Stargazing for Beginners Read online

  Suddenly, I’m flooded with ideas for things we can do together, and I realise I don’t even have to wait until she’s older. I know she already loves it at the science centre – we can go back when she’s better. And in a few years she’ll be riding a bike and we can go up on the Downs together. ‘Elsa,’ I say, and she looks up from her puzzle. ‘Do you want to go to Chile with me to look into space?’

  She gives me a big smile and says, ‘Da!’, then just to prove she’s really up for it, she throws a piece of jigsaw puzzle at my face.

  THIRTY-NINE

  Back in school the next day, I get to science early only to discover Ed is already sitting at our table. There’s no sign of Bella or Raj. When our eyes meet I want to turn round and walk straight out, but instead I check my blazer is tightly buttoned over my geek-rack and take a deep breath. I’d better get this over with.

  I go over to our table, sit down and take out my pencil case. I put it at the front of the desk next to his virtually empty pencil case. Then I stare straight ahead at the whiteboard and pretend to be fascinated by Ms Edgecombe’s E=MC2 screen saver. Ed does the same. A few seconds pass. I shift on my stool. Ed leans forward and clears his throat.

  Then, out of the corner of my eye, I see him turn to face me and the blush that has been creeping over my face since I walked into the room reaches epic proportions. ‘Meg,’ he says. I swallow and nod, but I can’t bring myself to look at him so instead I rummage through my pencil case. ‘I’ve been thinking about what you said in the cafe … About me laughing at you.’

  OK, that is not what I thought he was going to say.

  In a rush, he says, ‘I did it on the science trip, and you’re right, I’ve done it other times too. I thought it was funny, that we were having a laugh together, but I obviously got that wrong … What I’m trying to say is sorry.’ He laughs. ‘My mum says that sometimes I can be an arrogant little … twit … Only she doesn’t say “twit”.’

  This makes me smile and I look up at him. ‘My mum says I can be cold.’

  He shakes his head. ‘If your mum had seen you with those kids being Mega Knickers, she wouldn’t have said that … Meg, there’s something else.’ He glances at the door. ‘You know what Bella said on the science trip, about me asking you to the dance?’

  My blush creeps back and my eyes shoot back to my pencil case. ‘Oh, that.’ I shrug as if I’ve barely thought about it. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  ‘Well, it does because we sit next to each other in all these lessons and it’s going to get a bit awkward if I don’t –’

  I interrupt him. ‘Honestly, Ed, it’s fine. Just don’t mention it. Please.’

  ‘Don’t mention what?’

  ‘The dance.’ I line up two pens and a pencil.

  ‘What, never?’

  ‘Never, ever,’ I say. I couldn’t bear listening to him apologise about that. It would be too humiliating.

  The door to the classroom opens and we look up to see Bella standing there with Chiara.

  ‘Just to clarify,’ says Ed, ‘if I never mention the dance in your presence again, then we’re fine?’

  ‘That’s right,’ I whisper. We really need to stop talking about this. Bella is coming over.

  ‘Great,’ says Ed. ‘So when can we work on our presentations, because we really need to meet up. Saturday – tomorrow?’

  What? Is he insane? I shake my head. ‘No, I’m babysitting all day.’

  ‘That’s OK, I’ll come round to your place. Two o’clock?’ Across the table, Bella drops her bag on the floor. She’s giving her full attention to her phone. ‘Or I could mention a certain D.A.N.C.E. –’

  ‘Fine, my place!’

  ‘All right, losers?’ Bella sits down on her stool. ‘What’re you two talking about?’

  ‘Kepler’s laws of planetary motion,’ says Ed without missing a beat.

  Bella makes a face and starts to put up her hair and I sharpen my pencil as if my life depends on it. What just happened? Did Ed blackmail me into inviting him round to the flat? And why did I agree?

  ‘You all right, Meg?’ says Bella, pausing mid-hair-twist to look at me. ‘You’re all red. Like a tomato.’

  I’m too flustered to say a word, but I see Ed give Bella a meaningful look. ‘OK, OK,’ she says, laughing. ‘Sorry, Meg, I take it back. You definitely don’t look like a bright red glowing tomato, you look totally normal.’

