‘Nooo …’ she blushed, visibly embarrassed by the question.
‘Well, I wonder if anyone has theirs on you …’
‘Doubt it,’ she muttered, nibbling on her lip.
‘Jackson? Williams? Tipper? Mr Brown?’ he offered, listing the surnames of some of the guys on the bus, his eyebrows rising more with each suggestion given.
Maddy screwed up her face in reply.
‘Might be your lucky trip, Maddy Hurst. I bet someone’s got their eye on you,’ he grinned.
‘Doubt it. We can’t all be as popular as you,’ she teased.
‘It’s quality that matters, not quantity, Maddy.’
‘Is that right?’
‘Yep.’
‘If your fan club could hear you now.’
‘I’m not being ungrateful!’ he protested with his eyes wide. ‘They’re all lovely, but …’
‘What?’
‘Well, I’m just waiting to be swept off my feet by the right girl.’
‘And you think you’ll find her in Paris?’
‘It’s a nice place to start looking.’
I stayed quiet. In fact, I think I may have even stopped listening (and breathing). I couldn’t look at them. We were all seated so close together, Robert was still lying across us. I felt wedged in with no escape. I panicked that the conversation was going to be turned around to me and who I fancied. I had no idea what I’d have said. All I could think about was my plan being messed up if I so much as uttered the wrong thing. I zoned in and out of their conversation, a bead of sweat appearing on my upper lip as I continued to freak out.
But the conversation just ended.
Just like that.
Robert sat upright and dived into his rucksack, chucking out a chocolate Curly Wurly bar for us each and that was it.
The only thing remaining of the exchange was Maddy’s pink-stained cheeks.
The moment had clearly been forgotten by Robert who, instead, decided to unload the rest of his bag and impress us by revealing its contents – a mountain of treats: biscuits, crisps, chocolate and sweets. A staple diet for any growing teenager.
‘No way I’m eating frog’s legs or snails!’ he declared, with a cheeky grin.
‘Yuck!’ chorused Maddy and I, pulling disgusted faces.
Yes, shamefully we all believed the stereotype that, at some point on that trip, we’d be forced to eat such dishes – something we were all terrified of. But for a few minutes, as we sat back in our seats and started to munch on the chewy caramel chocolate, our fears melted away.
Even though I was relieved that the conversation had quickly moved on, I didn’t fail to notice Maddy’s eyes twinkling as they roamed along our classmates and visibly continued to dream up different possibilities and matches in her head.
I wondered if she was thinking about her own chance of romance … and if she was thinking of me.
‘You’re so lucky that you get to share a rooooom!’ whined Maddy as she stomped her way through our hotel room door and plonked herself on my bed.
The room was pretty basic but better than we imagined. Our twin room had two single beds (made up with cream-coloured sheets and blankets rather than a comfy duvet – our first Parisian grumble) along opposite walls with a wooden bedside table placed between them. The walls were off-white and blue curtains hung at the windows, which looked out at a brick wall of the building next door rather than a breath-taking view of the city. The most wonderful thing about our room was the en-suite, which was exciting enough, but it also had a shower in it. We only had a bath at home back then. What a luxury!
‘I have to share with Kelly Sinclair – I don’t even know her! Why can’t I be in here with you?’ Maddy continued, her face all screwed up as she moaned.
‘You know why,’ shrugged Robert, a cheeky smile appearing – the one he always used before saying something naughty. ‘The teachers know you wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off me if you slept in here.’
I was used to Rob winding Maddy up in this way, but never had he said something quite so sexually suggestive. It shocked me. To my horror, I started to wonder if I wasn’t the only one to harbour feelings for our best friend – although, if that was that case, I wondered if Rob would really choose to be so blatant about it. Surely he was just winding her up, I hoped. Nevertheless, my paranoia started to return.
A second or two seemed to pass with me gawping at the two of them while Maddy widened her eyes at a smirking Robert in disbelief.
