by Katy Cannon
Anja elbowed Rohan in the ribs. “Is this to do with your gran’s book?”
“Isn’t everything?” I leaned in closer. Even though the common room was mostly empty, I really didn’t want to be overheard. “So, I figured out why I’m struggling to write the book.”
“Because you’re sixteen and have never written one before?” Anja guessed.
I ignored her. “Because it’s a romance.”
Rohan shrugged. “So you write a bit of kissing. Some man in a wet shirt or whatever it is you girls like.”
“It’s not as easy as that.” I looked to Anja for support. “You know what Mr Evans always says when we have to do creative writing – write what you know.” I thought of Gran’s words on the pink side of the notebook about the ‘tumult of relationships and experiences’ and realized I should have spotted the biggest issue with Gran’s plan from the start.
Anja’s eyes widened as she caught on. “Oh! And you don’t, well, you know…”
“Know.”
“Exactly.”
Rohan glanced between us in confusion. “OK, you’ve lost me.” Then his face lit up. “Oh! This is about the whole ‘sworn off dating’ thing, isn’t it?”
“I have not—” I started, but Rohan wasn’t listening.
“Did you really sign a blood pact with Hope Edwards in Year Seven?” he whispered, leaning forwards so I could hear. “Because that would explain why the balloon in a box thing didn’t win her over.”
I sighed. “Rohan, you and Anja have been my best friends since I was three. Don’t you think you’d have known about it if I signed a blood oath at eleven?”
“I suppose.” Deflated, Rohan sat back in his chair. “But you’re right – you definitely don’t date. Ever.”
“You two have hardly been dating up a storm recently either,” I pointed out. Anja had been single since the thing with Joe from her swim team last autumn (which lasted a massive three and a half weeks) and Rohan hadn’t had a girlfriend in even longer.
“Ah, but that’s by necessity rather than choice,” Anja replied, with a quick smile. “I’m too busy with training for any romance right now and Rohan can’t find anyone to date him.”
“Hey!” Rohan looked suitably offended but even he had to admit it was true.
“Back to the problem at hand. I can’t write a realistic romance because I’ve never had one,” I said bluntly. “Never been in love, never had a boyfriend – I’ve never even been kissed!”
Rohan shook his head. “So, wait, your only problem with your gran’s plan is that you’ve never been kissed?” He laughed, then pulled what I’m sure he thought was a seductive face. (It wasn’t.) “Well, that we can fix right now, sweetheart.”
Rolling her eyes, Anja pulled a face behind his back.
Rohan remained oblivious, fluttering his long, black eyelashes in my direction until I couldn’t help but laugh too. I knew he didn’t mean it.
“Thanks but no thanks,” I said drily. “No offence but snogging you isn’t going to help anyway. It’s not about the mechanics of the thing. It’s the feelings. I’ve never felt that way about a guy.” Never even had a hint of it. Until that morning in English.
Anja looked sceptical. “What about Thomas Green when we were in Year Ten? I know you never went out but you hung around together a lot.”
I waved a hand. “That was different. We liked the same books, that was all.” Plus, once I’d read some of his poetry, it was impossible to imagine getting close enough to kiss him. That was some highly disturbing imagery, right there. Personally, I considered the fact he’d moved away over the following summer a narrow escape.
“OK, well, what about Jack Cross? You absolutely obsessed about him last term,” Anja said.
“He was fictional,” I reminded her. “So less helpful than you might think.”
“Hmm,” Rohan leaned his chin in his hands, his elbows resting on his knees, apparently not too traumatized by me turning him down. “This is tricky. You have avoided romance surprisingly well, for someone who reads so much of it. And hasn’t signed a blood oath.”
His dark hair flopped into his warm brown eyes. Rohan’s hair was always straight and silky however much gel he stuck in it. In some ways, I wished I could fancy Rohan. He was funny, attractive, intelligent and, as far as I knew, he’d never even contemplated writing poetry about robot girls. But maybe we’d been friends for too long because I just couldn’t imagine us together. There was no zing. None of that instant attraction, that spark that Gran always wrote about as that first harbinger of love. Not even the sudden dry mouth, fast heartbeat and inability to string sentences together that had accompanied my encounter with Zach that morning.
(The only time my heart had ever beaten faster for Rohan was the time he fell out of a tree when we were nine and knocked himself out and I thought he was dead.)
“Got it!” Rohan sprang to his feet and pointed at me. “Eddie Paulson.”
“I was six!” I objected. “I hardly think he counts.”
“I don’t know,” Anja said, a teasing smile on her lips. “I mean, you two were going to get married and everything.”
“Were we?” I could barely remember it. Maybe Gran was right. I needed to start writing down the things that happened to me and how they made me feel. Then I could draw on them for my writing afterwards. “I wonder what happened to him?”
“I heard he got expelled and ended up at some military reform school or something,” Rohan said.
“Maybe not a romance you want to rekindle,” Anja added.
“No,” I agreed. “Definitely not.”
But I needed something. Some romance, some spark in my life.
And I thought I might just know where to find it.
