Love-Struck (6 page)

Oh, how embarrassing.

I turned on my heel and started to leave the room as fast as possible.

“Wait—”

Hold the phone – did he just ask me to wait? For the second time in a week?

I turned around slowly, Lizzy still batting me on the head.

He was looking at his feet, and started to scuff his toe on the rug.

“Holly, I've been meaning to call you for the past few days. Well, I've been meaning to call you for the past few weeks, ever since…”

He trailed off dramatically, and I thought back to the night that we had kissed, in the corner of the room when The Mechanics were playing. The whole year was there. It was such a good night – I was wearing my new skirt and a really cute sparkly top so I felt really good, and then I was just dancing with Faye and Jess and up came Jonah, so I thought why not, I'll just dance with him. So we danced. And somehow we ended up in a dark corner in a lip lock, and he took my number! Talk about a Cloud Nine situation. He carried on talking.

“Because I'd really like it if we could do something, y'know … like,” he looked up, chewing on his lip ring (hmm, lip ring) slightly. “This Friday … maybe?”

It took all my brainpower to stop my mouth from dropping open. There I was, standing in my messy dining room, in my pyjamas, wearing no make-up, with bits of apple in my hair and my little sister trying to beat me up – and the guy I'd been dreaming about for months asking me out.

To be honest?

This is so not how I envisioned this moment.

Silence filled the room and I realized that I had just let his question hang in the air like last week's washing.

“Because I kind of can't stop thinking about you…”

Jonah Jones can't stop thinking about who, sorry?

About ME!

“So … what do you think?”

I looked up at his expectant eyes and their power nearly knocked me over. What do I think? I think it sounds like heaven on earth, that's what I think!

“Sounds … good!” I managed to squeeze out. But then I remembered. “Oh no, I can't! I'm going to the gig on Friday. It's the Midsummer Rave bands setting up and doing taster acts, sorry.”

Damn! My heart sank and I couldn't believe that the one night I got asked by the perfect boy to go out on a date was the one night I couldn't possibly go. Wes and I got our tickets for MSR as soon as they went on sale, but we decided to get the Maximum Tickets – the tickets that include passes to the actual MSR gig (and a camping space), but then also passes to the two warm-up gigs, one a week before MSR and the other the day before it started. It was so expensive, but Wes said that he would go halfsies with me, and the bit that he bought could be my Christmas AND birthday presents, and who can refuse a deal like that?! Anyway, the whole reason we were going to MSR was because The Faeries were playing their Best Set Ever with all of our favourite songs, but they weren't playing until the next week: the day-before gig and the actual MSR gig. The gig that Friday was some other acts who had finished their tours and come to have a bit of a laugh and warm up the stage and hype for MSR. So because The Faeries weren't actually playing that week, I supposed I could just not go, but then I'd be letting down Wes, and he'd be gutted, and—

His smooth voice interrupted my jumbled thoughts.

“That's cool,” he half-smiled. “I've got a ticket too. I thought you'd be going, so I got one and thought … maybe I could meet you there?”

YESSSS!

“Yeah.” I smiled. Well, I pretty much beamed. “Yeah, that sounds good. I'll be there about half seven-ish.”

“How about I meet you at the bar at the back, then?”

“Yeah!” I willed myself to say something other than “yeah”. “Sounds like a rave, I guess.”

“Cool,” he smiled, giving me a wink. “I guess.”

We stood there for a second, our eyes just … locked. Then my mum came rushing down the stairs.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry I'm late!” she gasped as she walked into the room, carrying a copy of
Romeo and Juliet
and some help textbooks, rushing over to the table and setting it up. “Is it Josh?” she asked, eyebrows frowning in confusion.

He smiled and shook his head, his eyes still on mine. “No, it's Jonah, but no worries.”

Behind Jonah, I saw Mum look up, look at me, then look at Jonah, and put two and two together that this is the boy I've been talking about for most of my teenage life. Her jaw dropped open.

Before she could say anything, I suddenly remembered that I looked an absolute state and I was supposed to be meeting Wes in ten minutes.

