Keep the Faith (21 page)

Also, while I can’t deny that he is still lovely to look at, and the one go at snogging that we had then wasn’t exactly unpleasant, he doesn’t give me tingles any more.

I didn’t know what to say to him or what to do. It was a very quiet date. I’m starting to wonder if maybe it was me doing most of the chatting anyway.

I’m miserable. I have been miserable all day. At lunchtime I only had to do a little bit of rolling about and sighing before my so-called friends noticed I was not
happy.

‘What’s the matter, Faith?’ Lily said finally.

‘She’s gone off Finn,’ Megs said in an entirely unsympathetic fashion.

‘Have you?’ Ang asked.

Lily gasped. ‘Did he do something horrible?’

‘No! Not at all. Finn is never horrible to anyone. And that’s part of the problem. You know how much I enjoy stinging people with my acerbic wit?’

‘She means being mean to people,’ Ang explained to Lily.

‘Well, Finn is not as keen,’ I said. ‘He just smiles at everyone. He’s just so
nice
.’

‘I thought you liked him being nice and sweet and cheerful and all that,’ Lily said.

‘I do. He’s lovely. But he’s not . . .’

Megs gave me a significant look and I knew she was about to say ‘Ethan’ so I quickly said, ‘He’s not right for me.’

Ang looked like I’d just said I’d stopped believing in Santa. ‘I thought he made you feel all tingly.’

‘He did. But he doesn’t any more.’

Lily looked solemn. ‘Your love has died,’ she said in her funeral voice.

I burst out laughing. ‘I don’t think it ever really got to that stage,’ I said. ‘We were only official for seven and a half weeks.’

The girls exchanged glances. ‘You do realise that you’re talking about your relationship with Finn in the past tense, don’t you?’ Meg asked.

I half shrugged.

‘Does that mean it’s all over?’ Lily asked.

I think it does.

It’s a bit strange. This time last week I didn’t even want to admit there was a problem. Now I seem to have decided to finish things all of a sudden. If
I’m honest with myself, I suppose things have been building up. I feel sad.

I arranged to meet Finn after babysitting.

I was actually quite happy to see Toady. At least he’s never let me down. He is reliably grumpy and screechy every time I see him. Megs had a date with Cameron so it was just me and Toady
today. We had a pretty good time with the Play-Doh. Toady’s creations mostly looked like splats of goulash, but I was pleased with my sculpture of a beautiful but sad girl which I called
‘the end of the relationship’. I showed it to Toady; he clapped his hands in appreciation of my skill.

And then he reached out a chubby fist and squished it flat.

‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘That’s pretty much how I feel.’

Toad beamed up at me.

‘Listen,’ I said, making him a Play-Doh pizza. ‘When you’re older, don’t bother with this dating business. It just makes you feel rubbish in the end.’

Toady nodded his head, snatched the Play-Doh pizza out of my hand and took a large bite.

By the time I got to Juicy Lucy’s, I was already quite tired from wrestling with Toad to get the Play-Doh out of his hair and just the thought of having to have a big conversation with
Finn sent a wave of exhaustion through me. When Finn arrived (ten minutes late), he gave me a gleaming grin and I wondered if he’d even noticed that things haven’t exactly been great
recently.

I let him chat a bit and then I had to say, ‘Listen, Finn, I think we need to talk.’

‘Yeah?’ He was still smiling.

‘The thing is, Finn, we’re quite different. I mean, I like sitting down and being the best at stuff and having blood feuds with annoying people, and you . . .’

‘I like surfing.’

‘Mmm-hmm, you do. Which is fine. I like the beach. Of course, I don’t like sand in my sandwiches, or when you find a dead crab, or getting changed under a towel.’

‘The beach is pretty cool.’

If I’d let him get started on a list of what he thinks is pretty cool, we’d have been there all night.

‘I just think that we’re maybe not a good match,’ I blurted out.

He nodded his head slowly.

‘So maybe we should, you know, just be friends.’

‘Yeah, you’re a good friend, Faith.’

Which made me wonder if we’d ever really been dating. But I definitely remember some snogging.

‘So . . . we’ll just call it a day on the, er, well, the kissing and that.’

