Ipods in Accra Page 12

  Me: Well done! I got 4 As, 7 Bs incl science double award.

  Nelson: Thx. U did well but you’re a nerd anyway! ;) I got the prom gig with three other local DJs so I’ll see U tomorrow. X

  He’d joked around with me and there was a kiss at the end of the message! It felt odd knowing it was just a friendly kiss that meant something less than it did before. I knew everything wasn’t exactly the same between us and that there was no way he’d want to hear about Ghana or Nick, but I was pleased that we could text each other again. At least it meant there was one less boy out there who hated me.

  I told Bharti that Nelson would be DJing at our prom.

  ‘Ohmigod, that’s going to be awkward,’ she said.

  ‘Thanks, I feel so much better now,’ I joked. I knew she was right, but I really didn’t have any space in my mind to think about it.

  ‘Well, at least he’ll be busy DJing. I mean, there’ll be loads of kids at this prom, you might not even see him.’ Bharti shrugged.

  ‘Do you think?’

  ‘No, you’ll probably bump into him. Sorry, Makeeda, Sod’s Law.’

  I knew Bharti was right. We walked into the coffee shop and ordered our drinks. I was grateful that it wasn’t as packed as usual. Most people just wanted to buy their stuff and walk around in the sun, but Bharti and I needed to talk.

  ‘So Nick still hasn’t called or anything?’ Bharti asked.

  I shook my head.

  ‘Do you want me to call him?’

  ‘No way!’ I said, horrified. ‘This is my mess, I’ll sort it out. What’s going on with you and Rafi?’

  Bharti’s face lit up. ‘Mum said she’d had enough of this argument and made me choose. She said, as long as I was aware that Nana-Sunita would never ever accept Rafi and that I’d probably be cut from her will, then it was OK with her and Dad if I continued seeing him. They wanted to meet him first though. Makeeda, you seem shocked.’

  ‘No, I’m really pleased for you, Bharti!’ I said, but couldn’t stop my mind from drifting back to Nick. ‘I’m just glad one of us has a love life that’s working out.’

  ‘Well, yours will too. You can come with us to the prom,’ she said kindly.

  ‘Thanks, but I really don’t want to be that girl,’ I said.

  ‘What girl?’ Bharti asked.

  ‘You know, that girl who goes everywhere with her best friend and her best friend’s boyfriend.’

  ‘Excuse me, what do you think I did last year with you and Nelson at the end of term party?’

  ‘Yeah, but that was different.’ I replied. ‘We’d been together ages – you and Rafi haven’t been going out for long.’

  ‘Oh shut up! You’re coming with us and that’s that!’ Bharti said defiantly. ‘I’m sure Nick won’t stay mad much longer,’ she said, putting an arm across my shoulder. ‘Hey, why don’t you text him your maths result?’

  ‘OK,’ I said.

  Me: I got an A for maths, thx for all your help. Hope U R OK? X

  I stared at my mobile phone for a good ten minutes, hoping and praying that the envelope symbol would appear at the top of the screen. It didn’t, so I stuffed my phone in my bag. I was beginning to hate having a mobile phone. It just seemed to symbolise my disappointment and failure.

  ‘You seem heartbroken …’ Bharti said in a faint whisper.

  For some reason this angered me. I didn’t want to be a victim in anyone’s eyes!

  ‘I am not heartbroken!’ I said, louder than I would have liked.

  ‘OK, OK,’ Bharti said, holding her hands up. ‘So you’re not heartbroken.’

  ‘I’m not a wreck like those girls who think boys are everything. I’ve just got a chip. It’s a small chip that’s fallen from my oversized heart. Nothing’s broken and nothing’s beyond repair.’

  ‘Uh huh,’ Bharti murmured, sipping her drink.

  ‘I just reckon hearts should come with a guarantee or something, because sometimes they can take a lot of battering.’

  ‘Yup,’ Bharti said.

  ‘Thing is, because they don’t, we should probably take better care of them,’ I went on.

  Bharti nodded.

  ‘I just wish someone had told me the truth.’

  ‘What truth?’ Bharti asked.

