Pick 'n' Mix (8 page)

“Green stuff!”

“Yellow stuff!”

“JUNK FOOD!”

We chorused it, exultantly; even Skye. She seemed a bit more relaxed now that she'd managed to get her nan's present and we hadn't been thrown out.

“Can I have junk food?” said Melia.

I said, “You can have whatever you want.”

“Sticky Fingaz?” Melia clapped her hands, excitedly. “Jem, I'm going to have Sticky Fingaz!”

“You bet,” said Jem.

But she never had them. On our way to the Pick 'n' Mix she suddenly announced, in ringing tones, that she had to go. I said, “Go where?”

“
Go
,” shouted Melia. “Frankie, I've got to go!” And she did a little clumping jig and clutched urgently at herself with both hands. God, it even embarrassed me! I didn't dare look at Skye. I gave Melia a bit of a shove and pointed her in the direction of the Ladies.

“Over there! We'll wait for you.”

I just hoped she went through the door marked LADIES and not the one marked GENTLEMEN. They didn't have the little ladies and gentlemen figures, and I wasn't sure how good Melia was at reading.

“Should have gone with her,” said Skye.

Rather crossly, because I knew she was right, I snapped, “I can't go everywhere with her! She's got to learn.”

We all watched, anxiously, as Melia loped off, still clutching at herself. I breathed a sigh of relief as she disappeared through the right door.

“I'm really sorry about bringing her,” I said. “It was Dad!”

“Yes, you said,” said Jem.

Skye just grunted, like, “Hmph!”

We sat on one of the low walls surrounding a flower bed and settled down to wait for Melia.

“You must admit,” I said, “it's all worked out. You've got your nan's prezzie and now we can go and spend Dad's fiver.”

“Maybe,” said Skye.

What did she mean, maybe? “We're going to! Soon as Melia comes back.”

“
If
she comes back. What's she up to? She's been in there for ages.”

“Should have gone with her,” said Jem. “I told you,” I said. “She's got to learn.”

“I bet she's locked herself in and doesn't know how to get out.”

“She might already have come out,” said Skye.

I frowned. “How could she come out without us noticing?” We'd been watching the whole time. Well, most of the time.

“You know what she's like… could be half way up the High Street by now.”

“You'd better go and look,” said Skye. “Me and Jem'll go on.”

I heaved myself up and went stomping off towards the Ladies. I couldn't believe that Melia had come out and we hadn't seen her, but it was true she had been in there for a long time. I stuck my head round the door. The place was empty! Butterflies began swarming in my stomach.

“Melia,” I yelled, “are you there?”

Slowly, one of the cubicle doors opened. In a small voice, Melia said, “Frankie?”

I rushed over. “What are you doing?”

A stifled giggle burst out of her. It sounded uncertain, like she was scared I was going to be cross. “My trousers are broken!”

“
What?
”

“My trousers are broken!”

She shuffled out, holding the trousers up with one hand.

I said, “What d'you mean, they're broken?”

“They won't do up!”

She'd gone and busted the zip. She must really have yanked at it, cos it wasn't just stuck, it was hanging right off.

“There's got to be a button,” I said. But there wasn't. There wasn't any sort of fastening at all.
Now
what were we supposed to do?

“Just keep a hold of them,” I said. “Whatever you do, don't let go!”

She sulked the whole way home, whining, because she'd missed out on her Sticky Fingaz, while I thought glumly, all over again, about being a plumber.

We caught up with Jem and Skye at the bus stop.

“What's happened now?” Skye said. “Why is she clutching herself?”

Melia said, “My trousers have broken and Frankie won't let me go to Pick 'n' Mix!”

Chapter Eight

There was no sign of either Jem or Skye on Monday morning. I waited as long as I could, but in the end I had to give up and go on by myself with Melia. Rather irritably I told her to “Stop hopping! Why do you have to keep doing it all the time? It's totally stupid!”

