Keep the Faith (17 page)

‘More fool her,’ said Megs, sounding a lot like her own mum.

Toad scrambled down from his chair and started stamping about in the splats of goulash. ‘We’d better clean this up,’ I said.

Megs’s phone rang. She pulled it out of her pocket.

‘It’s Cam,’ she said. ‘Do you mind? Will you be all right?’

‘It’s fine. Tolde can help.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes, of course. Children need to learn about domestic duties early. My parents should have got me scrubbing the floor when I was tiny, but they were too lazy. It’s all their own
fault that I can’t be bothered to help around the house now.’

Megs was already walking out of the room and saying hello to Cameron in a gooey fashion.

I ran the hot tap and started poking about for a cloth; when I turned round, Toady had pulled a packet of muesli out of the cupboard and was flinging handfuls up in the air like confetti. I
remembered what my mum said about keeping it positive.

‘There’s a good boy,’ I said. ‘You’re a good boy, aren’t you? Put the muesli back—’

He tipped the packet upside down.

By the time I’d found the dustpan and brush, he’d managed to grab his beaker of milk off the table and pour it on the floor. I snatched up a tea towel and tried to stop the rush of
milk towards the rug.

‘Never mind,’ I said through gritted teeth because I was remembering to be positive. ‘We’ll just sing a song, shall we? Five little ducks went swimming one day . .
.’

I gave Toad a saucepan to play with and started on the blobs of goulash. Toad opened a cupboard and reached for the crockery. I abandoned the mucky floor and snatched one of Skye’s
hand-thrown pots out of his grubby fist. While I was putting it back, he dropped on all fours and started crawling through the remains of the milk puddle. What I needed was some of those calming
bubbles.

‘Megs!’ I called. ‘If you’ve finished your lovey-dovey chat, I could do with some magic bubbles in here.’

‘Come on then, Toady,’ I said, scooping him up. ‘Let’s keep cheerful . . .
Ah
!’ Tolde had grabbed a handful of hair on either side of my face and was
attempting to pull my head apart like a Christmas cracker.

‘
Megs!
Can you bring the bubbles?’

I picked up a wooden spoon and danced it about like a puppet. ‘Hello, Tolde! I’m Mr Spoon. Why don’t you let go of that hair and—’

Toad snatched the spoon and whacked me in the mouth with it.

‘Megan! I need you to distract Tolde with the bubbles while I clean up.’

The sink was overflowing; I took a step towards it and skidded on a lump of goulash. Toad almost went flying out of my arms. I may have sworn a tiny bit at that point, which Toad must have
disapproved of because he started howling.

‘
La-la-la!
Ducky ducks!’ I sang. ‘MEGS! GET IN HERE NOW AND BLOW ME SOME PIGGING BUBBLES!’

And that’s when I realised that Finn was standing in the doorway.

If I found someone attempting to clean up a very goulashy kitchen and child, I like to think that I would do something helpful like scrub one of them down or, at the very
least, go and buy some emergency chocolate. I would not start banging on about how it’s ‘not cool’ to swear in front of kids.

I wasn’t so cross with his comment that I didn’t notice that Finn was looking super fine in a new blue top, but I’ve got to admit that I can think of
people I’d rather see in an emergency.

At breakfast I said, ‘Today is a leap day, which means a free day to do whatever you like with.’

Mum looked at me blankly.

‘You don’t normally get a twenty-ninth of February, do you?’ I pointed out. ‘So we should all count it as a gift of extra time to do something to gladden our hearts and
make our spirits soar.’ I stood up. ‘So I’ll be returning to bed with this . . .’ I picked up the Coco Pops packet, ‘and this . . .’ I reached out for the tiny
kitchen TV.

‘Oh no you don’t,’ Mum snapped. ‘Leap day or not, it’s business as usual. You’re going to school.’

I shook my head sadly. ‘For a woman who claims to be at one with the world, I’m not sure that you listen very carefully to what Mother Nature wants for her children. Surely you agree
that I ought to be out frolicking in the wild, not cooped up in a prison-like classroom? I need to feel the wind on my face and the earth between my toes.’

Mum took the Coco Pops out of my hand. ‘You can walk to school in bare feet if you like.’

I think it’s about time I threatened to call a social worker again.

