. . . aND haPPY eNDINGs

When we reached the upper school teaching block, I said bye to Goose and we went our separate ways. She headed off to her form room and I headed off to the tuck shop where I guessed I’d find Gareth somewhere close to the front of the queue. Sure enough, he was being served just as I arrived. I stood to one side of the queue and waited as he took his change and a steaming hot dog from Mr Doughnut. Inside my pockets, the fingers on both my hands were crossed. I’m not sure why. I don’t think that crossing your fingers actually achieves anything.

Gareth turned away from the serving hatch and raised his hot dog to his mouth. And then, seeing me, he stopped. My fingers crossed even tighter and my mouth went a bit dry.

Gareth nodded. ‘All right, Biggsy?’

‘All right, Gaz?’ I said.

Gareth nodded again. ‘So you came back then?’

‘Hmm,’ I said.

‘Good,’ said Gareth. ‘I’m glad about that.’ And then he gave me a small awkward smile and turned away and began to walk towards our form room.

I panicked. ‘Gareth,’ I shouted. ‘Don’t go!’ Several people who were waiting in the queue for the tuck shop looked over at us. Gareth paused and turned back to look at me. His face had gone very red. I think mine had too because I suddenly felt abnormally sweaty.

‘Gareth,’ I said, quieter. ‘I want to say sorry.’

Gareth kicked at the ground with his foot. ‘It’s OK. Doesn’t matter now.’

‘No,’ I said. ‘It’s not OK and it does matter. If I hadn’t been such a one-way talker, you’d be playing for the Wales youth team by now.’

Gareth looked at his uneaten hot dog. ‘Coach Jenkins says I might get another chance.’

‘I’ve bought you something,’ I said. ‘It was meant to be a Christmas present really but I think you should have it now.’ I unzipped my coat and pulled out a stripy red carrier bag that I’d been carrying under my jumper.

Gareth looked at the bag and bit his lip. ‘Oh, I dunno—’

‘Please, Gaz,’ I said. ‘Take it.’

Gareth hesitated. Then he put his hot dog into my hand, took the bag from me and pulled out the T-shirt that was inside it.

A small hint of a smile played on his lips.

‘The thing is, Gaz . . .’ I said, suddenly speaking really quickly and really nervously, ‘. . . the thing is . . . if we’re going to carry on going out with each other, I think there have to be certain rules . . . and the first rule is that you’ve got to take your rugby career seriously and not go running off to Aberystwyth with me at the drop of a hat. You’ve got to be focused . . .You mustn’t let women . . . and that includes me . . . get in the way of your passion for the game. Because rugby is not a pastime, Gareth, it’s a way of life.’

Gareth nodded slowly. The hint of a smile was still on his lips. ‘OK, Coach,’ he said.

Still clutching Gareth’s hot dog, I took a deep breath. I wasn’t finished yet. ‘And also,’ I said, ‘I was wondering if you’re still going to the end-of-term disco tonight . . . because if you are . . . and if you don’t mind . . . I’d really like to go with you.’

Gareth frowned. I felt my heart sink. He began kicking at the ground again and said, ‘Oh I dunno, Lottie. To be honest, I’m thinking I might go night-fishing with my mate, Spud, instead. I’ve been spending too much time around girls recently. It’s given me a seriously bad attack of the Frillies.’

‘Oh,’ I said. ‘OK then.’ I could hardly speak. My jaw had locked and my heart had stopped. I guess that this is what it feels like to be dumped by someone you really really like.

Gareth scratched his chin as if he was turning over something in his mind. Finally, he said, ‘But seeing as it’s you who’s asking, I think I’ll give the night-fishing a miss.’

I stared at him. ‘You’re not dumping me?’

Gareth said, ‘Don’t be daft!’ And then he took his hot dog out of my hands and ate it.

I did a funny little laugh. I couldn’t stop myself. It was like a sudden unstoppable happy hiccup. We began walking together towards our form room. I took a deep breath. I still wasn’t finished yet. ‘Gaz,’ I said, ‘can I ask you something?’

Gareth looked at me warily. ‘Depends what it is.’

‘Well,’ I said, ‘. . . you know when we were in Ruthie’s kitchen the other day . . .’

‘Ain’t likely to forget,’ interrupted Gareth. ‘Worst party ever!’

‘Well,’ I said, ‘. . . you were explaining about why you came with me to Aberystwyth and you used this small word beginning with L . . .’

Gareth butted in. ‘Leeks?’

‘No, not leeks . . .’

‘Lunch?’

‘No, you said . . .’

Gareth continued to interrupt me. ‘Lollipop? Lard? Lobster?’

I stopped walking. Gareth stopped too. Standing on tiptoes so that I could reach his ear with my mouth, I whispered, ‘You said you loved me. Is that true?’

