Don't Ask Alice (5 page)

E
veryone was tired by the time we got back on the bus for the journey home. Grace and Louise were listening to Grace's new video iPod, so Alice and I got a chance to talk.

‘Well?' she said.

‘Well what?' I answered, like I didn't know what she was asking.

‘How do you think Dad did? Do you think he'd have a chance if he asked Miss O'Herlihy out?'

I probably have a better chance of going out with Johnny Depp. I couldn't say that though. So I said nothing.

Alice continued.

‘I don't know what got into him this morning. He was a total klutz – and he's not usually like that. Maybe he was nervous or something. I shouldn't have gone on about how important this day was to me. Still, he was fine after lunch, wasn't he?'

I had to smile.

‘You mean except for when he stumbled into the duck-pond?'

Alice made a face.

‘Well that duck shouldn't have quacked so loudly. It gave poor Dad a fright.'

‘And except for when he was making funny faces at the monkeys, and the zoo-keeper said he should have more sense at his age.'

Now Alice laughed. I was glad to see she still had her sense of humour.

‘That doesn't count. Miss O'Herlihy didn't see
it, so she can't use that against him.'

I grinned.

‘Yeah. Whatever.'

‘Anyway,' continued Alice. ‘What do you think? Will I tell Dad to ask her out when we get back to the school? Maybe they could go for a cup of coffee on the way home?'

Before I could answer, Peter lurched up along the middle of the bus. He was calling to the bus-driver.

‘Can you stop please?'

The bus-driver ignored him. He was probably still cross over getting lost in the field earlier.

‘Stop, please,' repeated Peter. ‘It's an emerg—'

Before he could finish the word, he bent over, and threw up loudly and horribly all over the floor of the bus. Everyone around said stuff like ‘eeeurgh!' and ‘gross!' Everyone except for Melissa who screeched,

‘Oh! It's so
totally
disgusting. And some of it splashed on my new runners.'

That was the best moment of the day.

I turned to Alice.

‘You never told me your dad gets car-sick – or should I say bus-sick?'

Alice shook her head. It was hard to understand what she was saying, as she was holding her nose while she spoke. I think she said,

‘That's because he doesn't usually get bus-sick. Those bold boys at the back must have fed him too many crisps or something.'

Miss O'Herlihy turned around in horror.

‘I can't believe it,' she said. ‘I just can't believe it. Why on earth is everything going wrong today?'

I sighed. All I know is, if you want to know why stuff is going wrong, don't ask Alice – she's usually too closely involved to give an honest answer.

The bus pulled in to a lay-by, to give Peter a chance to clean up the mess with the wet-wipes Miss O'Herlihy practically threw at him. When he'd finished cleaning the floor, he held a clean wipe towards Melissa.

‘Would you like me to wipe your shoes for you?' he asked.

Melissa screeched again,

‘No way! I am
never
wearing these shoes again. Ever.'

Eventually the bus got going again, and we made it back to school without any more fuss.

Peter was first off the bus, and he vanished before anyone had a chance to talk to him.

I made a face at Alice as we went in to school with some bags of litter.

‘Now can you accept that maybe your dad and Miss O'Herlihy are not going to become an item?'

Alice put her head down and didn't answer.

She looked so sad, I felt sorry for her.

‘Anyway,' I said. ‘I suppose I have to take some of the blame. After all, I'm the one who had the idea of your dad going on the trip with us. Maybe a whole day together was a bit too much for them.'

That was the wrong thing to say. Alice
suddenly sounded brighter.

‘You're right. A whole day
was
too much. We'll have to try again. I bet they could get on fine if they tried. Maybe next week we could…'

We were approaching the bins, and we slowed down when we heard Rachel and Miss O'Herlihy chatting, just around the corner.

Rachel was giggling, and I could hear Miss O'Herlihy's voice.

‘Honestly. I've never met anyone like that Peter O'Rourke. He's worse than any child I've ever taught. I have to say I felt sorry when I heard about his wife leaving him. Now that I know him better though, I think she deserves a medal for putting up with him for so long. If I never see that man again, it will be much too soon.'

Alice and I dumped our bags of rubbish, and ran back around the school. Alice put her head in her hands and started to sob.

‘Poor Dad,' she sniffled. ‘How could she talk about him like that? She made him sound like a
total freak.'

Peter had
acted
like a total freak, but I thought it best not to point that out to Alice.

I put my arm around her shoulder.