We had the first meeting of the debating club today. Lots of people came. The news about boys being in attendance had obviously spread like wildfire. In a way it’s
nice to think that my ideas are so successful, but on the other hand I wish that the Year Elevens would find their own methods of getting near boys. Thank goodness we’re safe from the St
Minger’s here. But unfortunately not from Icky, who was there early, strutting about the room. It’s sad that she feels that she’s got to keep thrusting herself in people’s
faces to remind them that she exists.

As if anyone could forget that monstrosity.

I was pleased to see that Ethan, Cam, Elliot and Westy had all turned up. Then I spotted Finn and my little heart leapt. Even though I spent quite a lot of time explaining debating, he
hadn’t seemed that keen when I invited him, so I was touched that he had turned up. Obviously, he does want to support me in my activities, which is nice. I also noticed a lot of envious
looks from the Year Elevens when he greeted me enthusiastically, which was even nicer. I was less thrilled when I got distracted talking to Megs and Finn wandered off to say hello to almost
everyone in the room. He seems to know a lot of girls. ‘Does he have to be so friendly?’ I said to Megs.

‘I thought you told me that was one of the things you like about him. Would you rather he was surly and stand-offish?’

I only gave her a small wallop because I was watching Ethan talk to Becky. I hadn’t seen him since he managed to both insult me and nearly kiss me at my party. He nodded hello to me when
the boys came in, but he didn’t say anything. He seemed to have plenty to say to Becky. I didn’t think they even knew each other that well.

Mrs Lloyd-Winterson went to the front of the classroom and waited for silence. She was pretty good at it. I wish I could achieve the same sort of quiet just by looking at Toady. She thanked us
all for coming and told us what a super time we were all going to have, and then she explained about the debating.

‘Every week we’ll have two motions.’

‘What’s a motion?’ Cam called out.

‘Shh,’ Westy said in a really loud voice. ‘It’s what you do in the bathroom.’

‘What? Have a bath?’

‘No, you idiot, have a poo.’

‘The motion,’ said Mrs Lloyd-Winterson in her best icy tone, ‘is the issue we will be discussing. For example, I might say “Teenage boys are ill-mannered” then one
team would propose the motion, that is, agree with it, and the other team would oppose it, that is, disagree with it. Each team is made up of two people.’ She cast her beady eye round the
room. ‘Looking at how marvellously popular this endeavour is, I think that each person will have the opportunity to debate once a term. That means you’ll really be able to throw
yourselves into it.’

‘What do we do on all the weeks our team isn’t arguing, I mean debating?’ someone asked.

‘Then you will be the audience. Which is a vital part of the whole process; your votes will decide the winners.’

‘Shall we get into pairs, Mrs Lloyd-Winterson?’ I asked. I took a firm grip on Megs’s wrist just to be sure of her.

‘Well, yes—’

Before she’d even got the words out, people were grabbing at their besties.

‘Oh no,’ said Mrs Lloyd-Winterson. ‘Oh no, that won’t do.’

‘What won’t?’ Westy asked, while tucking Elliot under his arm for safe keeping.

Mrs Lloyd-Winterson put her hands on her hips. ‘I don’t think we’ll have you pairing up with your friends.’

My heart plummeted. She wasn’t one of those evil teachers that thinks you do your best work when you’re forced to partner up with your enemy, was she?

‘Look like you don’t know me!’ I hissed to Lily. She started whistling and looking skyward. The well-known international sign for not knowing someone.

‘No,’ said Mrs Lloyd-Winterson again. ‘I think the teams should have one boy and one girl; after all, that’s what we’ve all come for, isn’t it? A spot of
fraternisation.’ And then she
winked
at the doddering old fool that the boys’ school had brought with them. I would have vomited, but I was trying to catch Finn’s eye
and, even though I had a good try the last time I got off a rollercoaster, I still haven’t perfected throwing up and looking attractive at the same time. Finn was also whistling and looking
skyward and I don’t think he was even trying to pretend he didn’t know anyone.

‘Yes, everyone get into boy-girl pairs,’ said the old man teacher.

I elbowed a few girls aside and tapped Finn on the arm. ‘Shall we be a team?’

He grinned at me. ‘Yep, sure.’

There were a lot of envious faces as I pulled up a chair next to him.

