Bridesmaid Blitz (4 page)

“Bye,” Annabelle twitters at him. “Like, see you in class.”

“Yeah, see ya,” he says gruffly, then pulls his lips into what looks more like a grimace than a smile.

Virtually swooning, Annabelle runs the rest of the way down the carriage, Sophie at her heels, jumps back into her seat, and starts fanning her face with her hand and whispering to the other D4s.

The boy shakes his head and sighs. “I was kind of hoping Saint John’s would be D4-free.”

“No way, ’cos we’ve, like, totally infiltrated the whole country,” I say in my best D4 voice, then stop and grin. “Worse luck. I’m Amy, by the way. And that’s Seth.”

Seth says, “Hiya,” and smiles at him.

The boy looks at Mills expectantly, who just gazes back dreamily, until I elbow her in the side. “Oh, sorry. I’m Mills.”

“Hi, Mills.” As he nods, his dark shaggy fringe falls across his forehead and I can see why Mills is so besotted. “I’m Bailey Otis.”

“Hi, Bailey Otis,” she says, her voice all breathy. “What a beautiful name. Just beautiful.”

“I overheard you saying you’re in Two O. We are too,” I go on quickly, before Mills has a chance to say anything else. “Except Seth. He’s in Two B —”

I’m interrupted by Nina Pickering — another D4 — shouting from the far end of the carriage. “What’s your name, new guy?” she hollers. “Annabelle fancies you.”

At that, Annabelle shrieks and hits Nina on the arm. “No, I don’t! Pay no attention to Nina. She’s, like, totally mentally deficient. Failed all her summer exams.”

“I did not!” Nina protests.

Annabelle sniffs. “Nina, an
A
in sex ed doesn’t count.”

“You just said he was cute,” Nina protests, pursing her lips, “and that he obviously fancies you.”

Annabelle’s cheeks flame, and Bailey looks mortified.

“Sorry, but I’m off girls for Lent,” he says. “And Barbie look-alikes aren’t my bag. I like my girls
au naturel
.”

The D4s all gasp and swivel their eyes from Bailey to Annabelle, like they’re watching Wimbledon and Bailey has just lobbed a tricky ball at her.

“Oops, didn’t mean to say that out loud,” Bailey murmurs, too low for Annabelle to hear.

Annabelle sniffs. “Barbie look-alike? How dare you? My looks are, like, totally natural.” She strokes her blond curls, which are so bleached you can almost smell the ammonia whenever she tosses her head. “Well, mostly . . . And you’d be lucky. I don’t do sulky music-head emos, however cute they might be.” She narrows her eyes. “And you’d better, like, keep out of my way, new boy, if you know what’s good for you.”

The D4 eyes swivel back to Bailey.

“Happy to oblige,” he says.

Annabelle gasps then gives him an evil glare, while the other D4s drop their heads into a gossip huddle and hiss, “Like, OMG, OMG, did you hear what he just said?” at each other. “So totally out of line.”

After holding her death stare for a few more seconds, Annabelle lowers her head and joins them. They’re like a pack of hyenas tearing strips off a carcass, their tongues going lash, lash, lash — and this time Bailey is their prey. Now and then, one of them sticks her head up out of the huddle, looks at him, and bobs back down again.

Bailey is looking pretty gloomy. “I should learn to keep my mouth shut. I’ve already made an enemy and we’re not even in school yet.”

“Look, most of the D4s are as thick as bricks,” Seth says. “Just keep away from Annabelle and you’ll be grand. She’s a wagon of the highest order and doesn’t like being made to look bad in front of her cronies. Give her a wide birth and you’ll survive. Hey, you’re welcome to hang with us at break and lunch. We don’t go anywhere near D4ville.”

Bailey smiles. “Cool, thanks. I was hoping to avoid any drama until at least my second day.”

Mills giggles. “You’re so funny, Bailey.”

“Have you just moved down?” I ask him quickly, trying to deflect his attention from Mills’s besotted gaze.

Bailey looks confused.

“From the North?” I add.

He says nothing for a second, then, “I moved to Bray a while back. From Rathgar. Haven’t lived in the North for years.”

“What school were you in before?”

“Lakelands in Bray.”

