Find the Girl

by Lucy Connell

  ‘After we bumped into her at the cafe last weekend, as you know I went to see Chase and he put the idea in my head to … uh …’

  ‘To apologize to Miles by singing the Sound of Music soundtrack in front of a live audience?’ Nina suggests, finishing my sentence.

  ‘Right. Yeah. Stupid.’

  ‘Not stupid,’ Mum says. ‘It was wonderful. I remember you used to cheer me up by doing that and it never failed. Tonight’s performance was the best you’ve ever done it.’

  ‘Thanks, Mum. I will now have to leave the country because of the humiliation, but I appreciate your support.’ I sigh. ‘Anyway, after seeing Chase, I came back to meet you, Nina, and I was sitting in the reception bit waiting for you while you were in your group rehearsal. Caroline came in and I guess I looked a bit shell-shocked from the day we’d had as she invited me into her office for a cup of tea and I ended up telling her all about Miles and what had happened. She had been so nice about my website earlier and she was super understanding.’

  ‘Are you serious?’ Nina asks, shaking her head in disbelief. ‘But she’s … Caroline Morreau, director of music at Guildhall!’

  ‘To you, maybe. But, to me, she was just a nice person giving me a cup of tea. She was so encouraging about my music writing, too. She’s asked if I’d like to interview some Guildhall alumni for my website.’

  ‘How wonderful!’ Mum exclaims. ‘What a brilliant starting point for your new project.’

  ‘I know. I did question why she’d give me that opportunity over an established, experienced journalist, but she kept saying she’d like a fresh pair of eyes for a piece on the music school and how important it is to encourage new talent.’

  ‘I guess that’s why she’s such a good teacher,’ Mr Rogers points out.

  ‘Anyway, it turns out she’s an old romantic, too,’ I say, realizing I’ve gone off point and continuing with my story. ‘I told her about the Sound of Music thing and she said that I could go big with it at the showcase. Such a big gesture might change Miles’s mind, she said.’

  ‘So, you going on to the stage and singing to Miles was her idea?’ Jimmy says, staring at her chatting to some parents on the other side of the room. ‘She seemed so intimidating and serious onstage, but now I am seeing her in a whole new light.’

  ‘Did Miles see it? Did it work?’ Mr Rogers asks eagerly.

  ‘I have no idea.’

  ‘Uh … I think we may be about to find out,’ Jimmy says, nodding over my shoulder.

  I glance behind me and see Chase approaching our group with Miles beside him. As soon as I see Miles, I feel like I can’t breathe. Butterflies start freaking out in my stomach, fluttering about in anticipation and making me feel sick.

  ‘Hi,’ Chase says, grinning and wrapping his arm round Nina’s waist, ‘found you.’

  He kisses her on the cheek and Nina melts into him, gazing into his eyes. I mean, it’s kind of gross to witness, but also a huge relief that they’re OK. As if I ever doubted it.

  I can’t bring myself to look at Miles, who is now standing right there in front of me. There’s an awkward silence in our group as everyone tries to think of something to say.

  ‘Hey!’ Nina says suddenly in this overly bright, enthusiastic voice. ‘I want to introduce you all to my Guildhall friends. I think they’re over here. Nancy, you met them earlier backstage, right?’

  ‘No, I didn’t really –’

  ‘So you can stay here as you already met them,’ Nina insists, her eyes boring into mine. ‘And, Miles, you can stay here too, because … um … well, there’s so many of us, let’s not overwhelm them. OK, they’re standing over there – let’s go!’

  Wow. That was the most unsubtle move in the world.

  As everyone nods in agreement and shuffles away – including Mum who WINKS at me AGAIN as she goes, a repeat of the totally unacceptable, non-stealthy gesture she did that time in the shop – I’m left standing next to Miles.

  ‘Hi, Nancy,’ he says.

  Blushing already, I force myself to look at him and notice that he’s smiling at me. Which is surely a good thing? Oh god, why are my palms so sweaty?

  ‘Oh, hey, Miles,’ I say in as nonchalant a manner as possible. ‘What’s going on with you?’

  WHAT’S GOING ON WITH YOU?! That’s what I lead with?!

  I add myself to my kill list.

