9
That’s the day I begin to believe in miracles. Nothing has changed, but everything has… all because of a boy in angel wings.
My life is still a disaster zone. I am still sharing a room with my little sister in a scabby flat where the smell of chip fat and vinegar clings to everything, but none of that seems to matter any more… because of Dan.
I lie awake late into the night, listening to the sound of people outside, laughing, singing, fighting. When I sleep, my dreams are full of a tall boy with caramel skin and angel wings, a boy who kissed me in the rain.
The next day I go to school with a little less dread in my heart. My heart races a little as I walk through the corridors, but there’s no sign of Dan. He’s not in the corridors, he’s not in class, he’s not in the canteen… Dan Carney has vanished.
Frankie flops down next to me at lunchtime. It looks like I have a new friend – we bonded over the strawberry meringues, a match made in Heaven. Frankie is an outsider, a misfit, a million miles away from Nadia and the cool, popular kids I knew back in Krakow… but then I’m kind of a misfit myself, these days. The laughing, pink-cheeked, hockey-mad girls I imagined I’d meet don’t seem to exist outside the pages of the books Dad used to send me.
‘So… Dan Carney is gone?’ I ask her, trying to be casual. ‘In trouble?’
‘Big trouble,’ she says, biting into a hot dog. ‘He’s been excluded. Mr Fisher takes that whole burn-the-school-down stuff very seriously.’
‘Excluded?’
‘Banned from school for a few days,’ Frankie explains. ‘Still, it’ll take more than that to change Dan.’
The disappointment must show in my face, because Frankie starts to grin. ‘Wait a minute, Anya… he was flirting with you, right? In the cafe? Don’t tell me you’ve fallen for him!’
‘Dan is a friendly boy,’ I whisper.
Frankie snorts. ‘How friendly, exactly?’
I can’t quite meet her eye. ‘In the park, we talk. And then –’
‘He didn’t kiss you – did he?’ she squeals.
I bite my lip.
Frankie shakes her head. ‘Seriously, Anya, don’t go there. Dan is bad news… a scally, a troublemaker. He’s not boyfriend material. Don’t be fooled by the angel wings.’
‘I won’t,’ I promise, even though I know it’s already too late.
On Wednesday, a letter arrives from Krakow. I recognize Nadia’s curly handwriting and rip it open, grinning, but the smile soon fades. Nadia’s upbeat chat makes me feel a million miles away from my old friends, and I guess that’s exactly what I am.
When I read the bit about Agatta moving into my old seat next to Nadia, my eyes blur with tears. Well, what did I expect? That Nadia would go on sitting next to an empty desk, just because I happened to move away?
What would Nadia say about Dan Carney? What would she say about Frankie, and Kurt? I’m not sure she’d be impressed with any of them, but that’s too bad.
They’re all I have right now.
That afternoon, I drag Kazia along to the park, hoping to bump into Dan, but it’s empty except for a few shivering mums with kids in pushchairs. The next day it’s the same. The day after that, pining for a glimpse of melted chocolate eyes, braided hair and slanting caramel cheekbones, I find one of the free cake vouchers in my blazer pocket and take Kazia along to the cafe.
I have a lot of questions, questions I just couldn’t ask Frankie. If a boy kisses you, doesn’t that mean something? Like, maybe you’re going out? In Krakow, it would mean that, but Liverpool might be different. Still, shouldn’t Dan have been in touch by now? He didn’t ask for my phone number, but maybe he could call at the flat or something… anything?
We push open the cafe door, find ourselves a corner seat. Dan’s mum is there, and the little brothers, but there is no sign of Dan. Kazia and I share a milkshake and eat frosted cupcakes, and finally I pluck up the courage to ask one of the brothers where Dan is.
‘He’s not well,’ the boy tells me solemnly. ‘He’s got the flu.’
I blink. Excluded from school and ill? Maybe that’s why I haven’t heard from him.