I sit up. “Really? I’ve heard it’s really posh and that all the sixth-years drive around in their own BMWs. Is it true? Is that why you left? Was it too posh? Or were you expelled or something?”

Mills’s eyes widen and I can tell she’s dying to hear the answer.

“Amy, stop with the questions,” Seth says with a laugh. (I have to admit Bailey is starting to look a little uncomfortable.) “I know you want to be a journalist and everything,” he continues, “but do you have to interrogate
everyone
?”

“A journalist?” Bailey asks with interest. “Really?” I can’t help noticing how relieved he looks at the shift in conversation.

I shrug. “Maybe. Or a psychologist. I haven’t decided yet.”

“I’d lie on your couch any day.” Seth gives me a cheeky wink.

“With all your psychoses, I’m not sure you could afford to pay me for all the time you’d chew up,” I say, thumping his arm playfully.

“
Touché,
Amy.” Bailey grins, a smile so sunny, so involving, it almost sends Mills sliding off her seat. It even gives me goose bumps, and I have Seth, who’s no slacker when it comes to magic smiles.

“What were you listening to?” I ask, nodding at Bailey’s headphones and hoping he’ll smile again.

Bingo! Once more his smile sweeps over us like the warm yellow beam from a lighthouse. “You into music?” he says. “Cool . . .”

Maybe this term’s not going to be so boring after all.

“Stop talking!” Mr. Olen bangs a pot of blue poster paint on his desk. He’s been in a bad mood all lesson — guess we’re not the only ones suffering from back-to-school blues. “I said
ciúnas
! I have a message from Miss Lupin. Could all the students going on the Paris trip please meet during lunch break in the sports hall. That’s in two minutes, people. Finish clearing up. And, Seth, what are those?” He points at Seth’s pen-and-ink drawings.

“Skulls, sir.”

“I asked you to design costumes for
Romeo and Juliet
, not
The Pirates of Penzance
.”

“Play’s about love and death, sir. It’s bloody too — all those fights.”

I look across at Seth’s sheet, and sure enough, the top of his intertwined skulls is heart shaped.

“I’m going to screen print this design onto Juliet’s dress,” he adds. “In bloodred.”

“Right.” Mr. Olen doesn’t sound convinced, but before he can say anything else, the bell rings and we all jump to our feet. “Quietly, please, class!” he shouts.

We ignore him and run toward the exit, jostling in the narrow doorway to get out first, our feet thundering on the thin wooden floor.

“Sneak down to the shop with me?” Seth says when we finally escape. “I’m starving.”

“You have to meet Loopy, remember? About the Paris trip.”

“Not going.”

“What?”

“You heard me. I’m giving the trip a miss. So there’s not much point going to the meeting, is there?”

I stop dead and stare at him, but he keeps walking.

“Seth! It’s
Paris
!”

He swings around. “It’s no big deal, Amy.”

“Excuse me for being confused, because up until a few days ago you couldn’t wait to get there. In fact, I had to ask you to stop banging on about the Louvre and the Pompidou Centre ’cos it was starting to bug me. I’m not thrilled about you going away without me, but I’d started to get used to the idea. What’s going on, Seth? You’ve been in a really funny mood recently.”

“Nothing. I just don’t fancy it; that’s all.”

“Seth.” I grab his face and make him look at me. His eyes are dark and his gaze shifts away.

“Talk to me,” I say. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

He swats my hand away. “’S nothing. Just leave it, OK?”

I think for a second. It must be something pretty serious to get him into this kind of state. The last time he went all moody and quiet was when he was worrying about his mum. She had breast cancer recently, and I know the whole experience really shook him. “Is it Polly? Is she sick again? Is there anything I can do to help?”

Seth’s eyes narrow. “You think life’s so easy, don’t you? Something happens and then you jump in and solve the problem. Well, my life’s not that simple, Amy. There are some things that can’t be fixed. Now, just leave me alone.” He starts to walk down the drive, toward the school gate.

“Seth! Come back!” I shout after him. He ignores me. I stand and watch his back as he clears the gates, turns sharp left, and disappears out of sight.

“Seth!” I cry, but it’s too late — he’s gone.