  ‘The fact that, if you get too many chips, they can lead to cracks and eventually a broken heart.’

  ‘OK, so is that what you’ve got?’ she asked.

  ‘No, you’re not listening,’ I said.

  ‘Oh I am, and so is everyone else in this place.’

  I glanced around and it looked like I had the attention of everyone in the café. People who were five, twenty and even forty years older than me were pretending badly to not be listening. An elderly woman looked me straight in the eye and said, ‘Well, go on then, dear.’

  ‘The thing is, a broken heart isn’t easily mended. We’d need industrial-strength glue, or just a lot of time … and chocolate cake,’ I said.

  Bharti stared at me for some time and the silence between us seemed to be echoed throughout the café.

  ‘Ohmigod, Makeeda. Did that come out of a magazine or something?’ she said finally.

  ‘No, but I really wish it had. Then I could pretend that it was something I’d read about and didn’t really feel,’ I said quietly.

  Silence enveloped us again, for five long minutes. It was only broken when the sales assistant placed two slices of chocolate cake on our table.

  ‘We didn’t order this,’ I said.

  ‘No, that old lady did, and she said she hopes you don’t get any more chips.’

  Bharti and I looked up just in time to see the elderly lady leave.

  ‘Thanks!’ we chorused.

  She smiled and waved. ‘You’re welcome.’

  ‘Wow, you should go all weird on me more often, if it means we get freebies,’ Bharti said, tucking into her cake.

  I smiled and our conversation turned to the upcoming prom. We both had our outfits, although Mum was going to surprise me with mine tonight, as she and Tanisha had ordered it for me from America.

  I got home to find my new dress. It was a dark-green sleeveless kind of fifties style, except a strip of Kente was around the waist. I even had matching shoes.

  ‘Mum, it’s beautiful!’ I gasped.

  ‘I know. You’ll look fantastic. I’ll call Tanisha so you can thank her,’ Mum said, disappearing to get the phone.

  Even though the dress was stunning, I was about to go to a prom that my ex-boyfriend was DJing at and I didn’t have a date. In fact, I was probably the only girl going with her best friend and her boyfriend, instead of her own.

  ‘Here she is,’ Mum said, handing over the phone.

  ‘So what do you think?’ Tanisha asked eagerly. It was as if our row in Ghana had never happened.

  ‘It’s really lovely. Thanks,’ I replied.

  ‘I know, and you’ll fill it out in all the right places now. It wouldn’t have looked so good if you’d been slimmer; you haven’t lost any weight or anything, have you?’

  ‘Nah, I’m still the same me with additional curves,’ I said.

  ‘So what’s up?’

  I told her how I still hadn’t heard from Nick.

  ‘Have you thought about writing to him?’ she asked.

  ‘Yeah, I emailed him a while back. I just told him to contact me as soon as he got back from his trip.’

  ‘No, I don’t mean email or text messages; I mean snail mail. You know, pen and paper writing,’ Tanisha said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Yeah, write him a letter,’ Tanisha continued. ‘I know in all those magazines it tells you never to write letters to someone you like but this is different.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘You’ve known Nick all your life. Even if things don’t work out, you’ll still be in each other’s lives because our families know each other,’ Tanisha replied.

  ‘OK, but what do I write?’ I asked.

  ‘Makeeda, write what you th
ink he needs to hear; but write truthfully and from the heart,’ Tanisha told me. ‘

  Is that it?’

  ‘Yeah, it’s down to you. I don’t know what’s really in your heart! But you’ve got to get it right – you’ve only got one chance,’ she said, then changed the conversation back to my prom. We discussed what type of jewellery she thought I should wear and how I should do my hair, but I was only half listening. I had a letter to write and hand deliver before the end of the night.

  Dear Nick,

  Dearest Nickolas,

  Dear boyfriend,

  Even for me, that was a bit presumptuous. And weird.

  Dear Nick,

  I don’t know if you’re still angry with me, never want to speak to me again, or just wish you’d never asked me out. I don’t know, because I haven’t heard from you since we were standing in Nana-Amma’s kitchen, in Ghana.

