Adam Baron – Untitled Adam Baron 2 (страница 9)

This time, Mum answered, she would be cooking. She was making something special for Stephan because he’s a vegetarian. That seemed okay, but when I said that I’d got something to tell her, Mum told me to save it for later because she had to ‘get on’. I sighed and asked if I could watch TV. Mum agreed and I grabbed the remote control. I turned on Auntie Mill’s MASSIVE screen and went into iPlayer. Whoever had used the TV last had set the volume too high, though, and Mum came rushing back through.

‘Nice try,’ she said, whisking the remote away.

The TARDIS whirled off without me.

I gave up on TV and went outside, where Clay’s World Cup 2018 ball was on the grass. I tried to beat my solo header record (four) but gave up because I couldn’t concentrate. The plastic, all mangled. That look on Mrs Martin’s face. Me, going RED … With a sigh I went back in where I did Minecraft on Mum’s phone until the battery died. I rooted in her bag for her charger, understanding why she can never find her keys when I saw the lipsticks and sketchpads and her bamboo coffee cup and all the other stuff in there.

And then my eyes fell on a box. Small. Hard and square. It had a little gold star stuck on, the sight of which made me feel a lot better. What had Mum bought me? The box really was tiny – a new Subbuteo man? A Jacky Chapman one? And why had she bought it? Was it because I was upset over Mrs Martin? Maybe she had been listening after all. Knowing that I shouldn’t look inside – but that I definitely was going to look inside – I began to open it. The doorbell made me jump, though, and Mum shouted out for me to answer it.

I shoved the little box back inside her bag.

It was Stephan at the door, though it took me a second to recognise him. For one thing, it was a bit odd to see him at Auntie Mill’s and for another he normally wears jeans and a hoody. He had a jacket on for some reason and he’d flattened his hair down. And he looked nervous – had he heard about Auntie Mill’s cooking? I was going to reassure him that Mum was doing it tonight but I didn’t get a chance – Auntie Mill came bustling through.

‘Oh,’ she said, ‘how lovely!’

Auntie Mill held her hands out for the bunch of flowers that Stephan was holding, which was a bit awkward as he explained that they were actually for Mum. Auntie Mill said what a shame, they were lovely flowers, and she couldn’t remember the last time anyone had bought her any. Stephan said he found that hard to believe and Auntie Mill blushed. She said he was a real charmer and touched his arm, before pushing her hair behind her ear. Mum came out of the kitchen and glared. Mum and Auntie Mill sometimes argue and I thought they might then, actually, but the doorbell went again. This time it was Juni (my cousin).

Juni’s a year older than me. That means that she calls most people ‘SUCH morons’, completely ignores me, and walks like the Hunchback of Notre Dame because someone seems to have Velcro-ed her eyes to her mobile phone. She’d been fencing. Apart from her phone this is her thing and if she’d been at our school Mrs Martin would have made a great song for her. When she wins it’s good, because she breaks her ignoring-me rule to tell me about it. She describes how she lunged forward to stab an opponent or lunged back to stop a different opponent stabbing her. I don’t think she’d won that day, though. Without a word she stomped in, kicked open the cellar door and bunged her mask down the stairs. She followed that by chucking her sword down after it, and then she announced that there was only one thing in the ENTIRE world that she hated more than fencing.

‘And that’s my ENTIRELY STUPID mum for making me DO IT!’

Then she noticed Stephan.

‘DO I know you?’ she said.

Stephan smiled, and held his hand out for a shake. ‘Stephan,’ he said. ‘I think we’ve …’

‘Not helpful.’ Juni sighed. ‘Why would I care about your name? Who are you?’

‘Oh.’ Stephan looked round, but Mum and Auntie Mill were back in the kitchen. ‘I’m a friend of Janet’s, Cym’s mum? I’ve …’

‘Well, if you are her friend,’ Juni said, holding up a hand to stop him, ‘then why aren’t you at her house?’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘If you are her friend, what are you doing here? MUM!’ Juni bellowed. ‘What’s this friend of Cym’s mum doing in OUR house?!’

Auntie Mill came back then – and explained. Stephan was staying for supper. She smiled at Juni in a wiry sort of way, and asked if she’d kindly go upstairs to change. She turned back into the kitchen while Juni hissed, shaking her head until she finally noticed me. Her hands went to her hips as she pinned me with her eyes.

