Missing Ellen (4 page)
Authors: Natasha Mac a'Bháird
Dear Ellen,
Sunday afternoon. I’m supposed to be doing my maths homework. But these triangles and trapeziums and so on aren’t making any sense to me. My mind is like one of those scribbles Jamie used to do at playschool and Mum would proudly stick to the fridge – a jumble of lines and colours, all going in different directions and doubling back on
themselves
– and I can’t make any straight lines out of it.
Dad asked me to help with the weeding today. I thought I’d managed to get out of it when Mum took me into town
yesterday
, but no such luck. But once I got started I found I was
enjoying it in a funny sort of way. Aunt Pat would say it was therapeutic. I liked the repetitiveness of pulling up the weeds and chucking them into the wheelbarrow. Pull, throw, pull, throw. And I liked looking back at the section I’d just finished, seeing the flowers sort of standing up proudly in a nice clean patch, not competing for space with all those weeds trying to choke them.
But then Dad had to go and ruin it. He pushed his glasses back on his nose (always a danger sign) and said he thought it was about time we had a little chat. I tried to discourage him by just ignoring him, concentrating hard on a
particularly
stubborn bit of dandelion root that was trying to choke the pansies. He started saying something about there being a natural process to go through, and it not being a good idea to bottle things up, and so on. That was when I suddenly
remembered
I hadn’t finished my maths homework, and had to go inside.
I think Dad fancies himself as some sort of amateur
psychologist
. Well, he can try his theories out on Jamie if he must. I’d like to see him unravel the mystery of how a little boy’s brain works, and why he thinks vegetables are disgusting, but cutting worms in half with a stone is fun.
You’re the only person I’d really like to talk to about all this – but then, if you were here, there’d be nothing to talk about, would there?
Your friend, Maggie.
As the week went on I got more and more nervous about Friday night. I couldn’t stop thinking about all the things that could go wrong.
The thing was, I just wasn’t the type of person who did things like that. It’s like I was missing the teenage rebellion gene or something. But Ellen had a double dose so I guess we always balanced each other out. Sometimes I used to wonder what someone like her could see in someone like me. Maybe she actually liked the fact that I could usually stop her before she did anything too crazy. Or at least I used to be able to.
Ellen was completely oblivious to my worrying. She laughed and chatted away as normal when the subject of the school disco came up, catching my eye and grinning when no one else was looking.
Her giddiness seemed to grow as the week went on. I’d seen her like this before – if she didn’t find some kind of outlet for it, she might possibly explode.
Wednesday was April Fools’ Day. It was just what Ellen needed. I’d already been treated to salt in my cornflakes instead of sugar by the ever-original Jamie, and Dad had told me there was something stuck to the bottom of my shoe, then fell about the place laughing when I took it off to check. Honestly, he is so juvenile sometimes.
Ellen’s joke was, of course, a lot more imaginative. She whispered to me on our way into maths, ‘How would you
like to spend this class walking to and from the gym instead of adding x’s and y’s?’
‘Sounds like a better option all right,’ I whispered back. ‘What have you got in mind?’
‘Wait and see!’ was Ellen’s only response.
We had Bouncer for maths. He was a small man – half the girls in our class were already taller than him – and he attempted to make up for his lack of height by wearing these shoes with springy soles that made him look like he was bouncing every time he moved around the classroom. He was OK – a bit too earnest sometimes in expecting everyone to be as enthusiastic about algebra as he was – but not one of the worst.
Ellen waited until everyone was seated and Bouncer was just about to demonstrate a sum on the board, then waved her hand in the air.
‘Sir! Sir! I’ve just remembered. Miss O’Neill said could you please excuse us from maths today. She wants us all in the gym. Something about basketball trials, I think.’
‘I think you must have got that wrong Ellen,’ Bouncer said dismissively. ‘She must have meant during PE this afternoon.’
‘Oh no, sir,’ Ellen said confidently. ‘She specifically said it had to be this morning. Apparently it’s very urgent. Actually she said she would ask you herself but she obviously ran out of time or something.’
She was looking at him with such innocent wide green
eyes, I had to put my hand over my mouth to stop myself from giggling.
