Destiny Date (5 page)

Savannah flings them both at Treacle. ‘Put these on.’

‘Why do
I
have to be the model?’ Treacle complains.

‘Because Gemma has to practise being the audience,’ Savannah tells her briskly. ‘Hurry up.’

Grumbling, Treacle shimmies into the blue sequins and slinky skirt. She looks surprisingly glamorous, teetering in her heels.

The music’s still thumping.

‘Start walking.’ Savannah waves Treacle on with flapping hands.

Gingerly, Treacle heads along the carpet catwalk. She holds out her arms to balance herself.

‘You’re a supermodel not a tightrope walker. Hold your head up! And swing your arms!’

Treacle lifts her chin and strides boldly forward.

Savannah claps elegantly. ‘Divine!’ she calls. ‘Magnificent.’ She leans and whispers in my ear. ‘Watch the front-row seats. If the people there are nodding, follow
their cue and applaud. If they’re shaking their heads, look disappointed.’

‘But what if I think the dresses are gorgeous and they don’t?’

‘It doesn’t matter what you think,’ Savannah tells me. ‘The critics decide what’s hot and what’s not. You just have to wear it.’

Treacle’s lurching from side to side, the heels wobbling beneath her. As she reaches the door, it flies open. She staggers back with a shriek and thumps, bum first, into my laundry basket,
which concertinas under her weight.

Ben is standing in the doorway, his hands over his ears. ‘Are you having a disco?’ he yells.

I leap from the catwalk and switch off the screaming music. ‘We’re having a fashion show.’

Ben stares at Treacle. ‘Why’s Treacle wearing fancy dress? And why’s she sitting in your knicker basket?’

‘We’re practising a fashion show!’ Treacle glares at him. She’s wedged in the laundry bin, her arms and legs flailing helplessly. ‘Help me out!’

Ben grabs her hands. He heaves enthusiastically and Treacle tumbles out, her feet flapping dangerously. I reach for Ben and drag him clear of the sharp heels as Treacle untangles herself
ungracefully.

Savannah’s watching with a despairing look on her face. ‘Sometimes I wonder why I bother,’ she sighs. ‘It’s like being friends with the Chuckle Brothers.’

‘It’s not my fault.’ Treacle hauls herself to her feet, flicking her hair back indignantly. ‘Ben startled me.’

Savannah waves her aside. ‘Let me show you how it’s done.’ She nods at Ben. ‘Music, please.’

Treacle hops off the catwalk and stands beside me as Ben pushes the Play switch and the room starts vibrating.

Savannah pushes back her shoulders, lifts her chin and sashays along the carpet-catwalk as though she’s been modelling since she was born.

‘You need a checklist in your head,’ she shouts to me. ‘First, check the hairdos. There’s bound to be a theme to the show. Straight and smooth, sculpted and wild.
It’ll give you a clue about what the designer’s trying to achieve with his look.’

Savannah spins and struts back towards us.

Ben leaps onto the catwalk behind her and starts following, mimicking her walk and wiggling his hips until he looks like a cartoon copy. Beside me, Treacle swallows back a snort of laughter. Ben
puts a hand on his hip and pulls a face. I press my lips together, trying not to giggle.

Savannah carries on giving me instructions, oblivious to Ben’s comedy routine behind her. ‘Next, check the outfit.’

Ben grabs a scarf from the floor and, wrapping it round his head, crosses his eyes. He looks like a drunk granny. Treacle’s shaking beside me. I daren’t look at her in case I explode
with laughter.

Savannah’s still lecturing. ‘But don’t stop at the hemline, check the shoes. They’ll give you another clue about whether the designer’s going for glamour, grunge or
a mash-up style.’

As she reaches us, Ben sticks his nose in the air and flutters his eyelashes. He doesn’t notice Savannah halt and crashes into her.

She spins like a surprised cat. ‘What’s going on?’

Ben staggers backwards and falls onto a pile of books.

I leap forward. ‘Ben!’

He’s not moving.

‘Are you OK?’

With a snort, he rolls onto the floor and hoots, helpless with laughter. ‘Fashion shows are fun!’ he gasps, clutching his sides.

Treacle splutters and collapses, giggling uncontrollably.

I stare at Savannah. Confusion flashes in her eyes as she looks from Treacle to Ben.

‘I’m sorry.’ Guilt floods me. Savannah takes fashion very seriously. It’s not fair to make fun of it.

