Starting Over (15 page)

‘What's up, India?' Mum asked when I trooped in the back door later that evening.

‘I have been at my new school for almost half a term, everyone hates me, I have no friends, no boyfriend, I have a spot on my chin and no theme for the school play, everyone's depending on me
and
there's a whole pile of people with really sad lives down at the church and I don't understand why there's so much pain in the world and why are we here anyway and why do people have to suffer and die and be lonely. And also, why are there wars and people killing each other?
That
doesn't help and ought to be banned
immediately
.' I'd been thinking
a lot
on the way home.

‘Wow, I'll have to think about some of those questions,' said Mum as we heard the phone ring in the hall.

A few seconds later, Dylan brought through the portable handset for me. It was Ruby. She hardly drew breath as she launched into her latest tale of woe (Nick was going rowing at half-term and hadn't asked her to go and watch him). I listened as I drank a cup of hot chocolate, ate the tuna toastie that Mum had made me, cleared the table, arm wrestled with Dylan (he won) - all the while with the phone tucked into the crook of my neck. I tried to interject when I could with words of sympathy like: Who needs him? He doesn't deserve you. Rowing is boring . . . But I could tell that she wasn't really listening. Finally, she heaved a huge sigh. ‘Thanks soooo much, India, I feel so much better now.' And she hung up.
She might feel better,
I thought,
but I now have a stiff neck and a headache coming on.

Mum was watching me thoughtfully as Dylan took the phone and went out into the hall to have a ‘private conversation'.

‘What?' I asked.

‘Was that the girl who was here the other day?'

I nodded. ‘Ruby. She's a friend, kind of.'

‘Does she always do that?'

‘Do what?'

‘Talk at you.'

‘Suppose.'

Mum looked thoughtful again. ‘Does she listen to you when you need to talk?'

I burst out laughing. ‘Yeah, right.'

‘I thought so. She's very probably a very lovely girl, so don't
take this the wrong way, but . . . don't let her take over. It's so easy to let these larger-than-life characters monopolise everything. I should know, I'm married to one. But at least with your dad, he does ask about me, gives me time to talk - but in the early days of our relationship, I lived in his shadow and was happy for him to take centre stage. It's only now that I'm finding my voice. I don't want to see someone overshadow you, that's all I'm saying. You're our Cinnamon Girl and you deserve to shine too.'

I smiled at Mum and gave her a hug. She meant well, but she
so
didn't understand what it was like in school these days. It was either accept my role with Nicole and Ruby or have no one to hang out with. And I did have a true friend, Erin, even if she was at the other end of the phone or via computer, and it wouldn't be long before I saw her as half-term was just around the corner. However, what Mum had said had disturbed me. I didn't want to become invisible, nobody more than a listening ear, with no voice of my own, quietly living in other people's shadows. I needed to reassure myself that wasn't happening so I went up to my bedroom and quickly texted Erin to go to MSN if she was at home. Luckily she was.

Her message came straight back.

I went to sleep that night feeling a whole lot better. So my school friends weren't as good friends as Erin was, but at least I had her, and after reading the messages in the church, I realised that was more than some people in the world.

There were four messages on my phone the next morning. All from Callum.

Sree. Sree. Sree. Cl me.
Keep ur fne on.
India, sree I mssd u. Can xplain.
Meet @ break-time? Outside library.

Of course,
I thought as I read the messages.
He must have got my number from my missed call when I phoned him last night.
I debated whether to go and meet him and quickly texted Erin to ask what she thought. Luckily I got her before she'd turned her phone off for school.

Absolutely, she texted back. Good morrow. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. The season for being cooleth is done. Goeth forth, get yon fair knight in shining armani and polish his helmet. OK, maybe not that bit. And a hey nonnie wotsit.

Oh Lord, here we go again,
I thought as I went through the school gates.
Another day.

I was a few minutes early for assembly so I glanced over the school notices before going into the hall. One at the bottom caught my eye.

Homes wanted for kittens. Six weeks old: three boys, two girls. Very cute. Call 084567811.

Excellent,
I thought as I noted the number. I could ask Aunt Sarah again. Or even better, just go and get them. She wouldn't be able to resist.

It was double French first thing and it seemed to last for eternity, but at last, the bell went for break and I shot out to the cloakroom to apply some lip-gloss, then made my way to the library. Callum was already there and his face lit up when he saw me.

‘The lovely India Jane. More radiant than ever,' he said.

‘Cut the crap, Hesketh,' I said.

‘Such honeyed words from my love,' he said with a laugh.

I smiled back at him. ‘Ah, you speak Shakespearian? Me and my mate Erin are fluent in yon language.'

‘Verily I do, I played Hamlet last year,' he said and he went into a classic Shakespearian pose. ‘To be or not to be, that is the wotnot; to sleep, perchance to dream of better things to come, aye give us a rub or something like that. I forget.'

‘Bet you looked lovely in tights,' I said.

‘I could show you if you want to come home with me one evening.'

I laughed and held up my hand in the stop sign. ‘Eww. Visual overload. Sorry. Stick to jeans. So . . . you called to grovel, I presume.'