  Ms Edgecome saves me from this utterly strange situation by flicking off the lights and starting a film about bubbles. I sit in the dark and try to take in all the interesting points that are being made about water molecules. Just as a cartoon bubble is floating across the screen, I feel a tap on my arm. Ed slides his planner across the desk. There’s one word written on it: Address?

  How is this happening? I think, staring determinedly at the screen. I watch as the cartoon bubble bursts in slow motion.

  Actually, I know why this is happening.

  I said Ed could come round because I want him to. I could try telling myself it’s because of our homework, or because he was about to talk about the dance in front of Bella, but that wouldn’t be true.

  When our fingers touched at the science centre, something connected us. It was just something tiny, but each time I see him, or we speak, it seems to grow and become more solid. I can feel it right now, a connection that’s pulling us together, even though there are at least five centimetres of space separating our blue blazers.

  It would be easiest to run away from this thing that’s building up between us, because I don’t know if Ed’s feeling it too, and to be honest, it’s scary. My pen hovers over Ed’s planner. Before Mum left, I was just this satellite orbiting home and school, watching the mayhem going on around me, but never joining in. My life was safe and quiet … My life was lonely.

  Up on the screen, a mass of rainbow bubbles fills the screen.

  I take a deep breath and write my address on the planner. No matter how frightening this is, I’m not going back to watching from a distance. Poyekhali! I think, as I slide the planner back to Ed.

  FORTY

  I’m queuing up outside PE when Annie glides down the corridor. She goes straight up to Mr Badal and hands him a note. He reads it then clicks his fingers in my direction. ‘Clark, you’re needed in Learning Support. Off you go.’

  I follow Annie back down the corridor. ‘What’s going on?’

  She shrugs. ‘I was bored. I wanted someone to talk to. The note says that they need to do some tests on you.’ She looks up at me and grins. ‘Did you notice that Sir didn’t even question it?’

  Annie’s going so fast that I have to trot to keep up with her. ‘So where are we going?’

  ‘To the best place in the entire school.’ She pushes open the door to Learning Support. ‘You’d better be quiet,’ she says. ‘You’re not supposed to be here.’

  ‘I don’t want to be here!’ I say, but she’s already disappeared round a corner so I have no choice but to follow her. I find her waiting outside a door labelled The Oasis.

  ‘Ever been in here?’ Annie asks.

  ‘No, but I’ve always wanted to.’ The Oasis is the sensory room that our school put in last year. We had an assembly on it, explaining how light and music can help students with autism and other special needs.

  ‘Come on then.’ She pushes open the door. ‘I told Jan that I was feeling angry so I’ve got it to myself for the whole hour.’

  I step inside. The room is entirely blue. In the corner are three tubes filled with rising pink bubbles and the floor is covered with huge cushions and beanbags. I slip off my shoes and Annie pulls herself out of her wheelchair. Without using her crutches, she walks across the room, lurching from side to side. ‘It’s OK to look,’ she calls over her shoulder. ‘Sometimes it’s best just to have a really big stare until you get used to me.’

  ‘Sorry,’ I say.

  ‘I said it was OK, didn’t I?’

  ‘So do you feel angry?’ I ask, following her a
cross the room.

  ‘Yeah … a bit.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Oh, all the usual boring teenage stuff: school, spots, arguments with friends … And added to that I’ve got a serious amount of bum ache at the moment.’ Her eyes flick to me. ‘But don’t even think about trying to talk to me about it.’ She picks up a boomerang-shaped control, presses a button and the room is flooded in red light.

  ‘There’s a ball pool,’ I say to break the silence.

  She smiles. ‘Get in if you like.’

  So I go to the ball pool, climb in and sink down in the white balls. Annie presses another button and the balls glow pink.

  ‘Wow!’ I ripple my hands through the balls. ‘Hey, I’m almost weightless!’

  Annie lifts herself on to the edge of the ball pool, pulls her legs over and slips in next to me. Then she throws a ball at me and it bounces off my head. ‘Here, you have a go.’ She passes me the controls and I start pressing buttons at random. I change the colour of the bubble tubes then I make a film of the sea appear on the wall. While I’m trying out the different music, we talk a bit about Biscuit Club and Annie puts forward her dubious theory that Mr Curtis is actually working for the government and is planning to recruit us for a teenage superhero unit.