‘Don't cry, Al,' I said. ‘Miss O'Herlihy's had a long day, that's all. She's just cross, and tired. We both know your dad's not really like that.'

Alice stopped crying.

‘Really?' she asked.

I nodded.

‘Really,' I said, and I meant it. ‘Your dad's great. He was just unlucky today. Most of that stuff wasn't his fault … well, not all his fault anyway. And after hearing Miss O'Herlihy saying all those mean things about him, I think he's lucky not to be going out with her. She's not good enough for him if you ask me.'

Alice wiped her eyes.

‘Thanks, Meg,' she said.

I smiled at her.

‘You're welcome,' I said.

Half the time I don't know what to say to
Alice when she's upset, so this time I was very glad I'd been able to find the words to make her feel a bit better.

Alice gave me a small smile.

‘Well, at least we know how Miss O'Herlihy feels now. No point wasting any more time trying to get her together with Dad.'

I was so happy I felt like jumping up and down and screaming.

‘That's great, Al,' I said. ‘I
so
hate all this plotting and scheming. I'm glad it's over at last. Now we can get on with enjoying our last few weeks in sixth class. We can really concentrate on our graduation and we can—'

Alice held up her hand.

‘Hey, stop,' she said. ‘What are you on about?' she asked.

‘You know,' I said. ‘That whole thing about getting your dad a girlfriend to make your mum jealous – that was a stupid idea really. So now we can forget all about it.'

Alice suddenly looked cross.

‘But that was a
great
idea. It still is. We
have
to get a girlfriend for Dad. That hasn't changed. All that's happened is that Miss O'Herlihy isn't going to be the one – and serves her right too. So we just have to get our act together and find someone else.'

Now I felt like crying.

Why could Alice never, ever, ever give up?

Why had I picked the most stubborn girl in the world to be my best friend?

At school next day, I didn't even smile when Miss O'Herlihy said ‘hello' to me. I still felt bad about what she'd said about Alice's dad.

Miss O'Herlihy was extra-nice to Alice though – so nice that at lunchtime Alice said to me – ‘Do you think maybe she likes Dad after all?'

I shook my head. How blind could a girl be?

‘So why is she being so nice to me?' she asked.

Alice is a bright girl, but this time I was glad she didn't know what was going on. How could I tell her the truth?

Just then Melissa passed by. She stopped walking when she saw us.

‘Oh, hi, Alice,' she said. ‘I see Miss O'Herlihy is being especially nice to you today. It must be
soooo
embarrassing for you.'

Alice tossed her head.

‘I have no idea what you're talking about, Melissa.'

Melissa shrugged.

‘Whatever. All I know is, I'd be embarrassed if my teacher was being nice to me just because she felt sorry for me for having such a dorky dad.'

Then she flicked her hair over her shoulders and walked on.

Alice turned to me. There were tears in her eyes.

‘Is that true?' she asked. ‘Does Miss O'Herlihy feel sorry for me?'

Of course it was true, but there was no way I was telling Alice. She'd go totally crazy. I shook my head.

‘You know what Melissa's like,' I said. ‘She's
just trying to cause trouble as usual. Let's go find Grace and Louise. Grace has some cool new songs on her iPod.'

I don't know if Alice believed me, but she didn't say any more about it, and neither did I.

I still didn't feel happy though. Alice hadn't given up. Alice
never
gives up.

I knew that even if she didn't talk about it, and even if she seemed to have forgotten all about it, somewhere, deep in her brain, the crazy plan zone would be ticking away quietly. It might take weeks, or even months, but one thing was sure – sooner or later, Alice would come up with another crazy plan.

I decided it was best to just go on as normal, while I waited for that crazy plan to take shape.

W
hen I got home from school one Monday a few weeks later, I found Mum sitting in the middle of the family room floor, surrounded by a huge heap of photographs. It looked like there had been an explosion.

Mum had a funny look on her face, and her eyes were all kind of misty and sparkly.

I ran over to her, worried.

‘What's wrong, Mum?' I asked. ‘What's
happened?'

I was relieved when she smiled.

‘Nothing's wrong, love,' she said.

‘Then why…?' I pointed to the pile of photographs on the floor. ‘What…?'

Mum gazed around her like she'd forgotten that she was sitting in the middle of a photograph mountain.

‘Oh, that,' she said. ‘Don't worry about that. I'm just happy.'

What kind of a crazy mother was I stuck with?

Why couldn't she dance around when she was happy, like normal people do?

I picked up a photograph from the pile and glanced at it, wondering who those sad losers in the dodgy clothes could be. Then I looked again, as I slowly realised what I was looking at. I gulped hard, and looked one more time.

