Keep the Faith (5 page)

We talked about going back to school. Finn’s not that keen on school. He finds it hard to concentrate. I asked him if he ever sits in class planning the decapitation of his teacher. He
gave me a bit of a funny look and said, ‘Mostly I just think about surfing, or sometimes what I’m going to have for lunch.’

His favourite subject is PE. As you know, I’m not the biggest fan of sporting activity, but I have to say that Finn’s muscly legs seem to be doing very well on it. Obviously, I
couldn’t actually see his legs because he was wearing jeans, but as we were pushing back our chairs and getting up to leave his calf rubbed against mine and, I’m telling you, there were
some serious muscles under there. Also, it’s possible that his jeans had been dusted with some sort of girl-melting powder because I almost had to sit back down again while my molecules
pulled themselves together.

We walked back through the little green square near school and there was no one about. There was some kissing under a tree. Finn tasted like strawberries. He was literally delicious. It was an
ace day.

Although the ‘g’ word still hasn’t been mentioned.

And for once I mean ‘g’ for girlfriend not ‘g’ for ginger. Does he not want me to be his girlfriend? Is this keeping it casual? I don’t think
I’m really a casual sort of person.

I once wore a prom dress to a garden centre.

Me, Megs, Ang, Lily, Ethan, Cam and Elliot all went round to Westy’s house to watch a film. Westy’s mum seems like the kind of tolerant, non-speaking,
snack-bearing parent I have always wished for. She didn’t make the ridiculous amount of fuss that other people do when a pack of teenagers turn up in their sitting room.

Once his mum had done the decent thing and got out of our way, Westy put on what he called a sci-fi classic. I’m always a bit suspicious when people describe things as a classic. I
remember when my Auntie Joyce had a classic car. As far as I could work out, that meant you had to push it everywhere instead of driving it like a proper car.

I’ve also heard Granny described as a classic.

The film was set on a spaceship and there was a lot of stuff about an impending alien invasion. I was more interested in the romance between the captain and the chief engineer, but it’s
hard to concentrate on people snogging on the screen when there are people snogging in your ear. Megs and Cameron have got no shame. They’ve certainly got some skills though. I thought Megs
would bite Cam’s tongue off when I threw a cushion at her head, but they didn’t even open their eyes.

Lily and the boys were riveted by the film so Ang and I had a whispered chat on the armchair we were sharing.

She said, ‘How was your date with Finn?’

I grinned. ‘It was fantastic. Delicious.’

‘You could have asked him to come and watch this.’

Then we cracked up because we couldn’t really see why anyone would want to watch it. I thought about Finn. He probably would have said yes if I’d asked him to come, but somehow Finn
doesn’t seem to fit in with this little group. I struggled a bit on New Year’s Eve to bring him into our conversations.

‘How are you getting on with Elliot?’ I whispered.

Ang jabbed me in the ribs, but Elliot was too engrossed in a disruption in the space-time continuum to notice that we were talking about him.

‘Really well,’ Ang said in a voice so low that I practically had to lip-read. ‘Earlier, he asked me what my favourite noble gas is.’

‘Wow,’ I said, unsure what the correct response to this kind of announcement was.

Ang and Elliot’s romance is not a conventional one.

We went back to watching the terrible film. Most of the special effects seemed to have been done with toy spaceships on strings.

When a robot on wheels with bits of egg carton for eyes rolled on, I started to laugh.

‘Watch it, Faith!’ Westy said. ‘No sniggering. This is a chilling vision of the future.’

‘What, where the robots take over the earth and steal our egg boxes?’

Then there was a space battle with a lot of shooting. Lily and Westy were beside themselves with excitement. Elliot and Ang had disappeared into the kitchen and Megs looked like she was in
danger of disappearing into Cameron’s mouth. I found myself looking at Ethan. Who happened to be looking at me.

I had decided to let his comments about Finn go. After all, it must be hard for other boys being compared to someone as gorgeous as Finn. So, in a spirit of kindness, I was going to say
something hilarious about how the fashion on other planets always seems to be stuck in the seventies, but I didn’t. I just stared. And he stared back. Along with his lush lashes he’s
got very sultry eyes. I didn’t know if we were having a staring competition or if it was more . . . you know.