“Wait.” Anja narrowed her eyes. “You said you had a possible solution to this problem. Which means—”
“You like someone.” Rohan grinned. “At last! The Frost melts. So, who is it?”
“I think I can guess,” Anja said, smiling slyly. “A certain Austen-quoting new boy, by any chance?”
“New boy?” Rohan’s eyes widened. “Wait, you fancy Zach Gates?”
I could feel my cheeks burning up with embarrassment. Especially since the chances of things going anywhere with Zach had to be slim to none. Half the school had already been mooning over him before he even had his first day here. What chance did I have? Especially after this morning.
But I knew I had to try. Even just remembering our Meet Cute made me feel too warm and my heart beat a little stronger. I’d never had that sort of reaction to anyone before – and I couldn’t see it happening again in a hurry, not at St Stephen’s. If I wanted to know what love felt like, Zach was my best bet.
Rohan was right about one thing – I knew romance. The written sort, anyway. I’d read hundreds of romance novels over the years and I’d internalized every single sign, every hint that love was in the offing. I might not have experienced it myself yet but I knew what it looked like.
“I know it’s a long shot,” I said. “But I figure, if I’m looking for a romantic hero, I may as well aim high, right?”
“Absolutely,” Anja agreed. “So, how are you going to do it?”
“I have no idea,” I admitted. “But I’m going to have to come up with something, and quick. Gran wants these three chapters as soon as possible.”
“Well, we can help.” Anja straightened in her chair, looking ready for action. “All you need is a plan, right?”
“Right.” Pulling Gran’s notebook out of my bag, I opened it to the first page of the blue side. This was definitely an event, rather than a feeling – an action plan even. I dug around for a pen then wrote along the top of the page:
A Plan for Romance:
1) Go forth and flirt.
It was a start.
“People always ask me where I get the ideas for my books. But I don’t understand the question. The world around us is simply overflowing with stories. I seldom have to look further than my
own little town to find a new one to write.”
Beatrix Frost, Author, Interview in the Guardian, 2009
The next day was Friday – the last day before half-term, and so my last chance for a week to see Zach and figure out how to make him fall for me. But rather than getting out there and talking to him – that was something I definitely needed to work up to slowly – I was sittng in the library, ignoring Drew as he stared at his laptop screen at the far table, and helping the odd student who wandered in to find a book.
But mostly I was thinking about Zach.
I’d spent the remainder of the previous afternoon and the whole of this morning watching out for him, trying to get to know him – as much as I could from a distance, anyway. After my complete and utter coherent sentence failure the previous day, I wasn’t rushing into another in-person encounter until I knew I could manage an actual conversation with him without losing my ability to talk.
I sighed, resting my elbows on the library front desk, and dropping my chin in my hands. It didn’t make any sense. Normally I was good at talking. I could debate books and authors and stuff for hours. I could chat about anything at all with my friends, or even make small talk with acquaintances, like Gran’s fan club.
What I couldn’t do though, it seemed, was talk to a boy I actually liked. Which was rather inconvenient, given my current plan. How was I ever going to get the romantic experience I needed if I couldn’t even hold a conversation with the guy?
It was a shame I couldn’t just script the whole thing. I was good at dialogue – especially the sort where you rewrite a conversation in your head afterwards, once you’ve thought of all the things you should have said in the moment but didn’t. I was brilliant at that.
Wait. Maybe I could. I mean, I couldn’t predict exactly what Zach would say next time we spoke. But some things were inevitable, right? The hellos and the general niceties. I could at least prepare my part of the conversation, so when I saw him again I wasn’t totally overwhelmed and blurted out some total gibberish or something.
And let’s face it, it couldn’t go much worse than the conversation I’d had with him yesterday.
What I needed was a great opening line, just like in a book. Something that showed I’d been paying attention yesterday when we met, and demonstrated my wit and likability.
Something better than: “Zach. Hi. Sorry I babbled at you after English yesterday.”
I needed something that showed him that I’d noticed him and liked what I saw, but without being too obvious and scaring him off. Something friendly, with the potential for more, but not stalker-y.
So, what had I learned from spotting him around school this last week?
I’d seen him hanging around with an odd mix of people – sometimes with other girls from our year, a couple of times with members of the rugby team, and once with the drama group. It was like he didn’t care enough about the usual high school cliques to follow the normal rules about picking a group and sticking with them.
That, I realized, was one of the things I most liked about him. (Well, apart from his smile.) But it didn’t help me narrow down my options for opening lines. I knew he’d been on TV, in some sort of reality show about a stage school that I had never watched when it was on, but I planned to try and download some episodes of.
I needed something we had in common. Something that would tell him I was his sort of person. That was how it always happened in books, right? The hero and heroine suddenly stop fighting long enough to learn that they’re more similar than they thought.
I stood up straighter as I realized. Jane Austen. Zach had quoted Pride and Prejudice from memory when he walked into English, so he had to be a fan. And P&P had been one of my favourite novels ever since Gran introduced me to it at the impressionable age of twelve. (Rohan had even bought me a ‘Mrs Darcy’ bag for my birthday last year, because my love has never faded.) It was perfect!