Bouncer looked annoyed. ‘We have quite a lot of work to do today, I really can’t see why a basketball trial should be more important than that.’
‘Do you want me to go and find her, sir?’ Ellen suggested. She was probably thinking that at least she’d get a few
minutes
out of class even if she wasn’t going to manage to get us all out with her fairly ambitious scam.
‘Yes, please do. As quickly as you can,’ the teacher said. ‘Now everyone, open your books at page 53.’
Ellen made a big deal of scraping back her chair and
picking
up a tissue from the floor, taking the opportunity to whisper to me ‘Bet I can get old O’Neill to go along with it! Lunch is on you if I’m right!’
Then she was gone, banging the door behind her in her usual subtle way.
Dear Ellen,
When the guards were asking me about you, it was so hard to know what to say. I wanted to be helpful, but telling them too much personal stuff just felt like a betrayal. They were very focused on your state of mind. Isn’t that a funny phrase? State of mind – as if that was something I would ever be able to describe to them with something as elusive and slippery as words. They tried putting words on it for me. Angry.
Frightened
.
Mixed up. Out of control. You were all those things, and yet you were happy too, most of the time, this kind of
exhilarating
buzz which was sometimes completely infectious and sometimes just plain annoying. And underneath, I know you were just this scared kid who’d had to grow up much too fast and really wanted someone just to hold you and tell you everything was going to be OK.
I talked to that nice guard Declan – remember? From the cinema night? – a few times. Well, mostly he talked, and I just listened, because there wasn’t much I could say that would have been any help.
Sometimes it feels like I’m the one who’s missing, like I’m not really present in my own life any more – I’m like a ghost or something, wandering through school or home or town looking on at everything that’s happening and not really a part of it at all.
Love,
Maggie.
I waited, wondering how on earth Ellen thought she could convince the hearty and loud-voiced Miss O’Neill to play a joke on a fellow teacher. She had never struck me as being possessed of much of a sense of humour, her two main passions in life being exercise and fresh air.
Ellen was gone for a good ten minutes. I began to suspect that she’d been unable to convince Miss O’Neill. She had
probably just decided to take the long way back to miss as much algebra as possible. Then, just when I was finally
getting
my head around the sum Bouncer was trying to explain, the door opened and a triumphant Ellen marched in,
followed
by an unexpected figure – not Miss O’Neill, but our very grand principal Mrs Carmichael!
‘I’m so sorry to interrupt your class,’ she said politely, ‘but I’m afraid Miss O’Neill needs the girls in the gym. The
basketball
trials are terribly urgent as we are playing St Luke’s next week, and the entire school’s honour is at stake.’
‘Of course, of course,’ Bouncer blustered, clearly taken aback at the arrival of the principal. ‘Right girls, pack up your bags and off you go.’
I stared in amazement at Ellen. How on earth had she managed to pull that one off? As Mrs Carmichael left I saw her give Ellen a little wink and could hardly believe it. Our usual staid and sensible principal was actually helping
perpetrate
an April Fools’ Joke and making us miss maths!
Ellen arrived back at my side. ‘Java Bay for lunch then, Maggie?’ she suggested with a grin. ‘I quite fancy a nice chicken wrap, I think, and maybe a strawberry smoothie to go with it.’
‘What happened? How did you convince her?’ I demanded, shoving my maths book into my bag. Bouncer was
barking
orders, hurrying people along, obviously not wanting to delay the basketball trials any further.
We made our way to the door.
‘It was easy,’ Ellen giggled. ‘I thought Miss O’Neill would be in the staff room so I went there, I was planning on trying to persuade her to go along with the joke. But Mrs
Carmichael
came to the door and said O’Neill wasn’t there, so I decided I’d ask her instead – I figured what’s the worst thing that could happen?’
‘Eh, she could eat you alive?’ I said.
‘Well, she didn’t,’ said Ellen, unperturbed.
Some of the other girls were crowding around now, demanding to know what was going on.
‘Are there really basketball trials?’ Niamh asked.
‘There can’t be, it’s some kind of April Fool right?’ said someone else.
‘’Fraid so, ladies. So sorry to make you miss maths,’ Ellen said. ‘But I wasn’t really in the mood for quadratic equations.’