It was a picture of Mum and Dad that must surely have been taken as a joke. Mum's hair is almost down to her waist, in a big cascade of
dull, brown frizz. She has so much hair it's a wonder she's able to hold her head up straight. She's wearing a huge, floaty, yellow dress that comes down to her ankles, making her look like an overgrown daffodil. Dad's hair is long too, and greasy too by the look of it – it's hanging down around his shoulders like lots of rats' tails. Even worse, though, Dad's actually wearing dungarees – big, baggy, denim dungarees – and he doesn't even look embarrassed. He's actually smiling and waving at the camera like he's proud of himself. I made up my mind to slag him over the photo – if I ever got over the shock, that is.

Mum took the photo from my hand and gazed at it. She spoke dreamily.

‘Your dad and I were so happy then.'

I giggled.

‘Why? Was it because you were on your way to a fancy dress party, and you knew you had the funniest outfits?'

‘Ha, ha. Very amusing,' she said.

I picked up some more photographs. They all
seemed to be taken at around the same time, at some kind of a concert or festival. I couldn't look at them for long. They were making me dizzy with their bright colours.

‘When was this?' I asked.

Mum sighed a big, long, happy sigh.

‘At the Foggy Mountain music festival – in Galway. Dad and I went there just after we got married. It was the best weekend of my whole life. And you'll never guess what …'

‘What? You got arrested by the fashion police?'

She ignored my joke. (A pity, 'cause I thought it was quite funny.)

‘I just heard on the radio that there's going to be a Foggy Mountain reunion at the weekend. It's so lucky I heard it. Imagine if I'd missed it!'

‘Sorry, Mum,' I said. ‘I couldn't imagine anything as terrible as you not finding out about the Foggy Mountain reunion.'

Mum kept talking.

‘It's going to be in the same place, and they've
got some of the same bands coming to play. We're going to go for the weekend. It's time I let my hair down.'

I put my hands over my face and screamed in mock fear.

‘Not that. Anything but that. Promise me you won't let your hair down.'

Mum just kept talking like I hadn't said a word – very strange. By now I should be getting her lecture on ‘showing respect for adults.'

‘We're going to camp in the same field where we camped twenty years ago,' Mum said. ‘It's going to be a real trip down memory lane.'

‘You'd better be careful,' I said. ‘Memory Lane sounds like it's full of mad old hippies. It could be a real scary place.'

Once again Mum ignored my joke. She looked at the first photograph again.

‘I must look up in the attic. I think I might have that dress still.'

I laughed.

‘Why? Are you going to use it as a tent? You'd
be very popular – you could fit a few families in there.'

Mum must really have been in a strange mood, because she ignored that joke too. Suddenly I had a horrible thought – probably the scariest thought of my whole life.

Did Mum expect me to go hang out with all these crazy people with psychedelic clothes and horror hair?

Did she think I was going to spend my whole weekend dancing around a mucky field listening to creepy old music?

Knowing my luck I'd probably get my picture in the paper, and that would give Melissa enough to mock me about all the way to the summer holidays.

Did Mum want to ruin my life forever?

I was so scared I could hardly get the words out.

‘I… I… I… don't have to go, do I?'

Mum shook her head.

‘No, love. I'm sorry. I'd love you to come, but
it's not really suitable for kids. You and Rosie will stay here. It's all arranged. Linda's coming to mind you.'

Now that was
really
good news. Linda is Mum's younger sister. We hardly ever see her because she lives in Dublin, and has a very busy life. When she visits though, she's really fun, and always gives Rosie and me sweets when Mum isn't looking. A whole weekend with her would be totally
brilliant
.

Mum suddenly looked sad.

‘I hope we're doing the right thing,' she said. ‘Dad and I have never spent a night away from Rosie before. And she's still only a baby. Maybe it's best if you and Rosie just come with us. Maybe I should ring Linda and tell her not to come after all.'

There was
no way
I was going on that crazy trip. I jumped up.

‘No, Mum,' I said. ‘Don't do that. Rosie's not a baby. She's four now. She's a big girl. And I'll help to mind her. And I'll be really good for
Linda. I'll help her all the time. I'll—'

Mum laughed.

‘OK. OK. I get the message. I suppose you can stay here. It will be good for you girls to spend some time with Linda – get to know her a bit better. Now would you ever get the ladder from the garage for me? I'm going up to the attic to see if I can find that lovely yellow dress.'