Bad Girls Read online

‘You didn’t even want me to say goodbye to her,’ I said.

  ‘I was still in a state of shock after having to collect you from the police,’ said Mum.

  ‘You never liked Tanya, though. You didn’t ever want me to see her,’ I said fiercely.

  ‘You’re being a bit hard on your mum,’ said Dad. ‘We only said you couldn’t see her after the shoplifting business. And it’s silly to say we didn’t like her. She was a smashing girl in many ways, so lively, and basically good-hearted—’

  ‘She is. Don’t talk about her as if she’s dead,’ I said. ‘She’s still my best ever friend, you know, even though she’s gone. And Mum didn’t ever want us to be friends, did you?’

  ‘Now, now,’ said Mum. ‘All right, I didn’t think it was very sensible. And I was proved right, too. But there’s no need to look at me like that, Mandy. I didn’t have anything against Tanya personally. It’s just that she wasn’t the right age for you, and she didn’t come from the right sort of background.’

  ‘Melanie is the right age, the right background, you thought she was the right sort of friend for me. And she was ever so mean to me and ganged up with Kim and Sarah against me. They were hateful. Tanya was always lovely to me.’

  I didn’t just say it. I shouted it. I thought they’d get cross then. But they just stared at each other, looking helpless.

  ‘That’s a good point, Mandy,’ said Dad, sighing.

  ‘It’s not as simple as that,’ said Mum. ‘But I wish I’d tried a bit harder with Tanya.’

  ‘It’s easy to say that now, when she’s been taken away,’ I said.

  I stamped off to my room and slammed the door. I lay on my bed for a while, clutching Olivia Orang-Utan, pretending her orange fur was Tanya’s hair. Then I sat up and dressed her in Tanya’s violet sequin top. It fell way past her paws, an amazing evening gown.

  I tried on the top myself. I took off my glasses and peered short-sightedly into the mirror. I could just see a swirl of purple sequins. I could kid myself I looked amazingly glamorous, a real Miranda Rainbow. But then I put my glasses back on and everything shifted into focus. I was Mandy White again, and I went in and out in all the wrong places. The violet top puckered loosely over my flat chest and showed off my babyish round tummy.

  ‘Mandy?’ It was Mum, knocking at my bedroom door.

  I tried to rip the top off quickly, because I couldn’t stand the thought of Mum laughing at me. My head got caught and when I pulled, my glasses went flying. They fell with a clatter on my chest of drawers and broke in two again.

  ‘Oh, no!’

  ‘What’s the matter, Mandy?’ said Mum, coming in.

  ‘My glasses! They’ve broken again.’

  ‘Well, we’ll see if Daddy can fix them with Superglue like he did last time. But I think we’ll have to get you a new pair some time this summer,’ said Mum.

  ‘Really grown-up fashionable glasses?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes. So long as they’re not too expensive.’

  ‘And can I have my hair cut so that they won’t look stupid with my baby plaits?’

  ‘Mmm. I’m not so sure about that,’ said Mum. ‘If it’s really important to you then maybe you can. I suppose it’s your own hair after all.’ Mum paused. ‘But I tell you one thing I am sure about, Mandy. I don’t want you wearing that purple sequin top. Certainly not outdoors.’

  ‘It doesn’t fit right, anyway,’ I said. ‘But it looked lovely on Tanya.’

  ‘Well,’ said Mum.

  ‘I miss her so,’ I said. ‘She said she’d write, but she hates writing, so I don’t think she will.’

  ‘I know you’re missing her, darling. And I understand. But believe me, you’ll make some other friends soon. Tell you what, why don’t you get in touch with that nice boy who rang you up after the accident? Arthur.’

  ‘No! I couldn’t. I’d feel stupid.’

  ‘I’ll get in touch with his mother if you like.’

  ‘No, Mum! I don’t want to. I don’t want to do anything,’ I insisted.

  Dad took time off work and kept suggesting we go to the pictures or the park. He spent one day taking me round the museums in London and I pretended I was enjoying myself – but I’d have been just as happy lying on my bed at home doing nothing.

  Mum scoured the local newspaper for holiday activities and eventually talked me into signing up for a story-writing session at the library.

  She took me shopping on Saturday and said I could have new glasses. I tried on hundreds of pairs: tiny owly ones, great big bold specs, glittery party glasses. I wished Tanya was there to tell me which suited me most. Mum liked a baby pink pair with a little white rabbit at either end. I knew I never wanted to wear anything with a rabbit on it ever again. Particularly in pink.

  ‘But pink suits you so, Mandy,’ said Mum.

  ‘Not pink, Mum. Any other colour. Red. Orange. Purple.’

  I peered through glasses all the colours of the rainbow. And then I spotted a perfect pair. Not too little. Not too large. With striped frames. Rainbow stripes. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet.

  ‘Oh, Mum! I like these best. Can I have the rainbow glasses?’

  They weren’t too expensive so Mum said yes. We went and had an ice cream in Maxwell’s while we were waiting for my glasses to be made up with the right lenses for me. I chose a strawberry special, sprinkled with rainbow dots. Mum had one too, even though she was supposed to be on another diet.

  ‘I wish I’d taken Tanya here now,’ said Mum.

  We finished our strawberry specials in silence.

  Mum decided to chance going into work late the next Monday so she could deliver me at the library for the writing session. She wanted to come in with me but I wouldn’t let her, in case any of the children thought me a baby.

  I needn’t have worried. There was only one other person my age. Arthur!

  He was already sitting at a table at the back of the room with two other boys. There wasn’t a spare chair at his table. And I didn’t want him to think I was being pushy. He didn’t seem all that thrilled to see me there. He just nodded nervously at me, going pink.

  I didn’t want to embarrass him further in front of the other boys. They were maybe his friends.

  I didn’t know who to sit with. I didn’t want to squash up with the very little ones printing in wobbly wax crayon.

  There were two girls about seven at another table.

  ‘Maybe you’d like to sit with Sarah and Julie and work on their Woodland Bunny story with them?’ said the library lady.

  ‘No, thank you,’ I said. ‘I don’t really want to write about rabbits. I’ll make up my own story.’

  I sat at a little table by myself. The library lady offered me paper and pencils and wax crayons, but I had my own drawing book and my new tin of rainbow felt-tips with me. Arthur was looking at me so I hurriedly started writing. I didn’t want him to think I was trying to catch his eye.

  I wrote down the special story Tanya and I had made up together, about Love Tanyanita and Miranda Rainbow sharing a flat together. It made me feel very lonely and sad remembering it. I kept hearing Tanya’s voice as she made it all up.

  ‘Are you all right, Mandy?’ the library lady asked, bending over me.

  ‘Yes, I’m fine,’ I said, feeling stupid. I put my arm over my page. I didn’t want her to read our private story.

  She moved on to the boys’ table at the back. The boys who weren’t Arthur were scribbling stories based on video games. They’d got a bit bored and were flicking rubbers at each other, going Zap and Pow and Kerplunk. The library lady sighed and skirted round them towards Arthur.

  ‘What are you writing today, Arthur?’ she said, smiling expectantly. Arthur was obviously a regular at the story-writing sessions.

  The Zap-Pow-Kerplunk boys rolled their eyes and made gagging gestures.

  ‘It’s nothing. It’s just . . . No, honestly,’ Arthur mumbled.

  ‘“The Knight Who Wouldn’t Fight”,’ the libr