‘Thank goodness for that!’ Carrie said. ‘I didn’t have my homework done, I was just waiting for Bouncer to have a go at me.’
‘So what happened?’ Niamh demanded. ‘What did you say to Mrs Carmichael?’
Ellen looked back to check if Bouncer was following, but he had gone, bouncing off in the direction of the staff room.
‘I just explained we wanted to play a little April Fool on Bouncer,’ she said airily. ‘Mrs Carmichael just smiled and said she’d go along with it. Apparently the staff were planning an
April Fool of their own on Bouncer. She said I’d given her a great excuse to get him off to the staff room!’
‘You nutter! Only you would get away with something like that,’ Niamh said.
‘Come on, we’d better go,’ Ellen said. ‘Carmichael said we have to walk to the gym and then go on to our next class, so I suppose we’d better do it. Race you there!’
Dear Ellen,
Another Monday, another detention. Yep, Bouncer put me in detention for not having my maths homework done. I tried to explain about the wavy lines but he wouldn’t listen. Looks like ‘Be nice to Maggie week’ is well and truly over. Same with Mum this morning. She wouldn’t let me wear my new boots to school. Something about them being unsuitable and against the school code.
Siobhan Brady was in detention too. She told me proudly that she’d managed to tick two names off her list over the
weekend
. Sean O’Connor at the cinema on Friday night, and James Doherty at a party on Saturday. Lucky them.
Sometimes when I’m on my way to school I imagine you’re going to be there, putting books in your locker and chatting at a million miles an hour, as if nothing had happened. I keep hoping that if I picture it hard enough, it might actually come true.
Your friend,
Maggie.
When we got to the school gate Liam was waiting, leaning against the pillar with his phone in his hand, his school bag and football gear in a heap at his feet. I couldn’t help noticing the way his dark hair fell to the top of his collar – just about within the regulation length for the boys’ school.
Liam has known Ellen even longer than I have. He lives next door to her and their mums have been friends since Liam and Ellen were babies.
Mrs B likes to tease Ellen about how she and Liam used to run around the garden together in the nip when they were toddlers, jumping in and out of the paddling pool and splashing each other. Ellen just rolls her eyes and changes the subject. If it was me I’d be mortified. I hate those kind of stories.
His face lit up when he saw us coming. When he saw Ellen coming, I mean.
‘Didn’t see you in the Four Lights today,’ he remarked, referring to the fast food place which was our usual place to go when we needed to escape the canteen.
‘Actually, Maggie treated me to lunch in Java Bay,’ Ellen said.
‘Yes – not that I actually agreed to the bet in the first place,’ I said.
‘What bet was this then?’ Liam asked. ‘Anything to do with the Champions League match last night?’
‘As if!’ Ellen scoffed. She filled him in on the April Fools’
joke. It gave me a funny feeling in my stomach the way he hung on her every word.
‘Can’t believe your principal went along with that,’ Liam said, the admiration clear in his voice.
Ellen laughed. ‘Oh it was just a lucky coincidence that the teachers had something of their own planned. Wish I’d been there to see that one!’
I know it wasn’t very nice of me, but I was getting a bit tired of hearing about Ellen’s fabulous joke. First Mrs Carmichael going along with it, then the other girls thronging around her like a bunch of groupies. And now Liam.
‘Are you working this weekend?’ I asked him, trying to change the subject. Liam had a part-time job in his
parents
’ newsagents shop. I’d often seen him there at
weekends
, lugging boxes around, stacking shelves, stopping to chat to old ladies or toddlers clinging on to their mums’ hands. He even seemed to enjoy being in charge of the ice cream machine, swirling the soft white ice cream onto the cone, so high it looked like it would topple over any second. Jamie was a sucker for those cones. Mum often bribed him with one if he behaved himself in Tesco.
‘I might do a few hours on Saturday afternoon,’ Liam said. ‘Only if they’re stuck though. Got a fair bit of studying to do.’
‘Not in the morning then?’ I asked. It was usually on
Saturday
mornings that Mum dragged me off to the shopping centre, wanting me to trail along behind her like a little kid while she tried on clothes or looked for a birthday present for someone.