‘I liked the kissing.’ And he gave me such an impish grin that the reasons I liked him in the first place came flooding back to me.

Then I remembered the debating fiasco. ‘We’re not suited,’ I said firmly. ‘It’s better if we’re just friends.’

He nodded slowly. ‘OK.’

OK?
OK?
This must be the worst break-up in the history of ever. I was expecting it to be hard because Finn was going to be all upset and possibly a little bit teary because he could
hardly bear the thought of life without me, and there he was saying ‘OK’ as if it didn’t really bother him.

He stood up. ‘We’ve had some fun times, Faith. I guess I’ll see you around.’

And then, just to show that there were no hard feelings, he gave me this little peck on the cheek.
How dare he
? How dare he have no hard feelings? Why was he not weeping on my shoulder?
This is not how my spurned lovers are supposed to behave.

He hasn’t even sent me any texts begging me to take him back. Surely he should be serenading me outside my window by now?

Nothing from Finn. I’m starting to suspect that he won’t even bother to have me followed by a private detective.

I am devastated.

I banned everyone from talking about Finn today. This didn’t stop Icky from slinking past me and the girls, saying, ‘I might date a blond next, maybe a surfer
type,’ to her stupid friends.

She’s lucky I painted my nails yesterday so I didn’t want them to get mucky with her eyeball gloop.

I told Mum about it this evening. I said, ‘Icky will probably convince Finn to go out with her somehow. She’s had tons of boyfriends and no one can understand why.’

Mum frowned. ‘I don’t think you should be criticising her for her, erm, healthy appetites. You know I hate to see double standards when people talk about dating.’

‘It’s not the number of boyfriends I’m criticising. There’s a girl in Year Eleven called Fi Wilkins who has dated a gazillion boys. She’s our idol. The thing that
I’m criticising about Icky is, well, pretty much everything, but mostly the fact that she seems to enjoy other people’s misery and she’s rubbing in me breaking up with Finn and
she won’t even wait to pounce on him. Other girls would allow a respectable period of mourning of two to four weeks.’

‘I see. How will you feel if Finn does date someone else?’

I pouted. ‘I suppose it’s unreasonable to expect him to sit alone in a stone tower clutching a lock of my hair and whispering my name?’

Mum nodded.

‘Then I guess I’ll learn to live with it.’

‘You’ll be dating again soon too.’ She gave me a hug. ‘In the mean time I want you to remember that you’re very special and you deserve someone just as
special.’

As you know, I have always considered my mother to be a very wise lady.

Finn didn’t come to debating club today. I would like to think that this is because he’s discovered that he actually
is
heartbroken and that he thinks,
if he sees my face, he’ll break down and sob, but I suspect that really it’s because he was never that keen on debating in the first place.

It’s probably best that we have split up. What kind of person doesn’t enjoy a good argument?

Although it’s best to win arguments and then you don’t get stuck doing stupid forfeits like kissing Icky’s troll toes. While I was waiting for Mum to pick me up from debating,
Icky came tripping over and said, ‘Everyone’s going to Juicy Lucy’s at the end of term. You can keep your promise to kiss my feet there.’

I didn’t answer. I don’t back out of bets, but no one said anything about it being with an audience. I think I might spring a surprise attack on Icky’s witch feet, then
I’ll have kept my side of the bet without her making me look like an idiot.

‘Hope Finn gets to see you kissing up to my tootsies,’ she said. ‘I’m not surprised he came to his senses and dumped you. I heard you begged him to take you
back.’

‘You heard wrong,’ I snapped. ‘Might be something to do with your misshapen ears.’

She pulled her innocent face. Which is a lot like a cat with a dead mouse in its paw. ‘Haven’t you split up then?’

I looked down my nose at her. ‘We may have parted ways, but it was me who decided it was over.’

Icky laughed. ‘Yeah, right!’

I turned and walked towards the gates.

‘That’s it, walk away from the truth!’ Icky called.

I turned back. ‘Oh, I’m not walking away, you simpering leprechaun,’ I said. ‘I’m taking a run-up.’

I have to say that, for someone who has never received any formal tuition in the martial arts, I’ve got some nice moves.