  ‘I’m not too bad,’ he says, pretending like everything is normal. HOW IS HE SO CALM? ‘You want to go chat outside? It’s a bit crowded in here.’

  ‘Yep. Sure.’

  I follow him through the mass of people, my heart in my throat. I don’t know what I’m going to do if he tells me it’s all over before it even began. I can’t cry. Not here at Guildhall, with all these people around. It’s Nina’s big night and I have to be strong for her. I can’t be miserable. Luckily, the few reporters who have bothered to wait outside Guildhall for the duration of the showcase are distracted, laughing at one reporter killing time by attempting to do some opera singing, and they don’t notice us sneak out and turn the corner. Whatever you do, don’t cry, I think to myself as Miles walks a little bit away from the building down the street so we are sure of some privacy.

  ‘I’ve had an interesting week,’ he continues. ‘I don’t know whether you saw the press conference earlier in the week, but Chase has asked me to co-write his solo album with him, before we start work on the next album for Chasing Chords. I thought everything was going to be a bit rubbish, but it turns out it’s the exact opposite. I have a busy, exciting year ahead.’

  ‘Oh. That’s good. Congratulations,’ I say, looking down at my feet.

  Unsure what to say next, I continue to stare at the ground and neither of us speaks for a moment.

  ‘Nancy,’ he says, breaking the silence and, even though I’m looking at my shoes, I can feel his eyes boring into me. ‘I know you didn’t write the stories. I know it wasn’t your fault.’

  ‘It was my fault,’ I say, hot tears prickling behind my eyes. ‘Everything was my fault.’

  ‘Actually, it wasn’t,’ he insists in a gentle voice. ‘I’m sorry I haven’t got back to you this week. I was trying to work out what to say.’

  ‘Stop being so nice. It makes me feel worse.’ I force myself to look up into those stupid, lovely eyes of his. ‘I’m really sorry, Miles. I really wish I could make things better. I mean it.’

  ‘I know you do. I guessed that from the little show you put on this evening.’

  A wide grin spreads across his face.

  ‘You were right, Nancy. No one could stay mad after that Sound of Music trick. It was a truly memorable performance and I feel very honoured that it was dedicated to me. I already couldn’t get you out of my head and, after that, I have no chance.’

  When he says that, I feel a tiny spark of hope. What does he mean, he couldn’t get me out of his head? In a good way or a bad way? Argh, WHY do boys have to be so cryptic?!

  ‘I thought it was the least I could do,’ I say quietly.

  ‘Thank you,’ he says, and I don’t know whether he means to but his hand sort of moves forward and his fingers lightly brush mine.

  A shiver runs all the way through me as we touch.

  ‘So, I was thinking, I’ll be needing to get out of London quite a bit with all this work I have to do on Chase’s album. You know, get some fresh air and inspiration for lyrics. I thought some long walks through the Norfolk countryside might be in order.’

  I blink up at him. ‘R-really?’

  ‘Yeah. But only if you’re there acting as tour guide. You were so good last time, what with all those circles we did without getting anywhere.’

  ‘Hey, that was your fault,’ I point out, the heavy anxious feeling I’ve been wrapped in all week slowly easing away with his teasing. ‘You wouldn’t let me use my map.’

  ‘Maybe next time you’ll remember where it is that you live and how to get back there, you know, considering you’ve been there for seven years.’
r />   I roll my eyes. ‘You know what? Maybe next time you should go for a walk on your own.’

  ‘Ah, that wouldn’t be any fun. If I was on my own, it wouldn’t be much of a date now, would it?’

  ‘So, it’s a … date?’ I ask hopefully, hardly daring to breathe, I’m so nervous.

  ‘Yes, it’s a date. I’ve liked you for a long time, Nancy Palmer.’

  He takes a step forward and is now standing so close that I have to tilt my head up to look at him.

  ‘You remember when I came to your mum’s village shop to go to the record store and I asked you to come for lunch?’ he asks.

  I nod, aware of how close we are and finding it difficult to think of anything sensible to say. He smells so good. It’s very distracting.

  ‘The band wasn’t in Norwich that weekend to meet the producer. I wasn’t doing anything that day and Chase told me you were working in your mum’s shop while Nina was at her course, so I thought I’d try to run into you. I pretended I was there for another reason but –’ he pauses, looking embarrassed – ‘I was there to hopefully see you.’