  ‘I’d be the kick-ass leader, who uses her bionic wheelchair-strengthened arms to slap baddies down.’

  ‘Who would I be?’

  ‘The one who stays back at the base hacking into the CIA and stuff. Give it here,’ says Annie, taking the control off me. ‘I’ve got one you’ll like.’ She plunges the room into blackness then stars start circling the ceiling. The balls glow white like little moons. ‘What music do you want? Heavenly Realms or Ocean Waves?’

  ‘Heavenly Realms, of course.’

  Ambient music fills the room and I lie back and stare at the stars. My whole body relaxes. This is so much better than hockey. Suddenly, I realise that the boldness that made me want me want to write my address in Ed’s planner hasn’t gone away. I turn to Annie. ‘Something funny happened in science today.’

  ‘Go on,’ she says, and another ball bounces off my head.

  ‘I don’t really know how it happened, but Ed King is coming round to my place tomorrow.’

  Annie sits up and balls spill on to the floor. ‘Oh my God. That’s a bit datey, Meg!’

  ‘I knew you’d say that, but we’re going to do our science homework.’

  She laughs. ‘You keep telling yourself that.’

  ‘What? It’s true!’ Now it’s my turn to throw a ball at her.

  ‘You live in a flat, right? No lift?’

  ‘No, just three flights of wee-smelling stairs … that Ed King is going to be walking up.’ I’m actually blushing at the thought. I can’t help thinking about that huge four-wheel drive that’s always picking him up.

  ‘Shame. I almost want to be there, but three flights of stairs is a lot of effort. What’re you going to wear?’

  ‘Annie, it’s not a date!’ Then, after a moment, I say, ‘I’m going to wear my NASA T-shirt.’

  Annie sinks down and her smile is half-hidden by the balls. ‘Did you know that there’s a word for people like Ed? Sapiosexual. It’s when someone’s attracted to intelligence.’

  ‘We’re working on our presentations for the NASA competition. There’s nothing sexual about it.’

  Suddenly the room is flooded in pink light and petals float around on the wall. ‘If you say so,’ she says, ‘but there’s a test you can do. When he’s round at yours, look deeply into his eyes and say something clever like, “The square root of one thousand is twenty five.” If his pupils dilate, then he’s definitely a sapiosexual.’ She grins. ‘Do it for me!’

  ‘I would, but the square root of one thousand is actually closer to thirty-one point six.’

  ‘Perfect. Say exactly that!’

  Then I throw a handful of balls at her and she calls me a sapiosexual and throws a load back at me and soon we’re having a sensory ball fight.

  FORTY-ONE

  ‘Elsa, they’re not for you.’ I lift the bowl of crisps out of her reach and put them on the table. Ed’s due any minute now and I’ve spent all morning sorting out the flat. When Elsa woke up this morning at the crack of dawn, I suddenly saw the flat through Ed’s eyes and realised that to him it might look a bit, well, freaky.

  I couldn’t do much about the saris and scarfs pinned across the ceiling, or the airbrush mural of fairies that Mum painted on the living-room wall, so instead I did some de-cluttering. I reasoned that Ed wouldn’t be going in my room, so I piled all the plush Disney toys on to my bed and also put Mum’s life-size Kristoff cut-out in there. Then I vacced, washed up and cleaned the bathroom.

  I actually cleaned the toilet for Ed King. How surreal.

  Elsa and Pongo were predictably unhelpful, but food and In the Night Garden kept them both distracted.

  I look at the bowl of crisps. Is it a bit datey? I mean, I know crisps aren’t datey, but somehow the bowl gives them a bit of a party vibe and this isn’t a celebration. This needs to look like serious homework is about to take place. I’m just about to take the bowl back into the kitchen when the doorbell rings and my stomach flips over. In a panic I throw one of Elsa’s jumpers over the bowl then follow Elsa, who’s already tottering into the hallway.

