Signs of Love - Love Match (10 page)

I text back.
U can still go with Sav and maybe Jeff will be there x

OK
. Her reply feels less than enthusiastic.
But it won’t be the same w/o u.

I glance round the sitting room. The coffee table’s crowded with cups. A crumby plate is balancing on the arm of the sofa; Dad left it there after shovelling in a quick snack before leaving.

I could tidy up.

I’m trying to keep the one thought out of my head that most wants to be there. The thought that Treacle and Savannah will be getting ready for a night of fun at Sam’s gig.

How is that fair?

Ben needs me here, I remind myself. Mum and Dad deserve a night out. I check on Ben again. He’s sound asleep, flat out and angel-faced. I wander back to the living room and start to gather up some mugs.

My mind slips back to my webzine assignment. I bet Jessica Jupiter wouldn’t be tidying up. An image shimmers into my mind. I see a woman – half Miss Duvall, a ballet teacher I used to have, and half Bette Davis, an actress in the old black-and-white movies that my mum loves. The woman I’m imagining has bobbed platinum hair, scarlet fingernails like bloody daggers, a cocktail dress and heels. She’s firing words like a machine gun, simultaneously ordering someone else to clear away the mess while composing next week’s horoscopes.

‘
Darling
.’ I let the mugs clatter back on to the coffee table and address the empty lounge. ‘I see your future before me.’ I lift my chin and stand on tiptoe like I’m wearing four-inch stilettos. ‘And honey, you’d better duck because it’s coming at you fast.’

I smile. Being Jessica Jupiter might not be so bad after all, as long as no one walks in and finds me talking to myself. I scuff across the carpet, my puppy-faced slippers peeping out from under my jeans. My backpack is leaning against the bookcase. I rummage through it and drag out my jotter.

Flopping down on to the sofa, I put my feet up and rest the notepad on my knees. I reach for the pen I know will be tangled in my hair. This is the
only thing
curly hair is good for – pen storage. I slide out a purple sparkly gel pen from somewhere at the back.

Leo

I underline it.

Leo

What a week you have in store!

I frown. What else? You’ll be kidnapped by aliens? You’ll win the lottery? I could make anything up.

What would Jessica Jupiter write? She wouldn’t be
writing
for a start; she’d be dictating to a humble secretary. I picture Jessica seated at her dressing table like Miss Duvall getting ready for a performance. Jessica’s dabbing her nose with a big white puff, the fur-edged sleeves of her gown swirling face powder into clouds. Her secretary leans forward on a footstool, quietly choking in the dust-haze while scribbling on to a pad.

So you think you’re king of the jungle, Leo?

Jessica’s dictating. I’m scribbling.

Well, you’re right! Don’t be afraid to show your teeth. You are the
mane
player in this week’s drama.

Mum’s mobile suddenly beeps. I look up, surprised. Didn’t she take it with her? I spot it sitting in the fruit bowl. Mum’s always picking up the wrong thing by mistake. There’s probably an apple in her handbag.

It gives me an idea.

Keep your phone close at hand this week, Simba. Someone will want to contact you with news, which might turn out to be surprisingly fruitful. On Friday . . .

I spot the corner of the rug, rucked up like a mini mountain range, just waiting to trip someone.

. . . you’ll get news of an unexpected trip. Pack everything, Star-ling. You may need to dress to impress.

The weekend will bring . . .

I bite my lip, thinking hard. The DVDs piled next to the telly catch my eye.

. . .
a titanic opportunity. Make the most of it, Leo, and you’ll start next week, not just as a lion, but as a lion
king.

I stop feeling like the secretary and start feeling like Jessica. I grin. Writing these horoscopes might actually be fun.

Libra

Your star-sign may be the Scales, but your life is not as well-balanced as it might seem. Star-ling, don’t despair.

Outside an ambulance shrieks past, making my heart race.

A shock is in store, but take deep breaths and stay focused on the job at hand. You work as hard as you play, my sweet, so when the scales start to tip in your favour, they’ll tip big time.

I glance at the cluster of dirty mugs on the coffee table.
Meanwhile, a mess you should have cleared up ages ago will come back to haunt you, but handle it right and you can turn the mess into a triumph
.

I push a cushion behind my head and snuggle deeper into the sofa.

Rest at the weekend.

I search the room for more inspiration.
Watch TV. Read a book. Think of it as the calm before the storm – but don’t worry; you have the heart of a Libran, not a librarian. You’re going to enjoy the storm!