I tell Frankie this next day, at breaktime.
‘I bet the flu is just a cover-up!’ she says. ‘Dan’s parents probably don’t even know he’s been excluded! That boy is such a chancer!’
She narrows her eyes. ‘How come you were at the cafe, anyhow?’ she wants to know. ‘You weren’t looking for him, were you? Anya, that’s not how it works! Besides, you promised you wouldn’t fall for him!’
‘Fall for who?’ Kurt asks, wandering up to join us.
‘Nobody,’ I say.
‘Dan,’ Frankie says, and Kurt raises an eyebrow.
I wish the floor would open up and swallow me.
‘He’s trouble,’ Frankie insists. ‘He was OK the other day, with the cakes and the umbrella and stuff… that was a surprise, I admit. Mostly, though, he’s mad, bad and dangerous to know… that’s boys for you, I guess.’
‘What d’you mean?’ Kurt protests.
Frankie sighs. ‘Never trust a boy, that’s what my mum says,’ she tells us. ‘They lie, cheat, break your heart and then disappear and leave you to clean up the mess.’
‘Dan’s not like that,’ I say.
‘They’re all like that,’ Frankie insists.
‘How come your mum thinks boys are such bad news?’ Kurt wants to know.
Frankie shrugs. ‘Dad left us when I was a kid,’ she explains. ‘We never saw him again. Mum had to do the whole parenthood thing alone.’
‘I’m not like that,’ Kurt says.
‘Well, no, that’s for sure,’ Frankie says. ‘You’re just a weirdo geek with a mania for small furry animals.’
‘You love me really,’ he grins.
‘Can’t help myself,’ Frankie laughs. ‘Anyway… speaking of small furry animals, how is Cheesy? Settling in?’
‘He’s fine.’
Frankie glances over at Lily Caldwell, lounging against a radiator, checking her sparkly eyeshadow – blue today – in a little mirror. ‘Lily’s kept quiet about it too,’ she whispers. ‘That’s a miracle. I was expecting blackmail notes at the very least.’
‘Lily’s not so bad,’ Kurt says.
‘Not so bad?’ Frankie snorts. ‘Have you forgotten what she says about you… and me?’
‘Not recently,’ Kurt says.
‘Well, no, not in the last few days…’
Lily has stayed away from Frankie, Kurt and me since that wet afternoon at Heaven, and that’s a good thing. No more quips about Frankie’s weight or Kurt’s clothes. No more comments about sauerkraut. We have become a no-go area for Lily’s barbed tongue, but it’s clear she finds the three of us about as interesting as algebra or drying paint.
‘Anyway,’ Kurt says. ‘I’ve nearly finished the secret rat cage…’ Kurt’s gran is terrified of rats, so he needs to keep Cheesy hidden. With this in mind, he is converting his wardrobe into a gigantic rat’s cage. ‘I just need some chicken wire and it’ll be sorted.’
‘Kurt,’ Frankie says gently. ‘What if your gran opens the wardrobe door one day to hang up a pair of those scary trousers of yours… and sees Cheesy? Won’t she be a bit… shocked?’
‘She won’t find him,’ Kurt insists. ‘I told her I’d be looking after my own clothes from now on. Doing my own washing and ironing and putting away. It’s foolproof.’
Frankie and I exchange looks, then dissolve into giggles. ‘I hope so,’ I say. ‘Rat in wardrobe… this is not good!’
A week ago, I was pining for Krakow. I’d given up on Liverpool, but maybe I was wrong?
After all, back then I’d never hidden a rat in my satchel or had an after-school detention or eaten cake with pink sugar frosting. A week ago, I didn’t dare to hope I might be chatting and giggling with my friends, even if they are kind of geeky and odd, the kind of kids I’d never have given a second glance to back home.
Well, things move on – Nadia’s letter showed me that much.
It’s good to laugh, and it’s good to have friends. It’s a start, anyhow.