Ethan wasn’t at debating club either. Which is a bit rich given that he lectured Finn about the importance of attendance.

I didn’t want to see him anyway.

I do know that there’s no point in hanging on to a boyfriend who’s not right for you. I do know that one day I will have a brilliant relationship with someone
who makes me melt and also understands my sense of humour.

But none of this helps with the fact that all my friends are out with their boyfriends.

And I am here.

Alone.

The girls and I went to the cinema today and afterwards we had pizza. When we were sitting at the table with Lily rabbiting on about how to avoid paradoxes when
time-travelling, and Angharad doing a sum on a napkin using pi to work out what the best value pizza was, Megs reached across and gave my hand a squeeze to make sure I was OK, but I totally was.
Sometimes it’s nice just to be with the girls. We didn’t talk about boys at all. I love my friends.

Mum is still being really nice. This evening she made me a cup of tea and patted me on the head. She said, ‘Would you like some of my special chocolate?’

‘Do you mean the good kind of special or the special kind of special?’

Mum tutted. ‘I mean that it’s organic with 75 per cent cocoa solids and slivers of ginger root in it. It’s delicious.’

‘That stuff that looks like lumps of mud with bits of twig in? No thanks. But if sympathy chocolate is available I will take a couple of Dad’s Snickers.’

‘All right,’ Mum said and pulled one out of the cupboard. (Just one. I’ve noticed she’s got selective hearing when it comes to quantities – she only ever makes me
two pieces of toast even when I’ve requested six or eight.) She ruffled my hair. ‘I’m glad you’re not letting a boy diminish your appetite for chocolate. I hope that the
same thing is true of your appetite for life and your thirst for fulfilment.’

I burst out laughing. ‘Mum, if I ever do get really depressed, you should just give me a two-minute blast of your hippy talk. If that doesn’t crack me up, nothing will.’

Mum shook her head. ‘I don’t have to use my philosophy on life to make you laugh, young lady.’ She flexed her fingers at me.

‘No! Not the tickling.’ I held up my almost finished cup of tea ‘I’m holding hot liquid! Health and safety! Health and safety!’

But she reached behind me and pulled the cup out of my hand and laid in with a tickle attack that could have taken down several marines. I’m telling you, I’m sure the only reason she
does yoga is so that she’s flexible enough to pin me to the floor with one elbow and a couple of toes, to leave her hands free for torture tickling.

When I’d finally managed to get out a dignified request for her to cease and desist (‘Mum! Mum! Pleeeeeeease stop it!’), we both collapsed on the sofa for a rest.

‘So you’re all right then?’ she asked.

‘Yeah. I mean I feel a bit . . .’ I blew out a big breath. ‘A bit flat. But I think Finn and I are probably better suited as friends.’

‘That sounds very wise and mature, Faith. Do you know there’s a women’s group that believe—’

But I silenced her by wisely and maturely putting a cushion over her head.

Granny came round today to ‘look after’ me and Sam while my feckless parents went to some elderly person’s fortieth birthday party.

I said to Dad, ‘I don’t need looking after. And who has a birthday party at lunchtime? Is that so that all you old folk are back home in time for the rubbish Sunday night
telly?’

‘Sam needs looking after,’ Dad insisted.

‘I could do that. You lock him in his room and I promise not to forget to throw him something to eat.’

My parents always say that they’re open to sensible suggestions, but Dad completely ignored that one.

After they’d gone, I worked my way through a bag of doughnuts while Granny faffed about, tidying up and listening to Radio Four and other pointless stuff like that.

I did tell my parents that Granny shouldn’t be in the house unsupervised, but they never listen. Earlier, Granny came round with one of her boyfriends (Jim, who
Granny says ‘made a lot of money in tights’ – I can only hope that he was selling the tights rather than earning cash while wearing them). Anyway, Granny opened up the cupboard
under the stairs and started handing Jim a load of black bin bags, all bulging suspiciously.

‘What have you got in there?’ I asked.

‘Just a few things I tidied up yesterday,’ Granny said.

I haven’t forgotten her shorts theft. ‘Let me see,’ I said.

Sure enough, the crafty old biddy had seven bin bags crammed full of our stuff. She had half my shoe collection and all of my stuffed animals.