.

– another Facebook message.

       AnnMurphy: You there? School was so boring for the last week. You didn’t miss anything. Mrs Byrne actually dozed off on the last day in class. Lol.

      I grin, picturing the scene, and before I can psychoanalyse any further, I answer.

       EvieGuinness: Lol! What about Kent, was she still in that foul mood?

       AnnMurphy: Yep. She had a go at Shauna, proper lost it.

       EvieGuinness: She’s gonna blow any minute.

       AnnMurphy: Like a grenade.

       EvieGuinness: Pow!

       AnnMurphy: LMAO hey what you at?

       EvieGuinness: Nothing.

       AnnMurphy: Are you feeling better?

       EvieGuinness: I’m fine.

       AnnMurphy: I wanted to talk to you about what happened. I feel really bad about it.

       EvieGuinness: I’d rather not discuss it.

       AnnMurphy: K. But I’m sorry.

       EvieGuinness: K.

       AnnMurphy: I better go peel the spuds. Mam has been shouting for me to help get dinner ready for ages. Chat later?

       EvieGuinness: I’d like that. Laterz.

      ‘It’s nice to see you smiling,’ Dad’s voice takes me by surprise. He’s standing in the doorway, watching. Damn it, I need to get them to let me close my door again. ‘You want something to eat?’

      I shake my head and feel my smile slip away. Dad looks like he’s going to try persuade me to eat, but changes his mind and walks out. I’m so irritated with him and Mam right now. I don’t buy the whole happy families gig that they have been on for the past few weeks. For months it’s been obvious that they can’t stand each other. The truce since Pops died is about to end any day now. I can feel it.

      As for Nomad, part of me thinks, well played, Pops. Nothing suits me better than to get away from all of this drama for the summer. What have I got to stay around for? I sneak a look at the list of ‘friends’ who are online on Facebook. Are any of them really friends? Did any of them stand up for me when I was getting bullied? I don’t think so.

      I look for Luke. Nope, he’s not there. The only person I want to see, but it appears that’s not the case for him. One perfect evening with him, and then he disappears off the face of the earth. Have Martina and Deirdre been spreading rumours to him about me? I thought he was different. I thought he really liked me.

      Yes, we should go on this trip. It’s what Pops wants and I’ve nothing to stay here for. Although, how the hell I’ll cope living so close with my crazy family, I don’t know. At least here I can disappear to my room. Sometimes I wonder how we’re even related. I’ve always felt a little different to them. I’m not saying that to be dramatic and I don’t mean it in a bad way. We all kind of look alike, but we don’t like the same things. Dad calls me the family’s resident geek.

      Pops used to say, ‘The people who make fun of geeks, usually end up calling those same geeks “boss” one day.’ Pops always knew what to say to make me feel good. I picture being Martina or Deirdre’s boss one day. I’d make their lives hell. See how they like it having someone on their case morning, noon and night. Ha!

      Pops was a geek too. That’s why we got on so well. But now he’s gone and I’m all on my own. Who’ll buy me the Guinness Book of Records Annual now? I can’t remember a year when he didn’t buy it for me and we’d spend hours poring over it, checking out the new entries. A pain stabs me with the realisation that we will never do that again.

      ‘Time to check out the family annual,’ Pops would joke every time. Pops had me convinced for the longest time that the whole thing was named after us. We swore we’d do a record attempt one day together.

      Another pain of regret. My bad, Pops. I should have made us do something when you got sick. I should have thought about you instead of all of the stuff going on in school and online.

      I should have … damn it …

      I pick up the 2015 album and flick through it to try and stop the should-haves driving me demented. I love reading about the crazy things people do to break records. At a guess, I would say that for almost every day of my life since I was seven I’ve read about at least one new record. Some are much cooler than others. Some are downright weird.

      ‘There’s nowt so queer as folk,’ Pops always says. Said. It’s past tense now. I bite my lip till I taste metallic blood. It works and I hold my own record for being the non-crying Guinness family member.

      I come to the bookmarked page, the last thing I ever read to Pops. The day he died, I told him all about this guy from the Czech Republic. A dude called Fakir something or other. Anyhow, he only decided to break the record for the most days being buried alive. Why anyone would want to do that baffled us, but I was fascinated by the actual doing of the feat. Yep, Pops, you’re right. Nowt so queer as folk.

       Chapter Eight

       EVIE

      I take a peek at my phone to see if Ann’s been on again. We’ve been chatting on and off for hours and while it’s just chit-chat, it’s fun. I like her.

       AnnMurphy: Your folks still at it?

       EvieGuinness: Yep. Whisper-fighting now. Like, yeah right, we can’t hear you.

       AnnMurphy: Scarlet for them. When Mam and Dad fight, they go at it like hammer and tongs. All shouters in our house.

       EvieGuinness: Mine use silence like a weapon of mass destruction. And the looks they are throwing at each other, all the time. Can’t cope.

       AnnMurphy: Talking of weapons, Martina had something that looked like a nuclear explosion on the end of her chin today.

       EvieGuinness: Wtf?

       AnnMurphy: Seriously, it should be paying her rent, the size of that spot.

       EvieGuinness: Stop, you’re killing me!

       AnnMurphy: That zit was killing me. You didn’t have to look at it! Btw, just put your earphones on, then you don’t have to listen to them fighting.

      And just like that, I feel better. I never realised that Ann was so funny before. I get up and put headphones on, and drown out Mam’s voice shushing Dad. Who do they think they are kidding? I’m not stupid. I can read the subtext. It’s actually insulting the way they try to cover up their impending explosion of a marriage.

      ‘Just a little disagreement, nothing to worry about,’ Mam said last night, her voice all stretched like a rubber band about to snap. WTF? Hello, I’ve an IQ of 131 and she expects me to believe that! And I did that stupid IQ test on a day when I had a cold and my head was all mushed up. I’m not making excuses, I’m just stating facts. I could get at least 140 if I took the test again today.

      Mind you, there’s also a strong chance that the other week’s stupidity could have melted quite a few of my brain cells. So maybe I should be grateful for the 131 score.

      I flick through the books on my bedside locker, with no real interest.