Mumnesia (13 page)

I look up. That
is
what I always say . .
.

‘That’s what I tell Jess too,’
Trev continues. ‘Of course, she just rolls her eyes at me.
I don’t know what’s harder – being a teenager
or parenting one, eh? Your Lucy’s nearly the same age,
isn’t she?’

I nod. Then a sudden thought hits me.

OMGA! Is
this
why Sharon doesn’t
want Lucy to date Zak? Because she thinks older boys are jerks
and that he’ll end up breaking her heart and mucking up her
schoolwork?

‘Well, if she’s anything like you,
you must be very proud.’ Trev smiles and stubs out his
disgusting cigarette on the fence post. ‘Good to see you,
Shazza.’

‘You too, Trev.’ I smile back.
Because he’s totally right –
I’m
right!
My destiny
is
in my own hands. Whatever’s happened
in the past, this is
my
life now.

And I’m going to fix it.

I am SO going to fix this. I have to. After
all, if I don’t stop Dad going to Australia, Mum’ll
never get her memory back.

#NotAnOption

I splash cold water on my face, pull myself together, then
head back to the table.

‘Lucy!’ Dad jumps up anxiously as I approach.
‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have just blurted
everything out like that—’

‘It’s fine. I’m sorry. I overreacted,’
I reply, forcing a smile as I take my seat.

Dad glances at Ingrid, then sits back down slowly. ‘Are
you sure?’

I nod. ‘It was just . . . a shock, that’s all. I
need some time to think about it.’

‘Of course!’ Ingrid says, nervously fiddling with
her napkin. ‘There’s still some time.’

I frown. ‘How much time?’

Dad and Ingrid look at each other.

‘Well . . .’ Dad hesitates. ‘I mean . . .
Ingrid’s been offered a job starting at the end of the
month, but—’

My stomach tightens. ‘The end of the
month
?’

‘A vacancy’s come up at my cousin’s
gym,’ Ingrid explains. ‘I just found out.
That’s what got me thinking about moving back home in the
first place.’

Wow! Operation Break-Up now has a deadline. A very tight
deadline.

Which means we have no time to lose.

I plaster a smile on my face. ‘What are you guys doing
tomorrow night?’

‘I’m so sorry!’ I cry,
hugging Lucy the moment she opens the front door. ‘I
majorly overreacted!’

‘No
I’m
sorry!’ She
squeezes me tightly. ‘I should’ve told you the truth
from the beginning. Are you OK?’

I nod. ‘I am now.’

Suddenly Lucy wrinkles her nose. ‘Is
something burning?’

‘My toast!’ I hurry back to the
kitchen to rescue my makeshift dinner. ‘Ugh, that’s
the last of the bread too.’ I groan. ‘It’s been
one of those evenings.’

I tell Lucy all about going home and talking to
Trev as I scrape the burnt crumbs into the bin.

‘OMG,’ Lucy says slowly. ‘So
that’s
why Mum doesn’t want me to date Zak?
But Zak’s not like that.’

‘I didn’t think
Trev
was like
that!’ I counter, grabbing the margarine from the
fridge.

‘Wait.’ Lucy jumps up and tosses me a
jar of chocolate spread. ‘This’ll cover the burnt
taste better – and you definitely deserve some comfort
food! What an uber-rubbish night!’

‘Actually . . . it’s OK,’ I
say, coating my toast with chocolate. ‘Trev made me realize
that while I can’t change my past, I can totally fix my
future.’ I take a large bite.

‘You’re right.’ Lucy grabs
Sharon’s laptop from the kitchen counter. ‘We just
need to break Dad and Ingrid up. By the end of the
month.’

‘
What?
’ I splutter, spraying
toast crumbs everywhere.

Lucy fills me in on everything Danny told her at
dinner, and I can’t believe my ears. Not only does my bogus
husband leave me for a younger woman, but now he wants to take my
daughter away to the other side of the world?

‘I told him I’d think about
it,’ Lucy says, opening the laptop.