“I finally got an e-mail from Ed last night,” Mills says on the DART on Wednesday morning. We’re both still puffing and panting in our seats from running for the train — Mills hates being late for school. “He cyber-dumped me.”

Even though I’ve been expecting it, I still feel terrible for her. “Ah, Mills. What did he say?”

“That long-distance relationships don’t work. He’s met someone else: Kelly-Marie. She’s in his class.”

“I’m so sorry. I know you really liked him.” I twist in my seat and give her a bear hug.

“Get a room, lezzers,” someone shouts from the other end of the carriage. I swing around. It’s Sophie Piggott, of course. She’s flanked by a bunch of giggling D4s who are egging her on. I poke my tongue out at her. Stupid cow.

When I turn back to Mills, she’s staring down at her scuffed ballet pumps. I can tell she’s trying to hold it together. Then tears start rolling down her cheeks.

“Sorry,” she murmurs, brushing them away. “I feel stupid for being so upset. I should have seen it coming. Did it hurt when you broke up with Seth in the summer?”

“Big time,” I tell her, thinking back to July when Seth was in Italy with his mum and met this girl called Jin. I’d gotten a bit shirty about how much time he was spending with Jin, and to cut a long story short, we broke up. At the time I was distraught. Luckily, I came to my senses and we managed to work it out in the end.

“I couldn’t sleep,” I continue. “I kept going over and over it in my head. I’d wake up in the night thinking about it and feel sick to my stomach.” Then I realize what I’ve just said. Not very encouraging, Amy. “But it gets easier,” I add.

“You and Seth are different,” Mills says. “You’re made for each other. Ed was nice and everything, but Seth’s really special.”

Now it’s my turn to gulp back tears. “I know,” I manage. “But I’m really worried about him. He’s gone incommunicado.”

Mills’s eyes widen. “I thought you said he was sick yesterday.”

I shake my head. “We had a fight on Monday. I just didn’t want to talk about it.” I tell her what happened after art, about how Seth stormed off when I asked him about Polly.

“Do you think she’s sick again?”

Mills and I are the only two people in the whole school who know about Polly. Seth wasn’t all that pleased that I’d told Mills, but I needed someone to confide in, and after a while (and a few grumpster days), he understood. He’s very private that way and doesn’t like people knowing his business. He and his mum are pretty tight — there’s just the two of them — and I think Polly’s cancer made them even closer.

I look at Mills and nod. “I saw her last week and she’s gotten really pale again and dead skinny.” I realize what I’ve just said —
dead
— and it sends a shiver up my spine. I bite my lip. “And now Seth’s shutting me out. I just want to help, Mills, but he won’t even talk to me.”

“Oh, Ames, I’m so sorry.” Mills wiggles closer to me and puts her arm around my shoulder. “Here’s me banging on about a silly holiday romance when you have far more serious stuff to deal with.”

There are laughs and catcalls from the D4s again, but we just ignore them. Their idea of “friendship” is so tainted and warped, it doesn’t bear thinking about.

“Maybe Seth just needs some time to come to terms with what’s going on,” Mills continues. “Is his mum going to have another operation?”

Polly had one of her breasts removed in the spring — just before Seth and I got together. She had to have chemotherapy and radiation treatment to make sure no cancer cells lingered in her body.

I shrug. “I have no idea. He won’t talk to me, remember?”

“It’s gotta be tough. I guess you just have to give him some space and hope he snaps out of it.”

I nod. “Sorry to hit you with all this, Mills.”

She bumps her shoulder against mine. “Hey, that’s what friends are for.”

We sit in silence then, watching the train stations whiz by — Salthill, Seapoint, Blackrock — until we get to Booterstown, our stop.

“It’ll all work out,” Mills says as we stand up to get off. “He’ll come around and Polly will be just fine. You’ll see.”

Sometimes I wish I had Mills’s dogged optimism.

By lunchtime, I still haven’t talked to Seth. At least he’s in today — I spotted him going into French class earlier — but he’s obviously avoiding me. I’m sitting at the bottom of the steps in the science block, poking glumly at my cheese sandwich. I know I should eat, but I have a lump in my throat the size of an orange and it’s making swallowing almost impossible. Mills is outside with Bailey, but I’m not in the mood for being sociable.