“Er, I've got to go! I'll see you,” I said, dropping my eyes straight to the floor as I felt my face flush, and I turned around to hear him say:

“Friday, seven-thirty, by the bar.”

I rushed up the stairs, set Lizzy down on her bed, and changed her on autopilot. I couldn't believe it! I'd been asked out by Jonah Jones!

I put Liz in front of the TV to watch a quick round of
Teletubbies
(which is strictly forbidden by my cruel, Victorian mother, as it “melts children's minds”), tied my hair back and got the quickest shower in the world. I then practically jumped into my clothes, applied my make-up like it was an Olympic sport, grabbed my bag and ran down the stairs. The door to the dining room was closed, but it was enough to put the biggest smile on my face. I flew out of the door on wings made just for me, and grabbed my phone:

 

Recipient: The Best Friend

SORRY LAMEBOI RUNNING A

TAD LATE. U WILL NEVR

BELIEVE WAT JUST HAPND!

C U IN 5 :D

Send?

 

MESSAGE SENT.

I arrived at the gates five minutes later than planned, grinning like a loon. Wes was stood, leaning against a pillar, looking … pretty good, actually! We'd had a think the day before and I thought that if she was a Barbie, we should start off by dressing Wes as Ken. Actually, this is the Logic of Lizzy. I talk to her about a lot of stuff, and she usually just sits there and blinks, all covered in ice cream, and says the odd word like “Mams”, “din-dins” or “Hoh-wy”. However, this time she sat there, blinked, all covered in ice cream like usual, but then said “Barbie like Ken”, and I thought it was worth a shot.

I saw that he was wearing the army pants we found at the back of his closet, some sandals (very manly-looking sandals – it took me ages to convince him that men's sandals are way more sophis than flip-flops) and a white T-shirt that showed off his permatan really well. Actually, the whole look gave a nice finish. And the tight top suited him – I never realized that he had such good shoulders before. He must have been doing some weights or something.

“Hey, handsome!” I called as I walked up beside him. “Don't you look good?” I winked.

He turned to smile at me self-consciously and tugged at the T-shirt. “Y'think? I personally feel a bit of a prat. Don't you think the T-shirt is a bit too tight?”

“Stand away from the gate and let me have a look at you.”

I circled him to get a full vision of how he looked. No, the top didn't look too tight. It looked perfect. Like, really good. A bit wrinkled around his shoulders. I smoothed it out. Whoa, muscle! When did he get a bit on the muscular side? How did I not notice this?! I realized I was still stroking his shoulders. Whoops! I cleared my throat and took a step back.

“No, no, you look … really good!”

“Then why are you smiling all weird like that?” he asked suspiciously.

I checked back into reality and frowned.

“Smiling like what? I'm not smiling weirdly,
you're
smiling weirdly!”

Before either of us could figure out what I meant by that, I took his arm and steered him into the school gates.

“So. Are you ready, captain?”

He nodded, an “I'm-so-scared-that-I'm-going-to-look-an-idiot-but-yeah” nod. “Hmm. Suppose so.” He looked at me sideways on, and I was practically skipping down the pavement remembering Jonah's gorgeous half-smile when he asked me out this morning. He frowned, all confused. “All right, H – either tell me what's going on or quit jumping around. You're acting like a jelly bean and it's just a tad annoying.”

I couldn't keep it in any longer.

I told him how Jonah had appeared at my door, and how I'd looked a right state, and how he'd talked to me, and how he'd been all shy when he asked me out—

“He looked
shy
?” Wes asked, nonplussed, pausing me in the tracks of my story.

“Yeah,” I answered, stopping in my actual tracks and turning to face him. “Why do you sound so surprised?”

Wes looked uneasy. “Well, I just don't think he's the shy type. He's all masculine and … erm.” He looked really uncomfortable and rubbed the back of his neck. “I don't know…”

He was really bothering me now. “What are you trying to say?”

“Well, I've always known Jonah to be the ‘man's man' – y'know, like, the player?” he said gently. “So, I don't know, this could be, like, a thing to make you think he's really sensitive, because he knows it's what you like?” At the look on my face, he changed his tactics. “Well, I don't know. I suppose … just be careful that he's not going to play you, OK?”

