by Melody James
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.
I barge through the front door, happy to be out of the icy wind. It’s good to be home. I smell dinner. Something tasty. I drop my schoolbag and hang up my coat. Underneath the mouth-watering food smell is the faint whiff of hospital that always seems to cling to Ben’s CF equipment.
‘Hi, Dad.’ He looks up from his paper as I wander into the living room and drop Ben’s prescriptions on the sofa beside him.
‘Hi, love.’ Dad smiles. ‘You look cold. Did you manage to get everything?’ He glances at the chemist’s bag.
‘They only had half the antibiotics, but Mrs MacDonald says we can pick up the other half tomorrow.’
Dad folds his paper. ‘Thanks, Gem. Are you hungry?’
‘Yeah, I’m starving!’ I follow him into the kitchen. ‘Where’s Ben?’
Dad clatters plates out of the cupboard and lines them up on the counter. ‘Mum set his Xbox up in his bedroom.’
‘Is he OK?’ I’m instantly worried. Mum only lets him play Xbox in bed if he’s sick.
‘He’s fine,’ Dad reassures me. ‘Just tired. It was his school trip today.’
‘Oh, yes! The zoo!’ I turn as Mum pads into the kitchen. ‘How was it?’
She slides her arms round my waist and hugs me hello. ‘It was great.’ Mum always volunteers to help out on school trips. That way she can keep an eye on Ben. ‘The kids made more noise than the animals.’
‘I bet the animals thought you were bringing the zoo to visit them,’ I joke.
‘The monkeys did look surprised.’ Mum lets go of me and leans over to sniff the casserole. Dad’s carrying it from the oven. She grabs a cloth and lifts off the lid. Steam billows out, fragrant with onions and herbs.
‘Are we eating in front of the telly?’ I ask hopefully.
Dad ladles a spoonful of dark, rich casserole on to a plate. ‘Why not?’
‘Yay!’ I grab the plate and carry it through, curling up in my favourite corner of the sofa. ‘What about Ben?’ I call back into the kitchen.
‘Shh!’ Mum pokes her head out. ‘He’s asleep.’
I feel a moment’s disappointment, which evaporates as I switch the TV from the cartoon channel and find something with real human beings in it.
‘When does the football start?’ The sofa heaves as Dad sits down beside me. I steady my plate as Mum squeezes in next to him.
She raises her eyebrows. ‘You think I’m going to watch football after a day at the zoo with seventy-two nine-year- olds?’
‘Just the second half?’ Dad asks hopefully.
Mum forks in a mouthful of stew. ‘OK,’ she mumbles.
Dad smiles, and I tuck into my dinner.
After we’ve eaten, I take the plates out and help Dad with the washing-up while Mum has forty winks on the sofa. As Dad wakes her gently with a cup of tea, I hear the doorbell. I race to answer it before it wakes Ben by jangling again. Treacle’s standing there, looking as if she’s freezing, despite her giant coat.
I hug her and drag her inside. ‘What are you doing here?’ If there’s a match on, she’s usually at home, glued to the telly. ‘What about the football?’
‘I’m recording it.�
�� She points to her schoolbag. ‘I’m really struggling with the assignment on To Kill a Mockingbird and I know you’ve read it.’
‘Haven’t you?’
‘Two-thirds,’ she admits.
I close the front door quietly. ‘That’ll be enough to write the assignment,’ I tell her. ‘It’s just a character study.’
I lean into the living room, swinging on the door handle. ‘Treacle’s here. We’re going to do homework.’
Mum and Dad are already snuggled up in the middle of the sofa. Mum looks up sleepily. ‘OK, Gem. Do you want ice cream or anything?’
‘We can get some later if we do.’ I pull the door to and lead Treacle upstairs. I can’t resist checking on Ben. He’s fast sleep, his mouth just wide enough to make tiny snores.
‘He’s so cute,’ Treacle whispers behind me.
‘Don’t let him hear you say that!’ I warn her. ‘He’ll kill you.’
She grins and heads for my room. In five minutes we’ve got papers spread over the floor and our copies of the book cracked open and face down.
‘You’ll never believe what Cindy did.’ It’s the first chance I’ve had to dish the dirt on the Ice Queen’s latest crime and I’m relieved Treacle’s here so I can dirt-dish in person.
‘What?’ Treacle’s eyes are wide.
‘She stole the article.’
‘The article?’
‘The shed article,’ I prompt.
‘The SHED article?’
The shock in her voice pleases me. It convinces me I’m right to be furious.
‘You know I mentioned it to her last week and she brushed me off like it was a dumb idea?’ I remind her. Treacle nods as I go on. ‘Well, she’s written her own version and she’s publishing it in next week’s webzine.’
