eight,’ Dad reminded her. ‘You only turned seven two months ago.’
‘Yes, but I’ll never turn seven again,’ Melly insisted. She gave Jeane an appraising glance.‘Are you one of Michael’s girlfriends?’
‘No,’ I said shortly. ‘Jeane goes to my school and don’t ask personal questions.’
‘Is Melly asking personal questions again?’ Mum wanted to know as she came through the door. She dumped handbag,briefcase and laptop bag on the table, took off her coat, slung it over the back of a chair, kissed Dad, then caught sight of Jeane who was eyeing her with interest. ‘Hello, who are
you?
’
Introductions were made. It was like watching two dogs circle each other warily. I’d never seen Jeane look less sure of herself. ‘Well, I’ve rested and I’ve iced,’ she said, staring at her foot. ‘Is it time for compression yet?’
‘Why don’t you stay for dinner?’ Mum suggested. Mum’s suggestions always sounded like a direct order.
‘Well, I do have rather a lot to do this evening,’ Jeane said, staring at the worktop where Dad was making a marinade. ‘What are you having?’
‘Turkey and tofu stir-fry,’ Alice said. She shuddered. ‘I never eat the tofu; it’s yuck.’
‘Why don’t you phone your parents and let them know where you are?’
I looked at my mother in horror. She knew me. I was her eldest child. Her only son. She’d raised me and nagged and chivvied me to do my coursework on time and not eat between meals and we even watched subtitled Danish detective TV shows together so she had to know that Jeane was not someone who was my friend and certainly not someone who I wanted to stay for dinner.
At least Jeane and I were in complete agreement for once because she was looking equally horrified, especially when she saw Dad cutting up huge chunks of tofu.
‘No, it’s OK,’ she said. ‘I don’t need to call my parents. I’d
love
to stay for dinner.’
Jesuswept.
There were so many reasons why I shouldn’t have been having dinner at Michael Lee’s house but his dad had been really nice as he picked bits of grit out of my bloodied flesh with a pair of tweezers
and
he’d given me lollipops, even if they were sugar-free. Besides, it had been
ages
since I had a homecooked meal, probably not since Bethan had gone to the States. But the best reason for staying for dinner was the look of utter panic on Michael Lee’s face, like his entire reality was about to come crashing down.
It was payback for my sprained ankle and my ruined orange tights and it was another lesson for him on how life felt when it wasn’t going your way.
And to start off with it was fun. I totally bonded with Melly and Alice and while the stir-fry was being stirred and fried they took me up to their room, which was rammed full of pinkprincess paraphernalia but also a metric arseload of Lego and Beyblades so I didn’t have to lecture them on the evils of gender stereotyping. Not that it would have done any good.
Alice and Melly were sweet and made it clear that they much preferred me to Scarlett and that my approval rating was very high with the under-tens. Melly even offered to lend me her favourite pair of stripy tights but they were too small, which was a pity because Melly’s favourite pair of stripy tights were pink and green and completely awesome.
I could have stayed on Alice’s bunk bed for the rest of the evening being entertained with tales from the primary school frontline but, all too soon, it was time to sit down to eat the infamous turkey and tofu stir-fry, which was actually delicious. I mean, even the tofu was delicious and there were soba noodles, which I absolutely love, and it would all have been great if Michael’s mum had let me just shovel the food into my face in peace.
His mum (she said I could call her Kathy but made it sound like she’d stab me if I tried) is a lawyer and she cross-examined me like I was in the dock on
‘You’re not nearly eight,’ Dad reminded her. ‘You only turned seven two months ago.’
‘Yes, but I’ll never turn seven again,’ Melly insisted. She gave Jeane an appraising glance.‘Are you one of Michael’s girlfriends?’
‘No,’ I said shortly. ‘Jeane goes to my school and don’t ask personal questions.’
‘Is Melly asking personal questions again?’ Mum wanted to know as she came through the door. She dumped handbag,briefcase and laptop bag on the table, took off her coat, slung it over the back of a chair, kissed Dad, then caught sight of Jeane who was eyeing her with interest. ‘Hello, who are
you?
’
Introductions were made. It was like watching two dogs circle each other warily. I’d never seen Jeane look less sure of herself. ‘Well, I’ve rested and I’ve iced,’ she said, staring at her foot. ‘Is it time for compression yet?’
‘Why don’t you stay for dinner?’ Mum suggested. Mum’s suggestions always sounded like a direct order.
‘Well, I do have rather a lot to do this evening,’ Jeane said, staring at the worktop where Dad was making a marinade. ‘What are you having?’
‘Turkey and tofu stir-fry,’ Alice said. She shuddered. ‘I never eat the tofu; it’s yuck.’
‘Why don’t you phone your parents and let them know where you are?’
I looked at my mother in horror. She knew me. I was her eldest child. Her only son. She’d raised me and nagged and chivvied me to do my coursework on time and not eat between meals and we even watched subtitled Danish detective TV shows together so she had to know that Jeane was not someone who was my friend and certainly not someone who I wanted to stay for dinner.
At least Jeane and I were in complete agreement for once because she was looking equally horrified, especially when she saw Dad cutting up huge chunks of tofu.
‘No, it’s OK,’ she said. ‘I don’t need to call my parents. I’d
love
to stay for dinner.’
Jesuswept.
There were so many reasons why I shouldn’t have been having dinner at Michael Lee’s house but his dad had been really nice as he picked bits of grit out of my bloodied flesh with a pair of tweezers
and
he’d given me lollipops, even if they were sugar-free. Besides, it had been
ages
since I had a homecooked meal, probably not since Bethan had gone to the States. But the best reason for staying for dinner was the look of utter panic on Michael Lee’s face, like his entire reality was about to come crashing down.
It was payback for my sprained ankle and my ruined orange tights and it was another lesson for him on how life felt when it wasn’t going your way.
And to start off with it was fun. I totally bonded with Melly and Alice and while the stir-fry was being stirred and fried they took me up to their room, which was rammed full of pinkprincess paraphernalia but also a metric arseload of Lego and Beyblades so I didn’t have to lecture them on the evils of gender stereotyping. Not that it would have done any good.
Alice and Melly were sweet and made it clear that they much preferred me to Scarlett and that my approval rating was very high with the under-tens. Melly even offered to lend me her favourite pair of stripy tights but they were too small, which was a pity because Melly’s favourite pair of stripy tights were pink and green and completely awesome.
I could have stayed on Alice’s bunk bed for the rest of the evening being entertained with tales from the primary school frontline but, all too soon, it was time to sit down to eat the infamous turkey and tofu stir-fry, which was actually delicious. I mean, even the tofu was delicious and there were soba noodles, which I absolutely love, and it would all have been great if Michael’s mum had let me just shovel the food into my face in peace.
His mum (she said I could call her Kathy but made it sound like she’d stab me if I tried) is a lawyer and she cross-examined me like I was in the dock on
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