Over the Moon by Jean Ure

much longer are you going to go on behaving like a leper?”
    I snapped, “Until I’ve stopped looking like one! I look like a pickled walnut!”
    “I don’t believe you,” said Simon.
    I said, “Oh, really? And how would you know? You haven’t got the faintest idea
what
I look like if I take these glasses off!
    That was a mistake, cos he immediately said, “Well, go on, then! Do it! Then I can see.”
    “I don’t want you to see! I don’t want anyone to see!”
    “Your mum’s seen. She says you’re just making a fuss about nothing.”
    “Yeah, well, she would, wouldn’t she? She just wants to
pretend
that I’m OK so she can go waltzing off and not have pangs of conscience!”
    “What about Matt?” said Simon. “He’s getting worried. There’s only a couple of weeks to go toFounder’s Day and he still doesn’t know whether he’s going to partner you or not. I’m supposed to be reporting back! He’s nagging me to know if you’re presentable. What am I going to tell him? She’s still in hiding and won’t let anyone see her?”
    I said, “Now you’re trying to blackmail me.”
    He didn’t deny it. But sort of apologetically he said, “You know what Mart’s like.”
    I said, “What d’you mean?”
    “Well— ” He shrugged.
    “What do you mean?
Know what Matt’s like
?”
    So then Simon looked a bit uncomfortable and mumbled, “If you’re not going to be able to go, he’ll probably go with someone else.”
    “Someone else?” I felt my heart began to hammer in my rib cage. “Who?”
    “I don’t know who.”
    “Has someone else asked him?”
    “I dunno! Well – yeah. I think so. I’m not sure. He just told me to check you’re going to be OK.”
    “I am going to be OK!”
    “So what do I say when he asks me if I’ve – like – well! Seen you,” said Simon.
    There was a silence. My heart was still hammering. Who was it who had
dared
ask my date to go with herto Founder’s Day? Instead of me! Who else did Matt know?
    “Thing is,” said Simon, “he’s used to, like, having his pick. Been spoilt, I guess.”
    Well, and so had I; I was used to having
my
pick. But I would just die if Matt were to go to Founder’s Day with someone else!
    “Be brave,” said Simon. “Just take them off … I’ll tell you if you look like a pickled walnut. Honest! Give you my word. If I say you don’t, you can trust me … you don’t!”
    I took a breath, trying to stop my heart going at it like a bongo drum. Slowly I said, “All right … I’ll make a bargain with you. I’ll take my glasses off if you’ll come in the pool.”
    Oh! That was different. He didn’t like it when I turned the tables on him.
    “I told you,” he muttered, “I don’t swim.”
    “Matt said you did. He said you
could.
He said you just wouldn’t, cos of being scared people would stare. That’s as pathetic as me not taking my glasses off. It’s just vanity. Like anybody
cares
how you look. Actually, it’s worse for me cos Matt
does
care how I look. So if I’m going to be brave then you ought, too!”
    “But I haven’t got any bathing trunks.”
    “No problem! We’ve got loads, we keep them specially. You won’t get out of it that way!”
    He agreed, in the end. I could tell he wasn’t happy, but I stood firm. He was being mean to me, I would be mean to him! It wasn’t till I’d changed into my swimsuit – in my bedroom – and taken off my glasses and studied myself up close in the mirror, that I started to feel a bit guilty. I really
didn’t
look too bad. I almost began to feel ashamed of all the fuss I’d been making. It had been horrendous at the beginning, but Mum was right: I could have gone back to school days ago.
    I went racing downstairs and into the pool room, and banged on the door of the changing cubicle.

    “Hey, Simon!”
    “I’m coming,” he said.
    “No, I wanted to tell you, it’s OK, you don’t have to, I’m sorry! I’ve taken my glasses off, you can look, but I