‘À point,’ she said.

‘Sorry? “Ah …”?’ I stared. Juni goes to a posh school and I wondered if this was something you got taught there.

Juni closed her eyes, then opened them again. ‘À point. Please tell me you know what that means.’

I thought hard but had to shrug.

‘Unbelievable! It’s a way to cook steak.’

‘Cool. Thanks for telling me that.’

‘Wait. I am not just telling you – what am I, your teacher?’

‘Then …?’

‘Listen. Thursday is steak night. Tell Mum I want mine à point and that she MUST NOT overdo it. Your limited brain can remember that?’

I was about to say yes, or at least I thought so, but Juni swivelled, marched through the living room and banged off up the stairs.

Stephan had his mouth open. ‘She always like that?’

‘She’s nicer when she wins.’

‘Right,’ Stephan said, noticing that his hand was still held out and putting it down by his side.

‘I mean, a bit nicer.’

I tried to tell Auntie Mill about Juni’s steak. I really did, though pretty soon she was busy making ‘drinkies’ and talking to Stephan in the kitchen, and while she did say, ‘Yes, Cym, darling,’ I’m not sure she was really listening. I tried waiting for the conversation to finish but when it did I still didn’t get a chance – because of Stephan.

Now, I do like him. As I’ve mentioned, he’s Mum’s new friend. They go to the pictures on Fridays and he comes over at the weekends sometimes too, with his girls. He fixed my bike tyre that’s been flat FOREVER and he’s good enough at Subbuteo to be worth playing, but not so good that he ever wins. It can be odd, though. In Greenwich Park you can tell that people think we’re all together! One woman told Mum how lovely her daughters were! Mum went red. And, right then, in Auntie Mill’s kitchen, Stephan made a catastrophic grown-up error.

‘So,’ he said, holding his hand over the top of his wine glass when Auntie Mill tried to pour more in, ‘how was school today?’

Adults! TELL me why you ask this question! Isn’t the answer obvious? IT WAS SCHOOL! Unless it has turned into a giant theme park (unlikely), what else is there to say? The only thing that stops me totally bugging out when I’m asked how school was today is that there is, as I’m sure you know, one question that is even MORE pointless. And that is: What did you do at school today? What did I do? Not only do I NOT CARE, but HOW WOULD I KNOW? I’m no longer AT SCHOOL! School has vanished into thin air, it does not exist and will not exist until I have to walk through the door next day. The only thing worse than asking us what we did at school is what Mum does: asks me what I did at school that day WHILE I AM WATCHING THE SIMPSONS.

Sorry, I got a bit cross there and, actually, I shouldn’t have, because when Stephan asked me that day it meant I finally got a chance to talk about Mrs Martin. I told him about the science. I went back and told him about the JE (jelly event). And I told him about my giggle. I ended with the explosion and he was amazed. I hadn’t told him the importance of her bag – her most prized possession – and when I did, his mouth dropped open.

‘And it wasn’t you?’

‘NO!!!’

‘Then who was it?’ he asked, and I sighed. Daisy had asked the same question and it really rang through my head now. I was baffled, though a face did come into my mind that so would have been there before Christmas. It belonged to the kid who used to be the class horror, kicking you from behind on school trips, hiding your pencil case, putting old chewing gum in your coat pocket.

Billy Lee.

But Billy and I had become friends before Christmas so it couldn’t be him. Could it? It must have been someone in Year 6. I started to go through the names but Mum said it was suppertime.

‘Juniper!’ Auntie Mill called. ‘Can you come and set the table, please!’

While we waited for Juni to come and help (never going to happen) Mum went into a faff wondering where everyone should sit. Auntie Mill set the table herself, telling us that Clay was going to a friend’s house. She still set six places, however, doing most of them normally, though at the head of the table she stacked up lots of glossy magazines where the plate was supposed to go. Stephan looked at me and I looked at Stephan but neither of us knew why. Then Juni came down, bumping into a chair and then a floor lamp as she walked across the living room.

‘Where’s my stinky brother?’ she said, texting.

‘Friend’s house.’

‘Great.’ TEXT. TEXT. ‘I’ll get his steak, then.’ PING!