Gareth’s ear turned bright pink and so did the rest of his face.

I took another deep breath and put my hand up to his cheek so that I could turn his face towards mine. Our eyes met. Gareth has got very beautiful green eyes and even though those eyes are more than capable of completely fuddling my brain, there was no way that I was going to get fuddled right then.

‘I love you, Gareth Stingecombe,’ I said.

Gareth’s green eyes widened. For a moment, he seemed to freeze in shock. And then, to my enormous relief, the hint of a smile that had been playing on his lips for some time grew into a great big lovely one. Cupping my face in his hands, he said, ‘This has got to be the most amazing moment ever!’ And then, right in the middle of the schoolyard, he kissed me and we stood there swapping the most intense and incredible kisses until Mrs Rowlands, the Welsh teacher, told us to stop being inappropriate and get to registration.

And even though that was, without doubt, the best thing that happened to me today, it wasn’t the only highlight. Before I finish writing, there is something else I need to mention. On our way home from school, Goose and I spotted Elvis Presley standing on the traffic island in the middle of Whitchurch village. He was singing a song through his traffic cone to the people who were passing by. I turned to Goose and said, ‘I know this seems a bit random but I just need to have a quick word with Elvis.’

Goose looked gobsmacked. ‘I wouldn’t have thought he was your type,’ she said.

I grinned. ‘Oh, jog on, Goose. You know I’m not interested in types.’

We came to a stop by his bench. Through his vibrating traffic cone, Elvis said, ‘Hello there, little lady, are you feeling a bit more cheerful today?’

‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘But can you put your traffic cone down for a second, please, Elvis, because otherwise everyone in Whitchurch Village can hear.’

‘Fair enough,’ said Elvis and put his traffic cone beside him on the bench. ‘Is it a special request you’re after?’

‘No,’ I said. ‘I just wanted to say thank you for talking to me the other day when I was really depressed, and for telling me about Socrates and life’s rich tapestry and examining the knots and everything. I didn’t fully appreciate it at the time but I did later on . . . when I’d had a chance to properly think about it all.’

Elvis waved my thanks away with his hand. ‘My pleasure,’ he said.

‘Oh, and I got you a Christmas present,’ I said.

Elvis looked surprised. So did Goose. I unzipped my coat and pulled out a second T-shirt that I’d been carrying around with me all day. This one had been stuffed between my arm and the sleeve of my coat. You have to be quite creative when you don’t carry a school bag.

I passed the T-shirt to Elvis. He took it from me and looked at it. It was the T-shirt I’d had custom-made in Wrexham.

To be honest, I’d had half a mind to give it to Goose. She’s definitely magic so she certainly deserves to wear it. But somehow, I felt that Elvis might benefit from it more. And anyway, it was way too big for Goose.

Elvis Presley looked at the T-shirt, astonishment on his face. After a moment or two, he said, ‘This is for me?’

‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘I think it will suit you better than that T-shirt that says I drink therefore I am.’

Elvis reddened and looked down at a couple of empty beer cans that were resting by his feet. ‘Oh, I dunno. It’s very nice of you. But I don’t think this magic stuff really applies to me, does it?’

I shrugged. ‘Why not?’ I said. ‘I’m not much of a philosopher but I truly believe that the only person who can ultimately determine who or what we are is ourselves.’

Elvis looked even more astonished. ‘Crikey,’ he said finally. ‘I didn’t think they taught you kids anything at school any more.’ He smiled and then, to my utter delight, he pulled the T-shirt over his head and put it on over the top of his leather jacket. ‘Perhaps you’re right,’ he said. ‘And even if you’re not, thank you very much!’ Then with a big smile, he picked up his traffic cone and began singing some random happy song at the top of his voice.

Goose and I continued on our way home and I had tea with my mum and Ruthie – and in about two hours’ time Gareth Stingecombe is going to knock on my door and take me with him to the end-of-term disco where he’ll probably do bad beatboxing with Spud to all the Christmas hits on the CD player but still manage to make me the proudest and happiest girl in the entire school.

And there’s not much more to say really . . . except for one more very important apology.

And this time it’s to an elderly chinchilla who is currently sitting on my lap as I type all this into my computer. Because anyone with half a head knows that every pet deserves an owner who is totally devoted to them. So . . .

I’m sorry, Winnie, for running away and neglecting you and I PROMISE that it won’t EVER happen again.

And Winnie, who is probably the Wisest Chinchilla in the Whole of Wales, has just made a sweet chirping noise and bounced on to my desk to lick my hand. So I think this means I’m forgiven. And I’m really glad about that because Winnie’s opinion matters to me. He’s part of my world. And so is Ruthie and my mum and Goose and Gareth and even Elvis and Stevie and Lois. And to be honest, I think my life would be totally tragic and ridonkulous and untenable without them.