  Through the glass of the front door, I can see the silhouette of a dark, man-shape. Just the sight of that tall shape makes me feel a bit breathless … Oh, God. Why did I agree to this? Then I remind myself Ed’s not a man. He’s a teenager, just like me. We’re just two teenagers who have to talk about space. Nothing scary about that.

  I glance in the mirror to check there’s nothing strange on my face and that I look OK in my jeans and grey T-shirt. Grandad gave me the T-shirt for my birthday and told me it had actually been into space with Karen Nyberg. It hasn’t – the label says Topshop – but I still love it and you can tell how much I’ve worn it by the faded NASA logo. The doorbell rings again and I take a deep breath and tuck an escaped strand of hair behind my ear. I grab Pongo’s collar. Definitely nothing scary about this, I tell myself as I open the door.

  And there he is, looking as tall and smart as ever. He smiles at me – at least, I think he does – but then there’s a flurry of movement as Pongo leaps towards his checked shirt, and I’m holding Pongo back and Ed’s passing me at the same time. Suddenly, we’re all squeezed into the tiny hallway and I can’t get out of the way because Elsa is sitting on my foot.

  ‘This way,’ I say, dragging Elsa into the living room.

  Ed follows, then stops in the doorway and stares at the mural. ‘Wow!’

  ‘I know. Mum likes fairies. It’s a bit strange.’

  ‘It’s good. Did she do it?’

  I nod. ‘She loves art.’ I look at the mural. I suppose it is good, but I’ve been living with all those little elves and fairies for so long that I forgot it was Mum who painted every single one of them.

  Ed sits on the sofa and starts getting paper and textbooks out of his rucksack. The sight of his AQA physics book sitting on our coffee table manages to be both alarming and reassuring at the same time. ‘Where is she?’ he asks.

  ‘Who?’ I peel Elsa off my foot and sit on the sofa.

  ‘Your mum?’

  ‘Oh … She’s at work.’

  ‘You’ve got everything ready,’ he says, looking at the Post-it notes, highlighters and laptop I’ve got set up on the table.

  ‘We’ve got a lot to do … Well, I have,’ I say and I start flicking through my cards. ‘I thought my speech was fine, but recently I’ve been having second thoughts … Do you want a drink?’

  ‘Er –’ he says.

  I shake my head. ‘No, I’ll do that later. We should work. Do you want me to tell you what my speech is about?’ Wow. I am talking fast. ‘My grandad says my speech is lacking in passion.’

  Ed blinks and I instantly regret my choice of words. ‘OK,’ he says, and I perch on the edge of the
sofa, feeling slightly dizzy from all my fast talking. As I start talking about NASA’s Ames research centre and radiation and gravity, I feel myself relaxing and when we argue about migrating planets we could almost be sitting in science … I just have to ignore the fact that Pongo is resting his drooling mouth on Ed’s knee and that Elsa is ramming her baby walker into his feet.

  ‘Why’s it mooing?’ Ed asks, as Elsa slams her hand down on a sheep button.

  ‘Because babies like animal noises.’

  ‘But it’s a sheep.’

  ‘It was broken when we got it,’ I say. I don’t bother telling him that like everything else in our flat, it came from the charity shop where Mum works.

  ‘So why haven’t you fixed it?’ There’s this note of challenge in his voice. If there is one area of science that Ed and I are really competitive in, it’s electronics. Ms Edgecombe once got us to build the same circuit in front of the class and I beat Ed by one second. I won a Snickers and I’ve got the feeling Ed’s never forgotten it.

  I shrug. ‘She doesn’t care.’

  ‘Meg, your sister is going to grow up thinking that sheep moo. You are wilfully encouraging her ignorance. Have you got a screwdriver?’

  ‘Of course I’ve got a screwdriver.’ I jump up. ‘I’ll get my toolbox.’

  Five minutes later, the back of the walker is off and Ed and I are sitting on the floor surrounded by wires, drills and bolts. We realise we’re missing some parts, so I get Elsa’s Thomas train and her flashing hammer and we take those apart too. At first we’re both quiet, concentrating on the fiddly job we’ve created for ourselves, then I notice Ed’s watching me as I get to work with the soldering iron.