Stargazing for Beginners Read online

  By the time I get to the end, I’m hot and flustered, but I did it and I feel a surge of triumph as I look at Grandad. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘Hmmm,’ he says, tapping his lip with his finger.

  ‘Hmmm?’ I say, and all my triumph trickles away from me. It took weeks to write the speech and it’s complex and detailed and basically as good as I can get it. I know the delivery wasn’t perfect but that’s the best I’ve read it yet, and anyhow, I thought Grandad would see through how I was speaking and still love what I was actually saying. ‘What’s wrong with it?’

  ‘Well, you’re reading it too fast. It’s supposed to take five minutes but you galloped through it in three.’

  I nod. ‘So I just need to go slower?’

  ‘And speak up; put a bit more emotion into your voice.’ He smiles encouragingly. ‘Why don’t you try it again?’

  I go back to my first card. This time, as I read I force myself to slow down and leave proper gaps between each sentence. I try to make my voice animated and I even manage to maintain eye contact for a few seconds. ‘Better?’ I say after I’ve read the last card.

  ‘Definitely,’ he says, nodding, but then he frowns and drums his fingers on his mug of coffee. ‘I still think you need to add something. A bit of passion and pizazz!’

  I groan and flop down on the sofa next to him. ‘Passion and pizazz? Grandad, I can’t do that!’

  ‘Well, you managed it yesterday when you were Mega Knickers. You were on fire. Nothing could stop you!’

  I shake my head. ‘Yesterday was different.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I don’t know. I had a costume on … I was talking to children.’

  ‘Hey, I’ve still got the costume!’

  I laugh. ‘No way am I doing this in a wig.’

  Grandad thinks for a moment. ‘So why was it so much easier talking to the children?’

  I shrug. ‘I don’t know.’ I think back to how I felt yesterday when all the little kids were staring up at me. ‘I suppose I didn’t feel like they were judging me, and if they did think I was weird, that was OK because to kids weird is good.’

  ‘Meg, you are not weird.’ He says each word clearly, like he’s talking to a child.

  I turn and look at him. ‘Grandad, experience has shown me that when I speak, people at school think I’m weird.’

  ‘And that is exactly the problem with your speech!’ He slaps his hand down on the sofa to emphasise his point. ‘What you see as “weird” – your passion and curiosity – I see as wonderful. Any brainy teenager who wants to win a holiday could have said what you just said … Meg, when you were five, you spilt water on a picture you were drawing. You noticed that all the colours in the paints separated so you abandoned your drawing and spent the next hour dripping water on every colour you had, working out what inks made up each colour.’

  ‘Totally. Weird.’

  He shakes his head. ‘No, curious. You had just discovered chromatography. It was a big moment for you.’ I can’t look convinced, because he carries on. ‘For your tenth birthday you asked me for a subscription to New Scientist magazine. Meg, you called your first hamster Heisenberg …’ He frowns. ‘Why did you call it Heisenberg?’

  ‘I couldn’t decide what to call him and Heisenberg developed the uncertainty principle in quantum mechanics.’

  He throws his hands in the air. ‘Exactly!’

  ‘You let Heisenberg escape when you were looking after him and he crawled up the back of the dishwasher and got electrocuted.’

  ‘I know, and I’m sorry I did that, but my point is, Meg, your speech is supposed to be about what space means to you, and you,’ he pauses here to point at me, ‘are currently missing from your speech.’

  I feel a lump form in my throat. I knew my speech wasn’t perfect, but I thought it was just a matter of practising it. Now Grandad’s suggesting the whole thing is wrong. Down by my feet, Elsa starts to pull herself up on my legs. I hold on to her to keep her steady. ‘Just say my speech is rubbish,’ I say with a laugh.

  ‘It’s not rubbish,’ he says. ‘It’s … safe.’

  ‘Safe rubbish.’

  ‘You’ve got plenty of time to work on it.’

  For a moment, I feel like dropping the cards on the floor (Grandad doesn’t have a bin; the floor is his bin) and forgetting about the competition. But I know I can’t do that. Yes, I want to go to Houston, but this competition means so much more to me than a free holiday. I’ve read enough autobiographies to know that people who become astronauts have pushed themselves beyond what they believed they were capable of doing, and they never gave up. If I give up on doing this speech, then I’m basically giving up on my dream.

