Improper Order Read online

  Of course, it is hard to be mature when all around you are kind of losing the plot. Fintan wants to make Hedda his bride, but he is not going about it the right way at all — he cancels plans with her all the time in order to stay in his counting house, counting all his money like a king in a nursery rhyme.

  I am now the go-to girl for relationship advice. The moustache-sporting man of men actually trusts me, for some reason. My advice is to stop cancelling plans because girls do not like that. I don’t like it when Joel or Ciara cancel plans on me and they are just friends. Imagine how bad it would feel if I were to have a lover do it to me. Fintan stopped me there and told me he did not want to imagine me having a lover doing anything to me and also that I was not allowed to have lovers until I was older.

  JOEL: My best friend since playschool. Joel is one of the parts of my life that makes me feel luckiest. Last year he was in a different school, but now he goes to my school which is working out marvellously for fun-having, but not so well for attention-paying. Joel is very good at sports but does not like them because he doesn’t see the point. He quite likes to watch people playing sports, though. Particularly rugby.

  Anyway, I told him that if he did not pop the question within the week, then I would do it for him, the way Joel put a profile for his little brother Marcus on an online dating website, just for fun, until his parents found out about it and got really angry.

  Marcus actually got a lot of attention, which is weird, as his profile picture was him (a three-year-old boy) dressed as Wall-E (a robot; Marcus likes robots). The teachers in primary school were all too right about the dangers of the Internet. There are a lot of scary adults out there. Luckily, Marcus had Joel to vet his potential suitors for him and weed out any creeps. At least he did till Joel’s dad, Liam, sat down with us and supervised the deletion of the profile. We did say on the site that he was thirty-eight, which was true, only in months not years. Not that I had much of a hand in it, apart from convincing Joel to give fake contact information.

  Liam was FURIOUS with the two of us and made us apologise to Marcus, even though he was too young to understand what was going on. Joel was made to mow the lawn from then till Easter, join a hurling team and start Mixed Martial Arts lessons as a punishment. He is not mad about hurling, but the MMA has grown on him. Liam coaches the hurling team, and I think he needed more members. He is always trying to get Joel to do sports. I think this probably contributes to Joel’s distaste for doing sports.

  Anne’s punishment was to get him to design and make a new robot costume for Marcus and to install a program that filters out any website with unsuitable material on it unless you put in a security code. Joel really needs to find out what that security code is. We can’t even look at recipes for chicken (‘HOT CHICK’) or watch that six-membered group of ukulele players we like so much (‘SEXTET’). It really is most inconvenient.

  Also, they told Fintan and he was going to install the same thing, only he didn’t have the time and then forgot about it. Joel was really annoyed at getting caught out, but he didn’t complain much about the many, many, many punishments that were heaped upon him once the jig was up. He is good at taking it on the chin. Joel’s weird like that. If I have something to complain about I kind of can’t help going on and on about it — like when Fintan forgot to pick me up that time, I texted Joel and Ciara and even Ella to let them know what a tool he was being. Important information, in my opinion.

  I don’t talk much about Mum dying, though. Not that I hide it from people or anything — that would have been quite difficult, what with the funeral and everything — but I didn’t, like, go on and on about how unfair it was and how much I missed her. How much I still miss her.

  Weird that it has been over a year now since she died. I have had two birthdays. I am fourteen and a half. My hair has been two different colours and, for a brief period, in lots and lots of those little fancy plaits that Hedda does so well. I wear a bra now and I get my period, but not every twenty-eight days like the internet says you are supposed to. It comes about once every six weeks. I asked the GP, and she said it would probably settle into a more regular pattern when I was a bit older. Mum would have done the asking for me, if she was around. I wouldn’t have had to pretend to have a chest infection to justify a trip to the surgery. So I suppose that was another problem I didn’t talk about. Except to the doctor. And to Ciara. And to Joel, until he stuck his fingers in his ears and began to sing the national anthem.

