Жаклин Уилсон - Girls In Love

‘Magda! Don’t be such a bitch,’ I say primly – but she’s only saying out loud what I’m thinking.

I feel as if I’ve been in a race with Nadine and I always thought I’d win, but now she’s forged ahead and left me behind.

‘Come on, Ellie, let’s go and say hello,’ says Magda.

‘No! We can’t butt in.’

‘Of course we can,’ says Magda, shoving me sharply in their direction. She runs one hand through her hair, fluffing it up, and undoes the top button of her school blouse. ‘Hey, Nadine,’ she calls, wiggling across the playground towards them.

I stand foolishly, not sure whether to follow. I edge towards them as if I’m playing Grandmother’s Footsteps. Nadine is sitting on the wall beside Liam. Magda is standing in front of them, one hand on her hip. She’s chatting away like crazy but it doesn’t look as if Liam is paying her much attention. Nadine isn’t saying much. She’s looking down, hiding behind her hair.

‘Oh, and this is my other friend, Ellie,’ she mumbles when I get near.

What’s wrong with her voice? She sounds all wet and whispery.

‘Hello,’ I say awkwardly.

Liam gives me a curt nod and turns back to Nadine. ‘You look cute in the uniform,’ he says.

‘I look awful ,’ Nadine protests. ‘What are you doing here anyway?’

‘I finished early at college so I thought I’d see if I could spot you amongst all your little schoolgirly chums. So come on. Let’s go for a walk or something.’

‘OK,’ says Nadine, swinging her legs over the wall.

Liam raises his eyebrows and she giggles stupidly.

‘’Bye then, Nadine. ’Bye, Liam,’ says Magda. She waves. He doesn’t bother to respond.

‘Well!’ says Magda, staring after them. ‘So we’re the little schoolgirly chums, eh, Ellie?’

‘She’s so different with him,’ I mutter.

‘He doesn’t exactly get ten out of ten in the charm stakes,’ says Magda. ‘I hope Nadine knows what she’s doing. He’s ever so old for her.’

‘I don’t like him,’ I say.

‘Neither do I. Though if he’d liked me more I might feel more positive,’ says Magda, laughing.

That’s one thing about Magda. She might be a real scheming bitch at times but she’s always honest about it.

‘Oh well, Ellie, I’ll walk with you to the bus stop, eh?’

She links her arm in mine. There’s a whole crowd of Anderson boys at the bus stop. Our school is Anderson High School too, but they’re entirely separate, across the road from each other on different sites. One school for girls, one school for boys. Twin schools for separate sexes. Only most of the Anderson boys are so awful it’s depressing. The little ones are just like animals, yelling and kicking and bashing each other with their schoolbags. Their idea of sophisticated humour is farting. Come to think of it, the Year Nines go in for that a lot too. They are all revolting, each and every one. The Year Tens and Elevens are almost as bad, though I suppose there are a few possibles.

One of these possibles is at the bus stop. He’s Greg Someone. I suppose he’s quite good looking but he’s got red hair that he hates, so he puts heaps of gel on it to make it as dark as he can. If you were ever in a clinch with Greg and you ran your fingers through his hair it would be like dabbling in cold chip fat. Not a happy thought.

Magda’s never given him a second glance before, but suddenly she bounces up to him. ‘Hey, Greg. How’s things? Did you have a good holiday? Pretty dire having to come back to this old dump, eh? And look at all this homework first day back, can you believe it! See how heavy my bag is.’ She thrusts it at Greg. He staggers, blinking rapidly. It’s not the heaviness of Magda’s bag. It’s the heaviness of her approach. I don’t think she’s ever said one word to him before.

He turns almost as red as his hair and looks totally idiotic. Magda gazes at Belisha Beacon boy as if he’s a Keanu or a Brad. She sighs and stretches her arms, making out they’re aching. This action has an amazing effect on her school blouse. The buttons strain. Greg positively glows .

A foul little gang of Year Eights are ogling too, nudging each other and making disgusting comments. Magda shakes her head at them. She makes a pithy comment that indicates they have been exercising their own arms more than somewhat. Then she looks back at Greg. Her blue eyes have a positively lighthouse beam. ‘You’re not any good at Maths, are you, Greg? I’m useless .’

She’s not, actually. I’m the one who can’t even add up correctly using a calculator. Nadine’s not much better. Magda is always the girl who does our Maths homework, but now she’s acting like she’s got candy floss for a brain.

‘I’m OK at Maths actually,’ says Greg. ‘What’s the problem then?’

‘Oh, it’s ever so complicated,’ says Magda. ‘And look, isn’t that the bus coming? I don’t get on the bus, I’m just here with my friend. Look Greg, do you ever go to the McDonald’s near the market?’

‘Sure I do.’

‘Well, how about if we meet up there? Half seven, something like that? And I’ll bring my stupid Maths with me and see if you can make me understand it, OK?’

‘Yes, sure,’ said Greg. ‘Half seven. Right.’

‘It’s a date,’ says Magda, retrieving her schoolbag and giving Greg a dazzling smile. She turns to me – and winks.

So now Magda’s got herself a boyfriend too. In less than five minutes.

Greg waves after her as he gets on the bus. I wonder if he might sit next to me as I’m Magda’s friend, but he barges straight past and sits with some other Anderson boys who have already got on. He’s talking rapidly, obviously showing off that he’s scored with Magda.

I sit all by myself. I am starting to feel seriously depressed. So. I didn’t tell Magda and Nadine I was making it all up. I didn’t get a chance, did I? And Nadine has got a real boyfriend. And now Magda has got one too, just like that. Why can’t I chat someone up the way she can?

I gaze round the bus in desperation. There are two nerdy Year Ten Anderson boys sitting across the way from me, earnestly discussing some stupid sci-fi stuff. They look like beings from another planet themselves but I’m so desperate I’ll try anything.

I bare my teeth at them in a big cheesy grin. They reel back as if I’m a rabid dog about to bite. I cover my teeth and cower in my seat. It’s no use. I’m not like Magda.

Oh, God, I feel so fed up. I’m never ever going to get a boyfriend. No boy in the entire world is ever going to fancy me.

No. I am wrong. When I get home there is a letter waiting for me.

Dear Ellie,

Hello! It’s me, Dan. Sorry this is such jiggly writing. I’m scribbling this going home in the car and various sprogs keep jogging me and my mum is driving and she’s a total maniac – she does a ninety-mile-an-hour dash down the motorway and then when one of the kids starts screaming for a wee she screeches to a halt on the hard shoulder in seconds so that we practically hurtle through the windscreen.

This is not romantic subject matter for a love letter. OK, shall I try to be romantic? I should make up a super romantic fable about a fair maiden languishing in a tower being rescued by a handsome knight. A Welsh fable, set in a Welsh castle. Like THE MABINOGION. That’s those old Welsh tales I told you about. They’re written down in a White book and a Red book. Well, this isn’t a book, it’s a scrappy letter, and you’re not fair, you’re dark, and I’m not handsome. You can say that again. I know you think I’m all nerdy and nutty. Well I’m wordy as well as nerdy. And OK, who cares if I’m nuts? I’m nuts about you. I wish we didn’t live so far away. But you can come on a visit to my place any time. If you don’t mind being surrounded by all my stupid siblings. Or I can come and visit you??? Hint hint!