  ‘Maybe I could tweak it,’ I say, scooping Elsa on to my lap. ‘Explain why I’m so fascinated by Alpha Centauri B.’

  ‘That would be brilliant!’ he says, then he drains his cup of coffee. ‘Now, I’m going to fire up the hot tub.’

  Grandad’s ‘hot tub’ is a rusty old bathtub in the garden that he heats with a bonfire. I don’t want Elsa going anywhere near it. I don’t really want Grandad going anywhere near it, either.

  ‘I’ll take Elsa home,’ I say. ‘If she goes to sleep I’ll take another look at my speech.’

  Grandad waves us off at the door, a box of matches and some lighter fluid under his arm. ‘Hey,’ he calls after me, ‘why not add a flour mountain?’

  ‘Not really relevant, Grandad.’

  He looks disappointed. ‘Egg in a bottle?’

  Back at the flat, I take a look at the laminated mission plan I made with Grandad. ‘Just over a week until Mummy’s home,’ I tell Elsa, as I cross off this morning.

  ‘Mamama,’ she says, banging her hands on Pongo’s belly like he’s a drum.

  I stare at today’s square: Sunday 15th March. Suddenly, I get the feeling I’ve forgotten something … Something important … And then I remember: I’m supposed to be at Fusciardi’s!

  It’s nearly three. Is Rose already sitting there, looking up expectantly each time someone walks past?

  I shake some bricks out in front of Elsa and start to build her a tower. Rose isn’t my problem. Elsa’s my problem. My speech is my problem. Grandad sitting on top of a bonfire in his Speedos is my problem!

  Elsa’s so excited by the pig I’ve popped up at the top of her tower that her eyes light up and her fingers spread out like starfish.

  Oh, God … I bet that’s exactly what Rose is doing right now! I’ve seen her do it when the biscuits come out.

  The image is too much for me, and with a sigh I get to my feet. ‘Come on, Elsa,’ I say, picking her up. ‘Let’s go to Fusciardi’s.’

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  ‘Meg,’ calls Rose, ‘over here!’ Just like she promised, she’s saved us a table outside and she’s even arranged four chairs in a semicircle facing the sea. ‘Hey, you’ve brought a baby!’

  ‘This is my sister, Elsa,’ I say, then I stand there awkwardly, Pongo tugging at the lead and trying to get at a seagull. Now that I’m here, I’m not sure what to do next. Hanging out with friends in cafes isn’t something I get up to on a regular basis.

  ‘You sit here,’ says Rose, pulling out a chair next to her, ‘and then you can squeeze the pushchair in between us.’

  While I tie Pongo’s lead to a chair, Elsa and Rose gaze at each other, wide-eyed, like two bush babies having a stare off. Then Rose sighs deeply. ‘I can’t wait to have a baby.’

  ‘Seriously?’ I look at Elsa. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘And a dog. I’d love to have a dog and a baby.’

  I’m tempted to walk off and make her dreams come true, just for a few hours, but that would be too cruel. ‘They’re both pretty annoying,’ I say. ‘Especially this one.’ I point at Elsa. ‘She bites.’

  ‘I think she’s absolutely beautiful.’

  ‘Rose, she has scabs in her hair!’ I bend over the pushchair and part Elsa’s fluffy hair so she can get a good look at her cradle cap. ‘A
nd have you noticed all the dried snot round her nose? I don’t know how she got the glitter stuck in it.’

  ‘It makes her look like a fairy,’ says Rose, and her fingers wriggle in Elsa’s direction. ‘A beautiful little sparkly fairy!’

  Then I realise what she’s itching to do. ‘You can hold her if you want.’

  Immediately, Rose whips Elsa out of the pushchair and up on to her lap. She buries her nose in her hair – clearly she isn’t bothered by the scabs. ‘She smells of babies,’ Rose sighs, ‘the best smell in the world.’

  ‘If you say so.’ I look around. ‘So, is it just us?’ Part of me sort of hopes it is. I’m getting used to our Biscuit Club now, but meeting up out of school is a whole new level of sociability for me.

  ‘No. Annie’s over there on that bench.’ I follow her eyes and see Annie sitting with a couple of teenagers. They both look older than her and they’re trying to knock a can over with stones.

  ‘I guess those are her real friends,’ I say.

  Rose nods. ‘I don’t know where Jackson is.’

  Annie sees me watching and waves.

