Expecting to Fly
Authors: Cathy Hopkins
Cathy Hopkins
is the author of the incredibly successful
Mates, Dates
and
Truth, Dare
books, as well as the highly acclaimed
Cinnamon Girl
series. She lives in North London with her husband and cats.
Cathy spends most of her time locked in a shed at the bottom of the garden pretending to write books, but she is actually in there listening to music, hippie dancing and talking to her friends
on email.
Apart from that, Cathy has joined the gym and spends more time than is good for her making up excuses as to why she hasn’t got time to go.
Find out more about Cathy and her books at
www.cathyhopkins.com
Thanks, as always, to Brenda Gardner, Anne Clark, Melissa Hyder and all the fab team at Piccadilly who have made working on this and all my books a
pleasure.
First published in Great Britain in 2009
by Piccadilly Press Ltd,
5 Castle Road, London NW1 8PR
www.piccadillypress.co.uk
Text copyright © Cathy Hopkins, 2009
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical,
photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner.
The right of Cathy Hopkins to be identified as Author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN: 978 1 84812 009 9
eISBN: 978 1 84812 292 5
1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2
Printed in the UK by CPI Bookmarque Ltd, Croydon, CR0 4TD
Cover design by Simon Davis
Cover illustration by Sue Hellard
Contents
‘Who’s going to go first?’ I asked.
I was sitting in the kitchen at my aunt’s house with Leela, Zahrah and Brook and we were huddled around the Aga, drinking banana smoothies and writing our New Year’s resolutions.
Brook held up her sheet of paper. It was blank. ‘I don’t make resolutions. What’s the point? I only break them after a few days and then feel like I’ve failed and who
wants to start the year on a downer?’
‘That’s a cop-out. It’s good to identify your goals,’ said Zahrah. ‘Then you have something to aim for. Goals, resolutions – same thing. It’s good to
have a plan.’
Leela laughed. ‘Oo get you, Miss Stricty Pants. I reckon you will be Prime Minister one day, Zah. So what are yours, then? Number one: take over the world. Number two: make everyone start
work an hour earlier. Number three: no more weekends or holidays.’ She did a mock salute.
Zahrah ignored her and glanced at her list. ‘Make a study plan. Choose subjects for Sixth Form.’ She looked up and poked her tongue out at Leela. ‘And maybe I will go for Prime
Minister. Why not? If Barack Obama can be President of America, I could be Prime Minister here in the UK.’
‘Bor
ing
,’ groaned Brook. ‘What about you, India Jane?’
I looked at my paper.
1) Go steady with Joe. 2) Exercise more. 3) Not eat so many chocs so I can get into the jeans I got for Christmas. 4) Let Tyler know that I want to be friends, not
boyfriend and girlfriend
. I hesitated.
A bit lightweight compared to Zahrah’s
, I thought. Even though we had serious exams soon, I hadn’t considered putting anything remotely
connected with school. I covered my list with my hand so that the others couldn’t read what I’d written. ‘Um. Be happy. I think that’s going to be my New Year
resolution.’
‘Good one,’ said Brook. ‘But what
makes
you happy? What do you want to happen this year?’
‘Which brings us back to goals,’ said Zahrah, causing Brook to sigh wearily.
‘Joe makes me happy,’ I said. ‘When he came over before Christmas, I felt that he was beginning to give in to what’s between us.’
‘Falling under your spell,’ said Brook and she got up and began to dance, writhe and sing some mad song. ‘
Witch-ee women, you got the devil in your eye-ee
eyes
.’
Leela picked up Brook’s glass and swished around the bit of smoothie that was left. ‘Hmm. Is this what is meant by going bananas? Clearly they have a funny effect on you.’
‘Yeah, I wouldn’t put
Enter for Britain’s Got Talent
on your list of goals,’ said Zahrah with a laugh.
Brook sat down and stuck her bottom lip out.
‘I would totally love it if Joe stopped resisting the commitment thing and we could be a proper couple – as in dates and phone calls and not going out with anybody else,’ I
said.
‘So that would be you and Zahrah with proper boyfriends,’ said Leela. ‘That leaves Brook and I as singletons. Maybe we should put that on our list.
Get
boyfriend
.’
‘You can’t put that down like it’s on a shopping list. Like –
buy shampoo, get boyfriend
,’ said Zahrah.
‘Why not?’ asked Brook. ‘You’re the one who said we should have goals.’
‘Not that kind of goal,’ said Zahrah. ‘I meant where do you want to go? Who do you want to be?’
