One day, four hours, nine minutes and 42 seconds. 41, 40, 39.... What? What am I doing? Oh I’m so excited I can barely count backwards. I can’t much count forward but I’m concentrating hard as I can. Not easy considering how scatty I am. Teachers are always shouting at me over my maths, it’s not my fault 4 won’t go into 3 with one over. I should have invented maths, it would be so easy. I’d be called Professor Valerie and 4 would go into 3 six times with 3 over. What do you mean that doesn’t make sense, of course it doesn’t make sense because I didn’t invent maths; god and they call me scatty.
Now I’ve lost count. Damn, (Oh I hope nobody heard that, I’ll get a slap on the arse for saying that word, I’m supposed to say sugar which makes less sense than 4 into 3 with six over because sugar is nice and losing my count isn’t. Adults can be so stupid sometimes).
Right, back to my count! Two minutes must have passed since you interrupted me so I’m gonna say one day, four hours two minutes and 20 seconds. Yeah, that sounds right. It’s not? Ah well it would be if I had invented maths. It’ll do, I’m too excited to care. In one day and whatever hours and minutes, I’m going on a sleepover.
A sleepover! Oh the times I’ve watched my friends arrive in school with their little princess Barbie suitcases and hug each other with excitement of the adventures they were going to have. They talked about bed picnics, and blanket tents and pillow fights and I listened longingly with my tongue hanging out of the side of my mouth like a starving puppy. I couldn’t even be sure what a proper pillow fight was. I fight with my torn shabby pillow regularly because all the feathers are gone out of it and Mammy had stuffed it with an old coat so it felt like sleeping on a head of cabbage. I’m like the princess who slept on the pea; she never got a good night’s sleep either. But in just one days time I was going to find out all the secrets that a sleepover held. My third best friend (who is now technically my first since my first and second best friends dumped me a week ago) asked me to stay for the one hundredth time and finally mammy and daddy said yes. Don’t ask me what happened with my other friends, it’s still too painful to talk about.
I have to pack. I don’t know what I should bring. I don’t have a nightdress and anyway I usually wear a jumper and tracksuit bottoms to bed since our house is like one of those ice houses I’ve seen on television. I think England is full of those houses, I’m not sure, and geography is not my best subject. Yes I know, neither is maths but back to packing. I’ll steal a t-shirt from my brother and wear that. It’s done on telly all the time, girls going around in boy’s t-shirts, although I won’t tell my best friend it’s my brothers coz that’s gross and I’ll have to wash it first coz my brother is yucky, he always smells like he needs a good scrub. I need to put in two knickers, not much need for a bra coz Mammy won’t buy me one on account of the fact that I still have nothing to put in it (soon I hope, I used a tape measure to check the other day but there was no change. I wonder what I’m doing wrong). A pair of jeans and a jumper and all I need to do is put in my toothbrush. I can’t do that yet coz I’ll need it before I go.
Now all I need is a suitcase. Mammy will give me one, my sisters go on sleepovers all the time and they share a lovely yellow one with big pink flowers that look like they’re blowing in the wind. “Mammy” I ran down to the kitchen where she was cooking dinner. “Can I have the sleepover suitcase coz my clothes are ready to go into it”. “Sorry Valerie, Bernie has it, she’s gone to her friend’s house, remember?” “But what will I use? Do we have another one?” “No we don’t but I’ll get you something”. I watched as she walked across the kitchen and opened the plastic bag drawer. “Noooo, I cried as she pulled one out and handed it to me. “I’ll be a laughing stock”. “That’s all I have” she replied, “take it or leave it”.
Trying not to cry I took the bag and went back up to my bedroom. It wasn’t even a strong bag and I felt sure that when I turned up to my friend’s house with it under my arm she’ll no longer be my newly promoted first best friend. Then what would I do? I liked her more now that I had promoted her and she had promised me we’d do loads of our new workout together to help us get boobs. What way did it go again? Oh yeah!
“I must, I must improve my bust. I will, I will, make it bigger still”. I couldn’t wait to grow boobs so big that I would look down and not see my feet.