‘Argh, you’re so gross!’ she eventually whined, much to my relief, as she pulled one of my pillows from the bed and flung it at him. ‘What’s this?’ she asked, holding up a scruffy stuffed toy rabbit by its ears. I’d brought it with me and quickly hidden it under there when Robert had gone to the loo earlier. I didn’t expect Maddy to come in and find it mere moments later.
‘Erm …’ I hesitated.
‘Wait, I recognize it,’ she said, as she brought it round to face her, ruffling its shabby lilac hair. ‘I got you it for your birthday. Years ago.’
‘Yeah …’ I raised my eyebrows and sighed, shaking my head and acting as though I was as confused by its appearance in our Parisian hotel room as she was.
Maddy had given it to me on my tenth birthday and at that time it was the most precious thing I owned. It’s not like I went to bed with it every night or anything, I’d only done that for the first year, but when I was packing to go away I saw it sitting glumly on my bedside table and thought it might be a nice thing to have with me – my lucky mascot, if you will. I wrongly thought it would go unnoticed.
‘I’ve no idea what it’s doing here. Mum must’ve put it in my bag. You know what she’s like,’ I said with a quick shake of the head and a roll of my eyes.
‘Yes, I do.’
‘Nutter …’ I added without much gusto. I wasn’t used to talking badly of Mum.
‘And who put it under your pillow?’ she asked after a pause.
‘What?’
‘Your pillow?’
‘Huh?’ I heard her the first time and knew exactly what she was getting at.
‘It was under your pillow, so somehow it hopped out of your suitcase and dived into your bed before either of you noticed …’
I looked at her with my mouth wide open, willing my brain to form some sort of an explanation. Nothing came. Suddenly I was the rabbit, caught in the big flaming headlights of embarrassment.
‘Leave him alone!’ yelled Robert, coming to my aid and throwing the pillow back in Maddy’s direction. ‘Are you trying to tell us that you’ve not brought one yourself?’
Maddy covered her face with her hands, unable to stop a girlish giggle from escaping.
Later on that night, once Maddy had left to go to her own room and we were lying in our beds, one topic whirled around inside my head: Maddy and Robert.
‘Do you fancy Maddy?’ I asked, much to my own surprise. I couldn’t stop my mouth from opening and the question firing out as the overriding urge to quiz Robert fought against my brain’s resistance.
‘Huh?’ he questioned, sounding half asleep, even though we’d only just turned the lights off.
‘Maddy?’ I couldn’t face asking the whole question again, so I hoped he’d heard the majority of it, and opted to just repeat her name instead. I was so thankful that I’d waited until the lights were out – I could feel my face burning up, making me feel flustered.
‘Oh … not that I’m aware of,’ he laughed, sounding more awake. ‘Why?’
‘You were being quite flirty with her earlier.’
‘Was I?’ he asked.
‘More than normal,’ I said, in what I hoped was a laid-back tone of voice.
‘You know what she’s like,’ he sighed. ‘She gets so uptight and bashful, I was just winding her up.’
‘That’s what I thought …’ I nodded to myself.
‘Did I take it too far?’
‘Maybe …’
‘I hope I didn’t offend her.’
He sounded genuinely worried at the idea.
‘I’m sure you didn’t,’ I reasoned, mentally bashing myself around the head for having said anything in the first place – one thing I’d started to understand about love was that it made me feel more suspicious than anything else ever had. It was torturous.
‘Still, I’ll apologize tomorrow. I was only messing around … it’s nice that you’re protective over her,’ he added after a brief pause.
‘You are too.’
‘I guess we can’t help it.’
The conversation ended there. I wasn’t sure if Robert had simply fallen back to sleep or whether he, like me, was lying there thinking of Maddy.
I hoped it was the former.
The next morning we were forced out of bed ridiculously early (which probably wasn’t that early, but seeing as none of us had bothered to move our watches forward an hour it seemed like it was still the middle of the night). We might have thought we were on holiday, but our teachers were hell-bent on getting us out of bed and on to the streets of Paris as soon as they could. We’d mumbled good mornings to each other at the breakfast table as we slumped into our seats.
