The Parent Problem (19 page)

‘NO, Mum! PLEASE.’ I am crying now. I just want to go to my room. I try again to leave but Mum puts a hand on my shoulder again.

‘OK, OK,’ she says. ‘I won’t get involved. This time. But you must promise to tell me if anything like this happens again, OK?’

I nod.

‘Skye?’ Mum persists.

‘All right, yes. I will tell you,’ I mutter, brushing at my tears.

‘Good.’ Mum smiles, but I can tell she is only pretending. I know she feels bad for me, and that makes me feel bad too. I know she only wants to help, but I also know she can’t. She can’t leave it alone, either, it seems.

‘As for this thing with Finn, I’m sure you and Aubrey could sort it out,’ she is saying. ‘Maybe if I asked her round, that would help to smooth things over. If you are alone together and on home territory – I mean, not at school and not with the twins – maybe it will be OK?’

Why can’t she just drop it? I feel anger roar through me again. ‘Mum, stop! I am not six. You can’t go around organizing play dates for me. In any case, have you understood a word I’ve said? What good will it do getting her round here while
he’s
here? She’ll only want to talk to him, not me. Honestly, you are useless!’

‘Skye . . .’ Mum reaches out to me again.

But this time I really have had enough. ‘Oh, just go to your stupid competition and leave me alone,’ I snap. ‘I’m going to my room.’

I am sitting on my windowsill again. I was writing about the conversation I have just had with Mum. I have found that if I write about things that have upset me, it helps me to sort them out in my mind and it calms me down. I had just finished and was going to pick up
The Owl Service
and start reading again, when I was distracted by the sound of a door shutting. I looked out on to the street and saw Rob leaving his house and getting into his van. Then Mum came out of our house all dressed up for the dance competition in a flouncy, bouncy, over-the-top red-and-black number, and went over to talk to him. They chatted for a few seconds, then Rob got into his van and drove off. Mum glanced back briefly to our house, then got in our car and drove off as well.

It was then I realized that Yuki’s camper van had gone.

Has she left for her travels again, I wonder? Maybe they have had a fight? It’s a bit strange that no one mentioned it. Which makes me think: Rob always said he would stay in while Finn babysat over at ours. So why has he just gone out? Maybe he is driving after Yuki to get her to come back?

Oh well, I guess he and Mum were chatting just before he left, so Mum knows he’s gone out. Why should I care? It’s not as if Rob has ever come round to check on us while Mum’s dancing, in any case.

There is a vague thought niggling at the back of my mind, though. I can’t pin it down. It’s like a lost memory or a nagging reminder to do something I have forgotten about. I don’t think I can go back to reading now. I feel all fidgety and my bum is going numb, sitting up here. I am going downstairs to grab a snack before Finn eats them all.

I walk past the sitting-room door, expecting to hear the usual electronic pinging and whizzing from the TV screen, but instead it is quiet and I hear the occasional murmur of voices, Harris’s higher voice slightly louder than Finn’s deep mumble.

‘. . . says I can’t any more,’ Harris is saying.

I don’t catch exactly what he is talking about, but he sounds really miserable. Is he still upset about not going to the competition? Is Finn being mean to him? I immediately tense up: if Finn has done something to upset my little brother, he is going to have me to reckon with. I make a move to enter the room and tell Finn to leave Harris alone, then I hear Finn say:

‘Hey, buddy, don’t cry. People can be idiots, you just have to ignore them.’

Harris sniffs, ‘I can’t.’

What are they talking about? I squint through the gap in the door jamb and see Finn scoot over to Harris’s side of the sofa and give him a quick one-armed hug. ‘Listen, d’you want me to have a word? I could pretend I am your big brother?’ he says.

Big
brother
? A cold spear of outrage shoots through me. Harris doesn’t need a big brother! He’s got me – his big sister. If he is upset about something at school, he should be telling me.

I am fizzing with outrage now, but don’t know how to come in on the conversation without making it obvious I have been snooping.

‘I don’t want to go to school tomorrow,’ says Harris.

Finn sighs. ‘Shall I tell you a secret?’ he says. ‘Nor do I.’