I didn't know whether to be mad or not. Why was he trying to rain on my parade? Was he jealous? No, he couldn't be, not of me… And besides, he knew that I'd liked Jonah for ages and now he'd finally asked me out and it was perfect and—

OH, I got it! He was jealous because he wanted that for himself! Just because I was getting my Mr Incredibly Gorgeous (hmm, drooly drool drool) and he was a bit far off his own dream gal didn't mean that he had to go all protective big brother on me.

I decided to not be angry – I was in too good a mood and I didn't want to fall out with Wes just before the Best Summer Of All Time. Besides, I wanted Wes to be happy for me, and to have him be happy for me he needed Emily.

“Don't worry, Lameboy! I'm not going to let anyone play me, so no worries.”

I gave him a big smile, and as we carried on walking into the school I shoved an iPod earphone into his left ear and switched on The Song.

“A bit of Faerie courage!” I whispered.

The guitar riff.

You're the riff that starts this story
…

A bit of drums, and a touch of the cymbals—

You're the drums, your one song glory
…

Which come in with the bass.

This song, your song, our song, it's true—

Then silence:

'Cause everything is idle when it's done for you.

Then the song starts.

A story about a boy who loves a girl (aren't they all?) and he loves her even though she seems like she doesn't even know, or care. It's one of those songs that comes on the radio and everyone who's anyone shouts “TURN IT UP!” It's called “Love in Idleness”, and because it's A Bit Of A Tune, it's our theme tune.

So we cruised into school, cool as cucumbers, and walked into form just as the song finished. I put my iPod away and I pulled Wes back before we walked in.

“Just play it cool, boy,” I whispered with a wink. “Be yourself for now. I'll find out her type today, and starting tomorrow we will make her yours!”

Wes took a deep breath and nodded. “OK, let's go!”

We walked into form, heads held high. Mr Clumfield wasn't at his desk yet, so we walked past it, saying hi to a few people as we went past, and sat in our usual corner. I turned to talk to Wes to clarify the plan one more time, but as I turned, Matt, Chris and James (the Lady-Killer Squad) surrounded us, looking at us intently.

“So,” Matt said, eyebrows raised as he sat across from me. “We wanted to have a little chat with you.”

“Yeah,” added James, sitting down on Wes's right, nodding at him. “Yeah, just a small chat about a … a
thing
.”

I shot Wes an ironic look. These boys think they're so subtle, but blind monkeys could see what they're talking about.

Chris sat down next to Matt. “Yeah, a
thing
…” He looked at Matt and lowered his voice. “You do mean
The Thing
, yeah? The thing we were talking about a minute ago?”

James rolled his eyes. “Yeah,
that
thing, Chris.” He paused. “Matt?”

Matt took over. “So, the thing is, we are interested in something that has recently come into your possession.” He cocked an eyebrow again. God, I was starting to feel like I was in some kind of really bad Mafia movie. “
Comprende
?”

Oh God, I
was
stuck in a bad Mafia movie. With a bunch of halfwits playing the Mafia. Any minute they'd be pulling out those porridge guns they use in
Bugsy Malone
and saying, “Well how you a-like-a me now, eh?!”

“Do you want to know about Emily?” I sighed, exasperated.

“Yeah!” Chris grinned, happy that I had caught on so quickly.

“Tell us: what's going on with her? What's the story? Is she single, like, fair game?”

“Or is she taken? If so, who's the guy, how big is he and could we take him?”

It was laughable. In fact, I did laugh. “All right, Hardy boys, take it easy! She's not like the Nobel Prize, y'know!”

They all looked at me, blankly.

“What?” Chris asked, eyes narrowed.

“Y'know … the Nobel Prize?”

More blank looks.

“The big prestigious award?”

They looked so confused that I didn't even know if their stupidity was funny any more. I tried a different tack.

“She's not a prize, y'know: a
prize
… something to be
won
…?”

“Ohh!”

“Right, yeah!”

“I get it…”

Finally!

