Destiny Date (6 page)

‘OK.’ Ryan sniffs then makes a sudden lunge at me. ‘Gemma, oh, Gemma! I never realized you felt the same way. I love you. I can’t live without you. Please be mine!’
He collapses beseechingly on the grass beside me.

It’s obvious he’s being sarcastic, but Sally’s face crumples like a crisp packet. ‘Jessica’s right. You should grow up, Ryan!’ She leaps to her feet and
flings the phone at Savannah, before marching away.

‘Sally!’ Savannah catches the phone with a gasp. She scrambles up. ‘Sally! What’s wrong?’

Sally ignores her. Marcus is chuckling.

‘What?’ Savannah turns on him crossly.

‘Jessica told you to watch out for flying fruit,’ he tells her.

‘What fruit?’ Sav snaps.

‘Your iPhone. It’s an Apple,’ Marcus points out.

Treacle’s watching Sally flounce across the field. ‘Should we go after her?’

‘No,’ I answer softly. I’m watching Ryan. Normally, he’d take the flying fruit joke and squeeze every drop of juice out of it. But he’s looking at Sally.

‘
Someone
should go after her,’ Treacle insists.

‘I’ll do it.’ Ryan grabs his book bag and jumps to his feet. He runs after her. ‘Sally, wait!’

Savannah raises her eyebrows. ‘What’s going on there?’

Marcus sniffs. ‘Sally and Ryan are always bickering.’

‘That wasn’t bickering,’ Savannah corrects him. ‘
That
was a fight.’

Ryan catches up with Sally and falls in beside her.

I nudge Treacle. ‘Do you think Jessica’s plan worked?’

Treacle holds up crossed fingers. ‘Time will tell.’

Sally and Ryan walk past Will lying alone in the middle of the field. He’s stretched out, his long legs crossed, still in his leather jacket despite the scorching sun. His head is resting
on his backpack and he’s reading a Penguin Modern Classic through shades.

I wonder if he’s read his horoscope yet.

As Ryan and Sally disappear into school, I spot Cindy and Barbara coming out. They head for the field and make straight for Will. I shield my eyes, squinting to see better as they reach Will.
I’m too far away to hear anything, but I see Cindy kick the sole of his shoe. He lets his book flop onto his chest and looks up at her.

I run his horoscope through my head. It’s burned on my mind.

Aquarius

Star-ling, it’s time to show your softer side.

Cindy unzips her bag and pulls out
Wuthering Heights
.

This week will provide a perfect opportunity. Someone will give you a book.

Will flinches as Cindy drops it into his hands.

Say thank you. A little sweetness spreads a long way.

Will sits bolt upright, like she’s just tossed him a severed head. He lifts his shades and stares at it.

I feel a jolt of delight. I can guess by his shock that he’s read his horoscope. The last thing he expected was for Jessica Jupiter to be right.

The afternoon bell trills through the shimmering air.

‘Time to go.’ Marcus hauls himself wearily to his feet.

I shove the lid back on my sandwich box as Treacle gets to her feet beside me. She dusts the grass off her skirt.

Savannah scrabbles on the ground, sweeping crisp packets and cartons into her empty lunch bag. ‘Ryan’s such a litterbug,’ she complains.

‘Let him pick them up.’ Marcus shrugs his backpack on and heads towards school.

‘Wait!’ As Savannah looks up, Marcus catches his foot in the strap of her book bag. Clumsy as a toddler, he staggers and falls, landing on the grass with a groan.

‘Are you OK?’ Savannah leaps to his side and checks him for breaks.

‘I’m fine.’ His face reddens.

‘The stars have spoken!’ Treacle laughs. ‘Jessica warned you not to trip over.’

The hum of vacuum cleaners echoes through the empty corridors as I climb the stairs to webzine HQ. I like being in school when it’s empty. The last bell rang twenty
minutes ago. Apart from chess club and the cleaners, I’m the only one left. It’s very Zombie Apocalypse, but without the corpses.

Afternoon sunshine streams through a skylight. It blinds me as I make the final turn.

‘Hi, Gemma.’

I nearly bump into Sam. He’s on the top step.

‘Hi.’ Shielding my eyes from the glare, I look up.

He’s framed by sunshine like Zeus on Mount Olympus, his mop of blond hair ablaze with light.

I avert my gaze before I turn into a pillar of salt. ‘Are you heading for HQ?’

‘Kind of,’ he mumbles.

‘You’re either going there or not.’ I try to pass, feeling a blush rising in my cheeks.

He doesn’t make it easy. He moves sideways, steering me away from the storeroom door. ‘I guess I was looking for someone.’

I feel a prickle of irritation.
He’s looking for Cindy.
Why not just say it?

‘Are you going to the prom?’ he asks suddenly.

I stall in the sunshine. ‘Why?’

‘Have you got a date?’ He sounds casual.
Suspiciously
casual. My irritation deepens. I bet he’s got a desperate friend who needs setting up. Why did he assume
I’d be available? Does he think I
can’t
get a date?

