Five Things They Never Told Me (19 page)

The last few weeks have been seriously dull. Like, as if time is actually flatlining. I've been hanging around with Lauren and Nat again and it's like the summer never really happened. They've even convinced me to go to the cinema with them and, yes, Dom will be there too. They've told me that I should give him a break and that he really likes me. And that it makes everything easier if we can hang out in a big group.

I've deliberately avoided Frog at school. It's not been that easy. I miss hanging out with him and talking about random stuff and coming up with crazy plans to help Martha. I even miss our stupid dance practices. But I need to be realistic. Nothing lasts forever, even if you really want it to. Frog belongs to the summer and the summer is long over. Martha and him are in the past. They're history.

Dad is totally doing my head in too. He's got loads of overtime work at the weekends and he keeps trying to convince me to go with him but I'm not interested. There's nothing at Oak Hill for me now.

I'm sitting in the front passenger seat of Dad's van. He's insisted that I need to come out with him tonight and I'm bored already. Autumn has really arrived and the streets are getting dark. As we drive down the road I can glance into the windows of the houses and get tiny, microsecond glimpses into the lives of the people inside. Here, a dark room only lit by the weird, flickering light that must be the television. And there, an old man who has paused midway through closing the
curtains. He's peering out into the dark as if he's looking for something and I wonder who he's waiting for. He looks as if he might have been waiting for a long time.

I have no idea where we're going until Dad makes a left turn off the main road and we head away from town.

‘Dad –' I say, but he doesn't let me continue.

‘Just trust me, Erin, OK?' He looks over at me and puts his hand on my knee, giving it a quick squeeze. ‘It'll be all right.'

I don't answer him because he knows that I didn't want to come here. But he brought me anyway. He probably thinks he knows what's best for me because he's the adult and I'm only thirteen. Nothing ever changes.

As the lights of Oak Hill flood the windscreen I feel myself getting moody. This is so boring and I was supposed to be meeting everyone in town in an hour. Lauren was not impressed when I phoned her to cancel. Dad stops the van and we sit in silence for a moment. Then he opens his door and gets out. When it's clear to him that I have no intention of moving, he bends down and pokes his head back into the van.

‘You might as well get out now we're here,' he tells me. ‘I've got a few jobs to do and there's no point you sitting out here in the cold.'

I open my door and get slowly out of the van. Dad has gone round to the back and opened up the double doors.

‘You can give me a hand, actually, love,' he calls and I trudge across the gravel and round the side of the van.

The top half of Dad is hidden and as I watch he emerges, holding a bucket that has some gardening tools inside.

‘I need you to take this down to the garden for me,' he says, passing the bucket to me.

‘Now?' I ask him. It's getting pretty dark and I'm not in the mood for faffing about in the cold.

‘Yes, please. It'll be one less thing for me to do on Monday morning.'

I raise my eyebrows at him to show that I am unimpressed.

‘And then can we go home?' I ask.

‘Yes,' he tells me. ‘Right – I want this in that scrappy old bit of garden that's at the end of the path going past the water fountain. Beyond the hedge. I'm giving it a makeover – it's been completely neglected and I think it'd make a great
relaxation area for some of the more mobile residents. Do you know where I mean?'

I nod. I DO know exactly where he means. My secret hideaway. The last place on earth that I want to go right now.

‘
Dad
,' I whine, trying to look small and vulnerable. ‘That's
miles
away. I don't like being in the dark on my own.'

Dad looks at me, his eyes suddenly piercing. ‘Since when?' he asks. ‘Look, Erin, I just need to do a few things and then we can get out of here. We could collect pizza on the way home if you like. What do you say?'

‘OK,' I tell him grudgingly. ‘Pizza
might
make up for the slave labour you're forcing upon me.'

‘Good,' Dad says. He grabs his toolbox from the van and slams the doors. ‘I'll meet you back here as soon as you're done.' And then he strides off towards the house, without so much as a backwards glance at me.

I sigh. Might as well get this over and done with. I get a better grip on the handle of the bucket and set out across the grass. Darkness is flooding in from all sides but there's a huge moon in the sky and it lights up the garden like a weird, galactic night light.

But when I walk under the trees it's as if someone has turned the moon off. The branches overhead block out any light and I stumble over twigs and stones that in the daytime wouldn't cause me any trouble. It feels wrong out here on my own and even though I was lying when I told Dad that I was afraid of the dark, I'm starting to feel a little bit freaked out.

The end of the path is in sight now and I can see a faint glow ahead of me. I speed up and by the time I emerge from the tunnel of trees I am virtually running.

And then I'm not running any more. I'm standing totally still, unable to move or speak or even think straight. My brain is trying to make sense of the scene in front of me and failing miserably. I have no idea what I'm looking at, just that it is beautiful.

The glow wasn't coming from the moon. It was coming from the hundreds of fairy lights that are strung over the hedges and lower branches of the trees. Lanterns are hanging down from some of the higher branches and as the wind picks up, they sway, casting their brilliant warmth across the long grass.

And it isn't just the light. It's the sounds. Tinkling, jingling, ringing sounds that are being made by
the wind chimes that share the branches with the lanterns. I step closer and see that the chimes are all different. One is made using forks and spoons. Another with odd metal bits and pieces that look like the contents of Dad's toolbox – washers and bits of pipe and a spanner. This one (and it's definitely my favourite) has lots of dangling keys, all different shapes and sizes.