Virgo

The only person I know who is a Virgo is Susan Noakes, the quietest girl in our class.

You’re the most timid of all my Star-lings, Virgo, but this week you’re going to turn shy into shine . . .

I glance at the CD rack.

Take inspiration from your musical heroes and step up to the microphone of life.

I write for an hour until I’ve just got one horoscope left.

Pisces

I roll my pen thoughtfully in my fingers and catch sight of my fingernails, bitten and bare. Jessica Jupiter would be ashamed. I vow to stop biting them. I’ve vowed to stop biting them four million times before, but this time I mean it.

This is going to be quite a week for you, my fishy friend.

What can I write? I look around for more inspiration. Jessica’s used just about every piece of furniture and ornament in the room. She’s run out of words. There’s only hash symbols and asterisks left in her head. I suck on my pen.

It may start duller than a wet Sunday.

I catch sight of one of my dad’s CD cases next to the stereo.

You may feel as inspired as a seventy-year-old rock star but just wait . . .

I see a photo of my cousin, Jen.

. . .
an unexpected visit from a relative
. . .

Mum’s light-up globe is sitting on the bookcase.

. . .
from overseas will bring
. . .

What?

An armchair?

A bowl of potpourri?

Dad’s plate? I stare at it blankly. The cheddar crumbs have dried up and turned transparent.

. . .
cheese
.

An unexpected visit from a relative from overseas will bring
cheese? Jessica must be delirious from overwork, but it’ll have to do.

I shut my jotter, deciding to type up the horoscopes after a healthy dose of TV. But as I reach for the remote, the phone rings. I leap up and answer it before it wakes Ben.

‘Gemma?’

‘Treacle? Aren’t you supposed to be at the gig?’

I can practically
hear
Treacle smiling. ‘I got ready and found bus money and then thought, what fun will it be without Gem?’

‘But what about Savannah?’

‘She’s coming too. We’re your best friends, Gem, we can’t leave you home alone on a Saturday night – we would be failing in our BFF duties.’

I grin madly, even though I know that only a six-year-old is supposed to be ridiculously pleased that her best friends can’t have fun without her.

Treacle carries on. ‘So Savannah’s picking up some pizza and I’m bringing the new Jack Black movie. Are you up for it?’

‘Totally!’ I squeal.

I hang up after about a million byes, then go and throw a bag of popcorn in the microwave. After all, with pizza, you always need dessert.

The last bell rings, signalling the end of Monday’s lessons. I wait for the OK from Mr Chapman then stuff my geography book in my bag. The webzine deadline meeting starts in five minutes.

‘Are you sure you don’t want to walk with me to webzine HQ?’ I ask Treacle.

Treacle’s stuffing her rucksack. ‘I’m sure.’

‘We might bump into Jeff on the way.’

‘Exactly.’

I coax harder. ‘You can showcase your new look.’ Today Treacle is even wearing a little bit of make-up to school. I’d have been less surprised if Mr Chapman had turned up in mascara.

Treacle gives me a look; it’s the same look she gave me when we were eight and I gave her liquorice. ‘Gemma.’ She tips her head. ‘Are you trying to kill me?’

‘What?’

‘I would
die
of embarrassment if Jeff saw me.’

‘Why?’

‘I don’t work on the webzine. It’ll look really weird.’

‘No, it won’t. It’ll just look like you’re hanging out.’

‘Outside the storeroom?’ Treacle yelps.

‘It’s fine. Even if we do bump into Jeff, he won’t know you’re there because of
him
,’ I reason.

Treacle slings her bag over her shoulder. ‘You’re right, Gemma,’ she says. ‘He could think I hang around outside the storeroom waiting for
anyone
– and that wouldn’t be embarrassing at all!’

I catch up with her thought-train. ‘Oh.’

She ruffles my hair fondly. ‘Thanks for trying, Gem.’ She heads for the door. ‘I’ll phone you later.’

The corridors are awash with kids pouring out of their last lessons. I dart like a fish through the flood and fight my way upstream towards the webzine HQ. Cindy’s already behind her desk. Can this girl time-travel as well? I scan the room for a teleport. ‘How did you get here so fast?’

‘Free period.’ She drops her voice. ‘I got your piece by the way.’ I’d emailed her Jessica’s horoscopes before school. ‘They were a little—’ she stops for a suitably dramatic pause, ‘—eccentric. But not too bad for a first effort,’ she concedes.