All I needed now was a Jane Austen related, slightly amusing opening line that I could practise in my head and use when I saw him. From there, I was sure the conversation would flow more smoothly this time.
I spent a few moments mentally running through the book in my head, but hadn’t got very far before the library doors flew open and in walked Zach.
My chest tightened at the sight of him and all my clever thoughts about a perfect opening line went skittering out of my head. How was it he looked even more attractive than yesterday? Or was it just my way of seeing him that had changed now I had come up with my plan?
On autopilot, I slid out from behind the front desk and crossed the library towards him, my legs a little wobbly with anticipation. I would not screw this up this time.
“Hi,” I said, smiling widely. “Zach, right?” No point letting him know that I’d already memorized his name, appearance, and everything I’d been able to find out about him on the school grapevine. “How are you finding St Stephen’s? Did Maisey give you the Grand Tour yesterday?” There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?
“Confusing,” Zach said, returning my grin. “I’m not sure Maisey actually knows her way around this place as well as she thinks. We ended up out by the sports pavilion three times.”
A warm feeling grew in my middle at the thought that he was already bored of Maisey. And even better, it reminded me of my dad’s favourite Pride and Prejudice quote – perfect!
“I guess she’d delighted you long enough, huh?”
Zach stared at me blankly and I felt my smile slipping.
“You know, like Mary in Pride and Prejudice, when she’s playing the piano and singing, and Mr Bennett says…” I was babbling again and my cheeks were already hot. “Never mind.”
“Pride and Prejudice?” Zach looked at me askance. “Like … from English class?”
I sighed. This was not working out quite as I’d planned in my head. “Yes. Sorry. Only you finished the quote yesterday and I thought you must be a fan…”
Zach laughed. “Oh, that? I only knew the scene because we did a history week on The Real Star School once and I was Darcy.”
Of course he was. Who else?
“Sounds fun,” I said, without much enthusiasm.
“It was. I’ve never actually read the book, though. Guess I’d better add it to my reading list for half-term.” He waved a sheet of paper at me, with a long list of the books he’d presumably need for his courses this term. “Maybe you can help me with that, actually. I was told to stop in and pick up these books, since all the class copies have been handed out? I’m supposed to look for someone called Tilly?”
My smile grew a little fixed. Not only had I screwed up my second meeting with Zach, it turned out he didn’t even remember my name. Apparently, our Meet Cute wasn’t as cute – or as memorable – as I’d hoped.
“That’s me,” I said, my smile wilting a bit. “I’m a library assistant here and, well, this is the library.” OK, so I might have been overstating my job title a little, but it never hurt to talk yourself up a bit, right?
“The books were a giveaway,” Zach said.
“Right. Of course.”
We stared at each other in uncomfortable silence. Then Zach said, “So, the text books?”
“Of course!” Library business. That I could do. “Do you want to give me the list and I’ll go find them for you?”
He handed the sheet of paper to me. “Shall I just … wait?”
I scanned the list. Nothing too obscure, thankfully. “I’ll only be a moment,” I said with a nod.
But as I turned to start searching the shelves, Drew yelled out across the library. “Hey, Frost! Aren’t you going to do something about the queue at the desk?”
“Busy here, Farrow,” I called back. I did glance over at the desk – there were two people waiting, who must have come in after Zach. “Or you could always help them.” After all, he spent enough time in the library. The least he could do was help out occasionally.
“Frost?” Zach asked from behind me.
“Yeah.
Tilly Frost,” I said, flashing a smile back at him, hoping the name might actually stick this time.
“I’m sorry,” Zach said, a rueful grin on his lips. “I’ve been introduced to so many people lately. You know, first week in a new place…”
“Of course! Don’t worry about it.” He was right. I might have only had one potentially life-changing/romance-inducing meeting that week, but he’d met hundreds of new people. I’d have to work harder than just reading Austen and accidentally dropping a notebook to stand out among that crowd.
I hurried off towards the shelves to hunt down the textbooks. As I passed the desk, I realized that Drew had actually taken me at my word and was looking up something for one of the students on the library computer.
Drew glanced in Zach’s direction. “The new boy got you running errands already?” he called after me, as I studied the history shelves. Was he glaring at Zach? The poor guy had only been at school a week – how could he have offended Drew already?
“I am a student librarian,” I pointed out. “And given how much time you spend in the library, it’s about time you started helping out.”
“Rachel said that, too.” Drew sighed. “Which is why after half-term I am also apparently officially a student librarian.”
“Really?” I squeaked a little with surprise.
“Yep. Guess I’d better start learning more about this place than the Wi-Fi password.”
“I guess you had.”
I quickly gathered the rest of Zach’s books and carried them back over to where he was waiting.
“All present and correct,” I said, handing him the stack of books with his list on top. “There’s a lot of books there to get through in a week, though.”
Zach shrugged. “That’s OK – I like a challenge.” He took the books and gave me a warm smile in return. “Thank you, Tilly.” He put extra emphasis on my name, as if to prove he’d really learned it now.
“Any time,” I said. “You know where to find me.”
But Zach had already turned away. The library doors swung open under his foot and he was gone.