  I stare at him, letting his words sink in.

  ‘Wait … you came all that way … to take me for a lunch?’

  ‘Yeah, I did.’

  ‘Really,’ I say, tingling with happiness. ‘Kind of stalker-y.’

  He laughs and then reaches up to brush along my cheekbone with his thumb.

  ‘I really wish,’ I say, losing myself in his eyes, ‘that I hadn’t been wearing that lobster hat.’

  He puts his other hand on my waist and pulls me towards him. I can’t believe this is happening to me. My heart is so full it might explode.

  ‘I thought you looked perfect,’ he says.

  He leans forward as though to kiss me, but hesitates and then he does that smile. The smile he seems to have only for me. The smile I want to see every day from now on.

  The smile I’ll never risk losing again.

  ‘Hang on a second,’ he teases, his eyes twinkling mischievously. ‘Is this going to end up all over the internet for everyone to see?’

  ‘Nah,’ I say, standing on my tiptoes to kiss him. ‘This moment I’m keeping all to myself.’

  CHAPTER ONE

  Nancy

  For as long as I can remember I have been in love with Chase Hunter.

  I love everything about him. The way his thick, dark-brown messy hair sticks up when he runs his fingers through it (which he does whenever he’s nervous) and how he gets the cutest dimples whenever he smiles, showing off his pearly white teeth. He has the most beautifully sculpted cheekbones and chiselled jaw, but my favourite thing is his vintage indie style of dressing; he looks hot in whatever he’s wearing, but I love him best in his simple, favourite combo of black skinny jeans, a white T-shirt and leather jacket, and that fedora hat he hardly ever goes without. And who could miss those piercing bright blue eyes framed by long dark eyelashes, which make your knees turn to jelly and cause your brain to go blank and forget all the words in the English language as you look into them.

  Chase is also the most talented human being on the planet. He plays a whole host of instruments, but he’s the best at piano. He’s been playing since he was four years old, when his dad first plonked him on a piano stool. And Chase has a seriously beautiful singing voice that makes a shiver go down my spine and the breath catch in my throat.

  Chase and I are made for one another. We like all the same things, including, but not limited to, the following:

  Music (mostly pop, but we also both occasionally dip into soundtracks from the West End)

  Fashion (we can both pull off hats, and that is something you just can’t teach)

  Dogs AND cats (but neither of us are fans of pigeons – they are pure evil)

  Art (for me, that includes nails and make-up; for Chase, it’s songwriting and, also, photography is one of his favourite hobbies)

  Yoga (we are both totally spiritual)

  Basically, we’re soulmates.

  ‘Nancy? Hello, Earth to Nancy!’

  I snap my head up as my friend Layla’s voice cuts through my daydreaming.

  ‘Sorry!’ I smile as she rolls her eyes, sitting down next to me and pulling her phone out of her bag. ‘I was in my own world.’

  I’d just been remembering Chase’s birthday last year, when he went to his party wearing an open red-and-black check flannel shirt over a vest. I had inhaled so sharply when I saw him in such a great layer combination that I had accidentally swallowed my gum, making me cough and splutter all over the place.

  Which is proof of how good-looking Chase Hunter really is.

  He, literally, almost made me die.

  ‘Whatever.’ Layla sighs impatiently, busy texting. ‘So, what’s this big news you wanted to tell me?’

  ‘You have got to see this app I downloaded.’ I grin, sliding my phone across the table towards her.

  Her eyes flicker towards it reluctantly.

  ‘What is it?’ she says in a bored voice. ‘And who opened the window? Seriously, it’s freezing in here.’

  I shrug and reach up to close the classroom window, deciding not to mention that it was actually me who had opened it earlier, just before she came in. I had been spritzing my new perfume and gone a bit overboard, spraying so much that I sneezed about a hundred times and could still taste it in my mouth.

  I can confirm that perfume does not taste as nice as it smells.

  ‘Morning!’ our friend Sophie says brightly, sauntering across the classroom and sitting at the table in front of us.

