Hello God (4 page)

I am very confused.

Stephanie came back to school today. She was wobbly on her legs and there were dark smudges under her eyes. I felt sorry for her. It was our fault, God. Yours and mine. I only wanted her to have a one-day flu.

She told me she felt fine, and that was a relief, even though she didn’t look fine. Adam came over to us and said he hoped she was okay. I’ve never talked to him much before. I’d never even thought much about him.

Just before the bell went, Danielle and Stacey walked over to me.

Danielle told me I was a loser, and that I hung out with losers.

I said I’d been hanging out with them for ages, so what did that mean they were?

Then I said, ‘There’s nothing nerdy about Stephanie, or Adam. They’re both really nice.’

I began to hiccup. Stacey put her hand over her mouth, but I could see her laughing.

They ignored me for the rest of the day, which suited me fine because I was ignoring them too.

I didn’t know what to do at lunchtime today. I didn’t want to sit alone. There’s nothing worse than seeing and hearing other kids having fun and being all alone.

Stephanie was in the library. I didn’t know if I should join her or not. I was feeling sad and empty.

Adam was sitting with Matt on a bench near the canteen. Matt’s kind of cute in a Superman way, God. He’s tall and has muscles and dark hair and the best, widest, bluest eyes. If you don’t know
about Superman, you should see some of the movies. He’s a real hero and does all the right things. You’d like him a lot.

I suppose I could have sat with them, but Matt might have thought I liked him, which I do, but I don’t want to be obvious. I felt shy and the empty feeling inside of me was making me nervous.

So I went back to the library, where I knew I could bury my head in a book and not have to talk to anyone.

Today I walked over to Danielle and Stacey to see if they would invite me to sit with them. If they apologised I just might forgive them.

They were sitting on the grass eating their lunch. I pushed my glasses up because I was nervous and the sweat was making them slide down my nose.

Stacey and Danielle sat hunched over their lunch, talking and laughing. They knew I was there, but they didn’t look up. Not even when I hiccupped.

I walked away, shrugging. I ate my lunch and then walked around the playground, trying to smile so no one would think I was a loser. I didn’t want the argument with Danielle and Stacey to matter, but it did. No more girly talks, going to the movies at the weekend, talking about boys we’d like to meet later on, looking at make-up in shops and planning our futures. All that togetherness, the good stuff about being part of the
in
crowd, was finished.

I felt weird, God, a bit like a sardine that’s been packed tightly in a can and then suddenly set free, thrown back into the water. But of course, as the sardine has been in a can, he’s dead. So there’s nothing he can do with his freedom. Does that make sense, God?

After school I walked home by myself. Danielle and Stacey walked past me. They giggled. I pretended I didn’t care. I yawned and tried to look bored.

When I got home, Mum had just arrived home
too. She started talking about the baby, but stopped when I couldn’t do anything but hiccup.

Now she wants to take me to see a doctor. She thinks they’ve gone on for too long.

God, couldn’t you just put a stop to my hiccups?

I ended up at the doctor’s surgery. He’s from India and his name is Dr Curry. This is a hard name for me to say without laughing, and I have to tell you, it’s not a good thing to start laughing when you go to see a doctor about being sick.

He listened to me hiccup and spoke to me in his lovely Indian accent, and I answered and hiccupped. He asked Mum about the baby coming, and I hiccupped some more.

Then he said, ‘You’ve got mind hiccups.’

‘What’s,
hic
, that?’

‘When you get worried, you hiccup. Try not to worry so much. Your parents love you. They won’t love you any less when the baby comes.’

My mum put her arm around me, and pulled me to her and gave me a mushy kiss. I hiccupped in her face.

‘They’ll go,’ said the doctor. ‘Just get her to eat and drink slowly and do a bit of deep breathing. Keep her relaxed.’

Mum looked relieved and insisted on holding my hand as we left the doctor’s surgery.

She asked me a lot of questions. Some about the baby. Others about school and friends. So I told her about my being
out
of the
in
crowd. She held me tighter and told me how it was hard to be strong, but that I was right to stick up for Stephanie.

I also told her that I talk to you some nights, and she said, ‘Hmmmmmmmmmmmmm.’ She seemed to think it was okay and might help me with my hiccups.

