Jean Ure - Fortune Cookie

Jean Ure

For Emily Collins and

Katherine Story

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Also By Jean Ure Copyright About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE

Hi! I’m Fudge Cassidy, and this is my friend, the Cupcake Kid. She’s my bestie!

There’s a photo of us that Cupcake’s mum took last year, when we’d just started at secondary school. We’re showing off in our new school uniforms, which we now wouldn’t be seen dead in. Not if we could help it. We are both smiling proudly, looking straight at the camera. Nothing to hide! No guilty secrets. That all came later…

Cupcake’s the thin one. The one with the long, dark hair tied in a plait. I’m the short, stubby one with all the freckles. Not to mention the blobby nose, which Dad always says looks like a button mushroom. Cupcake has a really nice nose! Sort of… noble . She complains about it being too long; she says it’s like a door knocker, but I’d sooner have a door knocker than a mushroom. I think people show you more respect.

Another thing Cupcake complains about is her teeth. They are being trained not to stick out, which means she has to wear a brace, which sometimes makes her sort of buzz and click when she says certain words. Mostly ones beginning with S . I have never told her, but when she first had the brace and started buzzing and clicking I thought it was really cool and wished that I could have one! I did suggest to Mum that maybe I ought to, “just in case”. Mum said, “Just in case what?” I said, “In case my teeth start growing outwards. I think they are starting to… look!” And I pulled this bunny face with my bottom lip sucked in, just to show her. But Mum never takes me seriously. She says I’m too impressionable and always getting these crazy ideas.

“There’s nothing the matter with your teeth! Don’t be so daft.”

I bet Cupcake’s mum wouldn’t tell her to put her teeth away and not be daft. Well, she obviously hadn’t. She’d taken her to the dentist to get a brace put on, which is what any normal mum would do. Not mine! “No,” she says, when I remind her of it, “I am a hard woman.”

Cupcake’s mum isn’t hard; neither is Cupcake. They are both very caring sort of people. In fact, Cupcake is nothing but a great big softie, which is what I’m always telling her. If Cupcake takes after her mum, I s’ppose I ought to be honest and admit that I probably take after mine. I do love my mum (in spite of her not letting me have a brace) but I just HATE it when people look at me and go, “Ooooh, don’t you look like your mum!” I mean, nobody wants to look like their mum, right? If they said, Don’t you look like ………………. (fill in the name of your favourite celeb). Well! That’d be different. But I don’t expect anyone’s favourite celeb is likely to be short and stubby with a button mushroom instead of a nose, and a face covered all over in splodgy brown freckles. Yuck yuck yuck!

Now I’ve gone and lost track. I’m always doing that! Attention span of a flea. That is what Mrs Kendrick said to me last term, and I guess she might be right. My mind does hop about a bit! What I really meant to do was write about me and Cupcake. Say how we first met. How we got to be friends. That sort of thing.

OK! Me and Cupcake first met when our mums were in the hospital, right next to each other in the ward. How cool is that? Cupcake was born a whole half-hour ahead of me without any fuss at all, and afterwards she just lay there gurgling in her crib, as good as gold, so that everyone ooh-ed and aah-ed and said what a sweet little baby she was. I apparently was all loud and red and screaming and kept sicking up over everything and generally making a nuisance of myself. I don’t suppose anyone ooh-ed and aah-ed over me. They probably took one look and jumped back in horror, going “Aaaaargh! Save me!”

Once, when I was trying to discover a bit more about those ancient times, I asked Mum if she could have told which baby was me and which baby was Cupcake if we hadn’t had those little wristband things with our names on – cos, you know, all babies look alike when they are first born. Well, I think they do. I wouldn’t be surprised if all kinds of mistakes are made. Mum seemed to find this amusing. She said, “We never had the least trouble telling you apart!” She said that Cupcake was always “such a dear little soul… so good and quiet and eager to please.” Unlike me, is what she meant! I guess it’s true, me and Cupcake are just, like, totally different – which doesn’t stop us being in-sep-arable. Like, joined at the hip , as people say, though I’m not quite sure why. If we are joined anywhere, it’s at the shoulder. We go round all the time with our arms round each other. Either that, or linked together. Sometimes it’s like we’re stuck with glue! It’s strange to look back and remember that it hasn’t always been like this.

After we’d got born, and our mums had taken us back home, we didn’t see each other again for ages. Years and years. Nine, to be exact. I was in Year 5 when Cupcake suddenly turned up at my school. We didn’t know we’d already met! After all, it wasn’t like we’d been properly introduced or said hi, or anything. So to begin with, the first few days, we didn’t really take much notice of each other. I thought Cupcake was a bit boring, to be honest. All mousey and miserable. She didn’t ever seem to laugh, or join in any of our games at break time. Just skulked round by herself, looking like a tree had fallen on top of her, with her shoulders hunched and her head way down. No fun at all! She confessed later that she hadn’t liked me any more than I had liked her. She said I was all loud and bossy. “A right show-off!”

Thing is, Cupcake had a reason to feel sad. I didn’t have any reason for being loud and bossy. I think my voice just naturally comes out as a bit of a bellow; Mum is for ever telling me not to shout. As for being bossy – well, maybe I sometimes am. But not on purpose! I just get kind of carried away. Same with showing off. I never mean to. “No,” says Cupcake, “you just do .” But she has learnt how to squash me! And she has learnt how to laugh, in spite of everything. I like to think this is partly thanks to me.

It wasn’t till she had been in school several days that our mums arrived at the same time one afternoon to collect us and surprise, surprise! They recognised each other. That was when we discovered that we had already met. Our mums immediately started swapping memories. Cupcake’s mum remembered how I hadn’t seemed to want to be born – “You were so overdue!” – and my mum told us how Cupcake had been such a quiet little baby and how I had been the noisy one.

I remember me and Cupcake exchanging glances. I was thinking, “Quiet just means boring ,” while Cupcake was thinking, “She still is noisy.” I know this is what she was thinking cos ages afterwards she actually told me.