Signs of Love - Love Match (13 page)

I bristle. ‘Facebook is useful for researching
some
things.’

‘Yeah, I can see that.’ His gaze sweeps the tester pots cluttering my desk then flicks back to his own screen. ‘Stick with your face cream. I can handle this.’

He thinks I’m a ditz!
Furious, I pick up a pot and shake it at him. ‘How do you know I’m not writing a piece on animal testing?’

Suddenly the lid frisbees off the pot and a dollop of cream splatters his leather jacket.

Oh, no! I
am
a ditz!
My confidence shrivels like a crisp packet in a microwave.

Sam explodes with laughter and drags his earphones out. ‘Great aim, Gem!’

Cindy looks up from her desk. ‘Oh, dear.’ A smile breaks over her face. ‘Rub it in, Will. It might soften you up.’

Eyes blazing, Will pushes back his chair and storms from the room.

‘Not bad, Gemma.’ Cindy’s clearly enjoying my embarrassment. ‘You should test some other products on him when he gets back. Maybe wart remover. Banish him for good.’ She switches her gaze to Sam, beckoning him over with her pen. ‘There’s a new band I want you to review.’ As Sam leans in, she taps the pen on her screen. ‘They’re playing Friday night. I thought we could check it out.’

Sam’s nodding. ‘Great.’ He glances at me. ‘We could all go. A webzine night out.’

Cindy cuts him off. ‘Sorry, Sam.’ She lets remorse darken her big blue eyes. ‘I’ve only got two tickets.’ She pouts. ‘So only enough for you and me, I’m afraid.’

‘Oh.’ Sam shoves his hands into his pockets. ‘OK.’ He’s so easy-going! No wonder Cindy’s got her eye on him. A few more pouts and she’ll have him following her round like a happy puppy. Like Barbara. Both of them high on her deadly perfume trail.

I screw the lid back on the pot and pull a tissue from my pocket. Silently fuming, I wipe up the cream dotting my desk. Sometimes it seems as if everybody is having fun except me.

By the next Monday I’m determined that Jeff sees his horoscope asap.

Everyone seems to be starting to believe in Jessica Jupiter’s predictions and the column has been getting some very unexpected results. On Thursday mousey Susan Noakes stunned the whole class by declaring that she wanted to sing ‘Bad Romance’ by Lady Gaga for the Valentine’s assembly. When Miss Davis asked her why, Susan stammered that she felt it was really important to present both the positive and negative sides of love. Then she muttered under her breath that the assembly was also a great opportunity to shine.

I don’t think anyone else heard her – they were all probably trying to picture Susan tottering round the stage in a pair of platform shoes made from lamb chops. But I remembered my prediction for Virgo about turning shy into shine and realised what had happened. Susan had clearly taken Jessica Jupiter’s words to heart. And hopefully, so will Jeff. I need to help Treacle kick-start her love life as soon as possible.

The school bell’s rung for the last time and the webzine team have crowded into the storeroom to check issue two before it goes out on Wednesday.

This time Cindy’s allocated us one article each. I’ve been given Barbara’s latest stink-piece. I glance nervously at Jeff, wondering what Cindy gave him. Just to be sure he doesn’t miss Jessica’s personalised prediction, I slide quietly out from behind my desk and sidle across the room.

‘Hey, Jeff.’ I hold out a copy of this week’s predictions. ‘Would you mind checking Jessica’s column too? She just emailed it over to me and I never know how to spell Pisces.’

Jeff looks up. ‘The horoscopes?’ He waves his own print-out. ‘I’m already checking Phil and Dave’s tech piece.’

‘It’s really short,’ I wheedle.

‘I can check that if you want, Gemma,’ Cindy says. She prickles like a nervous cat whenever someone else takes the initiative.

Will’s on to it like a dog on a bone. ‘Chill, Cinders. The kid’s handling it.’ He glances up from his piece on knife crime. It’s going to be a two-part series: facts this week, interview next week. I was hoping to proofread it and have an early look, but Will likes to check his own copy. As far as he’s concerned, we’re not ‘real’ enough to get it.

I wonder if he’ll find his horoscope
real
enough. I remember it word for word.

Aquarius, you’re going to need a bit more than pimple cream to shrink the trouble spots in your life this week. Homework will feel heavy, friends will feel hard work and family will feel irritating. If you want to make it over the bumps, take any help you’re offered. If you’re too proud to take help, take a hike.

I thrust Jessica’s column harder at Jeff.

‘OK then.’ He takes it. ‘Who are you checking?’

I hold up Barbara’s latest masterpiece.
How to Get the Most from Your Homework
.

‘Oh.’ Jeff reads the title, throwing a weak smile at Barbara.

She’s arranging pencils on her desk. She likes to mark spelling mistakes in blue, and grammatical errors in green like a human word-processing app. She looks up and sees us staring at her. ‘I hope you’re enjoying it, Gemma,’ she smiles. ‘I really think a little more planning could make homework far more productive and rewarding.’

‘Yu-huh.’ I sit down and sneak sideways glances at Jeff, relaxing when he switches from the tech piece to the horoscopes. Satisfied, I turn my attention back to Barbara’s article and start reading.

Step One: organise your time

The hours between 4.00 pm and 6.00 pm are usually the most wasted hours of the day. Set this time aside. Cancel all other arrangements. Make these the most productive hours of your day. If your homework’s finished by teatime, you can reward yourself with a full evening of free time for yourself.