Am I hearing this right? Mr Popular, not want to go to school? I can’t believe that. Maybe it is because he hasn’t achieved entire world domination with his popularity or something . . .

Finn is speaking again. ‘Ever since everyone found out I can’t actually play the drums, it’s been hell.’

‘What do you mean, you can’t play? Are the drums broken?’ Harris says. ‘I think you are an awesome drummer,’ he adds.

Hero-worship. Urgh.

Finn sighs again. ‘No, nothing’s broken. I’m
not
good, not good enough, anyway, that’s the point. Dad bought me the drums as a bribe for moving here. I started having lessons just before we moved. I was doing OK, not great or anything. And I loved it . . . but then Mum arrived and since then, she’s been on and on at me about how the drums ‘affect our
shanti’
, and that I should choose a calmer instrument like the flute or something, so I stopped playing.’ His voice is laced with bitterness now.

‘What is “shanty”?’ asks Harris.

‘It means “inner peace”,’ Finn snorts. ‘The only thing that was upsetting me was having Mum around,’ he adds.

‘Why did your dad bribe you to move? Don’t you like it here?’ Harris asks. I can hear the confusion in his high-pitched voice. It makes me realize how young he still is. I feel funny. Like I want to run in there and give him a huge bear hug and tell him everything’s going to be all right.

Finn hesitates. ‘I do . . . It’s just . . .’ He pauses again. Then says, in a rush: ‘I didn’t want to move. I had mates where we lived before. I liked my room, my school – everything,’ he adds. ‘I didn’t want anything to change. I don’t like change. I have never liked it. Maybe it’s cos of Mum leaving. I dunno.’ His voice is quieter now. Sullen. And sad.

I swallow. I shouldn’t be listening to this. Finn would hate it if he knew I was eavesdropping on him getting all deep-and-meaningful with Harris.

Poor Finn, though. His mum left him when he was four, he had to move here and didn’t want to, and things aren’t working out for him at school. I can hardly stay mad at him now I know all this, can I?

Still, it doesn’t help me and my situation, I remind myself. I still don’t have any friends either, and Finn hasn’t exactly done anything to help that. Oh boy, I am as confused as Harris now.

I tune back into the boys’ conversation.

‘Dad had to move for his work,’ Finn is saying, ‘and I couldn’t go and live with Mum because she is always travelling around. She needs to be “free to express herself”,’ he adds. His voice has a sharp, bitter edge to it. ‘In other words, she doesn’t want me hanging around and getting in the way . . . I sometimes wish I had a mum like yours.’

I peep through the crack of open door and see Harris snuggle his head into the crook of Finn’s shoulder. ‘You can pretend she’s your mum if you like,’ he says softly.

I am feeling really bad now. I should turn around and creep away, but I can’t.

‘Thanks, buddy,’ Finn says with a soft smile. ‘Anyway, Dad said the move would be good for us and when I complained he promised he would get me some drums and some lessons, cos he knows I have always wanted to learn. He got them before we moved and I started the lessons and I loved it, so I thought, maybe, I don’t know, maybe things would be OK. And then I met the guys in the band at school and that was cool at first—’

‘The Warthogs?’ says Harris.

I can tell he is proud of himself for knowing about this.

‘Yeah,’ says Finn, ‘The Hogs.’ He pauses. ‘Your sister’s mate, Aubrey, told me she could get me into the band. I guess maybe Skye had told her I played the drums.’

‘Or Aubrey might have seen you bringing your drums into your house when you moved in. She and Skye were spying on you that day,’ says Harris, his voice full of glee.

Thanks, little bro!

Finn ignores Harris’s last comment and goes on, ‘Anyway, the trouble was, I had only just started having lessons. I got carried away with the idea of being in the band and told them that I could play anything. But then when they said they really did want me, I was too embarrassed to tell them that I had only had a few lessons. I kept making up excuses not to come to sessions. I started practising like mad at home, hoping I would get good enough to go soon, but then Mum turned up . . .’

‘What’s
her
problem?’ Harris asks.

I smile at him trying to sound cool.

