Over the Moon (8 page)

Occasionally, however, Simon wasn’t there, and then it was a DOWN DAY. A total waste. There just didn’t seem any point in a day
when I couldn’t talk about Matt. I could talk about him to Hattie, of course – which I did, with a vengeance! – but it wasn’t the same, because Hattie didn’t know him. When I talked about him with Simon I felt as if we were  … connected. Almost like I’d been talking to Matt himself. I tried explaining this to Hattie, who shook her head, not unsympathetically, and said, “You’ve got it real bad, girl!”

And oh, I had. I had!

I was counting the days till Matt came back from his field trip. Actually crossing them off on the calendar. I had a big red arrow pointing to the day when I would see him again. Mum caught sight of it and asked me what it was for. I said, “Oh! Just something.”

“Something nice,” said Mum, “by the looks of things.”

She was trying really hard! But I wasn’t going to tell. Not that Mum would have laughed: she has always been very good like that. She has always taken me seriously, it’s Dad who teases. But Hattie was the only one I could
talk to about Matt, and the feelings he inspired in me. I dreamt about him every night! I even had my own private soap opera
(Scarlett ’n’ Matt)
which I played through in my head while I was supposedly watching telly or eating dinner. I kept adding newer and more exciting episodes. Sometimes it got quite hairy!

One time I was in the middle of an episode when Dad said something to me and I came to with a start. I could feel my cheeks growing all red and hectic. Dad said, “What’s up?” which made me grow even redder and even more hectic! How could I possibly tell him? If he knew the thoughts that were going on inside my head
he would throw fifty fits on the spot. Dad has always been hugely protective. He likes the idea of boys fancying me, but he tends to get agitated if I actually go out with them. He once saw me holding hands with Aaron Taylor and it almost made him freak. It almost makes me freak, now, but I was only ten at the time … I hadn’t yet set eyes on Matt!!!

I dressed
so
carefully the day he was due back. Well, I still had to wear school uniform, of course, but I hitched up the skirt a notch, cos regulation length is truly unflattering, even on me, and I’d washed my hair the night before so that it was all fluffy, and I knew that I was looking really good. Dad noticed. He said, “Who are you off to meet, all done up like a dog’s dinner?”

“Just going to school,” I said.

I shot out of the house ten minutes early and went whizzing fast as maybe up to the station. I had to let two trains come and go before Simon arrived. I bounced over to him, beaming. I look back, and I can
see
myself beaming. And I can hear myself gushing.

“Hi! Where’s Matt?”

Oh, God! Did I have
no
pride?

“Isn’t he back yet? I thought he was due back!”

That was when it became Black Monday. Doomsday. Dump day. Down-in-the-pits day.
Matt wasn’t there.
He wasn’t ever going to be there again – well, not at the station. He’d moved out to West Whitton to be with his dad.

I think my face must visibly have fallen – Hattie always says that I am totally transparent – cos Simon very slowly and gently explained to me how Matt had been living with his mum for the past few years, but now his mum had married again and was moving up north, so Matt had opted to live with his dad rather than change schools.

Foolishly, I blethered, “So he won’t be coming in with you any more?”

Oh, pur
lease
! I remember that I went all weak and wobbly, like my bones had dissolved into some kind of jelly.

Simon said no, he’d be getting the bus.

“Oh, but won’t you miss him?” I bleated.

I can still see the look Simon gave me. It is best described as
pitying.
I knew I was being utterly pathetic, but I just couldn’t seem to stop myself. I guess I was suffering from shock. I’d been so looking forward to seeing Matt again, and now he had gone and my life was empty.

“He’s still at school,” said Simon.

Yes, but not
my
school. I really felt like the bottom had dropped out of my world. I almost felt all over again that there was no point in carrying on with the struggle. (To gain merit marks, that is.) Originally I’d been all fired up cos of wanting to show Tanya. But then I’d seen Matt, and Tanya just didn’t figure any more. She just wasn’t an issue. The only reason for working hard, and being punctual, and changing my attitude and all the rest, was so that I could go to Founder’s Day with Matt as my partner. And now he wasn’t there and all incentive had vanished. If I couldn’t go with Matt, I didn’t want to go with anyone!

I poured out my woes to Hattie, who listened patiently and did her best to cheer me up, telling me that all was not lost, and at least I had Simon. Ungraciously I wailed that I didn’t want Simon, I wanted Matt! Hattie told me that Simon was a link, and reminded me that the path of true love never did run smooth.

“You have to fight for these things! They’re not just going to fall into your lap.”

So then I felt a bit ashamed and apologised for being such a bore, but Hattie said that was all right. She said, “What are friends for?” It’s true that I would listen to Hattie if she were ever dealt a mortal blow, and I did try to buck my ideas up, but it was a really bad day. A
really
bad day. I couldn’t even bring myself to write about it in my diary. I’d put a big STAR at the top of Monday, in anticipation, cos I’d been so sure it was going to be an over-the-moon day, but when it came to it I wrote just the one word:
Gloom.

This is what I mean about ups and downs. For the past two weeks I’d been in a bubble, floating high, up amongst the clouds – and now, all of a sudden, without any warning, the bubble had burst and cast me down. Deep into a pit of total depression …

But it is all a merry-go-round, cos three days later, guess what? I was back up!

Met Simon at the station. He wanted to know if I liked football. I nearly went no, yuck, I can’t stand it! I went once with Dad and it was just sooooo boring. Fortunately, in the nick of time I remembered Simon telling me that sport was Matt’s best subject, so instead of saying yuck I went, “Mmmmm …” in that sing song sort of way that means – whatever you want it to mean! In this case, “Well, yes, maybe, quite. Sometimes.” Not actually committing myself to mad enthusiasm, but not betraying my true feelings, either. Which is just as well cos he told me that Matt is
playing in a match on Saturday and that if I liked I could go with him and watch!

Naturally I said that I would. I am so excited! How boring can it be if Matt is there???

So there I was, back over-the-moon. Just like that! I asked Hattie if she would like to come with me. She didn’t really want to, she said she had important stuff to put on her blog, but I nagged at her, reminding her that friendship sometimes meant
duty,
like doing things for each other even if it wasn’t madly convenient, so that in the end she obviously felt ashamed of herself and gave in. The reason I wanted her there: I had this idea that after the game we would probably all go off together somewhere, like the Panino Bar or Jolly’s or somewhere, and Hattie could sit and talk to Simon while I talked to Matt; but it didn’t quite work out that way. Well, actually, it didn’t work out that way at all.

It was just me and Hattie and Simon, because Matt stayed on with the rest of the team for a general nosh-up so that I didn’t even get to say a proper hallo to him. That was a bit of a downer; I’d built my hopes up so high! But while we were sitting in Jolly’s, with Simon
and Hattie going on at huge and boring length about the stuff she was going to put on her blog, I suddenly had this brilliant idea and without giving myself time to think, and maybe get embarrassed – because after all it could be said that I was being a trifle pushy – I leaned across the table and shouted, “Would you and Matt like to come to our after-Christmas party?”

I don’t know why I shouted: nerves, probably. Hattie looked at me in amazement. Simon seemed a bit startled. He said it was very kind of me to ask, but he didn’t really go to parties. I said, “Not go to
parties?”
I’d never met anyone that didn’t go to parties! Simon explained that it was because he couldn’t dance, which was something that hadn’t occurred to me. I suppose it would be quite
miserable, just having to sit and watch everyone else, though goodness knows there are lots of other things to do at parties! But anyway, I hastened to reassure him. I said there wasn’t likely to be much in the way of dancing.