If You Could See Me Now. Cecelia Ahern

at me. I waved and smiled back just in case. Well, you can never be too sure these days.

      Just as I was studying the face of the front door, it opened and was slammed shut rather loudly and angrily by a boy who came running outside. He had a big red fire engine in his right hand and a police car in his left hand. I love red fire engines; they’re my favourite. The boy jumped off the front step of the porch and ran to the grass where he skidded to his knees. He got grass stains all down his black tracksuit bottoms, which made me laugh. Grass stains are so much fun because they never come out. My old friend Barry and I used to slide all of the time. Anyway, the little boy started crashing his fire engine against his police car and making all these noises with his mouth. He was good at the noises. Barry and I always used to do that too. It’s fun pretending to do things that don’t usually happen in real life.

      The boy rammed the police car into the red fire engine and the head fireman, who was clinging to the ladder at the side of the truck, slid off. I laughed out loud and the boy looked up.

      He actually looked at me. Right into my eyes.

      ‘Hi,’ I said, nervously clearing my throat and shifting from one foot to the other. I was wearing my favourite blue Converse runners and they still had grass stains on the white rubber tips from when Barry and I went sliding. I started to run the rubber tip against the brick garden wall to try to scrape it off and thought about what to say next. As much as making friends is my favourite thing to do I still get a bit nervous about it. There’s always that scary chance that people won’t like me and it gives me the collywobbles. I’ve been lucky so far but it would be silly to presume that the same thing will happen every time.

      ‘Hi,’ the boy replied, fixing the fireman back onto the ladder.

      ‘What’s your name?’ I asked, kicking my foot against the wall on front of me and scraping the rubber tip. The grass stains still wouldn’t come off.

      The boy studied me for a while, looked me up and down as though trying to decide whether to tell me his name or not. This is the part of my job I absolutely loathe. It’s tough wanting to be friends with someone and them not wanting the same back. That happens sometimes but in the end they always come round because, whether they know it or not, they want me to be there.

      The boy had white-blond hair and big blue eyes. I knew his face from somewhere but couldn’t quite think where.

      Finally he spoke. ‘My name’s Luke. What’s yours?’

      I shoved my hands deep into my pockets and concentrated on kicking my right foot against the garden wall. I was making parts of the bricks crumble and fall to the ground. Without looking at him I said, ‘Ivan.’

      ‘Hi, Ivan,’ he smiled. He had no front teeth.

      ‘Hi, Luke,’ I smiled back.

      I have all mine.

      ‘I like your fire engine. My bes— my old best friend Barry used to have one just like it and we used to play with it all the time. It’s got a stupid name, though, because it can’t drive through fire because it melts,’ I explained, still keeping my hands shoved into my pockets, causing my shoulders to hunch up past my ears. It made things a little quieter so I took my hands out of my pocket just so I could hear what Luke was saying.

      Luke rolled on the grass laughing. ‘You put your fire engine through fire?’ he screeched.

      ‘Well, it is called a fire engine, isn’t it?’ I replied defensively.

      Luke rolled onto his back, kicked his feet in the air and hooted. ‘No, you dummy! Fire engines are for putting out fires!’

      I thought about that one for a while. ‘Hmm. Well, I’ll tell you what puts out fire engines, Luke,’ I explained matter-of-factly. ‘Water does.’

      Luke hit himself lightly on the side of the head, screamed ‘Doh!’, made his eyes go cockeyed and then fell over on the grass.

      I started laughing. Luke was really funny.

      ‘Do you want to come and play?’ He raised his eyebrows questioningly.

      I grinned. ‘Of course, Luke. Playing is my favourite!’ and I jumped over the garden wall and joined him on the grass.

      ‘What age are you?’ He looked at me suspiciously. ‘You look like you’re the same age as my aunt,’ he frowned, ‘and my aunt doesn’t like to play with my fire engine.’

      I shrugged. ‘Well, then your aunt is a boring old gnirob!’

      ‘A gnirob!’ Luke screamed with mirth. ‘What’s a gnirob?’

      ‘Someone who’s boring,’ I said, scrunching my nose up and saying the word like it was a disease. I liked saying words backwards; it was like inventing my own language.

      ‘Boring,’ Luke repeated after me and scrunched up his nose, ‘uugh.’

      ‘What age are you anyway?’ I asked Luke as I crashed the police car into the fire engine. The fireman fell off the ladder again. ‘You look like my aunt,’ I accused him, and Luke fell about the place. He had a loud laugh.

      ‘I’m only six, Ivan! And I’m not a girl!’

      ‘Oh.’ I don’t really have an aunt but I just said it to make him laugh. ‘Well, there’s nothing only about being six.’

      Just as I was about to ask him what his favourite cartoon was, the front door opened and I heard screaming. Luke went white and I looked up to where he was faced.

      ‘SAOIRSE, GIVE ME BACK MY KEYS!’ a voice yelled desperately. A flustered-looking woman, red in the cheeks, frantic eyes, with long unwashed red hair swinging in strands around her face, came running out of the house alone. Another shriek from the voice in the house behind caused her to stumble in her platforms on the step of the front porch. She cursed loudly and reached out to the wall of the house for balance. Looking up, she stared in the direction of where Luke and I were sitting at the end of the garden. Her mouth widened into a smile to reveal a set of crooked yellow teeth. I crawled back a few more inches. I noticed Luke did too. She gave Luke the thumbs-up and croaked, ‘See ya, kiddo.’ She let go of the wall, wavered slightly and walked quickly to the car parked in the driveway.

      ‘SAOIRSE!’ The voice of the person inside the house screamed again. ‘I’M CALLING THE GARDAÍ IF YOU SET ONE FOOT IN THAT CAR!’

      The red-haired woman snorted, pressed the car keys and the lights flashed and beeped. She opened the door, climbed in, banged her head on the side, cursed loudly again and slammed the door shut behind her. I could hear the doors locking from where I was at the end of the garden. A few kids on the road stopped playing and stared at the scene unfolding before them.

      Finally the owner of the mystery voice came running outside with a phone in her hand. She looked very different from the other lady. Her hair was tied back neatly and tightly at the back of her head. She wore a smart grey trouser suit, which didn’t match the high-pitched, uncontrolled voice she currently had. She too was red in the face and out of breath. Her chest heaved up and down rapidly as she tried to run as quickly as she could in her high heels to the car. She danced around beside the car, first trying the door handle and, when finding it locked, threatened to dial 999.

      ‘I’m calling the gardaí, Saoirse,’ she warned, waving the phone at the window on the driver’s side.

      Saoirse just grinned from inside the car and started up the engine. The lady with the phone’s voice cracked as she pleaded with her to get out of the car. Jumping from foot to foot, she looked like there was somebody else bubbling under her own flesh, trying to get out, like the Incredible Hulk.

      Saoirse sped off down the long cobble-stoned driveway. Halfway down, she slowed the car. The woman with the phone relaxed her shoulders and looked relieved. Instead of stopping completely, the car crawled along as the window of the driver’s side was lowered and two fingers appeared out of it, held up proud and high for all to see.

      ‘Ah,