‘Where do I want to go? On a date. Who do I want to be? Someone’s girlfriend. Oh chill, Zahrah,’ said Brook. ‘We’re back at school tomorrow. Let’s think about
that sort of thing then.’
‘Just because you don’t know what you want to do,’ said Zahrah.
‘Actually I do. I want to be very very rich,’ said Brook.
‘You already are,’ said Leela.
‘We’re not über-rich,’ said Brook. ‘I want to be very
very
rich.’
‘Doesn’t always happen like that. Snap your fingers, you’re rich. Snap them again and you have a boyfriend. Get real, girl,’ said Zahrah. ‘Your head’s in a
cloud, as usual.’
‘I have plans,’ said Brook. ‘Dreams. I could do design, maybe. I may write. I may marry a rich man.’
Zahrah rolled her eyes. ‘And you probably will with your family connections.’
My mates couldn’t be more different on the dosh scale. Brook’s parents are separated but both are wealthy. Brook has always had what she wanted, being an only child between London
and New York with no money spared. She lives with her mum in an elegant flat near here in Holland Park; it has tall windows, huge rooms and loads of light.
Zahrah’s background is totally the opposite. Her dad’s English, her mum is Ethiopian and they live in a terraced house in Queen’s Park, about a quarter of the size of
Brook’s home and they have little money to spare.
Leela’s parents are English-born Indian, both pharmacists so they are OK for money, and she is one of three with an elder brother and sister.
I have three brothers (two are my real brothers, Lewis and Dylan, and Ethan is my step-brother from Dad’s first marriage). We aren’t rich and we aren’t poor. We live with my
Aunt Sarah and my cousin Kate in their fabbie-dabbie five-storey house in Holland Park. We could have been better off, but my mum and dad spent all the money they had inherited travelling the
world. They’re a pair of old hippies really. Luckily, my aunt invested her money wisely and now is loaded and was able to help out when Mum and Dad ran out of money and had nowhere to live.
We have lived in five different countries (in the Caribbean, Italy, India, Morocco and Ireland) and I always felt I was making friends and then, just as things got comfy, I had to say goodbye, like
to my best friend Erin when we left Ireland to come to London last year. To be able to stay in one place for a while has been bliss and a half and to have this bunch of mates is a dream come true.
I hope Dad doesn’t get it into his head to move again – to go organic farming in some remote part of Scotland or to run a painting course in Tuscany – that’s just the sort
of thing he thinks about from time to time. He is so restless, but both he and Mum are working at the moment and seem settled for the time being, which is great because I get to hang out with
Brook, Leela and Zahrah.
The money thing rarely comes up as a problem – only sometimes, like when Brook wants to go and see a movie and the rest of us can’t afford it. It’s never a biggie though. We
get a DVD to watch instead. Everybody’s happy.
We all look very different too. I’ve been thinking of doing some kind of art piece featuring the four of us. Last term, the project was a self-portrait and this term we are supposed to
expand the theme. I have been thinking about friends’ portraits. I have an idea. I want to call the project
Shades
. I will start with a photo of us all in profile then maybe move on to
painting portraits.
I can see the first images in my mind’s eye. A photo in colour and then again in black and white. It will go from Zahrah, who has the darkest skin, to Leela with her coffee-coloured skin.
I will be next with my olive skin and lastly Brook with her porcelain-white complexion. I reckon I could get a whole term’s work out of the different aspects of our looks. Shades of skin.
Shades of hair. Textures, too. Zahrah’s hair is coarse and wiry. She has it plaited in cornrows. Leela’s is like silk, straight, shiny and long down her back. Mine is shoulder-length
now, cut in layers, a coppery chestnut with a slight wave which I blow-dry out and Brook’s is straight and so dark, it has a blue gloss in some lights. We’re all brunettes yes, but the
colour shines differently whether we’re in the sun or in false light indoors. I was looking forward to working on the project. I’d hopefully get our different personalities in too, but
I hadn’t worked out how to show that in pictures yet – maybe by the way we dress. Sensible Zahrah in her jeans and T-shirts, Brook the dreamer in her pastel colours and flowers, Leela
the sweetheart in her favourite pinks and me, the . . . the . . . don’t know what. The Gemini. The sign of the twins, a split personality. Some days dressed in boho layers and ethnic
jewellery (nicked from Mum or Aunt Sarah), some days a tomboy in jeans, Converse sneakers and boys’ shirts (nicked from Lewis or Dad).