Over the Moon (17 page)

“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 won’t make you undress. You don’t have to go in the pool!”

“Actually,” he said, “I do.” He opened the door of the cubicle and I tried very hard not to stare at his leg, cos a) it would have been rude, not to mention insensitive, and b) it would have embarrassed him; but quite calmly he said, “It’s all right, I’ve psyched myself up for it. I should have done it before. It’s just stupid vanity.”

“Me, too,” I said. Simon said no, I was right, it was worse for me. He said, “I guess it’s always worse for girls.” I told him very firmly that he was being sexist – though in the nicest possible way – and that it was in fact worse for him, because my eyes had only
swollen up through my own stupidity, whereas he couldn’t help what had happened to him.

“Plus I’m almost back to normal, but Matt said you’d got to have more operations?”

Simon said, “Yeah, well … that’s the way it goes. And you
are
back to normal. You don’t look in the least like a pickled walnut!”

“So will you tell Matt?” I said.

He promised that he would, and we both went into the pool and sploshed up and down for a bit, then sat on the side and talked. We were there for ages! Simon was such an easy person to talk to. He told me more about his mum and dad, and how they’d got on really well before his dad had gone and trashed the car. And then he thought about it and said maybe that wasn’t quite true; maybe they
hadn’t
got on quite so well. The reason his dad had trashed the car was that he was in a towering great rage.

“He and my mum had just had this really big fight and Dad was, like, still seething. So I guess, maybe, him screwing up just brought matters to a head. It’s funny,” he said, “I’ve never really admitted that before. I’ve always liked to believe that everything was perfect. But looking back, I can see that it wasn’t. Not really. There were all sorts of clues.”

I said that when
I
looked back, I couldn’t see any clues at all.

“Not until these last few months.” Before that, everything
had
been perfect. I said this to Simon, and he said maybe it had only seemed so.

“It could be something that’s been building up for ages. Like your mum could have been feeling more and more frustrated and just, like, keeping the lid on things?”

I said doubtfully that I supposed it was possible.

“Doesn’t strike me as something that’d come on suddenly,” said Simon. “It might have seemed sudden, when she finally came out with it, but that’s only because you didn’t know what was going on.”

“No,” I said, “and neither did Dad!”

“You reckon?”

“I’m sure he didn’t!”

“He probably did,” said Simon. “People usually do. They just close their minds because they don’t want to know. If you let yourself know, it means you have to do something.”

“Like what?” I said. “There’s not much you can do if your mum walks out!”

“Just give her a bit of time. Give them both a bit of time. I’m sure they’ll work things through. Your mum seems like a really together person.”

“What about my dad? What does he seem like?”

Simon hesitated when I asked him this. He said, “I don’t really know your dad.”

“From what you’ve seen of him.”

“I only really know what you’ve told me. From what you’ve told me it sounds like he still loves your mum but he’s feeling, like … hurt? And confused? Like she’s throwing everything back in his face and he doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve it.”

“He hasn’t done anything to deserve it!” I cried. “He just doesn’t understand!”

“Could be that’s the key to it. Once he does— ”

“They’ll get back together again? You really think so?”

“Maybe if you help them,” said Simon.

What he thought I could do, I really didn’t know, but at least it gave me something to hold on to. Afterwards I thought what a lovely guy he was, and what a shame he was physically challenged. What Dad in his non pc way would call crippled, but that is such a hateful word. It was how I’d thought of Simon when I’d first seen him; but now that I’d got to know him, and especially now we’d both
bared our souls
– well, my eyes and his leg! – I just thought of him as Simon, who happened to walk with a limp.

It was still a shame, cos actually he was really quite attractive, I could really have gone for him. I mean, if I hadn’t gone for Matt first. Anyone would have gone for Matt first! Like when me and Hattie were together, boys always went for me first. It was just a fact of life, I wasn’t claiming any credit for it.

And then it occurred to me … maybe Simon would make a good partner for Hattie on Founder’s Day? If she hadn’t already got one, that is. I’d promised to look out for her, but what with my eyes swelling up and Mum dropping her bombshell, I’d forgotten all about it. Hattie herself hadn’t mentioned it, so I assumed she was still partnerless. Not that you
had
to have a partner, but most everybody did. Poor old Hat! It would be horrible
if she was the only person on her own. And it wouldn’t really matter that Simon couldn’t dance, cos Hattie isn’t that much of a dancer. She wouldn’t mind. They could sit and talk together. They’d get on really well!