‘Okay, sleepy heads,’ welcomed Miss James with a smile before handing around printed worksheets. ‘Here’s a rough itinerary for the next few days and the work I expect you to do in each museum or place we visit.’
‘Work?’ queried Robert. ‘But I thought the idea was just to look at the art, Miss. Surely that’s what the artists would want.’
‘Nice try, Mr Miles.’
I swear I saw her blush.
I quickly skimmed my way through the itinerary and longed for the words to pop from the page, but I didn’t see them.
‘Miss? Where’s the Eiffel Tower?’ I asked, unable to hide the panic in my voice. ‘Surely we’re going to go there …?’
To my relief a few of the others grumbled their own protests at the omission.
‘I was planning on talking to you all about that. I thought it might be a nice thing to do the morning we leave to go home – a splendid way to round off what I’m sure will be a great trip. Although that does mean getting up very early, and getting on the bus to go straight back home from there, rather than going from here. Does that sound okay with you lot?’
There was a split reaction from the group – the girls all nodded in approval, beaming great big smiles at the thought of gracing the super romantic spot, and the boys grunted – either because they weren’t as bothered or because it was still too early. Needless to say I was with the girls on this one. Going there on the last day would be all right, I decided. I’d have preferred to go there straight away and get the whole thing over with as soon as I could, rather than having to wait for the entire trip and agonizing over what was to come, but the important thing was we were going there. All I had to do was hold it together until then.
Gazing over the plans for our busy week, we tried to eat the crusty rolls and slices of ham and cheese given to us (none of us were too impressed with that continental malarkey), and then our crazy week of cramming in every tourist attraction Paris had to offer commenced. We gazed up at Notre Dame cathedral while singing the songs from the Disney classic which included a lonely hunchback (then had to stop ourselves from continuing to sing when we were inside the holy building – although I’m pretty sure I heard Robert humming along to himself). We explored the Rodin Museum and copied the moody pose of The Thinker, walked around the Picasso Museum and debated whether he was a genius or just off his rocker. Got dragged through Père-Lachaise cemetery as Miss James listed details of a load of dead people we didn’t know – actually we had heard of Jim Morrison and Oscar Wilde, but even then it was hardly riveting stuff – they’re dead! Plus, it was freezing cold and standing around bored was irritating. We marvelled over work in the Musée Marmottan Monet, complained how small the Mona Lisa was in the Louvre (after queuing for ages to see her – plus the glass case in front of her was dirty) and questioned the respectability of almost every piece in the Pompidou Centre (‘How can that be art?’) – all the while making notes and scribbling sketches in our notebooks so that our teachers would think we were actually doing some work, but more so that we had something to show our parents when we got home, giving them the satisfaction that their money had been well spent. Hardly any crêpes were eaten – one of my biggest disappointments of the trip when it came to experiencing the joys of Paris. Well, that and the fact that our trip to the Eiffel Tower never felt like it was getting any closer.
The days crawled by at a snail’s pace, as if they were purposefully trying to torment my lovesick heart. However, every now and then, in the distance over a bridge or from a viewing platform at one of the museums, I’d catch a glimpse of that metallic beacon of beauty and romance and feel a surge of happiness ping through my heart. Every day, every minute and every second inched me closer and closer to its magic, reminding me that my plan was still intact, that the trip’s grand finale was just around the corner. I had no doubt that the Parisian air had the power to propel us into something new. Something different that would change our lives forever.
In many ways, I was right.
Maddy
Sixteen years old …
It was our last night in Paris and, as a treat, Miss James and the other chaperones decided to take us out to a little French restaurant for dinner. While we were getting ready and putting on our make-up, my roommate, Kelly Sinclair (one of the cooler kids from our year who always looked perfect with her dark smouldering eye make-up and long tousled brown hair) turned to me – her head leaning to one side as she squinted her eyes at me suspiciously.