‘Oh, all her usual stuff,’ Finn says, that edge back in his voice. ‘Rock music is “disturbing” and “messes with my aura”. She says I need to learn to “be still”. I tried ignoring her at first and playing anyway – just to annoy her!’

‘Yeah!’ says Harris.

‘But I can’t explain – she just gets to me. Argh!’ There is a noise as though Finn is smacking his hand down on the table. ‘She just doesn’t
understand
how important it is to me, being in The Hogs.’ He sounds really angry now. ‘I can’t keep avoiding going to the sessions without an explanation, but if I turn up now and try to play, they’ll see how rubbish I am. And then I will have stuffed up everything for the band because they really need a drummer soon, otherwise they won’t be able to play at the half-term gig. The posters are already up all around the school, thanks to Aubrey and her evil twin friends. They think they are like some kind of groupies of something. They just won’t leave it alone: following me around the whole time, begging me to get them in The Hogs as backing singers or whatever. I bet your sister is probably in on it as well. She and Aubrey are, like, glued together, aren’t they?’

I wish.

‘Argh!’ Finn cries again. I hear him get up and start pacing the room. ‘I wish Mum hadn’t come to stay,’ he says. ‘At least she’s gone now. That’s what she does, though: turns up without letting us know and disappears just as quickly.’ I hear the smacking sound again.

‘She seemed nice . . .’ Harris says.

‘Oh, come ON!’ says Finn, his voice rising. ‘You think so? What about her camper van? It is
sooo
embarrassing. She was going to take me to school in it. I would NEVER be allowed to forget it if she did. I ended up having the mickey taken at my last school because of her.’

Wow. He really is fed up with Yuki. I have to admit she did make some pretty snidey comments when we were round there, but I also thought she was kind of exotic. And the van was cool. I would love it if Mum took me to school in a van like that.

She does sound mean, though, saying those things about Finn’s drumming. I would be beside myself if my mum announced that I shouldn’t read so much – that it was bad for my ‘aura’, or whatever. I guess the drumming means as much to Finn as reading and writing does to me.

Maybe my mum is not so bad after all. She doesn’t tell me what I can and can’t do. And she is always here for me.

Should I go in and say something . . . ?

As I am mulling this over and wondering what I would say, Pongo comes out of the kitchen to find me. He starts whining, like he needs to go out for a pee.

‘Shh, boy,’ I say, creeping away from the door. I don’t want Finn and Harris to come out and find me listening in on them.

‘So, spying on me again, were you?’

Too late. Finn has opened the door and caught me loitering. His face is dark with fury.

‘I . . .’ I can hardly deny that I was eavesdropping, but I don’t know what to say.

‘You and your little friends – it’s either you or Aubrey or those toxic twins, on my back all the time,’ Finn spits. ‘It’s like you’re determined to wreck my chances at having any friends in this place.’

My throat has gone dry. I can’t think of anything to say back. I turn away from him. He might be angry with Yuki, but there is no need to take it out on me. I head to the kitchen.

‘Yeah, that’s right, run away,’ Finn says. ‘You never have the guts to face up to anything.’

How dare he!

I spin around, squaring up to him. ‘I haven’t got the guts?’ I repeat. I am dimly aware of Harris behind Finn, hovering in the doorway to the sitting room, but I am not going to let Finn get away with that last comment. ‘What about you and your little sob story about the band?’ I say. ‘Seems like
you
haven’t got the guts to tell anyone what you’re really like.’

The words burst out of me before I can think of what I am saying. I know I am being mean, and the look on Finn’s face makes me regret what I have just said.

His jaw is tight. He is all pent-up anger and energy, like a coiled spring. All he says is, ‘I can’t.’

Then it is as though someone has pulled a plug on my emotions. I don’t want to fight any more. I have lost my best friend already, everyone at school is laughing at me, even Mum doesn’t seem to understand me. I have just heard Finn pretty much admit to Harris that he feels the same and I have heard Harris say that he doesn’t want to go to school, so there is clearly something going on with him too. Which means I have not been a good big sister, as I have not been there for him.