  We don’t have seats officially assigned to us in morning registration, but Layla made sure at the beginning of the year that everyone knew these three places were ours, because, being right at the back and next to the window, they are the best seats in the room.

  A few weeks ago, Timothy Davies tragically forgot about this unwritten rule and we came in one morning to find him sitting at mine and Layla’s desk, doodling cartoons in his notebook. Layla was furious and I had to step in quickly before she went full-on Disney villain at him. I know what she can be like. Don’t even get me started on the time I took a sneaky bite out of her red velvet cupcake.

  I will never commit such a crime EVER again. The punishment was so not worth the bite.

  ‘Hey, Sophie.’ I grin as she sits down, swivelling to lean on the back of her chair and face us. ‘I have to tell you about this app. Basically–’

  ‘Did you get my message?’ Layla asks her, cutting across me.

  ‘Yeah.’ Sophie nods, rummaging about in her bag before passing Layla a lip gloss. ‘Sorry, I completely forgot I’d borrowed it. I’m glad you reminded me. My brain has been all over the place this morning, stressing about the English test today.’ She lets out a long sigh. ‘Who knew Jane Austen could be so complicated!’

  ‘Jane Eyre,’ I correct.

  ‘Oh.’ Sophie stares at me blankly. ‘Are those two different things?’

  I smile. Sophie always has her head in the clouds; sometimes I think she’s on a completely different planet. She lives next door to Layla, so they’ve been best friends for years and I often wonder whether Sophie is ever annoyed that Layla chooses to sit next to me at school now, rather than her. However, whereas I’d be upset if my best friend since forever did that to me, I genuinely don’t think it crosses Sophie’s mind.

  ‘Jane Austen was an author, and Jane Eyre is the main character of Charlotte Brontë’s book. Totally unrelated except for the first name.’

  ‘Wait, what?’ Her dark eyes widen with panic.

  Sophie always goes on about how lucky I am to have blue eyes and poker-straight blonde hair, but I think the exact opposite. I would do anything to have her intense dark-brown eyes and beautiful brunette curls. I get really mad at her when she straightens her hair. She has no idea how long it takes me– and how many times I burn myself with curling tongs– to achieve anything near the kind of volume her hair has. Layla has lovely natural waves too, and whenev
er she stays over at mine she complains about how much hair spray I use in the morning, accusing me of poisoning her lungs.

  The straight-hair struggle is real.

  ‘I was just telling my parents this morning that I’ve been studying Jane Austen,’ Sophie continues. ‘No wonder Mum looked confused at breakfast when I mentioned all the moors.’

  ‘The moors?’

  ‘Yeah,’ she says. ‘You know, all the moors in the book. I read that this morning online. It’s an important theme,’ she adds proudly.

  ‘Ah,’ I begin carefully, ‘I think you’re getting confused with Wuthering Heights. That’s a different book, by Emily Brontë.’

  Sophie stares at me blankly. ‘I’m lost.

  ’ ‘Charlotte Brontë is the author who wrote Jane Eyre, the book we’re studying,’ I explain slowly. ‘Emily Brontë was her sister, who wrote another classic book, Wuthering Heights, which we’re not studying. That book has the important moors theme in it. And neither of those books are anything to do with Jane Austen.’

  Sophie slumps her shoulders forward. ‘I’m never going to pass my English GCSE. I can’t even get the book right!’

  ‘Don’t be silly – you’ll be ne,’ I say, trying to be as convincing as possible. ‘It’s only September, so this test doesn’t mean anything. You’ve got the entire year to read the right book before the actual exam.’

  ‘I suppose.’ She sighs. ‘What am I going to do about the Jane Eyre test?’

  ‘I can give you an overview of all the important points, if you like,’ I suggest.

  ‘You seem to know a lot about Jane Eyre and classic literature all of a sudden,’ Layla notes, watching me. ‘I didn’t know boring old books were your thing.’

  ‘They’re not,’ I insist hurriedly. ‘It’s because of the test. And I just … I know a lot about them because of Nina. She often talks about books at dinner.’

  Layla rolls her eyes. ‘That gures.’

  Technically, that wasn’t a lie. Nina does sometimes talk about books at dinner. But what I don’t mention is that I’ve also read all those books myself. Twice. I just can’t admit that to Layla and Sophie.