‘WHAT?’ I almost choke on my toast
this time. ‘Lucy, you can’t go!’

‘As if!’ she cries, tapping away.
‘I just told him that to buy us some time to split them
up.’

‘But . . . how?’

‘Here’s how!’ Lucy spins the
laptop round to show me a picture of a fancy-looking swimming
pool and lots of attractive people wearing bathrobes.

‘Huh?’

‘I asked Dad if I could have a spa date
with Ingrid after school tomorrow to “get to know her
better”.’ Lucy’s eyes sparkle. ‘He booked
it there and then! Dad will be Ingrid-free for at least three
hours, so he’s going to come over here. I told him you
wanted to talk to him about Australia, but really you’re
going to put him off Ingrid!’

‘But
how
?’ I stare at her.
‘Luce, I don’t know anything
about
Ingrid! And
I can’t spend an evening with Danny without him guessing
I’ve got amnesia – I can’t remember anything
about
our entire marriage
!’

‘Hmm.’ Lucy frowns. ‘That could
be problematic.’

‘Duh!’ I cry.

‘Don’t worry. I’ll fill you
in.’ She smiles. ‘It’ll be fine!’

Famous last words.

Shazza and I sit up late into the night
prepping for Operation Break-Up. I tell her everything I know
about her life as she makes revision cards. Next morning
we’re exhausted.

And panicking. One slip-up = disaster!

‘OK.’ I pick yet another card. ‘Date you got
married?’

‘Ooh, I know this one – it was on the wedding
album!’ Shazza twirls her hair round her finger anxiously.
‘Um . . . 23 July?’

‘Nearly!’ I wince. ‘The
twenty-seventh.’

‘Argh!’ She flops back on to the bed. ‘How
am I supposed to memorize an entire marriage by tonight?
It’s impossible!’

‘No, it’s not,’ I soothe. ‘You can do
this, Shazza. I know you can. You have to.’ I glance at the
clock. ‘And I have to get to school.’

‘But I’m meant to go to the doctor’s
later,’ Shazza whines. ‘I don’t even know where
it is!’

Oh crumpets! I’d forgotten about that. ‘I’ll
call and cancel the appointment,’ I tell her. After all, if
the doctor reports Shazza to social services, I’ll
definitely be sent to live with Dad.
In Australia
.
‘Besides, we know what’s wrong with you now,’ I
add reassuringly. ‘And we know how to fix it.’

‘Only if I manage to learn everything in time!’
Shazza wails. ‘This is, like, the hardest exam ever –
only worse! There’s so much more at stake!’

‘You’ll be fine!’ I smile encouragingly,
wishing I felt as confident as I sounded. ‘Just keep
rereading the revision cards. I’ll get back from school as
quickly as I can, and we can go through everything again before
they arrive. OK?’ I hug her tight. ‘Good
luck!’

She sighs. ‘I’m gonna need it.’

We both are.

Ugh! This is hopeless! I’ve been
staring at these bogus cards all morning, desperately trying to
memorize the facts and anecdotes, but
nothing
is going in!
I need some brain food.

Food.
Danny’s favourite foods are .
. . I try to remember as I walk to the kitchen: peanut butter,
cheese-and-onion crisps and chicken-something-or-other . . .
Chicken chasseur? Chicken supreme?

Argh! My mind is a total blank!

As is the fridge. A lonely tub of margarine and a
half-empty bottle of stinky milk stare back at me, along with a
packet of weird purple leaves (do we have a rabbit? Must check!)
and a plastic tub of something green and sludgy-looking. I lift
the lid tentatively, then recoil at the stench – Gross! No
brain food here. I’ll have to go to the super-duper-market
if I actually want to eat anything today, let alone chicken . . .
Kiev? Parmigiana?

I give up and look at the card. Chicken
cacciatore! I close my eyes and try to memorize it.

Danny’s favourite meal is chicken
cacciatore. Danny’s favourite meal is chicken cacciatore.
Danny’s favourite meal is . . .