Elliot came back into the room and said, ‘
Ew
, gross!’

I looked away quickly, but fortunately Elliot wasn’t talking about Ethan and me staring at each other; he was pointing at the alien that had just exploded on-screen, leaving blue slime all
over the spaceship.

But I probably shouldn’t be having lingering stares with boys who aren’t my nearly-boyfriend, should I?

Last term, my evil head of year, Miss Ramsbottom, said that Megs and I were too badly behaved to be in a class together and moved me to a different tutor group. I spent the
whole of last term being super good. Well, parts of last term anyway. And it was the parts where Miss Ramsbottom was watching me so that’s what counts, isn’t it? And she said
she’d think about moving me back, but we’ve been at school for three days now and no one has said anything about me returning to Mrs Hatfield’s tutor group to be with Megs
again.

I was thinking about speaking to Miss Ramsbottom about it, but then Lily got out her lunch. It was a Christmas selection box. I felt that, as a friend, I ought to stick around and eat her Freddo
for her while she concentrated on more caramelly options. But I will definitely be having words with Ramsbottom tomorrow.

Adults are so uptight. If Angharad doesn’t mind me dangling her over the banisters, I don’t see why anyone else should care. Unfortunately, Mr Hampton, our
Science teacher, can only cope with people who are the right way up and walking in straight lines, so he tapped me on the shoulder (which isn’t really a wise thing to do to someone
who’s concentrating on not dropping their tiny friend on her head) and told me to go and see Miss Ramsbottom. Pigging hell, why are teachers always sending you to see other teachers? Or
making you stand somewhere or telling you to think about something. It’s like they imagine you haven’t got any plans of your own for the day.

I said, ‘It’s a nice idea, Mr Hampton, but actually I’ve got some important birthday business to conduct in Maths next lesson, so I don’t think I’ll be able to make
it.’

Mr Hampton said, ‘Never mind then – you mustn’t upset your schedule.’

Or at least that is what he would have said if he lived in Sane World, but because he is a teacher from the planet Fun-Spoil he just ranted away. I didn’t catch all of it, but it was along
the lines of, ‘Irresponsible . . . idiotic . . . most disrespectful young lady I’ve ever met.’

You know, the usual.

I shuffled off to see Miss R. As soon as I walked in the door, she screwed up her nose as if my behaviour smells like Bovril.

‘Faith,’ she snarled. ‘I intended to speak to you.’

They say that attack is the best form of defence so I said, ‘Well, I’ve been wanting to talk to
you
. Why haven’t I been moved back to Mrs Hatfield’s tutor group?
I recall a definite promise from you last year, and I’ve been extremely good, and I’m sure you’re aware that I am at a very vulnerable age when it comes to friends – this
could be detrimental to my self-esteem.’

Unlike my dad, Ramsbottom isn’t easily confused by a stream of fast talking. She just held up a hand and waited for me to stop.

‘We’ll discuss your tutor group in a moment. I think there’s the more pressing matter of your treatment of other students.’

What the actual monkey was she talking about? ‘But other students love me!’ I said.

‘No one loves being placed in danger.’

‘I don’t follow.’

She scowled. ‘We discussed your disregard for safety last term.’

‘I’m afraid I’m still not with you, Miss Ramsbottom. Perhaps you could act it out, like in a game of charades?’

‘Faith! I don’t think you should make light of attempting to throw another girl down the stairs!’

Oh please. It’s a wonder Miss Ramsbottom manages day-to-day life. She gets the wrong end of the stick so badly that she doesn’t even know what is stick and what’s not. It seems
like a miracle to me that she’s never been arrested for falsely accusing someone of murder.

I said, ‘Is this about Angharad? I was just steadying her while she leant over the banisters to take in the stimulating sight of three hundred girls hurrying to their education.’

‘Mr Hampton said that you were about to toss her down the stairs.’

Which is funny because you wouldn’t expect a man who wears as much corduroy as Mr Hampton to over exaggerate like that. I didn’t mention this because Miss Ramsbottom gets very
twitchy when I make remarks about other teachers. I just said, ‘She liked it.’

