I’m not even sure I can write this. I have to tell someone though.
I like to think I’m nice. Can’t kid myself anymore.
I had to do something about her but… Ana Maria I’m talking about. No, you won’t have read about her in here before. Or in the El Grupo journals. Until recently she’s not even been worth the girls’ bitching efforts. Until Lola discovered her private journal and read in it that she fancies me! That is an exclamation mark of horror not excitement, I assure you.
You see? I’m a horrible person.
Simple fact.
This is a confession anyway because one needs to be made. Maybe it’ll cleanse my soul or my conscience or something. Because I do care that I was too weak to stand up for the little guy. But it was worse than that, this time I was the main perpetrator. In my head, I tried to blame it on the girls but I knew the truth. I know the truth, without me, the whole thing would never have happened. Which is why Lola went so far to persuade me to take my part…
Let me set the scene…
I woke up hungry and angry about it. Mum had been gone all night and left no food in but Chell had taken her night off anyway. I hadn’t felt like going to scrounge at Rey’s like I normally would have done. So I’d gone to bed hungry and Chell wasn’t back by morning. So I went to school hungry too. Even hungrier.
Not a good start to the day, none of my clothes are clean either because me and Chell are at war over it. She won’t wash anything of mine unless it’s in the laundry room. She won’t come into my room at all anymore. I know it’s a pigsty but that’s partly because she hasn’t cleaned it for so long. You’re probably wondering why the hell I don’t do it myself but the point is: she gets paid to do it. She used to earn her money, used to really look after me. I actually thought it was because she cared – cared about doing her job properly and cared about me. How wrong can you be? Lately she’s as self- obsessed as mother.
Anyway, you get the picture: I started school grubby, hungry and angry. Lola, with a flower in her hair and a pout on her perfect lips, was like ice on a raging burn. And she walked right up to me. And even after everything, I wanted her. Her hands on my shoulders, her breath like honey on my face as she whispered, “I need to talk to you…” that’s all it took.
I swear her breath really smells of honey.
I heard the other girls giggle and ignored them. I only had eyes for Lola. I wanted to believe that this beauty could fix all the cracks.
Only she isn’t really beautiful, she’s ugly inside.
I didn’t know that then though. All I knew was the dream Lola, I didn’t know yet that she only existed in my imagination. Her hair glowed in the sunlight, the little purple flower adding to the picture of innocence. She linked her arm through mine and leaned in close to whisper again.
“Come on! Ignore them.” She giggled back at them and led me away.
Already a part of me knew I was being dragged into some rigged game, fixed so that I would lose. But you know how these stories go – even in real life – temptation overrules doubt, desire overcomes reason. Like I said, I wanted to believe.
So when she got me behind the Coliseo and immediately asked me if I wanted to go out with her, I ignored the demanding tone of her voice and I ignored the fact that she was carefully standing two paces away. After I’d said ‘yes’ I also ignored the fact that her expression in response was one of triumph rather than simple pleasure. I was wondering what to do next, terrified I might be supposed to kiss her and terrified I looked like an idiot just standing there. I needn’t have worried: obviously I look like an idiot to her all the time.
Not that she was letting it show at that point. She tilted her head slightly to one side and looked up at me. She looked like a doll, unreal perfection. It was crazy to think she was asking me out. Alarm bells began to think about ringing in my head. But she took my hand and looked up at me shyly.
Damn she’s a good actress!
Then she said: “I’ll go out with you on Saturday night, anywhere you want…”
You can imagine what my heart was doing at this point.
But she was continuing: “If you do one little thing for me.”
Ah – there it was. The alarm bells didn’t bother ringing now, the thieves had already been and gone with the booty. It was inevitable – the catch. I looked at her, nervously pulling my hand away. She held on.
“What little thing?”
She pouted at me. I was in big trouble.
What she said next threw me completely. She just came out with it – a proper wounded outburst: “Do you fancy Ana Maria more than me?”
I nearly choked. What was she talking about? Ana Maria? Who in their right mind..?
I think my “No!” in response was what they call ‘strangled’.
Lola was still pouting. She shimmied closer to me.
Just at that moment a 4th Grader kicked the ball wide and it came my way. I leapt to kick it back and I was so tempted to run and join them, to ignore the hormones and run back to football.
When I looked back, Lola had sat down, her head in her hands like she was crying. I don’t have sisters. I don’t have any experience of dealing with crying girls. But I’ve seen plenty of movies and I know that this is the guy’s chance to get his arms around a girl. So, like a fool, I forget the football and go put my arm around her.
She pushed me away, but one hand clung to my sweater, stretching it.
“What?” I asked, I thought I hid my impatience well. Apparently not.
She wailed, “You boys are all the same! Can’t you see I’m upset?”
“Why?”
She wouldn’t look at me, “Alicia found Ana Maria’s diary. She wrote in it that you asked her out – did you?”
I spluttered. I was outraged. I looked at Lola, how could she believe it?
She gave me big sad eyed looks, “I’ve seen you talking to her.”
I could’ve screamed! So I’d felt sorry for the girl, had a brief conversation with her once in a while! It does my head in to think of kids like her going through each day talking to hardly a soul under 20. That didn’t give her the right to pretend she was going out with me!
Lola was silent now, watching my reaction carefully.
“How could I fancy her when I fancy you? I’ve got good taste!”
Sorry but, the last thing I wanted was to be associated with Ana Maria, especially not in that way – guaranteed social death. Not that I’m worried about social status, but my friends are my friends, have been for a long time, since long before we became El Grupo and everyone started looking up to us. I don’t want to lose them.
Lola looked at me calmly, her cheeks were dry, “Prove it!”
“What?”
“Prove it!”
“How?”
Her eyes glinted with… excitement? Evil? OK evil’s harsh but wickedness at least and I mean that in the old fashioned sense of the word – bad not good.
“Teach her a lesson.”
Obviously I didn’t look impressed, “I’ll help,” She insisted. “And I’ve already got a plan…”