Her face suddenly creases.

‘Savannah?’ I prepare to hug her. But she’s laughing!

Shuddering, she plumps down beside Treacle and flops back onto the floor. I press my hands over my mouth as giggles bubble up.

Mum appears in the doorway. ‘What on earth is going on?’

The music is still shaking the house. Treacle, Savannah and Ben are rolling on the floor, roaring.

‘Sorry, Mum.’ I wipe the tears from my eyes as Mum flicks off the music. ‘We were practising for a fashion show.’

Mum gazes round the room. ‘It looks more like a battlefield.’

The crushed laundry basket rolls over a book and bumps to a halt against a crumpled towel.

Ben sits up, hiccuping. ‘It’s my fault, Mum,’ he confesses. ‘I was pretending to be Savannah.’

Savannah lifts her head, her cheeks wet from laughter. ‘I hope you don’t mind, Mrs S, but I think Ben wants to be Britain’s Next Supermodel.’

Mum leans down and ruffles Ben’s hair. ‘Britain’s Next Supernoodle more like.’

Midday sunshine lights up webzine HQ. This week’s webzine went live this morning and Barbara and Cindy are crouched over a PC, scrolling through the articles while
watching #GreenParkEzine tweets flash up on Tweetdeck.

Everyone else is outside enjoying the sun. Cindy and Barbara have the HQ to themselves. I’ve popped in to ask Cindy a question. But Barbara gets one in first.

‘What’s your star sign, Gem?’ She looks up from the screen.

‘Libra.’ I lean over the monitor and check the screen. ‘Why?’

‘I was just reading the horoscopes.’ Barbara points at the screen. ‘Did you know Jessica Jupiter’s got her own hashtag?’

‘Really?’ A smile bubbles up inside me.

Cindy flashes me a warning look. Does she think I’m going to betray my secret identity? No way! I don’t want to be remembered as Jessica Jupiter. Still, it’s pretty cool having
my own hashtag.

Cindy taps the side of the monitor, making her bracelet jangle. ‘How’s that serious article coming along, Gemma?’

Barbara jerks up her head. ‘Are you writing something for the webzine, Gemma?’ She smiles at me encouragingly.

‘I haven’t started it yet,’ I confess. I haven’t found my killer subject. I meet Cindy’s icy stare. I could write a piece on the world’s coldest places. I
could slide Cindy’s heart between Mount Everest and the Arctic.

‘Well, good luck with it,’ Barbara gushes. ‘You deserve to have something published. You’ve worked so hard on the webzine.’

You have no idea
, I think bitterly.

‘I’ve gotta go.’ I pick up my bag. ‘I’m meeting my friends for lunch.’

‘Why are you here anyway?’ Cindy asks.

‘I was looking for you,’ I tell her. ‘I wanted to know what time to meet you tomorrow.’

‘For the fashion show?’ Cindy tucks her hair behind her ear. ‘Mr Harris wants to miss as much rush-hour traffic as he can, so be at school for seven am.’

Seven?
That’ll mean getting up at five-thirty so there’s time to put on some make-up and get my hair under control!

I give Cindy a pretend smile. ‘Great.’ I unzip my bag and slide out a dog-eared old book. Syncing diaries with Cindy isn’t the only reason I’m here. ‘Can you give
this to Will, please?’ I hold the book out to Barbara.

She takes it, looking puzzled. ‘
Wuthering Heights?
’ It was the first book I grabbed from the living-room bookcase. ‘Did Will lend you this?’

I shake my head. ‘No. It’s an experiment,’ I lie. ‘For social studies.’

‘What kind of experiment makes you give books to Will?’ Cindy leans forward.

‘I’m doing research on random acts of kindness,’ I tell her.

‘Shall I tell him it was from you?’ Barbara asks.

Cindy grabs the book from Barbara’s hand. ‘That wouldn’t be very random,’ she says. ‘Besides, he’s so arrogant he’ll just think Gemma’s got a
crush on him.’ She smiles at me coldly. ‘
I’ll
give it to him. I’ll tell him it’s an early birthday present. Is that random enough for your
experiment?’

‘Whatever.’ I reach for the door. I don’t really care who gives Will the book, just so long as it proves Jessica right. ‘Thanks, Cindy,’ I call over my
shoulder.

I head for the field. On a hot July day, the only place to eat lunch is beneath the horse-chestnut trees at the end of the field.