  I assume Fintan knows that I am menstruating like a grown-up lady, though. He is very good about me missing swimming the odd week. I don’t know why Joel is so disgusted by the idea of me having a period. I mean, every woman does, or almost every woman anyway. I know that the thought of it is a bit gross. So is the reality of it, to be honest. It takes a bit of getting used to. And it’s hard to know what’s normal and what isn’t. I mean, in sixth class everyone was all ‘Have you got yours yet?’, like it was this REALLY BIG DEAL. And now I think we pretty much all have them but we don’t talk about it any more. Which sucks, because I still have some questions.

  So now I am a proper time-of-the-month-having woman, which means I am biologically equipped to start having loads and loads of lovely grandchildren for my beloved papa to take care of till I finish college.

  Note to self: Do not start having loads and loads of lovely grandchildren for Fintan to take care of until I finish college. I think the past year and a half has established that Fintan is not the best at child-rearing. I mean, he flounders and flaps around the place trying to look after a fourteen-year-old girl. My future babies would probably not last long if left to his tender mercies. One by one they would be abandoned at swimming pools and supermarkets, playgrounds and crèches. It would suck for them because they would not be equipped with grown-up survival tools like mobile phones and bus money.

  I could almost well up thinking about all my poor abandoned little illegitimate babies. I am also illegitimate. It is not a very nice word and was mostly used when priests used to put single mothers in homes and made them do laundry and gave their babies to rich married people. Mum took me to see a film about that kind of thing once, and after crying most of the way through it, we decided not to do laundry for a fortnight to honour the poor abandoned mums and their stolen babies. The great laundry boycott lasted a week and a half, until I ran out of socks.

  Fintan never does anything fun like that, mostly because he has the cleaning lady to do his laundry. Sometimes I put on a load or two, but if he sees me doing it, he gives out to me because I don’t put enough dirty clothes into the machine and that is a big waste of energy.

  He once asked me why I couldn’t put the dark things in as well, to save water. Then I had to explain to him about dyes running and things turning different colours and so on. The next day, he produced a small wrapped package from his bag. ‘This is for you,’ he said. When I opened it, it was a box of things called Colour Catchers. I thanked him, but I haven’t tried them out yet. I am not sure that I trust them. Maybe when I wash my red dress with the cream collar and cuffs I will use one. I don’t know why he wrapped it, though. It was not the kind of present one usually wraps, and when I opened it I was kind of disappointed.

  Fintan has a lot to learn about present giving. Also about proposing to his girlfriend. At one stage, he was thinking about putting the ring in Hedda’s dessert in a fancy restaurant. I told him that this was a sucky idea for two reasons.

  She almost always orders sticky toffee pudding, so the ring would get all dirty, and you don’t want sticky brown smears to feature in your proposal story.

  Proposing in a public place would put Hedda in a really awkward position if she wanted to turn Fintan down. (Fintan didn’t like this reason very much because I don’t think it had occurred to him that she might not be thoroughly delighted by the prospect of spending the rest of her life tied to him and him alone. He is very confident.) Because people would be watching and so on and so forth as she broke his busines
sman’s heart into a million little pieces with her cruel, cruel words. The decision to marry is deeply personal and should not be affected by smirking waiters and patrons going Aww’.

  I think Fintan should go the traditional route of taking her to a secluded spot of great natural beauty where they can gaze at the horizon happily or, if it goes badly, have a blazing row without anyone around to hear them.

  Ciara and I were talking about proposals the other day. She has already designed her wedding dress: it has three-quarter-length sleeves, a low standy-up collar, a sweetheart neckline and a sweeping skirt. She is not a fan of trains because you have to get flower girls to hold them up and kids’ hands are always filthy.

  She asked me about the cut of the ring. I did not know that rings had different cuts. Shapes, yes, but cuts? Fintan has chosen an elegant solitaire, apparently. Ciara can see why he would go for that, but she prefers a princess cut herself, more for the name than the look. ‘Every bride should be a princess’ is her motto.