‘That seems highly unlikely.’

‘You’ve got to take into account Angharad’s extreme titchiness. She just wanted to see what it was like to look down from a great height.’

‘Whether the girl in question gave her consent or not, I would have thought that you could have recognised what an inappropriate, not to mention dangerous, action it was.’

I bowed my head because I find these little chats move along quicker if I pretend to be sorry.

‘What if you had dropped her?’

We had, of course, taken the precaution of tying the belt from Megs’s coat round Ang and to the stair rail. Does she think I’m an idiot? But, along with the head bowing, total
silence helps Miss R get it out of her system much faster, so I kept my lips pressed together.

‘She could have been seriously injured. I expect more sense from a Year Ten.’

Does that mean that she wouldn’t mind if Year Sevens started flinging people down the stairs?

‘You’ll be in Year Ten detention next week. I’ll speak to the other young lady in question. What’s her name?’

See? She doesn’t listen to a word I say. I was tempted to claim it was Icky Blundell, but using her name didn’t work out too well for me last term, so I said, ‘Angharad
Jones.’

Eventually, she seemed to run out of lecture power and was about to dismiss me, but I said, ‘What about me moving back to Mrs Hatfield’s tutor group? Remember you promised last
term?’

She flared her nostrils at me. ‘I remember no such thing. You were moved to a different tutor group because you seemed unable to concentrate when you were in a class with Megan.’

‘It’s true that Megs can be very distracting, but last term—’

‘I said that we would review the situation. I have reviewed it. Despite the slight improvement in your conduct, I think that today’s incident demonstrates admirably why you
won’t be moving back to Mrs Hatfield’s form this term.’

I may have puffed out my breath in a quiet, non-aggressive sort of way.

‘There’s no need for that sort of thing. Faith, this is about your choices. You’re old enough to know what the right thing to do is.’

Honestly, it’s a wonder that she doesn’t bore herself to death sometimes. It’s probably the reason she’s so pale.

In the end she let me go and I arrived late to Maths. Maths (and English and Science) are taught in sets and Megs and I are both clever, so actually I still sit next to her for these lessons.
I’m not sure that Miss Ramsbottom has realised. It would be quite funny to point this out to her, but Mum taught me not to wind up people who are stupider than me, so I haven’t
bothered.

Mrs Baxter was already doing one of her long rambly explanations. I sat down and Megs whispered, ‘What happened?’

‘Detention.’

She shook her head.

‘And Ramsbum says I can’t come back to Mrs Mad-as-a-Hatfield’s tutor group.’

‘No way!’

I nodded sadly.

Mrs B interrupted to tell us to do exercise nine.

‘I can’t believe it!’ Megs whispered.

‘It’s extremely tragic. I hardly get a minute with you these days.’ I flicked open the textbook and said, ‘Now let’s spend the next hour talking about my birthday
plans.’

I’m depressed about Ramsbottom going back on her word and not letting me return to my original tutor group with Megs. When I got to registration this morning, I said,
‘Have you heard the news, Mrs Webber? I’m stuck with you lot.’

Mrs Webber didn’t even stop marking books. She just smiled and said, ‘Well, with a positive attitude like that, I’m sure that we’ll all get along swimmingly.’

I sighed. ‘Have some sympathy, Mrs W. You know what it’s like when you dangle a tiny girl over the banisters and some old vampire in heels gets all uptight about it and won’t
let you hang out with your best mate.’

Mrs W gave me a long look. Eventually, she said, ‘Let’s just say I appreciate your disappointment.’

Because my mum is always asking me to share my news with her, I thought I’d tell her about my birthday plans. In fact, I gave her a folder containing a guest list,
venue suggestions and a first draft of the menu.

She folded her arms and said, ‘We can’t afford to hire anywhere for your birthday, Faith.’

I’m used to this kind of negativity every time I try to follow my dreams, so I said, ‘I suppose we could have it here. We’ll just have to take out most of the furniture to fit
everybody in.’

‘No. We’re not having it here either. Not after last year.’

‘When are you going to stop going on about that? We fixed the ceiling, Neesha’s hair grew back and Sam didn’t need therapy after all, did he?’