Two things happened today, and even though you probably know already, I want to talk about them.

First of all, Mum took me with her to the baby doctor’s, and the doctor put sticky stuff all over her stomach. Then he put a special camera on her stomach and on a small screen near where Mum was lying I could see a picture of the baby.

At first I couldn’t make out the baby. There’s a lot of stuff going on inside Mum’s body. The baby was curled up in a ball, and the doctor pointed out
the baby’s back. And then the legs. And then the rounded head.

I felt strange. A baby was growing inside my mum.

The doctor said he couldn’t see from the way the baby was curled up whether it was a boy or a girl, but Mum quickly told the doctor she didn’t want to know.

I,
hic
, do.

The doctor also said the baby is healthy, which is all my parents care about.

Me,
hic
, too.

I peeked into baby prams and strollers in the waiting room. A lot of the babies were quite cute. One of them smiled at me. A gummy, dribbly smile, God. I smiled back. Maybe babies aren’t that bad. Maybe I’d even like
being a big sister. I’d always be the older one. Always and forever.

On the way home I was still hiccupping, but much less. Mum bought me an ice-cream, and I slurped it all down, without one hiccup.

Dad told me that when ladies are having babies they look just beautiful. My mum’s skin is shining, like she’s rubbed cooking oil over it. Her eyes are bright. She looks like one of those models on TV, except for the baby bump. Every now and then she pats her stomach and if I’m standing close by, each time she pats her stomach she pats my head.

Now, God, we need to have a serious talk. Tonight I did my homework early and sat with Mum and Dad watching TV.

It’s all this other stuff going on in the world that I want to talk about. Mum and Dad watch the TV news and honest, it’s all full of sad stuff.

No matter how busy you are, you must know about the wars and the sick people and the dying
children, and the bad people who are making this planet very, very dangerous.

So where do you stand on this?

If you have the power to make things different, why don’t you?

You need to send me a sign, and quickly, because I am starting to wonder about you.

(PS: It’s not that I don’t believe in you, I would just like to know that you believe in me.)

Thanks for the sign. When Mum and Dad called me in from my homework tonight to watch the stranded whales being pushed out to sea, I knew straightaway that this was a sign from you. I think you’re telling me it’s not all bad out there.

I keep thinking about what Mum said, about how you let us make up our own minds about things, but always hope that we will make the right decisions and have the right thoughts.

So, I reckon that you must feel very disappointed that so many of us don’t have the right thoughts. Maybe even sad.

Cheer up, God. If we make bad decisions, it’s not your fault. Maybe, for reasons we don’t understand, you can’t take making decisions away from us.

That’s difficult. But cheer up anyway. It will make you happy to know that today a man ran into a burning house and pulled out two children. He got burnt a bit doing it, but he saved their lives. I thought you needed to know this, God, just in case you missed it.

Stephanie came for dinner with her parents. It was fun. I can hardly believe how stupid I was about her. Mum made baked fish with pine nuts on top, and it tasted great. And chips too, and chocolate mousse for dessert. You are missing out on a lot, God, if you can’t eat chocolate.

Stephanie’s parents are quiet people, like Stephanie in a way. Her mother is tall and thin with straight hair, and a small smile. Her father is short with a rounded stomach and is totally bald.

They got on really well with my parents, who are easy to get on with and like almost everybody, except for Mr Walters down the road, who kicks his dog. We reported him, by the way, God, to the RSPCA, and he was in big trouble and the dog was taken away and given to a good home. I know you’ll be pleased to hear that.

Anyway, after dinner, Dad took out his telescope. The night sky was clear and the moon was full and it was a great night to stargaze. Stephanie’s parents looked through the telescope first, and they were of course amazed. Everyone is, but with Stephanie it was different.

When she looked through the telescope, God, she was so overcome she was silent for a long, long time.

A little later, while our parents talked about greenhouse gases, I asked Stephanie what she thought of Saturn. ‘Isn’t it great to be able to see the rings? And aren’t there just so many stars in the sky?’

‘We’re part of it all,’ Stephanie said. ‘I’ve read that every bit of the smallest bit that makes up you and me is found throughout the universe. We’re all part of the stars. All connected.’

‘Yes,’ I said, though I wasn’t exactly sure what she meant.