I put my fork down. “Mum!”
“What?”
“I’m telling you all about my kick-ass feminist activities and you undermine it all by asking if I have a boyfriend.”
She smiled. “Come on, I’m your mother. It’s my job to ask.”
It’s also your job not to leave your child…
I put my burger down as my muscles tensed up.
Don’t ruin it don’t ruin it.
“Well, no, there isn’t anyone. Not at the moment.”
“None of them good enough for you?”
More muscles tensed in my neck.
“No, they’re all babies.”
I couldn’t tell her, not really. That boys just…didn’t fancy me. Like, ever. Especially compared to my friends. Even when Evie had her relapse, she’d still had boys following her around college. I mean, I’d rather be unfancied than have OCD…but still… It was quite a feat of fanciability. And Lottie, well, she was like bloke catnip. I knew I wasn’t, like, completely ugly…just very noticeable. The word “intimidating” has been used multiple times by multiple people. It’s like my angry feminist rants are more unattractive because I’m tall and ginger and less pretty – whereas Lottie and Evie can get away with it. And, yeah, of course I didn’t want to give up all that important “me” stuff just so I could get touched up at a house party… But I still hadn’t even kissed anyone, and it worried me.
I didn’t want my mum to know all this. I didn’t want to provide her with further evidence I was unloveable, because I was worried it might put her off too…
“Don’t worry.” She stabbed two strawberries. “There’ll be plenty of boys at camp.”
“I’m not here to meet boys, I’m here to spend the summer with you!”
“Well I’ll be too busy, you’re going to have to make friends.”
Too busy? Busy?! The huge amount of meat in my stomach solidified and grew heavy. I felt dread trickle through me…it was like she was already making excuses to let me down…
No, Amber…no…don’t read too much into it…
I crossed my arms. “I don’t HAVE to do anything.”
“Come on, Amber, don’t be like that.”
Like what? Myself? My bolshie normal self? The self she didn’t know? Not really. Not for two years.
And yet I couldn’t bear her looking at me like that. Like me being like this was the reason she left.
I forced myself to smile and took a big bite of dripping burger. It plummeted down my throat, landing with a heavy thud in my tummy.
“I can’t wait to meet everyone,” I lied, through my meat.
If Mum thought I’d be spending our precious summer together lusting over American boys, well, she was dead wrong.
SITUATIONS THAT ARE DESTINED TO FAIL:
Me
+
Warm welcomes
+
Mother-stealing bumchins
Four
From: LongTallAmber
To: EvieFilmGal, LottieIsAlwaysRight
Subject: Y’all have a good day now
So, guys, I’m here! I’m alive! I made it to San Francisco without being arrested for public drunkenness at fifty thousand feet. Are you proud?
I’m writing this in a cool-as-f*ck internet café overlooking the bay. I’m probably within spitting distance of ten dot-com millionaires, but I’d rather write to you girls than spit on anyone right now.
How are you both? Sobbing over my departure I hope. I miss you both TONNES already. Everyone in America is SO WEIRD!
Seriously, we went sightseeing this morning and I spent most of my time goggling at Americans, rather than Alcatraz or the sea lions. Like, they all wear bumbags! Well almost all of them. And they, like, come up and talk to you!? On the boat to Alcatraz, we met this couple called Sonny and Jean (I know, the most American names in the world, right?!) and by the time we got to the prison (major bummer btw), I knew all about their two kids, their holiday plans, what their favourite restaurant was. And THEN they just followed us around the whole thing like we were the best of friends. We even had to eat our sandwiches with them. And Mum didn’t care at all. In fact, she invited them to share our crisps! You can only imagine how mad I was. You know how protective I get over my snacks.
We’re about to go to a "raw food" restaurant for lunch before we drive into the mountains. I’ve already pre-emptively eaten some sneaky chips from a KFC I found so I don’t starve to death. Seriously, Mum said the best meal at this place is spaghetti made from raw carrot strips – WHAT IS WRONG WITH PEOPLE? I worry Bumface Kevin has given her a brain transplant. She also keeps going on about how "cute" the boys are at camp, so prepare for horror stories about me being horrifically match-made with some redneck called "Randy".
Am I being mean? I am, aren’t I?
It’s not like British blokes are any better. If Guy, Ethan or Teddy are anything to go by anyway…
Please write back. I NEED YOU GUYS! Mum said there’s a computer in our cabin so we can keep the Spinster Club meetings going over the summer. I will scour Mountain Hideaway camp for any traces of inequality for us to discuss. Just let me know the dates you can do, and we’ll try and sort out the time difference.
Gotta go. There are some raw carrots that need eating.
Lots of love
Amber x x x
By early evening, the city was behind us and we were steering our way into the mountains.
I was shattered. Jet lag had woken me at five a.m. and I’d sat in the grey light of our motel room, listening to the steady hum of the unnecessary air con, watching my mother’s sleeping body…and I’d had such a surge of memory I’d felt too sick to get back to sleep…
…I carefully pushed the door, taking a breath first so I wouldn’t inhale the stale smell of inside. There was a lump in the bed.
“Mum?” I asked, scared to step in closer.
The lump turned over.
“Mum? I need you to take me to school.”
The lump turned again, dislodging pockets of sweet but rancid air that caught in the back of my throat. It didn’t respond.
I closed the door and rang the taxi company.
Dad had left money on the table in case it happened again.
Once we hit a certain altitude, the sun appeared – as promised. The first sun I’d seen since stepping off the aeroplane. It scorched brightly, all showing-off and well-I-was-here-all-the-time-you-just-needed-to-find-me. I buzzed down the window and put my arm out, and it blew behind me in the breeze. I felt awake again. Mum pushed some tortoiseshell sunglasses down onto her delicate nose.
“I told you the sun would find us,” she said. “Make sure you wear your factor 50 sunblock every day at camp.”
“Mum, relax. I learned by about twelve that it was impossible for me to tan. Like ever.”
“Just think of the smooth wrinkle-free skin you’ll have when you’re older.”
I brought my hand back in; it was already warm from the sun. “Hardly a consolation prize for a lifetime of ginger jokes.”
She flicked her head sideways. “Kids are still making ginger jokes?”
I thought of college. “Seventeen-year-olds are still making ginger jokes.”
“Well everyone will be just lovely at camp.”
I kept peeking at her, watching her grip the wheel. She’d always been a confident driver, but it was odd seeing her so at home on foreign roads. Questions bubbled up my throat and I turned them over and over in my head, picking the ones I might get away with…that she might actually answer.