‘I don’t have a date.’ I lift my chin. ‘Because I don’t
want
one.’

‘You don’t want one?’ He stares at me.

‘Is that against the law?’ Why does everyone act like you
have
to have a date? He’s obviously so wrapped up in the thought of being with Cindy on prom night that he
can’t even imagine it’s OK to be alone.

I stare hard into his blue-blue eyes. ‘I’m
happy
on my own.’

I push past him. This time he doesn’t block me and I head into the storeroom. It’s empty. The smell of polish fills the warm air. I glance back. Sam’s hovering in the hallway.
‘Cindy’s not here,’ I tell him.

‘Oh.’ Not meeting my eye, he shoves his hands into his pockets. ‘I guess I’ll be going.’

‘See you.’ I slam the door shut, surprised at the fury churning in my stomach.

I sit heavily in a seat and flick on a PC. I can feel my heart racing. What is everyone’s obsession with dating? I feel like the last dodo waiting beside the ark while the other animals
march two by two up the gangplank. Noah’s got a clipboard and he’s ticking it with Cindy-like briskness.

‘Why can’t I go on-board?’ my dodo self asks him.

‘You’re not in a pair.’

‘But I’m the last dodo alive.’

‘Tough.’ Noah shunts me aside with a nudge of his sandalled foot.

I zap back to reality, my fingers tingling as an idea buzzes in my head.

I’m not waiting for a killer idea. I’m going to write a piece now. About how it feels to be the dodo. It might not be what everyone wants to read. But it’s my truth.

I start typing, hitting the keys hard.

Make the Most of Being Single

Rain’s battering my bedroom window. Treacle’s sitting on the floor beside me and we’re surrounded by textbooks. I’m flipping through
Of Mice and
Men
, looking for quotes for the essay we’re working on.

Treacle’s chewing on her pencil and staring into space. ‘I tried my prom dress on again last night,’ she announces. ‘I’ve never had a dress that makes me feel like
a Disney princess before.’

‘Uh-huh.’ I spot a quote.
A guy goes nuts if he ain’t got nobody.
I scribble it into my notebook.

Treacle sighs noisily. ‘Did you ever imagine
I’d
have a Disney dress?’

‘No.’ I run my finger down the page, scanning the text.

Treacle’s been a tomboy ever since I’ve known her. At least she used to be until she fell in love with Jeff. Now she switches between football strip and babe-wear, like a chameleon
switching from branch colour to leaf colour.

I find a fresh line I can stick in my essay.
Nobody never gets to heaven. It’s just in their head. They’re all the time talkin’ about it, but it’s jus’ in their
head.

Treacle hasn’t even opened her book. ‘And now I’m going to the prom with Jeff Simpson,’ she breathes dreamily.

‘Great.’ My thoughts switch back to the article I wrote earlier.
Don’t get stuck with a date! Go to the prom single. Love is for old people and fairy tales.
The words
ring hollow. Suddenly I’m imagining myself walking beneath the sparkly prom lights, my arm hooked through Sam’s. Misery skewers my heart.

‘Aren’t you looking forward to the prom?’ Treacle twists round and stares at me.

‘It’s just a school disco,’ I grunt.

She clutches my arm. ‘Oh, Gemma. Are you worried that Sav and me will spend all our time with Jeff and Marcus? Because we won’t. We’ve talked about it and we’re going to
make sure we include you totally.’

‘Thanks,’ I mutter. I imagine trailing round after Treacle and Sav as they swoon over Jeff and Marcus, stopping occasionally to check I’m OK. I feel sick. ‘I’ll be
fine by myself. I can always hang out with Sally.’

‘But she’s going with Ryan.’

The news hits me like a cannonball. ‘
What?
’

‘Haven’t you heard? He asked her at lunchtime.’

‘Oh, great.’ I’m less than enthusiastic. Why did I let Jessica meddle? Perhaps I shouldn’t go to the prom at all. I’ll be like a vegetarian sausage at a barbecue,
shrivelling virtuously on the grill while everyone scoffs burgers.

‘It’ll be fun, Gemma,’ Treacle promises. ‘I thought you were looking forward to it.’

‘I was,’ I admit. ‘But the closer it gets . . .’ I trail off. Should I tell her what’s really bugging me? That I’ve been secretly hoping I would be going to
the prom with Sam?

‘What?’ Treacle coaxes gently.

‘I just wanted to—’

As I start my confession, the door bursts open.

‘Gemma!’ Ben swings on the handle, eyes bright. He’s in his Spider-man pyjamas, his face shiny, his hair damp. ‘Will you read me a bedtime story? Mum’s at yoga and
Dad wants to watch the football.’

‘Sure.’ I close my book and get to my feet. I’m kind of relieved he’s here. It’ll be easier talking about Sam once the prom is over. I’ll have to deal with
less pity.