The next morning after a sleepless night of tossing and turning I crawled out of bed and winced as my feet hit the cold floor. (I was way too young for all this worrying, one of these days I’d be fighting wrinkles from stressing). I made my way down to the kitchen where mammy was busy fighting with my sisters over the knots in their hair. Every morning was the same ritual of shouting and tears as mammy dragged a hairbrush through everyone’s hair, and there were six girls in the house so you can imagine the shouts and tears. That must be what daddy means when he says our house is like Vietnam, though how posh meat compares to us girls crying is beyond me. I must read more books, I don’t know a lot about anything.
My turn came and I was so excited that I actually let mammy brush my hair. Usually I was clever and convinced one of my sisters to brush it while I was waiting my turn. I always had to wait a long time because I was the youngest which meant I was last. I hated being the youngest, it meant I was last for everything and being first in this house was vital. The oldest was always first and that meant the best choice of everything especially biscuits. Oh dear, I’d love a biscuit now, a big juicy chocolate one. Chocolate ones were the best coz I always licked the chocolate off the top of them. I don’t usually get the chocolate ones because we only really get biscuits at Christmas and by the time my turn comes to choose one my greedy brothers and sisters have all the nice ones gone. They’re like savages, why I’ve seen biscuits get hidden in the strangest of places. They grab a handful and put them down their shoes and socks and everything which is disgusting. I wouldn’t eat a biscuit that was down someone’s sock, well I did a couple of times but I’m older now and I’ve learned some table manners. Oh if I only had a chocolate biscuit now I wouldn’t care if it was in a dustbin first. Anyway I’m losing track of what I was talking about. It comes from being scatty.
Such was my excitement that I didn’t realise at first it was Mammy brushing my hair and I didn’t make a sound, even when the hairbrush got tangled up and she pulled out a lump of hair freeing it I said nothing. I was far too engrossed in my day and night ahead. Daddy had promised me that soon as I had my breakfast and brushed my teeth he’d drive me to my friends house so I didn’t care if it all fell out. Actually I did care, but even with my misfortune that was unlikely to happen but I shouldn’t jinx it by saying it. Nothing could go wrong today.
Finally I was ready. I had packed my plastic bag, (Pretending it was a posh bag that some famous designer had created didn’t work, neither did trying to convince myself that Sue Ellen Ewing from Dallas had loaned it to me so I had come to terms with the fact that it was a plastic bag) and I made my way down to the kitchen. “Daddy, I’m ready to go, don’t you all miss me too much for I’ll be back tomorrow” I shouted as I ran down the hall past my sisters bedrooms. Deep down I prayed that they would miss me so much that they’d cry after me but I didn’t hold out much hope. “Why? Valerie” one of them called out “We won’t miss you, because you’re not going anywhere”. “Yes I am” I shouted back “I’m going on a sleepover, so there”. Sticking out my tongue at the closed bedroom door made me feel a little better, especially since they couldn’t see the gesture and therefore couldn’t kill me. I ignored the laughter and tried not to feel hurt. Today I didn’t care what anyone said.
“Valerie, I need a word with you” Mammy came out of the kitchen wiping her hands on her apron. “Not now mammy, daddy is in the car waiting for me” he must be, I thought to myself, he’s not in the house. “Valerie, daddy is already gone over to your friends house to explain that you won’t be going on a sleepover tonight” “But why” I interrupted, feeling the usual pangs of pain and tears welling up inside me “But you promised. You said I was old enough; I have to go, Mammy. You DID promise”. “I know I did”, Mammy didn’t look too bothered “but that was before I brushed your hair, when I was brushing it I found head lice all over it so you’ll have to stay at home until I can get them out”.
And there it was. The bad luck that I said wouldn’t happen, the jinx that I said couldn’t fall upon me had not only fallen but it had buried creatures in my hair, creatures that would just grow and grow until they were big enough to swallow me.
In floods of tears I made the usual walk of shame back up to my bedroom, sleepover dreams in tatters and lay down on my bed. I buried my head under the only pillow I would probably ever get to fight with and waited for the creatures to eat me.
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