I was aware even as I said it that I was being mean. How did Melia know why she did things? She just did them. She just wanted to be happy. When I snapped at her, her face fell. She said, “Sorry, Frankie, sorry, Frankie, s—”

“It's all right,” I said. “But just walk normally, can't you?”

She tried; she really did. I could see her lips bunched up and her fingers all stiff and splayed with the effort of concentrating. She still didn't walk normally. It was something to do with her arms and legs not matching up; one of them always seemed to be moving at the wrong time in the wrong direction. Maybe that was why she hopped. Maybe she found it easier.

She shot me this worried glance, like Rags when he's not sure he's doing the right thing.

“It's OK,” I said. “You can hop, if you want.”

Gratefully, she did a little skip. “Where's Jem 'n' Skye?”

“Dunno,” I said. “Obviously late.”

Except that Skye was never late. I guessed she must have gone on ahead, not wanting to be seen with me and Melia. Jem would be late because Jem often was.

“I like Jem,” said Melia. “She's my friend! Skye gets cross with me.”

“Oh, that's just Skye,” I said. “You don't want to take any notice of her.”

We reached Melia's school and I watched her lollop eagerly across the playground. Two girls ran to meet her, crying, “Melia, Melia!” I was glad she was popular. She didn't deserve to be picked on all the time, just because she was a bit clumsy and awkward and breathed too heavily. She saw me watching and waved.

“Bye, Frankie!”

I waved back. “Bye, Melia!”

I suddenly found that I was feeling incredibly protective. This was what it was all about!
Caring
for people. Watching out for them. I was back on track! I didn't need to be a plumber, after all. I was a
people
person.

I raced back up the road and swung in through the school gates quite jauntily. If Skye didn't want to walk with us any more, that was her problem. I reckon it is truly sad to care so much about the impression you are making, and what people might think. I was just glad that
one
of my friends wasn't like that. Me and Jem could get on perfectly well without Skye and her snooty ways.

And then I reached our classroom, squeezing in just seconds before the bell, and there was Skye, sitting at her desk, and there was Jem, sitting next to her. She was leaning back, talking to Rhianna Shah, and had all her books spread out ready for history. She couldn't just have got there. She'd been there for ages! I banged my bag down, next to her.

“What happened?” I hissed. “I waited for you!”

She was saved from having to reply by the arrival of Mrs Datchett, who has ears like a bat and goes totally ballistic if anyone dares to so much as whisper. It wasn't till break time that they told me.

“We're really sorry—”

“Really
really.
”

“But we just can't take Melia any more!”

They'd been talking about it behind my back. Arranging to meet up without me. They were obviously feeling guilty; even Skye. Pleadingly she said, “If it was just once or twice, it wouldn't be so bad, but it's
all the time.
”

“We know it's not her fault,” said Jem.

“We know she can't help it.”

“It's just the way she is.”

“You mean, you're embarrassed to be seen with her,” I said.

“No! Well – y-yes. Maybe. Just a bit. I mean, Saturday…” Jem's voice trailed off.

“You promised you wouldn't bring her,” said Skye.

“I told you! It was Dad.”

“Yes. Well. Anyway.” Skye pulled a face. “We're really sorry.”

“We are,” said Jem. “Honest!”

“So what am I going to tell Melia? When she wants to know where you are?”

They fell silent at that.

“What am I s'pposed to say?”

“Could just say we're busy,” mumbled Jem.

“What, like every single day?”

Jem stuck a finger in her mouth and nibbled at a nail. Skye stared down fixedly at her feet.

I said, “
Well?
”

“Well…”

Skye shuffled, uneasily. Jem tore off a chunk of nail.

“Oh, don't worry,” I said. “I'll just tell her the truth… they don't want to be seen with you any more. They're ashamed! Cos you do stupid things all the time and it embarrasses them. It's OK, she won't mind, she has learning difficulties. Won't matter to her. She doesn't have feelings same as the rest of us.”