Step Two: organise your workspace

Declutter your desk. Turn off your phone. Leave your MP3 player somewhere else. The last thing you need is distractions. The place where you work should be dedicated only to work. Fill a basket with stationery supplies such as pens, pencils, eraser, scissors, highlighters, ruler, calculator, glue, stapler. Then you won’t have to run around the house looking for anything and there’s no chance you’ll get sidetracked.

I resist a yawn, wishing there was something to sidetrack me right now.

The only Green Park students who are going to read past the first paragraph are probably already organising their time and workspace just fine. The F-class students are just going to flick to Jeff’s sports feature or Cindy’s beauty column. I sigh. I’m sure my shed idea would set the whole school talking.

I skim to the final paragraph of Barbara’s piece.

Step Seventeen: always, always, always tackle your hardest assignments first

Yeah, like reading this article before you begin. It’ll make your homework seem interesting.

My silent fuming is interrupted by the door swinging open. It’s Miss Bayliss. My gaze sneaks back to Jeff. Has he reached Capricorn yet?

‘Jeff,’ Miss Bayliss nods at him. ‘Mr Chapman said I’d find you here. I wanted a word about the Year Nine girls’ football team.’

‘Oh.’ Jeff looks at her blankly.

‘Now they’ve made it through to the next round of the Cup I think they need to take their skills to a higher level,’ Miss Bayliss continues, ‘and I was hoping you could find the time to coach them for a few sessions.’

Jeff blinks at her. Then stares down at the page in his hand, eyes popping. I stifle a smile. He’s spotted the bait I’ve planted in the text. Come on,
nibble
! Once he’s bitten, he’ll be back for more and then Jessica Jupiter can lay a trail of love titbits that will lead him straight into Treacle’s arms.

I lean forward as Miss Bayliss raps her fingers on the doorframe.

‘So, will you?’ she asks.

Jeff glances back at the horoscopes. ‘Y-yeah,’ he answers uncertainly. ‘OK.’

‘Great.’ Miss Bayliss turns and exits.

Jeff scratches his head. I watch his gaze as it zips over the words once again. His eyebrows are stretched high in disbelief. ‘Who is this Jessica Jupiter?’ He looks up as though he’s surprised himself by speaking out loud.

Cindy’s tapping away on her keyboard. ‘Just some old lady astrologer,’ she mutters.

Old lady? Thanks, Cinders
. I shoot her a death-stare, but she doesn’t look up and it sails over her head.

Will’s chewing on his pen, watching Jeff thoughtfully. ‘What’s the matter, Jeff? Has Jupiter told you next week’s Cup score?’

Jeff shifts his feet. ‘No. It’s nothing.’ I guess he doesn’t want the King of Fact to think he’s superstitious.

Grinning, I plough through the last three paragraphs of Barbara’s piece. ‘No typos,’ I report, getting up to swap it for another of the articles stacked on Cindy’s desk. As I take a fresh one, Cindy jerks in her seat as though 10,000 volts just passed through it.

‘Leave that one!’ Cindy barks as she snatches the paper from my hand.

But it’s too late. I’ve already read the headline.
Save Our Shed. Demolition Threatens School Morale
.

She’s stolen my idea!

My mouth hangs open as I stare at her. ‘Th-that was my idea!’ I fumble for words, stunned by her cheek.

‘Sam.’ Cindy stares straight past me. ‘Nice article on Friday’s gig. And Will, when you’ve finished with yours, I’m looking forward to reading it. I think we’re really starting to tackle some important issues.’ She waltzes from behind her desk and starts collecting in papers. ‘Phil and David, great piece on safe Googling.’

I watch her spin around the room like a ballerina gathering props at the end of a performance.

‘We should go,’ she declares. ‘The cleaners will be wanting to get in here.’ She’s stuffing her backpack with papers and, without even looking in my direction, she scoots past me and heads out the door.

‘Wait for me.’ Clutching her pencils, Barbara races after her.

I gaze, open-mouthed, as Will, Jeff, David and Phil follow. I just stare after them, Cindy’s betrayal stinging like fury. How
dare
she? First she acts like my idea is a piece of junk then she steals it. And I thought I was the Evil Genius.

‘You OK?’

I spin as I hear Sam’s voice. He’s zipping his backpack.

‘She stole my article.’ I can still hardly believe it. But what can I do? Resign? Then I’ll never get a chance to write a real story.

‘Your bike shed idea?’ Sam swings his bag over his shoulder.

‘How did she think she’d get away with it?’ Blood’s roaring in my ears.

Sam pats my shoulder. ‘I’m afraid there’s not a lot you can do about it.’ His blue eyes are round with sympathy. ‘Just keep your ideas to yourself in future.’

‘Aren’t we meant to be a team?’

‘Look.’ Sam pauses and glances at the floor. ‘How about we—’

My phone beeps and I reach for it. Sam waits while I read the text. Mum needs me to pick up Ben’s medication before the chemist closes. She’s phoned and they’re expecting me. The staff there are like a second family.

‘I’ve got to go,’ I tell Sam.

‘Um, yeah. Me too.’ He switches off the light as he follows me out into the corridor. My stomach is cramped with disappointment. Save Our Shed was going to be my breakthrough story. And Cindy stole it.

Silent as squeakless mice, we head along the deserted corridors and push through the front doors, emerging into drizzle. The streetlights are flickering on.

‘Bye, Sam.’ I hurry for the gate. If I run, I should make it to the chemist before it shuts.

‘Bye, Gemma.’ Sam’s call echoes across the shadowy playground.