  I do not think that every bride should be a princess. Because I think princesses are a bit passé. Also, I am my father’s little princess and, even though I do not let him call me that any more without rolling my eyes to heaven, I do not want him to have another princess. He has not called me his little princess in ages, actually. Maybe Hedda is his princess now. She does look a bit regal, so I suppose it makes sense.

  Ciara cannot believe it has taken Fintan so long to get around to proposing. Her dad proposed to her mum after six months of going out. And Fintan and Hedda have been going out for almost two years now.

  ‘By that logic, Ciara,’ I said, ‘Syzmon should have proposed to you already.’ At which she laughed and then looked a bit worried and said, ‘Why hasn’t he?’

  I told her that

  They were both far too young.

  He probably couldn’t afford a princess-cut diamond ring of sufficient quality.

  She wasn’t really convinced by because ‘we could have a really long engagement, until it was legal and stuff’. But number made ‘a LOT of sense’. Sometimes I despair of Ciara. She will probably end up married at eighteen to a professional footballer to facilitate her love of luxury.

  SOCIOLOGICAL: To do with society. Basically the way we live and interact with each other. If you study this, then you are a sociologist and might be called to give your opinion as part of a tacky documentary about social problems like teenagers running amok and all the drugs and pregnancies they are taking and having. If you are a good sociologist, you will probably steer clear of that sort of thing, though. I mean, who has the time?

  BOYCOTT: Having nothing to do with whatever you are boycotting. If you boycott a shop, you don’t shop there any more on principle. If you boycott a particular brand of cheese, you do not put it in any sandwiches whatsoever. People often do this sort of thing on principle, like if the cheese was made out of poor people’s kidneys as well as milk, or something. That is a disgusting thought. I would definitely boycott kidney cheese.

  TRAIN: Not the choo-choo kind. Like a long, sweeping piece of dress that trails elegantly after you. Usually found on wedding dresses and ballgowns. Not usually found on school uniforms, unless you attend a school for Disney princesses.

  SOLITAIRE: A one-player card game. Dad often plays a computer version of it when he is in the middle of working on very important documents. When you win, the cards swoop and swoosh around in a dance of joyous victory and it is really gratifying. He says it makes him feel like he has accomplished something and can go on to accomplish more, which is apparently a good frame of mind to be in, in his line of work. But it is also a cut of a diamond on jewellery. It’s probably the one that pops into your head as soon as you think of engagement rings because practically all of them are solitaire.

  TURNIP

  I am kind of obsessed with Laura, this girl from my swimming class. Not in a bad way — I just kind of want her life. She is an amazing swimmer and has these really effortless good looks: honey-blond hair and clear, clear skin. I have never, ever seen her with a spot. Not once. And her swimsuit has a really low back.

  She is very friendly but, like all human dolphins, she does tend to squeak a lot, particularly if anything exciting is told to her. She gets straight As, which I do too, but she is super popular as well and her friends throw house parties and take each other on holidays when they go. Fintan would never think of inviting Joel or Ciara to go on holidays with him. Or me, for that matter. He goes on holidays with Hedda; I get minded. Such is the way of the world.

  Laura’s parents have an apartment in France. Because her mum is French. Did I mention she has both a mum and a dad and that, by all accounts, they co-exist happily?

  Also, her boyfriend Mac is kind of amazing. He looks like a troubled vampire, all pale and lean and angular, and he drives a funky little moped on which he picks her up from swimming every week. Mac is always giving her presents, but not lavish ones, really thoughtful ones. Like goggles that don’t let the water in or a jar of red and purple Skittles. (Laura only likes the red and purple Skittles.) When Mac and Laura are together, they look like an ad for a perfume called ‘Perfection’. Or ‘Happiness’.

  But the thing I am most jealous of about Laura is that it is impossible not to like her. She’s so friendly and funny and self-deprecating and she genuinely seems interested in people. If I had that kind of life, I think I would assume that everybody else was less fascinating than me and treat him or her accordingly. But she’s really sweet and even gave me some of her Skittles, that time Mac gave her Skittles.