  ‘Does you want ice cream?’ Rose says in a weird voice. ‘Does you?’ I turn round and realise she’s talking to Elsa. ‘Is she allowed ice cream?’ she asks.

  ‘I don’t know …’ I try to remember if I’ve seen Mum give her any. ‘I guess so.’

  ‘I’ll go and get some.’ Rose passes Elsa back to me. ‘What do you want?’

  I scan through the prices on the menu. ‘I’ll have a glass of milk,’ I say, ignoring the Oreo milkshake and caramel hot chocolate.

  ‘Is that all?’

  ‘Yes, thanks.’ I hand her the money.

  While Rose is inside, Elsa and I take in the view. The sea is calm, barely rippling, and the sky’s a hazy blue. It must be the warmest day we’ve had this year and the sun is almost hot on my face. There are even some children screaming as they run in and out of the sea. Suddenly, I think, Suncream, and I take out the bottle that I grabbed before I left the house. I squirt a blob in my hands and try to rub it into Elsa’s face. She starts to wriggle and scream and I have to trap her between my legs to keep her still.

  ‘What are you rubbing on her?’ I look up to see Annie coming over in her wheelchair. ‘Acid?’

  ‘Factor fifty,’ I say, holding up the bottle. ‘I don’t think she likes it.’

  ‘You don’t say.’ She pulls herself in close to the table, rests her chin in her hands and watches as I attempt to rub the cream into a squealing Elsa. ‘I didn’t think you’d come,’ she says after a moment.

  I look up at her. ‘I didn’t think you’d come either.’ I finish with the suntan lotion and drop it back in my bag. My hands are all greasy so I rub them on Elsa’s chubby arms.

  She shrugs. ‘I was down here anyway.’ She’s wearing black dungarees and a tight purple top. Hanging round her neck is a necklace that says, ‘POW!’

  ‘So is this the half-sister?’ she says.

  ‘Her name’s Elsa.’

  ‘And that revolting object is?’

  ‘Pongo, my dog.’

  ‘He looks evil,’ she says, running her hands through his coat. ‘I love him.’

  At this moment, Rose returns with a heaving tray. ‘I got you both ice cream too,’ she says shyly, ‘and milkshakes.’ Annie and I stare as she places elaborate sundaes in front of us.

  Annie takes a cocktail umbrella out of hers and licks chocolate sauce off it. ‘God, Rose. This must have cost a bomb!’

  Just as I’m wondering how I can possibly afford to pay Rose back, she says, ‘It doesn’t matter. I used my birthday money.’

  ‘When was your birthday?’ I say.

  ‘Oh,’ she shrugs, ‘today.’

  Annie and I glance at each other. I am so glad I decided to come.

  ‘Thanks, Rose.’ Annie takes her long spoon and plunges it into the layers of chocolate sauce, ice cream and brownie. ‘That was a really kind thing to do.’ Then she looks up and smiles at Rose. It’s quite a shy smile, and with the sun shining on her dark hair and her pale eyes glittering, she suddenly looks like a beautiful alien.

  Elsa decides not to bother with a spoon, or even her fingers. Instead, she just buries her face into her scoop of vanilla ice cream, like Pongo gobbling up his dog food. When she comes up for air, she’s got ice cream smeared across her face and hundreds and thousands stuck to her eyelashes.

  ‘Elsa!’ I say, pulling out the baby wipes.

  ‘Leave her,’ says Annie, grabbing my arm. ‘She looks amazing!’ Then she dips her finger in Elsa’s melty ice cream and daps hundreds and thousands on her own eyelashes, making Elsa scream with delight.

  Just then, we hear a rumbling noise, and it’s getting louder. A group of teenagers on skateboards are moving towards us along the prom, weaving in and out of pensioners and children. At the head of the pack is Jackson. When they get to our table, Jackson jumps off his skateboard, flips it up with his toe and catches it with one hand. ‘Ladies,’ he says, ‘I’m here!’

  ‘I got you an ice cream!’ blurts out Rose.

  ‘Nice.’ He turns back to his friends. ‘I’ll meet you later under the pier,’ he says, and their skateboards slam down and they move off like a shoal of fish. He sits down and starts scooping up chunks of ice-cream-soaked brownie.

  Jackson seems totally uninterested in the fact that I’ve turned up with a baby and a dog, or maybe he’s just distracted by all the free stuff he’s been given. He takes another mouthful of ice cream then wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and looks round at us. ‘I just did something amazing,’ he says.

