(Posting this in lieu of the next page of “Woe to the Giant,” which should go up tomorrow.)

May 2005 

Sometimes Natalie hung around for an hour or so after giving Mischa her homework.  It made more sense to get started on it straight away than to wear herself out walking home and then only be in the mood for watching TV.  Besides, Mischa’s room was quite a nice, restful place, with its rose patterns and perfume smell.  It could calm you down after a hard day at school.

“What are you doing for the “How To” coursework?” asked Mischa, who was sat cross-legged on the floor with a laptop resting on her knees.  She was thinner now, but her hair was the same as ever.  Unless her parents had just managed to find her a really convincing wig.

“Um…  ‘How to Be In An Indie Band.’”  Natalie flicked through the course booklet, trying to find the page that went with the notes she’d made earlier.  “You know, lyrics, musical style, how to avoid obnoxious fans….”

“Aw, I wish I could think of something interesting like that.  All I can think of is boring stuff like ‘How to Change A Lightbulb.’”

Natalie folded back the corner of the page she wanted.  “Well, they won’t mark you down for being boring.  If anything, they’re more likely to mark you down for trying to be interesting in the wrong way.”  That was what Johnny had found out when he’d tried to write an essay about Anton LaVey in RE.

“Yeah, but I wish I could think of something that stands out, you know?”  Mischa rested her cheek on her hand.  “Something that goes the extra mile.”

“Well…  You could always write something like, ‘How to Get All Your A-Level Coursework In On Time While Also Going Through Chemotherapy.’”

Mischa’s face twisted, as if she’d just tasted something sour.  “As if.  They’d just think I was going for the sympathy vote.”

“Hey, you want to get into Durham, don’t you?”  Natalie smiled.  “I say use every weapon you’ve got.”

Mischa snort-laughed, and looked back down at her notes.

Natalie glanced at the gossip magazines on her bedside table.  There always seemed to be a new one around.  They creeped Natalie out a bit- it was something to do with the sticky-sweaty finish there always was on the front cover, and something to do with the way they spoke about famous people as if they were a bunch of melodramatic thirteen-year-olds, constantly thinking up ways to spite their exes or steal their rivals’ thunder.  She’d mentioned that to Mischa once, and she’d just said that you had to imagine the whole thing was a soap opera.  “Or you could use these as inspiration.  ‘How to Go Through A Divorce If You’re Famous.’”

Mischa laughed.  “‘How Not to Marry Tom Cruise’…”

*

That Friday, everyone ended up in Amelia’s living room after school.  They lolled all over the sofa and carpet like beached jellyfish, flicking through the music channels as they recovered from a hard week at school.  The only ones with the energy to talk at the moment were Abbie and Daisy, who were sitting closest to the TV.  Abbie’s History class had gone on a trip to the V&A the previous week, and she was still full of stories about it.  “It’s amazing.  All those Ancient Greek statues with their perfectly-carved muscles, and then you look between their legs…”  She bit her lip in a cartoonish way.

Daisy grinned.  “Not so much in the boner department?”

“Not much of a package, no.  Maybe the sculptors got too embarrassed and rushed it.”

“Uh-huh,” said Johnny, sourly, “And that’s all you got from the Victoria and Albert Museum?”

Daisy didn’t seem to have heard that.  “Not many hotties in Ancient Greece, then?”

“Well, no…” said Abbie, “But then again, if there were, it would be necrophilia, wouldn’t it?”

Amelia gave a low chuckle.  “This conversation started on the wrong foot, and the gutter seems deeper than expected.”  She lay back on the sofa as if she was preparing to go to sleep.

Johnny hadn’t taken his eyes off Abbie and D0aisy.  “Seriously, how old are you two?  You need to get out more.”

Cowed, Abbie and Daisy stopped talking.  The group of them flicked through a few more music channels before settling on an Alien Ant Farm video that Natalie hadn’t seen before.  The video showed the band performing on a rooftop outside something called “The BET Awards,” while people like Nelly and Eve looked up, amused.

Johnny pointed at the screen.  “Most talent in the whole event,” he declared.

“Too right!” said Amelia, coming back to life, “A hundred percent real, too.  Look at all the posers below!”  The screen now showed Snoop Dogg and Li’l Kim, plus a couple of other people Natalie didn’t recognise.  “They’re all looking up and thinking, ‘Oh, so this is what real music sounds like!’”

Daisy let out a loud, honking laugh.  “Yeah- ‘Oh, it’s not talking about hoes and bitches, and encouraging kids to join gangs?  Is that even allowed?’”

Johnny snickered.  Apparently Daisy was forgiven.

“When I hear shit like that, I think, ‘Thank God there are golddiggers in this world, who can fleece guys like that in their sleep!’”

“Amen!” said Amelia.

Daisy had got into a rhythm.  “They’re so shit, shitter than shit, so shit, heaps shit, so much shit that I wish they would get cancer and die just so they’ll stay the hell away from my TV screen and radio!”

Johnny gave her a funny look.  “Er…”

“Whoops, bad karma!”  Daisy giggled.  “But they’re so shit!  What is wrong with people these days?  They’re the shit ones!”

Amelia settled back on the sofa, hunching her shoulders up so that her head could settle comfortably.  “Oh yeah, Natalie, speaking of cancer…”

The others all burst into scandalised laughter.

“What?” snapped Natalie.

“I don’t know why you’re bothering, really,” Amelia said airily, “When has Mischa Lewis ever cared about her grades?”

Natalie thought about how pleased Mischa had been when she’d suggested bringing her her homework.  OK, it had been because she was bored, but still.  “You don’t know the first thing about it, Amelia.”

Johnny snorted.  “Oh, charming…”

“Hey, whoa.”  Amelia held up a hand.  “I think it’s very kind of you, what you’re doing.  I just don’t want to see you taken advantage of.”

She smiled, and Natalie couldn’t help but smile back.  “Well, I’m not.”

“Good!”  Amelia went back to watching TV.

*

Abbie offered to drive Natalie home.  She’d only been able to drive for a couple of months, so the car still had that smell, all new and you-are-not-worthy.  Abbie sat in the driving seat, wearing her waistcoat and sensible trousers, and almost looked like a responsible adult.  It was a worrying sight.  It reminded Natalie that they only really had a month of school left.  In six months’ time, they’d have all scattered to the winds.

Natalie had spent the last five minutes trying to think of ways to start this conversation.  Eventually, she decided just to be direct.  “Johnny was being a real dick to you earlier.”

Abbie adjusted the mirror.  “Yeah…  Well, you know what he’s like.”

Natalie did know what he was like.  That didn’t mean she had to excuse it.  “Seriously, what harm does it do to him if you make dirty jokes now and then?”

Abbie glanced at her.  “I don’t know…  He had a point.  We were being a bit immature.”

“So?  Everyone acts a bit immature now and then.  Who’s he to elect himself the sole authority on who can joke about what?”

Abbie grinned.  “If you ask me, he just doesn’t want us discussing any penis that’s not his.”

Natalie chuckled.  “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything.”

“Nah, you’re OK,” said Abbie.  But just because she said it didn’t mean that Natalie had to agree.

(To Be Continued)