Callum grinned his lovely lopsided grin. ‘I did. I am so
so
sorry I missed you yesterday. Emergency at home. There was no one to let my younger sister in and Mum called and said I had to get back home. I did go to the church early in the hope that you might be early too, but no sign of you, and of course I didn't have your number. So, sorry, sorry - can you forgive me?'

I could tell he was on the level. ‘I guess, though it is very tempting to make you do penance.'
It's so weird with Callum,
I thought as I listened to myself flirting outrageously.
With Joe in the summer, until I got to know him better, I became the village idiot every time I spoke to him, but with Callum, I can be myself. I guess it's because I know that it's not going to last.

‘Oh yes, punish me please,' he said in an equally flirtatious way and then he leaned over and kissed me. Right on the mouth. Right in front of everyone. And not a peck or a two-second
kiss, a proper snog. With tongues.

‘Wuh . . . er . . .' I blustered after a few moments.

‘So. My first bit of coaching. Come on. You can be honest. How was it?'

I put on a prim expression. ‘Hmm. Yes. You have potential, Mr Hesketh, but ... I think you need to practise
a lot
more. I prescribe regular sessions.'

Snogging was one of the few things in life that I was reasonably confident about, thanks to Erin. I used to be totally paranoid about it and agonised about whether I'd be any good at it. I mean, everyone has to do it sooner or later, unless you're a nun, but where are you supposed to find out how to be
good
at it? (Come to think of it, nuns probably do get snogged up once or twice before they take their Holy Vows. I like to think so. I don't like to think of them missing out for ever. Although the fact they take a vow of celibacy may be down to the fact that they were kissed once by some slimy whelk-type kisser and thought all kisses were alike - hence a Holy Vow never to kiss again and promise themselves to the Lord Jesus instead.) One day I'd confessed my snog anxieties to Erin. It was about half an hour before we were due to open the doors for a school Christmas fair and we were manning a stall in a small room off the main hall. Quick as a flash, Erin made a sign saying,
Kiss for a Pound.
I kissed seventeen boys that day. Erin stood at the door to make sure no teachers came by. It was a fantastic experience because it showed me that there are
all
sorts of kissers and
all
sorts of kisses. Long, short, hard, light, wet and slimy (ew), dry,
passionate, weak and wimpy, shy, confident . . . Erin, who had been kissed before by three boys - although not all at the same time of course - gave me a few tips before we got started. ‘Vary the pressure,' she said, ‘and relax. Sometimes you take your lead from him. Sometimes you have to lead him, in which case try nibbling his lower lip.' She made me practise for a few minutes on the back of my hand (I felt such a prat but it had to be done) and then we were away. By the end of the day, I was an expert, plus Sister Christina was full of praises for the money that we raised, although she would have died if she'd known that we'd held a snogathon to get it. Erin said that we'd have raised even more if one of the nuns had been willing to give a kiss for a pound, but I had my doubts about that. Sister Christina had a moustache and, if I'm being totally honest, a bit of a beard.

‘Practise more? Good,' said Callum, and he moved in for another snog. I took a quick look to see if anyone had noticed us and indeed they had. A few people were watching and as I closed my eyes as Callum's lips touched mine again, it felt brilliant not only to be kissing one of the hottest boys in the school but also to be doing it in full view of —

‘INDIA Jane Ruspoli, CALLUM Hesketh!' boomed a familiar voice. ‘What on EARTH do you think you're doing?'

We both sprang back to see Mrs Goldman standing in front of us. She looked very upset.

‘Er, rehearsing for the school play?' Callum suggested.

‘And since when has chewing a fellow pupil's face been a part of a school play at this establishment? Both of you - go to your
next lesson and DON'T let this ever happen again.'

We both headed off in opposite directions, but I couldn't resist turning round after a short distance. Callum had turned around too and grinned at me. ‘I'll call you,' he mouthed.

Yesssss,
I thought as I headed off towards double maths. Joe
Donahue, who needs you?

Later in the week, we had a second ‘coaching' session at lunch break, this time in a more private place - behind the sports equipment in the gym. And a third session after school, behind a tree on the green on the way home.

Snogging Callum was fun. And enjoyable. But I knew that he wasn't The One after the second snog. He was a good kisser, an eight out of ten, but for me, something wasn't right. I could see that he already had a true love. Himself. Ruby had been dead right in her assessment of him. It was him and him and there was no room for anyone else. I could never fall in love with someone like Callum, who was so in love with himself. Plus the fact I got the feeling that he kissed by numbers, like he'd read a ‘how to be a great kisser' article in a magazine. He always started by looking at my bottom lip hungrily like he had the first two times we'd met, but the goosebumpy effect it had on me in the beginning soon wore off. I realised that it was step one in his snogging technique and, although good and it worked at first, it wasn't something that should be repeated
every
time. I believed that if what was between us was genuine and passionate, then snogging him would be slightly different
every time. However, it was good practise, as Erin would say, and being seen with him was definitely giving me tons of cred about school.