Suddenly I grin.

Danny’s favourite meal is chicken
cacciatore? Then I’ll cook it for him tonight!

I find a recipe online, print it out, then grab
Sharon’s handbag and race out the door.

Genius!

‘Are you OK?’ Kimmy frowns as
she sits down next to me in maths. ‘You’ve been
really quiet all day.’

I bite my lip. I’m dying to tell her what’s
happened with Mum and all about Operation Break-Up, but because
of her dad’s job it’s just too risky.

‘I’m fine,’ I fib, flashing her a weak
smile. ‘Just tired.’

‘Don’t lie to me,’ Kimmy says tightly.
‘I’m your best friend. I know when something’s
wrong.’

I hesitate. I don’t want Kimmy to be mad at me, but I
can’t tell her the truth either! At least not the
whole
truth . . .

‘Dad’s thinking of moving to Australia,’ I
say, fiddling anxiously with my pencil case.

‘What?’ Kimmy’s eyes widen.
‘When?’

‘In two weeks,’ I say miserably. ‘And he
wants me to go with him.’

‘OMG! Lucy you can’t!’

‘Settle down, class!’ Mr Hawkins says, striding
into the room.

‘Do you want to come over after school so we can talk
properly?’ Kimmy whispers. ‘Hockey practice is
cancelled.’

#Typical! The one day Kimmy can hang out I’ve got
Operation Break-Up!

‘I’m sorry.’ I cringe. ‘I
can’t.’

She sighs. ‘Of course you can’t.’

Great, now she’s mad again. ‘I’m
sorry,’ I hiss, desperate to get her back onside.
‘I’m going to a spa,’ I explain.

Her eyes narrow. ‘A spa?’

‘Ooh, which spa?’ Nicole calls from across the
table.

‘Silence!’ Mr Hawkins chides.

Crumpets! Now Kimmy’s going to think I’m even more
of a bimbo – especially as it’s why I’m turning
down spending time with her! I scribble a note:

I pass it to her.

I still feel bad not telling her the whole truth, but
it’s close enough. For now.

Kimmy frowns, then writes an answer, but before she can pass
it back Mr Hawkins snatches it off her. They don’t call him
Hawkeye Hawkins for nothing.

‘Let’s see, what have we got here?’ He peers
at Kimmy’s note, then reads it aloud in a silly
high-pitched voice. “‘Poor you – but
don’t you have detention today?” Well, unless
you’d like detention too, Ms Chung, there’ll be no
more notes in my class. Understood?’

‘Yes, Mr Hawkins,’ Kimmy mumbles.

Detention?
Oh crumpets, I forgot! Seriously, is amnesia
infectious?

As soon as the bell rings for the end of school, I grab my bag
and race into the corridor, hoping to get past Ms Banks’s
classroom without her noticing . . .

‘Lucy Andrews!’

My heart sinks. There she is, holding her classroom door open
for me expectantly.

‘Where do you think you’re going?’

‘Ms Banks!’ I cry. ‘I’m really sorry,
but I can’t stay for detention – my mum really needs
me.’

‘Nice try, Lucy.’ She raises an eyebrow. ‘I
spoke to your mother yesterday – she knows where you
are.’

‘But it’s an emergency!’ I protest.

‘
Really?
And how did you find out about this
emergency? Are you psychic?’

‘Well, no, but—’

‘Come on, Lucy, this isn’t like you.’

‘I’m sorry – can I please just nip to the
loo first?’ I beg.

She sighs. ‘Be quick.’

I hurry into the toilets, dash into a cubicle and pull out my
phone. Thank goodness for mobiles!

I hate mobiles!

The loud sing-buzzing startled me, and now
I’ve spilt oil all over the floor! Argh! I glance at the
screen.

Lucy.

Uh-oh. I jab the answer button.

‘Shazza! Uber-catastrophe! I completely
forgot I’m in after-school detention today!’ Lucy
wails.