The rest of the room weren’t getting on too well. Megs had grabbed Cam, Ethan asked Becky, which really annoyed me for some reason, and Icky threw herself at some poor unsuspecting boy,
but other than that there was a lot of foot-shuffling, which was really very silly. It’s the bold worm-girl that catches the boy-bird. Or something like that.

‘Come on, come on!’ barked Mrs Lloyd-Winterson ‘Pair up!’

Nobody paired. So Mrs L-W started ploughing through the room, shoving random couples together. That started a bit of movement. A circle of eager boys formed round Lily, but she asked a boy with
a robot drawn in biro on his arm and he nodded. Angharad and Elliot shuffled together and looked over each other’s shoulders. I’m pretty sure that neither of them actually spoke, but
maybe really quiet people have some kind of language that the rest of us can’t hear.

Once we’d sorted out the pairs, Mrs Lloyd-Winterson made us watch a video of some boys in fancy blazers having a debate about whether kids should be able to divorce their parents. It was
quite funny in places.

In the middle of it Finn leant over to me and I thought he was going to whisper something romantic, but he just said, ‘We don’t have to wear those jackets, do we?’

After that, Mrs L-W asked us for suggestions for motions.

I said, ‘What about “School should be optional”?’

‘Students should be able to sack rubbish teachers,’ a girl at the back called out.

‘No animal testing,’ Ang said.

Pretty soon everyone was calling out suggestions. The boys’ teacher wrote them all down on slips of paper. Then Mrs L-W talked to us about how to research our topic and how we
shouldn’t believe everything we read on the internet. She gave us a helpful sheet on getting started. I really don’t need any help writing down my opinion in convincing terms, but
I’m sure it’ll be useful to stupid people like Icky.

Just before it was time to go, each pair had to pull a slip out of the rubbish bin. Finn let me choose. We got ‘Nurses should be paid more than footballers’; we are opposing the
motion, which means we have to disagree with it. I watched carefully to see who we’d be arguing against. When Icky stuck her hand in the bin, the back of my neck prickled. I don’t
believe in second sight and all that business, but the back of my neck clearly knows what it’s talking about because it’s Icky and her new friend that we’ll be arguing against.
Which is good because I find that I am at my best when I’m arguing with someone I detest.

Mrs Lloyd-Winterson said, ‘I’ll draw up a schedule, which will be displayed in both schools. Make sure you find out when your debate is and
prepare
for it.’

I can’t wait to win our debate. I am fully prepared. I’ve already had years of practice at telling people they’re wrong.

The debating timetable is up. Poor Zoe is first. Finn and I are second on the list, which means that we’ve got less than two weeks to prepare something that will
impress Miss Ramsbottom.

I was checking out the rest of the list when Icky squawked in my ear, ‘I don’t know why you bothered to join debating club.’

I turned round to face Her Royal Scrawniness. ‘You’re right,’ I said, ‘it is a bit unfair on other people when I’m so obviously going to win.’

She snorted in an unattractive, snot-gurgling sort of way. ‘How are you ever going to win a debate? By blinding people with your bright orange hair? Or are you going to knock them out with
your skunk scent?’

‘The only way you’re going to get anyone to listen to you is by dressing up as a kitten. That won’t be difficult since you’re the right size and you’ve already got
the claws.’

She sneered. ‘I won’t need to dress up. I’m going to beat you.’

‘That’s right, think positive, Vicky! Maybe you’ll manage to convince yourself you’re not an idiot.’

‘Listen, Faith, when they’re all applauding me, you can kiss my feet. Because I’m way better than you.’

I’ve always said that Icky is delusional. ‘Want to bet?’

‘Yes,’ she snapped. ‘And if you lose you really can kiss my feet.’

‘Actually, when you lose,
you
can kiss mine. Although that doesn’t sound very hygienic. Make sure you wash your mouth out first. I don’t want my poor toes getting
contaminated.’

‘It’s a bet then.’

And she stuck out her twiggy little hand and I actually shook it.

I was right. She has got claws.

I rang Finn to make plans to vanquish Icky in the debate. At first, he seemed to have forgotten about the whole thing, but then I managed to jog his memory; I said,
‘Remember we watched the video of those posh kids debating?’

‘Yeah! The dudes in the jackets. So when do we have to get dressed up?’