Chapter 6 : Rare Day No More 

I sit in the middle of the table that is full with chatters and laughter. As time pass, I sink lower and lower in my seat until mum notices me.

“Maggie, sit up straight! You should be more like your cousin. Maybe I should sign you up for ballet too,” mum says enthusiastically. If she weren’t my mother, I would have punched her so hard that she’ll be knocked out and loose a few teeth.

Luckily for her, my DNA contains half of hers.

“No, thank you,” I say through my gritted teeth. I look down at my barely touched breakfast of toast bread and scrambled eggs. “May I be excused?”

Mum ignores my request and continues to talk to Juliet. I roll my eyes at my family. While mum and Juliet are talking and occasionally squealing, dad and Mac is discussing about sports. Needless to say, Rare Days no longer exist after yesterday’s dinner. The air was filled with cheerfulness ever since the arrival of Juliet.

Other than the extinction of Rare Days after perfectionist Juliet has arrived in our lovely home, everyone in this house – excluding myself, of course – had changed. Mum went through the biggest change. For once, she’s wearing a normal-looking blouse and jeans.

If you have forgotten, let me remind you why this is a big deal to me.

Mum is a fashion designer and she would wear strange clothing during or not during working hours. In her vocabulary, a normal blouse with no design on it and a pair of jeans is strange.

Thanks to the arrival of my cousin, my mum is no longer wearing her usual Lady Gaga dress thing or mismatched clothes.

My mum, for the first time since ever, is wearing something normal.

Before all of this happened, mum loved being different, even if she was also categorised as strange, as long as she wasn’t not normal. It was easy to find mum in a crowd; she’ll be the one looking like she came from a different universe.

Now…

Imagine my shock when I enter the house yesterday after sending Ellie home only to see my family casually having dinner without silence and my mum wearing normal attire.

The whole time, I was mentally making up theories on the transformation of my not-so-happy-yet-normal family to this happy-family-which-alien-from-Pluto-was-contacted-by-Juliet-to-replace-my-family-with-shapeshifting-amoeba.

The amoeba alien from Pluto kidnapping my family is my best theory so far.

Mum tried to include me in the conversation once in a while, but I only replied with short answers. It isn’t my fault that I’m not interested in ballet or French language or volleyball or piano playing.

Those are all Juliet’s talent, for your information.

“What are you planning to do during the holidays, cousin?” Juliet asks me. Her attempts to also include me into their conversation annoy me. If it isn’t for mum giving me the be-polite-and-answer-the-damn-question look, I would scowl and snap at my cousin with sarcastic yet sadistic remarks that can make her precious musically-gifted ears to bleed.

“Just studying,” I answer without looking at her. If I make the last day of summer vacation alive and sane, I’m going to celebrate with a lorry fully loaded with Coca-Cola.

Why did my uncle and aunt decide to leave for Paris and dump their daughter in Evenfield? Why didn’t Juliet just go to some fancy summer camp so she wouldn’t be ruining the Eriksson tradition of ignoring each other? Why can’t Ellie’s mother unground her so I can live with Ellie for the next three months?

“Maggie is pretty good with chemistry,” mum brags.

I mentally face palm right there. Oh Lord Coca-Cola, there she goes again. It isn’t the first time mum tries to show case my so-called talents. The only reason I have high marks in chemistry is because I actually studied that complicated subject. Not because it interests me.

The only thing that interests me is Coca-Cola.

“Mum, I really need to go,” I plead when Juliet mentions something about a mathematic competition.

Mum ignores me.

“Mum, it’s important,” I try again, slightly pushing my plate of breakfast away from me.

Mum looks at me with raised eyebrows. Once again, I can’t help but stare at her makeup-less face. Sometimes I can barely recognize her new form.

“Why?” she asks, putting down her fork on the plate.

Juliet does the same and stays silent. What a busybody, I think. I would like to so badly snap at her, “Mind your own business!” except that I am not in the mood to get scolding from mum and ground me.

“I’m going to Ellie’s,” I state slowly, hoping that she would buy the lie. I just need to be out of this house. That’s all I’m asking. I can’t stand listening to my cousin’s blabbering about herself.

“ And I’m going to town to get a temporary job,” I add when I sees mum’s disapproved face.

“Really?” mum asks. No doubt she’s unconvinced. This is the first time I’m doing something that doesn’t involve indoor.

“Yes,” I wince. Great, what did I just do? I buried myself deeper than I was before. I should have thought about what to reason to use before using it.

“Off you go then,” mum dismisses me.

Once her words are registered in my head, I jump out of my seat and run off towards my room to get changed. The whole time, I’m planning to hang out with Ellie in her room, even if it means getting kicked out by her mum. I don’t care about anything as long as I leave this place I once called home.

Once I’m dressed in a blouse with the words Don’t Worry Be Happy and a pair of skinny jeans, I skip my way to the exit of this hellhouse.

“Goodbye, Tuna,” I sing when I pass by my orange cat who is busy licking himself.