  Turns out Jackson’s amazing thing was skimming a stone six times, but his vivid recreation using sugar cubes helps break the ice. Next, Rose shows us the opal necklace she got for her birthday and then Annie describes a film she watched last night about useless vampires. ‘So what have you been up to?’ she says, turning to me. ‘Except for looking after thingy here.’ I’m not sure if she’s talking about Elsa or Pongo.

  I find myself telling them about yesterday at the science centre, and because they like the bit about Grandad running off at the start, I mention that Ed was my surprise volunteer.

  ‘Ed King was at a kids’ science show?’ says Jackson, laughing. ‘I just saw him in town. He never told me.’

  ‘And did the king of Year Ten deign to speak to you?’ asks Annie. ‘Was he doing this?’ She raises one eyebrow and does an uncanny impression of Ed’s wry smile.

  I shake my head. ‘No. He was being … nice. I think he enjoyed it.’

  Annie stares at me.

  ‘What?’ I say.

  ‘Bit defensive,’ she says, smiling.

  Rose leans forward and says in a quiet voice, ‘OK, so don’t turn round, but I can see Ed and Bella right now, and they’re walking towards us!’

  TWENTY-NINE

  ‘What?’ I bang my milkshake glass down, and then, of course, we all turn round and watch as Ed and Bella walk towards the cafe. Bella’s arm is looped through Ed’s and she’s whispering in his ear. I feel my cheeks start to burn. I can’t meet Ed here, not in front of everyone! After all the balloon rubbing and finger touching that went on yesterday, I knew it was going to be a bit strange when I saw him again next, but I thought we’d be in school, not sitting outside a cafe with an audience!

  ‘Oh yeah,’ says Jackson. ‘When I told them I was meeting you in Fusciardi’s, Bella said she wanted to come and get an iced coffee.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell us?!’ I say.

  Jackson shrugs. ‘Didn’t think it was important.’

  Of course Jackson wouldn’t think it was important. He’s friends with just about everyone in school, from Year Seven to Year Eleven. Even the teachers high five him in the corridor. Jackson wouldn’t understand that for me this is a pretty awkward social situation because, for him, awkward social situations don’t exist; his life is simply one long awesome social situation!

  For a moment, I consider bunging El
sa back in her pushchair and running off in the opposite direction, but Bella and Ed are approaching so quickly there’s just no time. Instead I stare at my ice cream until they are standing right in front of us and I have no choice but to look up. Ed’s carrying a load of shopping bags and from the names on the sides I’m guessing they’re Bella’s.

  ‘Hello,’ Bella says. ‘What are you lot up to?’

  ‘Eating ice cream,’ says Rose.

  ‘I can see that.’ Bella’s eyes flick from the sundae glasses spread across the table to Annie’s speckled eyelashes.

  Jackson and Ed share a quick, ‘All right,’ then we all fall silent. Elsa wriggles on my lap and makes a grab for the sugar lumps. Annie smiles and shakes her head. This is so embarrassing. Why did I have to share all that stuff about the Cool Cosmos workshop? Moments ago I was talking about how ‘nice’ Ed was and boasting about our fun afternoon, and now here we are, face to face … ignoring each other!

  ‘Who’s that?’ says Bella, pointing at Elsa.

  ‘My sister.’

  ‘Really? You two look totally different.’ She shrugs, and turns towards the cafe. ‘I’m getting a drink. I’ll meet you out here, Woody.’

  ‘No, I’m coming with you,’ says Ed, then he gives me a lightning-quick wave, says, ‘Bye!’, and follows Bella into the cafe.

  ‘Well that was weird,’ says Annie.

  Jackson looks at me and laughs. ‘I think he’s stalking you, mate. I’d get a restraining order taken out.’

  ‘Seriously, is he Bella’s slave?’ asks Annie. ‘He’s carrying her bags for her!’

  ‘He’s just being kind,’ protests Rose, but they don’t get to say another word about Ed King because just then Pongo spots a passing cyclist and goes crazy. If there’s one thing Pongo hates, it’s moving bikes.

  ‘Shut up, Pongo,’ I say, but he keeps tugging at his lead and barking, desperate to get at those spinning wheels. ‘Sorry,’ I say to the people sitting around us. His bark is so loud that everyone’s staring, even the people inside the cafe … even, I guess, Ed and Bella.

  ‘He is going mental,’ says Jackson.