I smile at her and nod. “Yes, absolutely.”
The sulking man in the armchair looks at me and rolls his eyes.
“Why did the chicken cross the road, roll in mud, and cross the road again?” Dad asks me as soon as I walk into the living room.
He and Tom are both sprawled on the L-shaped sofa, munching on a huge bowl of popcorn with football blaring away on the TV. This is what always happens when they’re left home alone together.
“Please don’t ask him,” Tom says, looking up at me with pleading eyes. “You’ll regret it till your dying day.”
“No, she won’t,” Dad replies quick as a flash. “Pen shares my refined sense of humor—good job one of my offspring does.” He pats the sofa next to him and I go and sit down. He’s right; we definitely share the same sense of humor. Whether it’s refined is another story.
“I don’t know—why did the chicken cross the road, roll in mud, and cross the road again?” I say, grabbing a handful of popcorn.
“Nooooo!” Tom wails, burying his head under a cushion.
“Because he was a dirty double-crosser!” Dad and I look at each other and start buckling over with laughter. From beneath his cushion, Tom howls.
“How was it down at the shop?” Dad asks, as soon as we’ve pulled ourselves together.
“Pretty quiet,” I reply, and I see a flicker of worry cross Dad’s face. With most people choosing to get married in the summer, winter is always our quietest time, but this year it’s even deader than usual. “Oh, but I did get an American couple asking if we could do their wedding in New York. They seemed pretty serious too.”
Dad raises his eyebrows. “Really?”
“Yes, they want a Downton Abbey theme. But they need it mega quickly. They’re meant to be getting married just before Christmas but their original wedding planner ran off with the bride from his last wedding.”
Now it’s Tom’s turn to start laughing.
“What’s the joke?” Mum says, coming in the door and taking off her coat.
“Why did the chicken cross the road, roll in—” Dad begins.
“No!” Tom yells. “That wasn’t the joke. The joke was why did the American couple have to call off their wedding?”
Mum looks at us all like we’re crazy. She looks at us like this a lot.
“Because their planner ran off with the bride from his last wedding.” Tom starts cracking up again.
Mum sits down next to me, looking even more puzzled. “What’s he talking about?”
I tell her about Cindy and Jim. “They’re getting married in a hotel called the Waldorf Astoria,” I add at the end.
Mum and Dad’s eyebrows do a synchronized lift.
“The Waldorf Astoria?” Dad says dreamily.
‘In New York,” Mum says, looking equally dreamy.
“Yes. I’ve got all their details here.” I hand Mum Cindy’s and Jim’s business cards. “They asked if you could call them as soon as possible. I know we don’t normally do international weddings but I thought it was best to let you talk to them. I hope I did the right thing.”
Mum and Dad look at each other and then they both grin at me.
“Oh, you did the right thing, darling,” Mum says, hugging me to her.
As Mum and Dad start chatting about the Waldorf Astoria, the text alert goes off on my phone. It’s Elliot.
OMG—my dad just asked me if I’ve got a girlfriend yet!!! Thinking I might have to hire a team of cheerleaders to spell it out for him. Enjoy your sleepover with Mega-Bitch :P
I quickly type a reply.
Either that or you could get Choccywoccydoodah to ice it on a cake for him. And thank you—I think ;) Pxxx
Almost immediately my phone goes off again. But this time it’s from a new number.
Hi, Pen, do you want to meet tomorrow at Lucky Beach? About 12? We could have lunch . . . Ollie x
I stare at my phone in shock. Even though I am the Clumsiest Person in the Universe, and even though he thinks I might have fleas and a chronic wind problem, Ollie wants to meet me! For lunch! At a proper restaurant! Oh my God . . . I think I’ve just been asked on a date!
Chapter Five
If there’s anything guaranteed to wipe the probably-just-been-asked-out-on-a-date smile off your face, it’s the sight of one of your best friends sitting on your bed, staring sullenly into space like she’s about to keel over and die from boredom. Since Megan got here, twenty minutes ago—or it could be twenty days, it feels that long—everything I’ve suggested we do has been greeted with a bored shrug or a tight-lipped “no thanks.” What was the point in her coming over if she’s just going to sit and sulk all night? And then I get it. This must be my punishment for what happened at JB’s last night. She obviously still hasn’t forgiven me for breaking her fingernail. I internally groan. What was I thinking, asking her over? How could I have possibly imagined it would be like our sleepovers used to be?
Megan and I have been friends since our first day at secondary school, when our teacher sat us next to each other. I’ll be honest: at first this friendship was formed out of fear. I’d spent the entire summer holiday worrying that no one would want to be my friend and I’d be destined to spend SEVEN YEARS drifting from classroom to classroom alone. But it wasn’t long before our friendship changed from desperate to genuine and all of my fears faded away.
My favorite memory of me and Megan was when we were twelve and my dog Milo had just died. (Milo dying is not my favorite part—obviously—that was one of the worst things that ever happened to me.) But, when she found out, Megan came around to my house with a little goody bag of gifts, including a poem she’d written about Milo called “Cutie Paws” and a framed photo of me chasing him around the park. That’s how she used to be—kind and caring. But then she got into acting and it totally changed her—especially when she got her first TV role. Megan calls it a TV role but actually it was for a TV advert for GlueStick. She had to stick two pieces of card together and smile at the camera and say, “Wow, it’s so sticky!” She was only on-screen for about five seconds but the way Megan talks about it, it’s as if she’d been cast in the lead role of a movie. And ever since then it’s like she thinks she’s better than everyone else. Including me. Now, every time I’m with her I feel as if I’m being interviewed for the job of best friend and I spend the whole time dreading I’m going to say or do the wrong thing. Like right now.
“So . . .” I say. “What would you like to do?”
“Dunno.” Megan looks around the room and her gaze comes to a rest on one of the photos on my wall. “Oh my God! Why have you taken a photo of a stone?”
I get a weird squirmy feeling in the pit of my stomach. The photo is of a snowy-white stone with three holes in it. According to Elliot, stones with holes in them always used to be considered lucky charms. “It’s a lucky stone,” I say.
“Why’s it lucky?” Megan stares scornfully at the picture.
“Because it has holes in it. Fishermen always used to take them on their boats with them, to keep them safe.”
Megan smiles a tight little smile. “You’re so quirky, Penny!”
Usually, I like the word “quirky.” But whenever Megan says it about me it sounds like the worst thing in the world and it makes me want to punch her. I hug a cushion to me and sigh. I can’t face an entire night like this. I have to do something to rescue the situation.