Savannah and Marcus are lying in the grass, flicking crisps at each other. Sally and Ryan are sitting up with open lunch boxes, gorging on sandwiches. Treacle is leaning against the gnarled
trunk of a tree, sucking on the straw in her juice carton.

I flump onto the grass beside her and pull my packed lunch from my bag. The shade feels good. It’s a long walk across the field. I de-lid my lunch box and start nibbling on a sandwich.
‘Where’s Jeff?’ I ask with my mouth full.

Treacle points to the distant football pitch. ‘He’s got practice.’

I don’t envy him running about in the sunshine.

Chelsea wanders past, clutching Josh’s hand. Chelsea and Josh are in our class. They’ve been dating for months; Chelsea acts like she deserves an award for staying faithful. We think
Josh deserves an award for staying sane. She treats him like a pet. She’s always grooming him and petting him and giving him orders. He’s trotting along beside her now, his fingers
crushed white in Chelsea’s grip.

Treacle leans close to my ear. ‘One day she’ll let go and he’ll make a run for it,’ she whispers.

I cover a giggle with my hand.

‘Is something funny?’ Chelsea gives me a dangerous stare.

I smile sweetly. ‘No.’ I’m not picking fights. Chelsea’s been a hair-puller since Year Three.

‘Hey, Ryan.’ Sally nudges Ryan as Chelsea and Josh wander away. Sally’s looking extra pretty today. And she’s wearing a new shade of lipgloss. ‘Do you want a bite
of my sandwich?’

There’s a flirty tone in her voice. You’d have to be a Year Nine boy not to spot it.

‘No thanks,’ Ryan grunts. ‘I don’t like tuna.’ He glances at her sandwich. ‘Besides, you’ve got lipgloss on the bread.’

‘Have a bite, Ryan.’ Savannah screws up her crisp packet. ‘It’s nice to share.’ She leans down and kisses Marcus, her hair flopping over his cheek. ‘And
lipgloss tastes nice, doesn’t it, Marcus?’

Marcus folds his hands behind his head and smiles. ‘Yep.’

Savannah sits up and shakes crisps from her collar. ‘Has anyone read Jessica’s horoscopes yet?’ She slides her smartphone from her pocket and starts jabbing the screen.

Treacle nudges me and I grin. I told her at break that Jessica’s hoping to make another love match this week.

I take a bite from my sandwich as Savannah reads her horoscope out loud. ‘
Pisces. You lucky little fish-face. This week will bring sunshine and love. Keep your sunblock with you at all
times, but don’t forget your chapstick. Even in the height of summer, kissing can dry out your lips
.’ She holds her phone out for Sally to see. ‘Jessica can even predict the
weather. And she’s right about the chapstick. But I’m not sure why she warns me to watch out for flying fruit.’ She hands Sally her phone and reaches into her bag.

Sally scrolls down. ‘Is anyone Sagittarius?’

‘I am.’ Without opening his eyes, Marcus lifts a hand.

Sally starts reading. ‘
Sagittarius. If your love life is blossoming, you’re luckier than most. But don’t let clutter build up in the rest of your life. It might just trip
you over when you least expect.
’

Marcus lifts his head lazily and gazes about. ‘I can’t see any clutter,’ he murmurs and rests back onto his hands.

‘Shh! I’m checking
my
horoscope.’ Sally flaps her hand as she reads from Sav’s phone.

I remember it.
Aries. Star-ling, stop hinting and get to the point. You’re a prize ewe among sheep, but sheep aren’t known for their intelligence. If you’ve set your heart
on one of the flock, you’re going to have to make your feelings absolutely clear. No ifs and definitely no buts.

Sally looks up at Ryan thoughtfully.

‘Why not read Ryan’s out?’ I suggest quickly.

Sally flicks the phone screen and starts reading. ‘
Leo. Star-ling, wake up! You’ve been acting the clown long enough. Someone has a crush on you, but you’ve been too busy
joking around to notice. Stop kidding and get serious or you might miss a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
’

A smile creeps over her face, ‘Hey, Ryan,’ she teases. ‘Someone has a crush on you.’ Her eyes are sparkling invitingly. ‘Who do you think it is?’

Ryan shrugs. ‘I don’t know.’

‘But who would you
want
it to be?’ Sally prods.

Ryan rolls his eyes. ‘Boring.’

‘Oh, go on,’ Sally insists.