I was so pleased to have solved the problem, I thought that I would tell Hattie the very next day, when I went back to school.

Matt rang that evening. He was all jokey, so I was all jokey too. He said, “My spy tells me you’re fit to be seen again?”

I said, “Yup! I can go out without frightening people.”

I wasn’t really feeling jokey. Really I would have liked to ask him who he had planned on going to Founder’s Day with, if not me. But I wasn’t quite brave enough, so we just fooled around a bit and Matt said it was a pity he hadn’t discovered sooner that I didn’t look like a pickled walnut any more cos then we could have met up, maybe, at the weekend.

“Unfortunately it’s too late, now, I’ve gone and arranged something else.”

Still being all jokey I said, “I hope it’s not anything too exciting!”

“How could it be exciting,” said Matt, “if you’re not there?”

Hopefully I said, “I
could
be there.”

“I wish,” said Matt.

He never did tell me what he was doing. He said we would speak again after the weekend and then rang off, leaving me feeling vaguely dissatisfied. That night I wrote in my diary for the first time in weeks.

Matt called. Simon has told him I am back to normal and will be all right for Founder’s Day. Next week! Matt said, “Talk about leaving things till the last minute.” He said, “I was getting a bit worried, there. I didn’t fancy going with a pickled walnut!” I guess I should be grateful that he has waited for me. A boy like Matt, he could have any girl he wanted.

I am quite looking forward to it, though somehow not as much as I
thought I would be. I don’t know why. I’m sure it will be fun when we get there.

Tomorrow I am going back to school. I am still a bit self-conscious, even though Simon has assured me I don’t look pickled any more, and I know he wouldn’t lie, not even to be kind. He is very trustworthy. Thank heavens Hattie is the only person who knows why I’ve been away. I told her to tell everyone I had the flu, otherwise they would all be peering at me. I couldn’t take that!

Next morning I met up with Simon at the station and we travelled in together. He said, “How are you feeling?” I said, “Nervous!”

“No need,” said Simon. “You look great!”

I thought again how nice he was, and what a comfort. Just for a moment I almost wished I were going to Founder’s Day with him instead of with Matt, but the moment passed. Matt might not be as nice and he certainly wasn’t as comforting, but he was utterly
and totally the most gorgeous boy I had ever been out with. Tanya’s eyes, when she saw me with him, were going to jump right out of their sockets!

Hattie was waiting for us when we got off the train. She needn’t have, cos I’d told her I was coming back to school and so there wouldn’t be any homework for her to pick up, but she said she’d kind of got used to it.

“Anyway,” she said, “as it’s your first day back I thought you’d like some company.”

I beamed at her, gratefully. There are times when Hattie can be just
so
thoughtful.

“You didn’t tell anyone?” I said.

“Not a soul! Honest! Cross my heart and hope to die.”

If Hattie said she hadn’t told anyone, then she hadn’t. She is always, absolutely, one hundred per cent truthful and she isn’t a prattler. In other words, she is not one of those people that open their mouths and just let stuff pour
out in a mindless stream. I hate people like that! Hattie said she hadn’t told and I believed her. So how come Tanya knew??? She made a beeline straight for me, all oozing with sympathy and a kind of patronising gush.

“Scarlett, are you OK now? God, you poor thing, it must have been awful! I’d be absolutely petrified if anything like that happened to me. I’d think I was going to be scarred for life! Did you just wake up one morning and find it had happened?”

Someone said, “Find what had happened?”

“Her eyes,” said Tanya. “They all swelled up!”

“
Really
?”

As brightly as I could I said, “Like footballs. I had to wear sunglasses or people would just have dropped dead on the spot.”

Tanya said, “I would have dropped dead on the spot if I woke up and found my eyes had turned into footballs. It’s the most horrific thing I’ve ever heard!”

“But why did it happen? What caused it? What was it?”

Now they were all clamouring at me, like a load of ghouls.

“Oh, I’m just a bit allergic,” I said.

“You are so
brave,”
said Tanya. “If that had been me …”