  I do remember the look on your face when you left. I do remember that I was the reason you had that expression and I’m sorry.

  I want to explain why I was silent when I should have been at full volume. The truth is, I was so caught up in being Ghanaian, that I forgot what it was like to be a friend. It was like I forgot how to treat other people. I didn’t want to listen when you told me about a maid’s situation being complex. I was wrong.

  I couldn’t see that I wasn’t the only one who had to deal with a label I was uncomfortable with. I wish I had been braver then. I know now that I don’t have to prove my identity to anyone. I can just be me and be from two different parts of the world and have two different ways of seeing it. One isn’t more important than the other. I can’t imagine what it’s like for you, having Polish, Ghanaian and British cultures – especially when other people want to label you with just one of them.

  What I do know is that I know you. You’re the boy who got into a fight for me when we were in primary school, the entrepreneur who sold his smoothie recipes to cafés and shops before he was fourteen and the boy who gave up his time to teach his best friend a subject she hated.

  You deserve to have people around you who can see you for who you are: amazing.

  I know I’ve messed up and I know I don’t deserve a second chance, but I hope we can be friends again. If I can gain your friendship back, I want to prove that I am the girl you’ve always believed me to be.

  Yours sincerely,

  Makeeda

  X

  I didn’t finish writing the letter until nine-fifteen and even then I spent fifteen minutes hunting down an envelope. I went to Nick’s house and dropped it through his letterbox.

  As I turned away, I hoped he’d read it and not tear it up as soon as he recognised my handwriting.

  Chapter 15

  The Last Dance

  At last, it was prom night and I was actually looking forward to hanging out with Bharti and Rafi. I was about to start getting ready but first I was determined to confront Delphina.

  ‘What’s going on, Delphy?’ I asked, walking into her room.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘All that stuff about forging Mum’s signature, to get the funds for your latest scheme?’ I said.

  Delphina looked away from me and returned to flicking through Marketing Weekly magazine.

  ‘Delphy, I know you’re lying, I just haven’t had the time to ask you about it yet. I remember what you were like when you heard that the owner of punctuationmark.com was accused of fraud. You sold every product you’d bought from that website! I know you wouldn’t do it, so fess up!’ I said.

  ‘OK, OK! I didn’t use that money; I never forged Mum’s signature. I got the money from Uncle Paolo two months ago,’ she said.

  ‘But Uncle Paolo and Auntie Leila have been out of contact for ages. We only heard from them the day we flew to Ghana … Oh Delphy, they called us here, but you lied about it?’

  Delphy just stared at me, looking sheepish.

  ‘Oh boy, they’ll kill you,’ I said.

  ‘Yeah, but I had to. My money is all tied up in that stupid trust fund!’

  A few months ago, Mum and Dad had started to put any money Delphina earned in a trust for her education. She wouldn’t get a thing till she was eighteen.

  ‘Yes, but you know how Mum and Dad feel about borrowing money. Especially from relatives!’ I said.

  Mum and Dad had had a falling out with one of Dad’s cousin’s many years ago and vowed never to lend or borrow money.

  ‘Makeeda! Hurry up! Bharti will be here in an hour,’ Mum shouted from across the landing, interrupting out conversation. She was in her and Dad’s room.

  ‘Mum, I can get ready in an hour,’ I shouted back.

  ‘Isn’t that how long it takes you to get ready to go to school?’ she said, appearing at the doorway to Delphy’s room.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘This is your prom, Makeeda?’ Mum added.

  ‘Good point,’ I said, turning to leave.

  ‘Delphina,’ Mum said in a deadly serious voice. ‘I need to talk to you about your real investor, because he just called to say he hopes for a good return.’

  Delphina’s face dropped and I could see she was pretty frightened.

  ‘See you, Delphy!’ I said, leaving the room and rushing to the bathroom. I did feel bad about leaving her alone with Mum, but I could tell this was going to take a long time and there was no way I was going to be late tonight.

  I was doing my make-up when Bharti arrived. She sat on my bed in her midnight-blue dress that made her look five years older (in a good way). Her hair was pinned away from her face with jewelled hair-slides. It just proved what I always knew – school uniforms ruin people’s perception of you.