Jem removed her finger from her mouth and squeaked in protest. Skye, in shocked tones, said, “
Frankie!
”

“We don't want her to be hurt,” whispered Jem.

“Oh, I expect she's used to it by now,” I said. “It probably happens all the time.”

With that I went marching off across the yard. I spent the rest of break on my own, simmering in a corner. Daisy Hooper saw me and said, “What's up with you?” to which I smartly replied, “Mind your own business,” so then of course she immediately knew that we'd had a falling out and went round telling everyone.

At lunch time the others tried to make it up. They came and sat next to me, like nothing had ever happened. Skye said, “This is so ridiculous! Just because we don't want you bringing Melia with you wherever we go.”

“I have to take her in to school,” I said. “I can't do anything about that.”

“That's OK,” said Skye. “You can tell her we're having to go in early.”

“Yes, you don't have to tell her we don't like her,” said Jem. “That would be unkind. And anyway,” she added, “it's not true. We do like her!”

“You just don't want to be seen with her.”

They shoved the food round their plates and didn't say anything.

“What about in the afternoon?” I said. “I s'ppose you're staying late, then.”

Jem brightened. “Yes, we could be staying for music lessons, or – or detentions, or – or choir practice, or—”

I felt like picking up my plate and dumping it on her. Jem obviously realised she'd said the wrong thing.

“Well, anyway,” she muttered.

“Look, we don't mind
occasionally
,” said Skye. “Just not all the time. I don't think that's being unreasonable. Do you?” She nudged at Jem, who immediately swallowed and choked on her food.

“You mean, like, maybe once a week?” I said.

“Yes!” Skye nodded. “Or even twice. Just not every day.” She smiled, encouragingly. “Is that OK?”

I speared a Brussels sprout and sat for a moment, looking at it. I
loathe
Brussels sprouts. “I don't really want to talk about it any more,” I said.

“Probably wisest,” agreed Skye.

“Yes, cos whatever happens –” Jem said it earnestly – “we don't want to quarrel! We haven't quarrelled, have we?”

“Absolutely not!” said Skye. “Well, I haven't.”

I hadn't, either. I don't believe in quarrelling, it makes you all cross and bothered, and somebody has to say sorry before you can make things up, and if you're the one that says it you get to feel resentful, cos why should it be you and not one of the others, 'specially if you weren't the one that was in the wrong? Which in this case
I wasn't.
It wasn't my fault I'd had to take Melia with me.

“We are still friends,” said Jem, “aren't we?”

“I s'ppose so,” I said.

We'd patched things up, but it wasn't the same. For the rest of the day they went out of their way to be extra 'specially nice to me. It felt very odd. Skye asked if I needed any help with my maths homework. Jem insisted on giving me half a KitKat. In English, which was the last period of the day, Skye even passed me a note saying
I really DO have a music lesson at 3.30.
Skye never passes notes! It just wasn't normal.

When school let out I went off by myself to collect Melia. Skye had her music lesson – “Frankie, I'm going to my music lesson now!” Jem didn't have anything. She walked with me as far as the gate, then stopped.

“Oh, look,” she said, “I don't mind coming with you, if you like.”

“Please don't bother,” I said.

I was feeling a bit hurt, to tell the truth. You expect your friends to be there for you no matter what. Jem started to bleat a protest, but I cut her short.

“'s all right,” I said. “Me and Melia can manage by ourselves.”

The minute I'd said it, I wished I hadn't. If I'd accepted her offer we could have made up properly and then it would have been me and Jem together and Skye the odd one out. Now it was me.

Melia wanted to know why I hadn't brought the others with me.

“Where are they?”

I said, “Skye's got a music lesson.”

“Where's Jem?”

“Jem's… in detention,” I said. And serve her right! It was where she ought to be.

We arrived home to find Mum in something of a froth over the state of our bedroom.
Angel's
bedroom, as Mum reminded us.

