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Make Believe

Claire McNelis
Crana College, Donegal

The author of this month's story is Claire McNelis from Crana College in Donegal. Claire wrote in the previous issue of Student Xpress. Her article, 'Junior Cert Diary' was very well received by our readers.

For want of money and anything better to do, I agreed to watch Laura, my 7-year-old next-door neighbour for several hours on Saturday. The weather guy had cheerfully assured me that it would be warm but once Saturday heard I was babysitting it decided to be cold and wet. ("Must have been a nice day in Dublin" my father had muttered, looking out at the rain.) I arrived at Laura's piano lesson, reluctant boyfriend Adam in tow, to wait for 15 minutes while Laura practised arpeggios halfway into another kid's lesson. The little trainee witch, enjoying the new-found delights of sarcasm, cynicism and insults appeared in a crop top I wouldn't wear with her jacket over her arm and greeted me with, "Oh, you again. Was Elizabeth busy?" Elizabeth is her usual babysitter.

"Hello, witch" Adam said, with a simple frankness that I have yet to acquire.
"Put your coat on, Laura, you'll get a cold" I told her. Laura looked indignant.
"Why do you always say that? Elizabeth never says that."
"Elizabeth doesn't have children."
"Maybe she had" Adam suggested. Laura regarded him with a mixture of apprehension, admiration and hatred. "Who're you?"
"You can call me sexy beast."
"What's your name?"
"Fine thing."
Laura exhaled impatiently and swore under her breath. At this stage we had begun walking home.
"How was piano lesson, Laura?" I asked in a somewhat pathetic attempt at conversation.
"None o' your business. And piano is shite, anyway."
"Laura…"
"Sorry. God."
The rain had transformed her caramel-coloured hair into a collection of rat's tails. She reminded me of a lost sea monster.
"Are you her boyfriend?" Laura inquired of Adam.
"Yes."
"Oh my God! You got a boyfriend?!" I knew Laura's shock was fake, but its similarity to my parents' reaction was creepy. And irritating.
"Have you got a boyfriend, Laura?"
"No."
"Well shut the hell up, then."

Laura sulked until we arrived at her house, but came to life again as soon as we got in the door.
"I'm starvin`!" she announced, rooting through the `fridge and appearing from behind the door with her arms full of jars, spreads, chicken, margarine, bread and God knows what else.
"I'm making a sandwich."
"Oky-doky."
"Don't say that, it's sad."
"I'll say whatever I want, Laura."
Laura held up her hands with her thumbs and forefingers forming right angles and joined them together to make a 'W'. "Whatever!"
I joined Adam in a brief tour of the kitchen and the adjoining dining room, even though I knew the house already.
"Charming child."
"Don't talk to me."

