Chapter 23
The new school term came with the excitement of a whole new adventure: Buddy Time with Ronan. But it also came with the dread of exams, revision, career decisions …
‘And remember our driving lessons, Brendan,’ Dad said. ‘We slacked off over Christmas but we need to get back on track.’
‘The best way to get focused is to have the test booked; there’ll be no better birthday present than a driving licence,’ he said.
He increased our lessons to three times a week, adding Saturday evenings and Sunday afternoons to the usual Friday evenings.
‘And what about your shifts at Feeney’s, Brendan?’ Mum asked. ‘Do you have to keep those same hours every weekend? You need to be using your weekends for revision.’
January and February were busy months at the funeral home, I’d have to keep the same hours; all day Saturday and half day Sunday.
‘Same hours, Mum, but when I get back on Saturdays and have dinner and driving with Dad I’ll do revision that night and then on Sunday I’m going to start early at Feeney’s so I can be back home for lunchtime, have the driving lesson with Dad and then I’ll study in the afternoon and evening.’
‘Goodbye, weekends,’ she said, raising an eyebrow.
‘It’s not as if I had much of a thriving weekend anyway, Mum,’ I said.
For the past three years my weekends consisted of working at Feeney’s, eating dinner at home and watching a rented film from Xtravision on Saturday night.
On rare Sundays, when Mr Feeney didn’t need me to work, Dad took me to the big shopping centre.
We very rarely bought anything, but always got an ice cream on the way home.
I had no friends outside of school to do anything with on weekends, so when Monday came I’d get a buzz of excitement at getting to see Ronan.
That had changed, though, especially since Jennifer had been on my mind a lot over Christmas and, as the new term approached, a buzz of excitement was building at the thought of getting to see her again.
I wondered if I’d been on her mind, too, and what she’d think if she knew I worked at a funeral home.
I enjoyed spending my weekends that way, though, it was a routine I’d become used to.
But now that I had exams to study for, driving to do and a friendship to build back …
‘And still no career decisions made?’ Mum said. ‘I’m starting to get concerned about that.’
I couldn’t be the only one in our year who didn’t know what they wanted to do when they grew up. I don’t even remember Ronan having talked much about it.
‘I don’t plan on growing up,’ he said one time. ‘But if I have to then I suppose I’ll end up doing something that doesn’t make me feel like a grown-up at all!’
‘Like what?’ I asked him.
‘Dunno, guess I’ll find out,’ he said.
I looked at Mum and, with all the confidence I could muster, said:
‘Don’t worry, Mum, I’ve got everything under control.’
‘Man on a mission!’ came a voice that stopped me in my speed-walk to Mrs O’Neill’s room. It was only then I realised how clenched my jaw was because when I turned to see Jennifer it opened into a smile.
‘Happy New Year,’ she said, walking towards me with her school scarf wrapped up high around her neck.
‘Happy New Year,’ I said, walking forward to meet her.
‘How was it?’
I told her all about Christmas Eve at Ronan’s house, about New Year’s and about the Buddy Time plan for the months to come and how everyone was worried I’d be under too much pressure.
‘I’ve even drawn out a schedule for Mrs O’Neill’s approval,’ I said, taking it out and showing it to her. I’d done it as neatly as possible and got Dad to laminate it down at his workshop.
Monday
Lunchtime: Science revision group with Mrs Robbins. Evening: Maths revision at home.
Tuesday
Lunchtime: independent French revision in the library. Evening: Buddy Time with Ronan.
Wednesday
Lunchtime: office applications revision. After school: Maths revision group with Mr Wilson. Evening: English revision at home.
Thursday
Lunchtime: Science revision group with Mrs Robbins. Evening: Buddy Time with Ronan.
Friday
Lunchtime: more French revision. Evening: driving lesson.
‘What do you think?’ I said.
‘I think it looks busy!’ she said, laughing.
‘Too busy?’
‘Probably nothing you can’t handle.’
She passed the schedule back to me and her fingers touched mine.
‘Your hands are freezing,’ she said.
I blew into them and did three jumping jacks and she laughed.
‘Anyway, you actually are on a mission and I’m holding you back,’ she said.
‘I didn’t get to ask about your Christmas break?’
‘I’ll tell you at lunchtime … or, wait … your schedule … well, I’ll tell you when I tell you, go!’
‘OK,’ I said, ‘wish me luck!’
‘Luck!’
I dashed up the path and when I reached Mrs O’Neill’s room I turned to look back and Jennifer was still standing there watching me. She gave me two thumbs-ups and then did three jumping jacks. I laughed and then knocked on the door.
‘It sounds like an awful lot to take on, Brendan,’ said Mrs O’Neill. ‘It’s a big year for you already, you need all your concentration to be on your exams.’
‘I’ve got it all planned out, Miss – look.’
I handed her my schedule and she took her time looking through it.
‘Have you discussed Events Management with your careers adviser?’ she said with a concerned-looking smile. ‘It’s certainly very well thought out. Although I don’t see homework scheduled in?’
‘I’ll fit that into my evenings too, Miss.’
‘And your weekends sound hectic as well. What’s this you were saying about a weekend job? Could they not give you time off?’
‘Doesn’t really work like that, Miss.’
‘I’m exhausted with the whole notion and I’m not even the one that has to do it!’ she said.
We smiled at each other.
‘But,’ she said, ‘I do think it’s wonderful that you and Ronan are getting to spend time together a couple of evenings a week, even if it does add to the weight of things.’
‘But it won’t feel like a weight, Miss, it’ll be more of a weight if I don’t see him.’
‘I’m agreeing with you, Brendan, I’m just worried about when you’re going to sleep!’
‘I’ll sleep when I’m dead, Miss.’
‘Oh, Brendan, don’t! Please don’t,’ she said, putting her hand to her chest.
‘I’m only joking, Miss. I know it’s a bit hectic-looking on paper but I can handle it. And my mum said that I’ve to speak up if things get too much at any point.’
‘Yes, I was about to say that – you do need to check in with me and let me know how you’re getting on and you need to be honest with me if you’re getting bogged under.
But you also need to hear me or your parents if we come to you and say it’s too much; it’s not that we’ll stop you doing everything but we may need to re-jiggle things.
Just as long as we have that open-door policy between us, deal? ’
‘Deal, Miss.’
But I didn’t want anything to change and I was sure the first thing they’d ‘re-jiggle’ would be my Buddy Time with Ronan. So no matter what, I needed to keep doubt from everyone’s minds. One yawn, one nodding head, any sign of weakness would jeopardise things.
‘So, just see how it all goes these first few weeks and we’ll take it from there,’ she said. ‘OK?’
‘OK,’ I said.
When I stepped out of Mrs O’Neill’s room the sun was blaring bright on a cold and frosty morning; my favourite kind of day.