  I wonder what Mac is short for. Macaulay? Macmillan? MacHandsome? It truly is one of life’s great mysteries. One I would like to solve by kissing him all over his lovely mouth. That is, if he wasn’t Laura’s boyfriend. That is, if a boy that hot would even look at me. Not that it’s all about looks. Except it totally is. I haven’t even spoken to him once. Unless waving goodbye to Laura as the two of them mopeded off into the sunset together counts. This actually happened once. We got out of swimming just as the sun was setting.

  It was enough to make me sick. When I told Ciara about it, she kind of shut me down because it is not OK to fancy men who belong to other women. I think she was pre-emptively stopping me from fancying Syzmon. Which I totally never would because looking at Syzmon doesn’t make me all fizzy inside, like some sort of sexy lemonade. Joel is a better person to share boy-fancying with. If he met Mac, he would probably fancy him too. Because he is a human being with eyes. Such is the potency of Mac.

  I hate having such an envious nature. I’m jealous of so many people and the things they have. Things like beauty and friends and the easy grace of the world’s most adorable sea mammal when they swim. I’m jealous of Ciara for having sleek hair and the kind of perfectly pointed chin that girls in romance novels who end up with attractive knights have.

  Having trolled through all of Mum’s Viking books, I am now delving into the world of the knight. This is weirdly helping me with my history, because if you leave out the sexy bits, sometimes you find a chilling indictment of the feudal system that gets my essays called ‘insightful’ by Miss Griffin. Also, they talk a lot about notable battles, even if the only reason for them was to have the hero wounded on his smooth, tanned chest, so the heroine can look at it and bandage his wounds lustfully and sometimes stroke his knightly chest hair.

  When I grow up I think I would like to write my PhD thesis on the difference between sexy knights and sexy Vikings. Also their respective cultural impacts. I think it is what Mum would have wanted.

  PHD THESIS: When you do a PhD, you have to write a big thing called a thesis. This is about a million words long and can be about anything you want, as long as it is linked to your PhD. When it is finished, you get it bound and then no one but your lecturer ever reads it, according to Mum’s friend Méadhbh. And she should know, because she is a doctor of Women’s Studies. Which is quite cool, but not very much help when someone is having a heart attack in a restaurant. />
  OK, it totally isn’t, but doesn’t it sound fun?

  SELP-DEPRECATING: Being able to recognise your faults and share them with others, often in a humorous manner. This is not to be confused with self-loathing, because self-loathing is a bad thing, but self-deprecating is a good thing. Dolphin Laura is sometimes self-deprecating, and this is lovely, because she is almost perfect, so when she points out her nerdy love of colour-coding study notes or her lack of a skincare regimen, this makes her more relatable. Because I lack a skincare regimen too! Oh, Dolphin Laura, we could be twins! Except I would be the less attractive and talented darkly jealous twin with a whopping crush on my sister’s boyfriend.

  CULTURAL IMPACT: The impact a thing has on culture. Like Michael Jackson had a big cultural impact, because almost everyone knows who he was and he influenced loads of other musicians and dancers and music video directors and people with more money than sense. Laura the Human Dolphin LOVES Michael Jackson. She claims singing ‘Beat It’ in her head makes her swim faster. I tried it once, but it just made me get water up my nose.

  MUM’S VIKING BOOKS: One of the things that Mum left behind when she died was a big box of trashy romance novels, several of which feature sexy Vikings. Dad gave a lot of her stuff away to charity shops without checking with me first, which kind of sucked at the time and continues to kind of suck, but at least I have the brawny and imaginary arms of the sexy Vikings to comfort me in my hour of need.

  BOYS I LIKE (5, 3)

  I know it is silly and pointless and that he is two years older than me and that that is a big deal at our age and that he is cooler than me and has more friends than I do. But it is hard to stop liking him when I see him every day after school. He is in TY this year, so he has loads of free time to faff around the house being unconventionally attractive. I say unconventionally because Ciara doesn’t see it AT ALL, and she is usually quick to find someone to be cute. Joel doesn’t see it either and I assume Ella wouldn’t, seeing as how he is her brother.