At that moment Snoopy, the family's Chihuahua entered the dining room and began to yip (the closest he can get to barking) crazily at us. It just stood there, annoying us for the hell of it. That dog is like Hitler and Cleopatra reincarnated together in one dog. I've never met anyone snobbier or more spoiled, human or canine. He sleeps on a silk rug at the end of Laura's bed, eats what the family eats, be it steak or pizza, gives his paw to some people and tries to attack others (or just barks continuously, like he was doing now), refuses to go out for walks and won't even look at another dog unless it is a pedigree ("Sniff your ass? Me?! Don't you know who I am?"). I have no idea how he can tell the difference; he must have been trained to do that somewhere. Adam picked Snoopy up and dropped him out the window. He pointed to someone in a family photo.
"Who's that?"
I peered at the picture. "That's Brian, Laura's brother."
"What age is he?"
"18."
"Good-looking, isn't he?"
"I suppose."
"I don't want you babysitting here anymore. You might fall for him. Then I'll have to kill you and run off with your mother, who will divorce your father. Then I might have to kill him too. And then decide I'm gay and go off with Brian here, who'll get cancer." Adam has a "Life is an episode of Eastenders" theory.
"What are youse talkin` about?" Laura carried with her into the dining room a plate holding an entire feast between two slices of bread.
"The probability of her going off with your brother."
"He wouldn't want you. Let's dress up!" Laura sat her plate with its edible monster on the coffee table and disappeared, returning a minute later with a huge box overflowing with clothes.
"You can't be serious."
"Please? You have to, anyway." She pulled out a green, black and orange dress that may have been acceptable, I don't know, during some blindness epidemic, and held it up against me.
"Hmm, enhances your figure but it washes out your tan." She held it up to Adam.
"Perfect! That is sooo you."
"Oh, you're right! Where have you been all my life?" Adam demanded of the hideous garment, pulling it on over his tracksuit. I honestly could not believe he was going to dress up.
"Is there a mirror? I need a mirror! Does my bum look big in this?" Adam adopted a worried expression and tried to look over his own shoulder.
"Oh no, you've lost a lot of weight" Laura assured him, running to fetch the mirror from the kitchen. "Put something on" she ordered me. I rummaged through the box which contained a pic`n`mix of bought costumes, home-made costumes, old clothes, dresses, shoes, hats, jewellery, even saris. I hauled out a cream T-shirt that had been cut into a fringe at the bottom and sleeves and put it on, along with a pair of colourful moccasins.
"How."
"How what?" Laura looked blank.
"It's what Indians say."
"Oh."
"There's wigs, too!" Adam exclaimed, pouncing on a white-blonde miniature haystack among the collection and positioning it on his head. Words cannot describe what he looked like.
"Ta-da!"
Laura had hysterics as my shameless boyfriend paraded up and down, supposedly like a catwalk model.
"It looks like a haystack!" she hissed at me.
"Exactly what I was thinking" I whispered back.

Adam spun round and pointed at us accusingly. "I know you're talking about me behind my back! I may be a dumb blonde, but I'm no fool." He fluttered his eyelashes effeminately. Laura leapt up and joined him on the "catwalk", clad in a pink and orange sari over the green trousers from a Peter Pan suit, as well as the hat.
"Oh, you have such a lovely figure! Do you exercise much?" Adam gushed.
"Well, I jog 20 miles before breakfast and later my personal trainer takes me through a brief workout." I have no idea where she gets this stuff.
"Maybe if I lost some weight my boyfriend wouldn't cheat on me anymore," Adam said.
"Oh, yeah, it worked for me."
"Really?…Is that Estee Lauder lipstick?"
"Yes, that's the only stuff I ever use."
"I usually go for Max Factor. Won't you join us?" Adam looked at me expectantly.
"No thanks, I'm not looking my best today." Actually, I was enjoying their "show" too much.
"Maybe you should put on something more comfortable. How about this?" Adam held up a skimpy nurse's outfit.
"Dream on, Adam."
He looked crestfallen. "Well, I had to try."

I sat back on my heels and watched a fashion show of mismatched witch outfits, wedding dresses, alien masks, Disney character costumes, crazy `80s leggings and baggy shirts, musketeer costumes (I have to hand it to him, Adam makes a very appealing Dartagnan), and everything in between. I had to stop the game briefly when a policeman's hat proved just a wee bit too inspiring, but they continued on parading their ludicrous ensembles, developing their ridiculous personalities. It was thought provoking, witnessing this fantasy world envelop and unite two opposites, freeing them to indulge their imaginations, and let me tell you, it was really bloody funny.

Laura's parents arrived home to The Wicked Witch of the West, Cinderella/ET and Pocahontas in their dining room.
"What are youse doing?"
"We're holding a fashion show" Adam replied.
"Who are you?" I noticed that Laura's father held a traumatised-looking Snoopy in his arms.
"I'm Adam." He shook their hands in turn. Laura's mother gazed with disdain at the "sandwich", by now a soggy mess, the top slice of bread having slid down the mountain of food.
"Ah, we'll just clear this up-" I began, pulling off my outfit and throwing it back into its battered cardboard home, Adam doing likewise.
"No, that's alright, we'll do that. Thanks very much. Here you go." Laura's father thrust a £20 note at me and Adam and I hurried to the door.
"Bye, Cinder-ET!"
"Bye, Witchy! Bye Pocahontas!"
"Goodbye, Laura."
"Can I borrow the-"
"Adam!"

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