Another sound drifts towards me, carried by the wind that is getting stronger. I turn and peer into the darkness but before I can move a figure moves forward out of the gloom.

‘Did you do this?' I ask him, although I think I already know the answer.

‘With a lot of help from your dad,' he tells me. ‘I told him that I was missing you and that we had a plan that needed to be finished.'

‘Why?' I whisper.

‘You know why,' he says. ‘We're not done yet.'

I didn't want this. The summer is over. Martha's gone and we're back at school and everything is the same as it was before. Nothing has changed and it's crazy to think that this summer meant anything.

But then I look at Frog and I know that I'm not quite telling myself the whole truth. Some things
have
changed. I drop the bucket on the ground and walk across to him. I wrap one arm round his shoulder and we stand side by side, part of me amazed at how right it feels to touch him. How he makes me feel alive.

‘I don't know what we're supposed to do now,' I say without looking at him. ‘I don't know how we're supposed to be feeling.'

He thinks for a minute and I'm glad that he doesn't just give me a rehearsed answer. I like that he actually stops and thinks about it.

‘I think we can feel anything we want,' he tells me.

We stand for a while and I think about what Frog has said. We can feel anything we want to. Is he right? I have no idea. I just know that I usually get it wrong and when it comes to thinking about how I feel about Martha leaving and how I feel about Frog being here right now, I don't even know where to begin.

Eventually Frog pulls away from me.

‘I've got something to show you,' he tells me. ‘Close your eyes.'

‘Frog!' I protest, as he moves behind me and covers my eyes with his hands. ‘It's pitch-black out here! I can't see a thing as it is.'

‘Just keep them closed and walk,' he says and then he nudges me in the back of the knee, forcing me to take a step.

I stretch my arms out in front of me. ‘If you let me bump into something,' I warn him, ‘I'll be seriously narked off with you.'

‘Yeah, yeah, whatever,' he says and I can hear that he's enjoying himself.

‘Like to live dangerously, don't you?' I mutter, taking tiny steps and trying to visualize where we're going.

Then we stop and Frog removes his hands and I open my eyes and blink. There, standing in front of me, is the most amazing thing I have ever seen. Even for Dad, this is good. It's more than good.

‘It's perfect,' I breathe.

‘I think it looks like Martha,' says Frog, and the sound of his smile makes me feel warm and lit up.

It's a dancer. Dad has used willow canes to create a flowing sculpture that almost looks like
it's been made out of liquid. Her head is thrown back and one of her arms stretches out behind her while the other reaches up to the sky. She looks passionate and proud and completely at one with the earth.

‘Your dad says that if we keep it watered then it'll probably grow leaves in the spring,' Frog tells me. ‘It's a living willow sculpture. It should keep on growing every year.'

I can't tear my eyes away from the dancing Martha. Her body is full of life.

‘I'm ready.' I turn to Frog and take his hand. ‘This is perfect.' And as the words come out of my mouth I realize that I actually mean them. Here
is
perfect and our plan is perfect and we can do this.

We walk through the dark, Frog leading me to a circle of mown grass that I hadn't noticed before.

‘What about music?' I ask him. ‘There's no plug socket out here.'

‘Batteries,' he says. He bends down and shows me his CD player, sitting on a bit of wood to keep it safe. Taking off my jacket I walk over to the bench and lay it over the top. When I turn back I see Frog, standing in the middle of the circle,
waiting for me. For a moment he's frozen and I think that this is a memory that I would like to keep forever. The fairy lights and the lanterns and Frog. Then he presses ‘play' and I run across to where he's standing on the grass.

We both spent weeks practising in the summer. The plan was to surprise Martha with an actual performance, and that kind of didn't work out, but I don't think that matters now. Anyway, our hard work has paid off because as the music blares out across the darkening sky, we spin and kick and twirl – all without falling over once. And we're dancing not just for Martha but for the summer and for us.

As Frog spins me towards him for our grand finale I imagine Martha, sitting in her wheelchair and clapping. I dip down towards the grass, my head thrown back and I look up at the sky. I'm dancing. And I'm not actually as awful as I thought I'd be.

Frog pulls me back up and my face is suddenly inches away from his. I can see his eyes, staring, and it looks like he's just seen something wonderful so I try to twist my head to look behind me. I want to see what he's looking at.

But he brings his hands up and holds on to my face and I have another moment of knowing. He's looking at
me
. The music must have stopped – either that or the insane beating of my heart is drowning out all other sounds. And as Frog brings his lips towards mine I think of what I want to tell Martha right now.

I want to tell her that I understand. That growing older doesn't mean having to grow up. I want to tell her that I have just said goodbye to finding a happy ending and hello to a new beginning. I want her to know that I danced and I truly didn't care if I was good or bad – I just got up and danced anyway.

And as Frog and I kiss each other I know two things. The first is that I will always be glad that my very first kiss was mint choc chip. And the second is that this IS my last summer.
Everything
has changed. Martha and Frog and this kiss mark the start of a whole lot of new, different types of summer. I will never again be the person I was before Frog kissed me. This feels like an OK thing.