LITMIR.BIZ

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“It’s your little friend on the phone. The little plain one.” I do wish Mum wouldn’t refer to Indy as the little plain one! I really hate it when she does that. She knows perfectly well what her name is.

      “Well, are you going to speak to her,” she said, “or not?”

      I dragged myself out into the hall and picked up the phone. “’Lo?”

      Indy shrieked, “Carm! What happened? Where did you get to?”

      “Hadda headache,” I said.

      “Cos of Marigold? I knew it was cos of her! Honestly, that girl is just so putrefying! I’m glad you told her she was a moron. Everybody’s glad! They all reckon she asked for it.”

      I said, “How does everybody know? Did you tell them?”

      “No! It was Connie.”

      Connie Li; I hadn’t realised she was there. Connie is OK. She is definitely not a Marigold groupie.

      “Carm?” Indy’s voice squeaked anxiously down the line. “You haven’t let her get to you? Cos all those things she said, about her sister… they’re not really true! She hasn’t really had professional experience.”

      “You mean she hasn’t appeared in a commercial?”

      “Only some stupid thing for local radio. Not telly.”

      “What about the demo disc?”

      “Yeah, well… anyone can make one of those.”

      I said, “Huh!”

      “She isn’t any competition,” said Indy. “She has a voice like a… I dunno! Fingernails scraping on a blackboard. Yeeeech!”

      Indy was trying really hard, but what she said about fingernails just wasn’t true. Marigold’s sister is chosen every year to sing solo when we do carols. It’s not a bad sort of voice. A bit small. A bit tinny. She couldn’t do rock! But obviously some people like it. Anyway, I couldn’t care less about Marigold’s sister. It was all the other stuff. The stuff that Indy was too kind to mention, or maybe just too embarrassed.

      “You’ve always said not to take any notice of her,” said Indy. “So why start now?”

      “I’m not,” I said. “I don’t give a damn.” It’s amazingly easy to lie when you’re on the other end of a telephone. You can almost, even, lie to yourself. “Marigold Johnson is just sewage,” I said.

      “She is,” said Indy. “That’s exactly what she is! And we’re not the only ones that think so. Lots of people have been going on about her. It’s made her really unpopular.”

      I knew Indy was doing her best to be a good friend and make me feel better, but I hated the thought of everyone knowing what Marigold had said. Everyone talking about it. Feeling sorry for me. Did you hear what Marigold called Carmen? She called her a fat freak!

      “Dunno what she meant by that last remark, though,” said Indy. “D’you?”

      I said, “What last remark?” Though in fact I knew perfectly well.

      “Fag hag… what she say that for?”

      I said, “No idea.”

      “I thought when people called you a fag hag it meant you were friends with someone that was gay.”

      I grunted.

      “You’re not friends with anyone that’s gay! Unless she was talking about Josh. Was she talking about Josh? Trying to make out he’s a fag?”

      I snapped, “Don’t use that stupid word!”

      “Sorry,” said Indy. “Was she trying to make out he’s gay?”

      I said, “I don’t know! She’s completely mad.”

      “But what a thing to say! About Josh. I bet she’s just jealous, I bet that’s what it is, cos she used to fancy him. Probably still does. And just cos he doesn’t fancy her—”

      “Whatever you do,” I said, “don’t tell him!”

      “I won’t,” said Indy. “I wouldn’t!”

      “I s’pose people are gossiping?”

      “Not about that so much. They’re more saying how Marigold got what she deserved… you calling her a vegetable!” Indy giggled. “Someone said she ought to have a new name – she ought to be called Cabbage. Then someone said she ought to be a root veg, cos of you telling her to take root, so we’re all, like, trying to think of root vegetables, like Turnip. Turnip Johnson!”

      I said, “Yeah, that would suit her. But please don’t tell Josh about the other thing. Please!”

      “I won’t,” said Indy. “I won’t! Don’t worry!” She added that in any case it was so stupid it was ridiculous. “No one’s going to believe it.”

      I said, “That’s not the point! I don’t want him to know.”

      If word got round, it would be all my fault. I should just have kept quiet! I’d done what I always swore I wouldn’t: I’d let myself be provoked. I’d insulted Marigold in front of her groupies, and now she’d gone and dragged Josh into it. He was going to think I’d betrayed him! Why, why, why couldn’t I have kept my big mouth shut? Just a few weeks earlier, before I’d even known about the Top Spot contest, I’d gone round to Josh’s place and we’d written a new song – How Cool am I? – and afterwards we’d sat and talked, cos Josh and I do a lot of talking, and he’d said he had something he wanted to tell me. And then he’d hesitated, and I said, “Well, go on! What?” and it all came out in a great rush.

      “I’m not absolutely certain but it’s this feeling I’ve had for a long time… I think I might be gay!”

      I said, “Oh.” And then, “Really?” And then, “Gosh.” Like something out of Enid Blyton. I gave up reading Enid Blyton when I was about five. To make matters worse I then added, “Wow.”

      Josh said, “Yeah. Wow.”

      “Well, but I mean…” What did I mean? I didn’t mean anything. I was just, like, totally thrown. It’s not very often I’m at a loss for words, usually I have too many, but for once I couldn’t think of a single thing to say. So I went and said something even stupider than wow, I said, “How do you know?”

      “I dunno,” said Josh. “It’s just something I feel.”

      “Mm.” I nodded. “OK. So…”

      He looked at me, rather solemnly. “So how do you feel?”

      “Me? I feel like – so what? What difference does it make? You’re still you. So long as we’re not going to fancy the same guys!”

      I said that just to show him that I was cool. That now I’d got my head round the idea I was just, like, totally and utterly relaxed.

      “You’re the only person I’ve told,” said Josh.

      “Not even Robert? Not even Damian?”

      Josh said, “Specially not Robert or Damian.”

      They are two boys in our class. They’re clever, like Josh. The three of them tend to hang out together.

      “Why specially not them?” I said. “Don’t you reckon they’d be OK with it?”

      “I guess – yeah! Probably. It’s just… I don’t particularly want anyone else to know.”

      “Just me?”

      I think that was one of the proudest moments of my life. That Josh had chosen me! But I still had to ask him. “Why me and not anybody else?”

      He

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