‘You and Robert were looking close on the way back today.’
Her comment was nothing new, I was used to being quizzed in such a manner when it came to me and the boys. Sometimes it was Ben and I cuddling that got people talking, other times it was the playful banter between Rob and I that caught their attention. I could usually brush it off, insisting that I didn’t believe in the assumption that girls and boys could never be just friends, but on that trip I’d become even more aware of things shifting. Everything between us felt more charged, like we were both just waiting for something to happen. Like the chat on the bus about him waiting for the right girl – was that a hint? And was he questioning me about other guys in our class to suss out my reaction?
I was more than embarrassed when he lay there and mocked my supposed inability to keep my hands off him – I wondered if he could sense what was going on in my head. And if he could, well, that was just humiliating. He apologized for that, actually. The morning after the hands-off incident he’d gone out of his way to pull me to one side and say sorry, but not in a macho can’t-believe-I’m-doing-this way. It contained real concern as he placed his hands on the tops of my arms and held my gaze while he made sure he hadn’t upset me. It did nothing to ease the growing feeling inside – instead it put it on high alert. If I were to be quizzed on Robert’s whereabouts at any point on the whole of that trip, I’d have been able to answer straight away. I was in a permanent state of awareness. Although, funnily enough, there was one moment at the Rodin Museum when I was lost in thought sketching the great bronze statue of The Thinker. I must have been sitting on the bench, hidden in the museum’s gardens, concentrating for quite some time (it was the only piece of work I’d almost managed to complete). Being the main attraction of the museum, many people came, saw, replicated for a photo and left – there was a constant buzz around the piece. Once I was nearly finished I looked to the person on my right (they’d been sat there for a while) and found Robert staring at me.
‘Did you know you bite your lip when you’re concentrating?’ he asked with a frown.
‘Do I?’
‘You’ve been doing it for the last half an hour.’
‘You’ve been sat there that long?’
He nodded keenly.
‘Just staring at me like a nutter?’
‘Oh no, I drew you too.’
Before I had a chance to be amazed by his revelation, he turned his sketchbook round to face me. He’d opted for the ‘stick man’ approach. The only part of me that he’d gone into any detail with was my hair – for which he’d used the colour red to draw an aggressive-looking bird’s nest on top of my head. The windy air was clearly doing me no favours.
‘Nice,’ I muttered, raising my hand to smooth down my wild hair.
‘Don’t,’ he insisted as he took my hand and placed it back on my lap. ‘It’s cute.’
I raised an eyebrow at him, questioning his comment.
‘I think I’ve captured you perfectly,’ he smiled proudly down at his work. ‘I’ve called it My Red-headed Thinker.’
The use of the word my did not go unnoticed by my hammering heart.
The day Kelly chose to question me there had definitely been another moment between us as we made our way back from the Louvre.
This time I’d started it.
As we walked side by side to the hotel a silence had fallen between us. It wasn’t an uncomfortable one, but nonetheless, I felt the need to fill it with something to stop my wandering thoughts. So I playfully pinched his thick blue scarf and wrapped it around my own neck. I hadn’t expected it to escalate into him grappling me to the ground in the middle of the sanded pathway in the Jardin des Tuileries and me being tickled into hysteria until I handed it back.
It was more than just the two of us mucking around as normal – this time it was physical. It was feisty and intense. However, Kelly pointing it out made me feel protective over the whole thing. I didn’t want to be asked about it. I wanted her to butt out.
I shook my head and rolled my eyes as I pinched in my cheeks and swept on some pink Rimmel blusher.
‘Oh really,’ I sighed nonchalantly, hoping Kelly would get the hint that it was a topic I was bored of explaining.
‘You were flirting,’ she continued.
‘No, we weren’t,’ I protested, my voice hitting slightly higher notes than I wanted it to.
‘You were jumping all over each other.’
You're the One That I Want Page 6