“Poor Angel keeps her things so neat and tidy! She'd have a fit if she saw what you two had done to it. Are you aware of the dreadful mess you've made?”

I had to admit that I wasn't. I find that when you are living in it, mess doesn't seem like mess, it just seems like the natural state of things. Quite cosy and comfortable.

“Well, I advise you,” said Mum, “to go and have a look… pretend you're someone going in there for the first time.”

“I'll pretend I'm you,” I said. “You do that,” said Mum.

So I did, and I saw what she meant.

“Look at this!” I said to Melia. “Could it
be
more disgusting? Clothes all over the place!” I kicked a pair of jeans out of the way. They flew up and draped themselves over the dressing table. Angel's frilly pink dressing table with the triple mirrors that she could admire herself in. Melia giggled.

“It's not funny,” I said, still being Mum. “It's very squalid and repulsive and you and me are going to clear it up. Just don't touch any of Angel's things. OK?”

“OK!” Melia nodded.

“First we'll pick up the clothes,” I said, “then we'll get rid of all the plates and cups and stuff, and all the books and shoes and – everything!”

Once I get going on a job, I like to do it thoroughly. It's the getting going that's difficult; I quite enjoy it once I've started. As soon as we'd cleared some floor space, and put the clothes away, and taken all the dirty dishes down to the kitchen, I said that we would dust and vacuum.

“Make it, like, really spotless! I'll vacuum, and you can dust.”

I like using the vacuum; I like the way it goes splurging round, sucking things up. It is very satisfying. I am not so keen on dusting as I find it is a rather fiddly sort of job, especially when there's loads of stuff that needs picking up and putting back. I told Melia not to bother.

“When there's stuff that needs moving, just blow. And
don't touch anything on the shelves.
”

Angel's shelves are crammed full of little itty bitty things that she likes to collect. Breakable things, mostly. I might have known that Melia couldn't resist.

“What's happening?” I shrieked, as something whizzed past my ear and landed in front of the vacuum cleaner. “What are you doing?”

She'd gone and knocked a glass animal to the floor. I only just managed to avoid sucking it up with the vacuum cleaner. Fortunately it wasn't broken, but something inside me just suddenly snapped.

I said, “Listen,
doofus.
” Melia stood there, blinking. I jabbed at her. “I thought I told you not to touch?”

It was like the top of my head was about to explode. I felt like smashing things and shrieking. Instead, I jabbed at Melia again; quite hard.

“Didn't I tell you? Didn't I say…” I jabbed again, and she stumbled and fell backwards against one of the beds. “
Don't touch any of Angel's stuff ?
”

Melia cringed away from me. “Frankie, I didn't,” she whimpered. “I didn't!”

“So how did it get on the floor? If you didn't knock it there?”

“I just blew on it, like you said.”

“I didn't say blow a gale!”

It was like Turton's, all over again. Breathing on the glasses. Getting us into trouble. I wasn't surprised Skye and Jem didn't want to be seen with us any more.

I stuck the glass animal back on the shelf. “You're lucky it's not broken,” I said, “cos this time I'd have told on you. I don't see why I should always get the blame for everything. Like when you messed up Tom's science project.
Oh, it's Frankie! It's always Frankie.
You never owned up!
And
you broke Mum's mug!”

Melia stuffed her fist into her mouth and chewed agitatedly at her knuckles, staring up at me as she did so. Her eyes were big and frightened. I began to feel a bit ashamed.

“It was just that it was Mum's favourite,” I said. “I got it for her birthday. It took me ages to save up for it. Oh, look, stop eating yourself!” I had these visions of her gnawing her knuckles down to the bone and it would all be my fault for yelling at her. “Let's just get on and finish the room. You can vacuum, if you like.”

She brightened up at that; it's what she'd wanted all along. While I went round blowing –
gently
– Melia went round, bashing and battering, with the vacuum cleaner, cheerfully sucking up everything in her path, including a stray sock that had got overlooked. After which, the vacuum cleaner didn't work any more.