“Oh, Maggie!” mum says, making me freeze in tracks.

“Yes, mum?” I reply slowly, bracing myself for her to say no and then tell me to sit back down and finish breakfast.

Instead, it’s far worse. “I want to see your pay check in one month’s time.”

“Why?” I ask in a whiny tone.

“So that I know that you’re not lying to me. Good luck and buy some bread on the way back,” mum says, waving me off.

That leaves me fuming at my mum. God, she frustrates me times like this. Now I can’t go to Ellie’s house and stay there for the rest of the summer.

Why did I even blurt out about getting a job?

Stupid, stupid, stupid, I chant in my head as I stalk out of the house.

Once I reach town, I waste no time by entering every shop that has a vacant job poster. Most of the shops are restaurants and the only requirement that I can’t fulfil is being able to communicate with the customer.

What embarrasses me more is when the person in charge of interviewing me makes me nervous and stammer out squeaky answers.

After two hours of job-hunting, I sit on a bench to take my breath. Needless to say, I’m tired and angry at myself.

“Why was I so stupid?” I ask myself out loud. “I should have sneaked out of my room or say that I have a study appointment. But no! Why is getting a part-time job so hard? Why am I so anti-social?”

“Excuse me,” a deep voice from behind says. It is so sudden that it makes me jump out of my seat and prepare to defend myself.

The owner of the voice is my German neighbour and the man who stood next to me while I was enjoying the air conditioner in Carrefour.

“Sorry!” I instantly say. “You startled me. I’m sorry. Sorry. Startle me. Okay. I’m okay. Sorry. I should really shut up now. Yeah.”

I sit down.

The man laughs and takes a seat next to me. “No need to apologize. You live opposite of my house, ja?”

“I… uh, yes… I’m your neighbour… Mr…” I stammer. If only I am next to myself, I would punch myself repeatedly for being such a coward when talking to people.

“I’m Edmund Schmidt. I have business here. I heard that you have a difficult time at finding a job and I am in need of a worker,” he says.

“Oh!” I say, looking at him in surprise. “What kind of business?”

“I own a bookshop and a petshop. My wife has a language centre,” he tells me. “There is a job at the petshop as a cashier. Are you interested?”

I think about his offer. It kind of makes me feel unfair that he offers this job to me only because I’m his neighbour.

“Cashier at a petshop?” I repeat. “That sounds great! I mean, splendid! When – uh – you know, I can start – um – working?”

“You can start tomorrow, that is if you’re free tomorrow,” Mr. Schmidt says gently. “We’ll talk about your pay and the days you have to work tomorrow. You know where is ‘The Schmidt Petshop’, right?”

“I know where,” I assure him quickly. It doesn’t stop me from stammering a little towards the end.

God, I hate my stutterings. It is like the movie The King’s Speech all over again.

Mr Schmidt smiles and then “See you tomorrow then, Miss…”

“Eriksson. Maggie Eriksson. I live opposite of your house so if you need anything, you can, you know… uh…” It’s so difficult to phrase my words now.

I really hope Ellie’s speech therapy works. I hate being awkward all the time.

“Thank you, Fehltreffer Eriksson. You have no idea how difficult it is to find workers who wants to work in a petshop. Most of them prefer to work at boutique and restaurants,” he tells me before standing. “Have a good day. Auf Wiedersehen!”

“Goodbye,” I reply a little too late since Mr. Schmidt has already disappeared.

I take out my phone to call Ellie and inform her of the good news. I cannot believe it. I, Maggie Eriksson, have finally got a job.

“Hello,” Ellie’s voice comes out sick and exhausted.

“Ellie! Are you okay?” I ask worriedly. She doesn’t sound as cheery as before, which scares me. Ellie Hurtfield never sounds sick, even when she does come down with a flu or fever.

Ellie does not say anything for a while. “Yes,” she says hesitantly. “I’m okay. What’s up?”

“You’re not okay, Ellie,” I state firmly. “I’m coming over. Expect me in ten minutes’ time.”

“Wait,” she says alarmingly and very awake. This makes me frown. “Don’t come. Please.”

“I will when you tell me what’s going on,” I cajole, standing up and walking towards my car. Even if she tells me her reason, I’m still going over to her house. I don’t care if her mother stops me. I just want to see my best friend and comfort her physically.

Ellie stays silent again.

“I’m coming over,” I say when I spot my car not far away from me. I wonder what’s causing Ellie to be sad. I rarely witness a quiet and sad Ellie all my life. Even when her boyfriends dump her, she would put on a brave face. Or when her popular friends decide to talk behind her back, she would pretend not to hear it and continue living life as it should be.

That’s the brave Ellie Hurtfield I’ve known ever since we were young.

I know it must be something serious.

“Wait! Maggie, don’t – ” she protests, but I hang up on her.

I’m absolutely certain that something had happen. How do I know? She called me ‘Maggie’ instead of ‘Mags’.

I enter my car and start to drive towards the Hurtfield residence.