“If she was
in
a game,” Chris said, slowly, as if he was thinking hard. “She would definitely win.” He hitched a big smile on to his face. “Because she's a PERFECT TEN!”

He held up his hands and received high fives off the other two, and I felt like I was sinking in quicksand. I looked at Wes. He nodded and took the reins.

“Hey, guys – football!” he started, and all of their heads snapped towards his, agog.

Typical boys.

“Here's the thing. This chick is single –”

“– all RIGHT!”

“– but she's pretty fly, right?”

“Yeeah!”

More high fives. Kill me.

“Right, well, it's like Man U and … and Cathen FC!” he said in a fit of inspiration. Wes doesn't watch football. “This girl? She's Man U! She's fit. She's athletic. She's worth a lot of money and she's got better legs than anyone else in the game, am I right?”

“You said it, boy!”

“Oh, yeah!”

“WOOP!”

“However,” Wes paused, waiting for silence and clearly enjoying the attention. “You guys? You are a little bit more like the local Cathen…” He looked at the boys' expectant faces. “You're not quite up to scratch yet. You need a few more plays, some cash to buy some good players and your legs are in no way as good as hers. So if you ended up playing her? You would lose.”

Wes leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms and cocked an eyebrow.

“
Comprende
?”

Matt looked from side to side at each of his friends; they both nodded, then Matt turned to Wes.

“We hear you, Wes, mate. You're so wise! She
is
Man U –” The boys nodded. “– and we are Cathen FC –” More nodding. “– but the Cathen motto isn't ‘We like a challenge' for nothing, am I
right
?!”

James put both arms up in the air and did a sort of wolf howl, and the other two started chanting, “Cath FC, Cath FC, CATH FC! OI OI!” just as Emily stepped into the room. She caught my eye, waved, and headed over. She was wearing a little white, floaty skirt and a pink top, which I think I had as a kid for my Barbie. I waved back, and the boys turned around to see her coming over, and all suddenly reached for their hair. Matt flicked his fingers into a gun and winked, shooting an imaginary bullet at Wes.

“Hearing you loud and clear, my man,” he said.

He jumped up and offered his seat to Emily, and the other boys leapt up too.

“Oh, thanks!” Emily said as she sat down, smiling.

They stood there like Charlie's Angels for a second, and then Matt nodded to Wes.

“Catch you later, Wes.”

Then he looked from me to Emily, and murmured in what he obviously thought was a sexy way:

“Lay-deez…”

He would have tipped his hat at us if he was wearing one.

 

Throughout the day, I kept on trying to catch Emily unawares; in English we had to work in pairs, so I asked her to go with me before anyone else could. We were working on
A Midsummer Night's Dream
by Shakespeare, and she was a little bit fascinated.

“So what, like, exactly happens in it? It looks a bit complicated.”

“It is!” I pouted and she laughed. She really did have a cute laugh. Some people get all the luck. “So, OK. There are four regular Athenians: Helena, Hermia, Lysander and Demetrius; The Duke of Athens and the Queen of the Amazons, who are about to get married; Hermia's angry dad; a group of actors; and a bunch of fairies with their king and queen.” Emily nodded. “Here's the dealio: in four days, the Duke is getting married. The actors are getting ready to perform at the wedding, but they are terrible and they provide most of the comedy in the play. The story that goes alongside that is of the four Athenians: Hermia's dad says that she has to marry Demetrius because he's handsome and rich –”

“– sounds like my kind of guy!” Emily exclaimed, grinning.

RESULT!

I carried on.

“– and he'd been promised Hermia. But she loves Lysander, and so they run off into the forest outside of Athens to get married, and they tell Helena of their cunning plan. Big mistake, because Helena is in love with Demetrius because they've already slept together – ‘Ooer!', I know – and so Helena tells Demetrius and he runs after Lysander and Hermia into the forest, so Helena runs after Demetrius. Both lots of people, the actors and the Athenians, all end up in the forest where the fairies are at play, and they mess everything up for everyone, but manage to put it all right again by the time the play ends!”

Emily nodded again. “You were right when you said it's complicated!” She looked back at her book and studied it intently.