Signs of Love - Love Match (16 page)

Barbara moves to the edge of her seat eagerly. ‘Well hopefully, my suggestion for next week’s lifestyle feature will cheer you all up.’

‘Quick, tell us.’ Will leans forward, chin on hands, eyes wide. ‘The suspense is giving me an ulcer.’

Jeff kicks Will’s leg. ‘Cut the sarcasm, Will.’

But Barbara’s completely immune to his jibes. She’s as comfortable with her dull ideas as she is with her sensible shoes. I silently envy her thick skin as she makes her announcement.

‘How to be the Perfect Prefect.’

Will clutches his chest. ‘You’re killing me.’

Cindy raises an eyebrow. ‘I think it’s a fine idea.’

I fidget in my seat. It’s not a fine idea. It’s as dull as every other Barbara-special. I’ve got to speak up. I’ll regret it later if I don’t. ‘Could I have a go at writing an article?’ The air suddenly feels syrupy-thick.

Will puts an arm over the back of his chair and stretches out. ‘Fourteen Fab Facebook Groups?’

I silently shower him with high-expletive thought-bombs.

Cindy smiles at me like a nursery school teacher admiring a pasta collage. ‘Why don’t we talk about it later, Gemma?’ She turns to the others, pushing back her shoulders like she means business. ‘I’ve already planned my next article.’

She’s dismissed me
again
! I swallow back rage.

Will lolls in his chair. ‘Go ahead, Cinders. I don’t know if anything can top Barbara’s prefect piece, but it’s worth a try.’

Cindy narrows her eyes. ‘My article next week,’ she announces, ‘will be “Make Every Day a Great Hair Day”.’

Will drops his head into his hands with a groan. ‘I wish you’d warned me I’d be writing for
Teengirl
.’

Cindy doesn’t flinch. ‘I wish you’d warned me you were so arrogant.’

Sam shifts his chair forward. ‘Look,’ he says like a peace envoy attempting to stop the outbreak of World War Three, ‘we’re bound to have different ideas about the webzine, but I really think there’s room for different voices.’

Phil’s nodding. ‘We
are
trying to cater to a diverse readership.’

While Sam and Phil broker a peace deal, I’m fighting bitterness. ‘Why isn’t there room for me to write an article then?’ I ask.

Sam opens his mouth, but Cindy butts in. ‘I
said
we’d talk about that later, Gemma.’ She’s on her feet and swinging her backpack over her shoulder. I can’t believe she’s signalling the meeting’s over.

I look around, hoping someone will want to stay and talk more, but Will’s zipping his bag and the twins are heading for the door. Sam gives me a sympathetic shrug and stands up.

The Ice Queen has silenced me
again
, but this time she’s not making the fastest exit. She leans over her desk and starts fiddling with papers until the others leave.

‘Wait outside,’ she chirrups to Barbara. ‘I won’t be a moment.’

As soon as we’re alone, she drops her pretty voice. And her sweeter-than-thou act. ‘Look,’ she hisses, ‘Jessica Jupiter is doing great. She’s even getting fan mail.’

‘Fan mail?’ I stare at her.

‘It’s OK,’ she tells me. ‘I’m going to set up an email account in her name and you can check it and reply to everyone.’

‘Thanks,’ I growl.

‘As it’s going so well, I need you to keep concentrating on the horoscopes.’ She switches off her monitor. ‘I don’t want you getting distracted by silly articles.’

‘Like the one you stole off me?’ I challenge.

‘You gave me an idea, I ran with it,’ she snaps. ‘I think you’ll find that anyone can have ideas, but only
some
of us have the commitment to follow them through.’

Before I can answer, she sashays from the room. ‘Come on, Barbie, let’s go home.’ Her voice echoes in the corridor outside. ‘Switch the lights off, Gem sweetie.’

I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. My column’s a success. I’m getting fan mail. But the horoscopes weren’t meant to be my greatest moment. They were meant to be stepping stone to something better.

Still fuming, I head down to the football field. The Year Nine girls’ team are making the most of the fading light to get in extra practice for the semi-final tomorrow. I wave at Treacle, who’s jogging on the spot, trying to keep warm in the icy wind while she waits for her turn to practise penalties. We can get the bus home together.

Jeff’s on the sideline, watching.

I stop beside him. ‘How are they doing?’ I ask as I clap my arms to try and keep warm.

He nods thoughtfully as Jing-Wei lands a penalty kick in the back of the goal. He’s clearly taking his job as extra coach seriously. ‘If they keep practising, they should be OK.’

‘Do you think they can win the Cup?’

‘There are some strong players,’ he answers. ‘Treacle’s great on goal and Anila’s a useful winger. If we can just make the defence stronger, I think they could win.’

I let the Treacle comment pass unhyped. From now on I’m letting Jessica fire the Cupid arrows. Instead, I opt for sport-talk. ‘Treacle says that if they win the Cup, they go on to the regionals.’

‘Yep.’ Jeff stuffs his wind-chilled hands into his pockets. ‘But the regionals are a whole different ball game.’

‘Really?’ I look at him innocently. ‘Do they switch to rugby?’

He glances at me then rolls his eyes as he realises I’m joking. ‘I’m serious. They’ll have to add additional training, like swimming or running, to build up their stamina.’

‘Is that what you do?’ I know Jeff plays football for the county as well as the school.

‘I run every morning before school.’