  ‘You look so gorgeous!’ I said.

  ‘Thanks, those dance classes helped work off a few pounds! You don’t scrub up too badly yourself. I can’t believe you actually have a cleavage and a proper booty!’

  ‘Ha flipping ha!’ I said.

  ‘So has Nick texted you yet?’

  ‘No,’ I said. I was trying to focus on having a good time, not thinking about Nick.

  After I’d finished my make-up, Mum took some photographs of us posing like supermodels around the house. Then Rafi arrived. We’d decided to meet him at my house so he could avoid another run-in with Nana-Sunitra. It was strange seeing Rafi with Bharti; he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Mum took a couple of photographs of the two of them together, and totally embarrassed me by actually crying and saying that she couldn’t believe how quickly Bharti and I had grown up. At that point I was definitely ready to leave and even Dad got twitchy and hurried us into his car.

  We got to the hall and had to wait a few minutes in the queue. As the number of students involved was so high, security had to be really tight: no one wanted gatecrashers ruining the night. When we got in, they put a tiny stamp on our hands so we could go in and out.

  Once inside, we found three rooms – one was the chill-out room, which had mellow sounds, the next was the dance and indie room and the third was the urban room. All three rooms were decorated differently: the chill-out room had a tiny dance floor, massive cushions and two huge TVs, and pink, red and purple fabric on the walls. The indie and dance room had strobe lights and huge guitars on the walls all decked out in black and white. My favourite room was the urban room, where everything was silver, glass, or mirrored – there were chandeliers and even a disco ball. You could float between the three rooms and there was loads of space for us all.

  Everyone was really amazed when they saw Bharti, because no one apart from me had been expecting her to look so stunning. It was the first time in ages that Bharti felt confident and comfortable with herself, and I think that this was partly because of her relationship with Rafi, as well as going to those dance classes.

  ‘Ohmigod, Makeeda, is that Bharti?’ Laura said excitedly.

  Laura and I weren’t exactly best friends and, about year ago, it had been more like enemies. It was mainly over Mel. Mel and I had been friends since nursery an
d all of a sudden she started spending more time with Laura than me. It didn’t help that Laura was mean to me at every opportunity. Mel and I sorted things out, but she’d barely been in touch since she’d gone to study in Manchester. After Mel left, Laura and I didn’t have that much to do with each other – we weren’t feuding or anything, but we only spoke to each other if we had to. She had taken different options, so our dislike of each other wasn’t too much of an issue.

  ‘Yeah,’ I said, smiling broadly.

  ‘Bharti looks so …’

  ‘Great, is the word you’re looking for,’ I prompted.

  ‘Nah, I was thinking OK. I mean, she kind of looks pretty … well almost. I wouldn’t have done my hair like that.’

  I rolled my eyes. Laura still had to be centre of attention 24/7 and couldn’t handle any threats to her queen bee crown. I looked at her short red dress – it highlighted her long honey-coloured hair and her spray tan. She always looked immaculate. Most of us had had our nails done specially for the prom, but Laura’s hands were always perfect manicured and she’d clearly got even more obsessed with her looks – I’d heard she’d spent the summer in LA.

  ‘FYI, Mel’s not coming. She’s got track trials tomorrow morning or something.’

  ‘Oh, thanks for letting me know,’ I said. I was a little disappointed, but I knew Mel would probably come back to London sooner or later.

  ‘Is it true you dumped Nelson?’ Laura asked.

  I stared at her and decided not to answer.

  ‘It’s just that I heard he’s going out with Ava now,’ she continued.

  I tried to hide my surprise. I had thought Ava and Nelson were just friends.

  ‘You know what, we split up. Sometimes it just happens, but if you really want the details, why don’t you ask him?’ I said, and I left Laura standing alone. I knew for a fact that Nelson would rather die than reveal the details of our breakup.

  I went towards the dance and room and bumped into Jordan.

  ‘Hey, pretty lady! You’re looking real good,’ he said, kissing my hand.

  ‘Hey yourself,’ I laughed.

  ‘You sure know how to fill a dress,’ he added, so I hit him.