So does Treacle!
I bite my tongue before I blurt it out. ‘Don’t you get tired from all that exercise?’

‘Nah. Your body gets used to it.’ His breath billows in the wind. ‘And it’s not like I’m exercising all the time. I still do fun stuff like go to the movies.’

‘You like movies?’ I take out my mental notebook. I’m fact-gathering for Jessica Jupiter. ‘What kind?’

He shrugs. ‘Comedy mostly.’

Football. Running. Funny films! The more I learn about Jeff, the more he seems to be the boy-version of Treacle. I suddenly remember his Comic-Con comment at last week’s meeting. It’s a lead that needs following up. ‘Did you say you went to last year’s Comic-Con too?’ I try to sound casual. With any luck, he’ll just assume I’m chattering away because I’m a girl.

‘How’d you know?’ He snaps his head round.

‘You told the twins at the meeting.’ I shrug carelessly. ‘You said you got Dave Gibbons’s autograph.’

‘Oh, yeah,’ he remembers and hunches deeper into his jacket. ‘I’m a total comic book geek.’ He sounds apologetic.

I want to squeal,
So is Treacle!

But I don’t. Instead, I cover my mouth to hide my smile as he goes on.

‘Working with Phil and Dave on the webzine is pretty cool,’ he confesses. ‘They know everything there is to know about the Green Goblin.’

I nod wisely. ‘Spiderman’s enemy.’

He steps back. ‘How’d you know that?’

‘Treacle.’ I hold my hands up. ‘When that girl says she’s got issues, she means back issues. About two hundred of them stacked inside her wardrobe. Her dad started her on Superman when she was a kid and now she’s completely hooked.’

‘Her dad should meet mine.’ Jeff grins. ‘Together they might be able to finally decide whether
Omega the Unknown
or
Sword of the Atom
is the most underrated comic book of all time.’

I look at him blankly. ‘I’m afraid my only experience of a comic book is the
Beano
annual.’

‘Watch out,’ Jeff warns. ‘It always starts out with a few Dennis the Menace strips and then, before you know it, you’re on the hard stuff. I need at least three
Aquamans
to get to sleep at night.’

We’re laughing so hard I don’t see Treacle arrive. She’s standing at my elbow, kitbag swinging, frowning. ‘Are you ready to go, Gemma?’

‘Sure. We were just talking about—’ but Treacle has already turned and started stomping off towards the gate. I shrug and smile at Jeff. ‘See you at Friday’s meeting then.’ I race off after Treacle. ‘Hey, wait for me.’ I tug on her coat sleeve as I catch her up. ‘Why didn’t you say hi to Jeff?’

‘It looked like you had the conversation under control.’ Treacle’s marching like there’s an oompah band at our heels.

‘Slow down!’ The freezing air’s scorching my lungs as I struggle to keep up.

‘No!’ she shoots back, her gaze fixed ahead.

Oh, no! Surely she isn’t jealous again? But her next snapping comment confirms it.

‘How’s Jeff ever supposed to notice
me
with you dancing in front of him like a Barbie doll in a blender?’

‘Treacle!’ I’m running after her as she strides through the gates and sets off towards the bus stop. She’s flagging down the bus like an angry granny by the time I catch up.

I leap on to the bus and follow her to a seat at the back. ‘We’ve been through all this. I’m trying to help you. We were talking about comic books!’

She crosses her arms and frowns at me. ‘Why were you talking about comic books? You hate comic books.’

‘Exactly!’ I exclaim. ‘So why would Jeff be interested in me when he has more in common with you than I do?’

Treacle blinks. ‘Does he?’

‘He runs every morning.’ I tug her sleeve excitedly. ‘Hey! Brainwave! We could find out his route – maybe you could steer your run his way.’ I realise I’m veering off topic. ‘And he likes funny movies and comic books. That’s why we were talking about them. I was finding out info for you!’

‘Oh.’ Treacle’s smiling now. ‘Sorry, Gem. I’m just so nervous about tomorrow’s semi-final. I’m not thinking straight.’

The bus sways round a corner and I grab the seat to stop from sliding. ‘You two are perfect for each other.’ I look at her, serious. ‘I’d never go for Jeff.’ I drop my bag between my feet. It’s weighed down with homework. ‘Anyway, I don’t have time to think about boys,’ I tell her. ‘Let alone
like
one.’

When I get home, the quietness in the house unnerves me. Mum’s usually banging plates in or out of the dishwasher, or thumping the vac round or shooting aliens on the Xbox with Ben (she’s the slowest space cop in the universe but Ben’s very patient with her).

But today the house is silent.

‘Mum?’ I call uncertainly, shoving my bag beside the radiator. As I hang up my coat, Mum appears from the living room.

‘Shh.’ She ruffles my hair softly. ‘Ben’s sleeping.’

Now I’m really concerned. Mum only ruffles my hair when one of us is worried. And Ben is always wide awake when I get home from school.

Except . . .

‘Another school trip?’ I ask hopefully. Mum shakes her head.

‘Has he got an infection?’ I ask, heart dropping. Mum nods.

Chest infections are like alligators under the bed in our house. Except you can’t keep them away just by checking.

Mum looks tired. She’s probably been looking after Ben all day without a break.

‘I’ll do his physio tonight,’ I offer.

She rubs her forehead distractedly. ‘But he’s grumpy when he’s got a bug,’ she reminds me.