Treacle shakes her head. ‘She’s unbelievable!’
‘I know!’
‘Did you say anything to her?’
‘She didn’t give me a chance,’ I splutter. ‘She just ended the meeting and left.’
‘What are you going to do about it?’ Treacle asks.
‘What can I do?’ I sigh.
‘We could make a voodoo doll of her and stick pins in it,’ Treacle suggests.
I let out a sigh. ‘A voodoo doll won’t make me feature writer on the webzine.’
Treacle picks up her bag from the floor beside her. ‘Let’s forget about her then.’
I reach for my book. ‘Shall we do the essay?’
Treacle shakes her head then starts fumbling in her bag. ‘I want you to hear something. It’s for the Valentine’s assembly.’ She pulls out a book and I notice that her face has gone bright red. ‘It’s a poem.’
I shudder. Because Susan decided that she wanted to sing in the assembly, Miss Davis has decided that the rest of us should contribute ‘creatively’ too and read famous love poems to the rest of the school. She thinks St Valentine will be pleased.
I’m not. I’m mortified. ‘I can’t believe she wants us to read such soppy stuff out loud. To everyone.’
‘Yeah well, I’ve found one I kind of like.’ Treacle’s face is so red now I can practically feel the heat radiating off it.
I lean over and read upside down.
‘Valentine’ by Carol Ann Duffy.
I’ve never heard of it. I’ve not chosen my poem yet. I’m having a hard enough time practising the intro Miss Davis has given me to read. Valentine’s Day is a day to celebrate love and love is one of the strongest forces in the universe. Hmm, not quite as strong as the force of embarrassment I’m going to feel reading it to the rest of the school.
Treacle is on her feet and shaking back her hair. She holds up the book and starts reading.
‘“Valentine” by Carol Ann Duffy.’ She coughs, goes a bit redder, then continues.
‘Not a red rose or a satin heart.
I give you an onion.’
I do a double-take. ‘An onion?’
‘Wait.’ Treacle holds up a hand. ‘It gets better.’ She lifts the book until it is completely covering her blushing face.
‘It is a moon wrapped in brown paper.
It promises light
like the careful undressing of love.
Here.
It will blind you with tears
like a lover.’
‘Wow.’ I’m liking it.
‘Is it OK?’ Treacle lets the book droop and stares at me. ‘Perhaps I should choose something soppier.’
‘Since when was real love actually soppy?’ I point out. ‘Look at Savannah. Her love life seems to consist of arranging dates and making phone calls. It’s more like being a secretary.’
Treacle’s eyes go misty. ‘I’d be a secretary if it meant going out with Jeff. Not that it’s ever going to happen.’ She shoots a look at me that takes me by surprise. It’s sharp with accusation. ‘You spend so much time talking to him these days, he’ll probably ask you out first.’
‘No way!’ I react fiercely. ‘He’s a really nice guy and—’
‘So you do like him?’ Treacle starts picking at the spine of her book.
‘Not like that!’ I say quickly. ‘I mean as a friend.’
‘Well, you did look pretty friendly at the Cup match,’ she mutters.
I sit back in shock. How long has Treacle been feeling like this? ‘I was helping him with his report,’ I begin. Then I remember my heart-covered match stats. ‘Well, not exactly helping, just . . .’
Treacle wraps her arms round her knees and scowls. ‘Just laughing and flirting by the look of it,’ she snaps.
‘I was not flirting!’ I defend myself. ‘He’s a nice guy. He’s easy to be with.’
Treacle starts shoving her books into her bag. ‘Yeah, well, I wouldn’t know, would I?’
‘Treacle!’ I grab her arm, but she shakes me off.
‘I thought you were trying to help me, but maybe you’re after him for yourself.’ She stands up and I duck out of the way as she swings her backpack over her shoulder.
‘Treacle! I am trying to help you. Honestly, you have no idea quite how hard I am trying.’
Treacle drops her bag back on to the floor. ‘What do you mean?’
I sigh. I hadn’t wanted to tell Treacle about my cunning plan until I knew for sure that it was going to work, but if I want to stop her from walking out in a huff, it looks like I have no choice. ‘Well, you know how I’m using Savannah’s horoscope to tell her about Josh two-timing?’
Treacle nods.
‘I’m doing the same thing for you and Jeff.’
Treacle stares at me like I’m a crazy person. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I’m going to make him believe in his horoscope and then I’m going to use it to lead him to you.’ I sit back, grinning at her broadly, and praying that she loves it and doesn’t think I’m insane.
‘But how will you get him to believe in it? He’s a boy. Boys hate astrology.’ Despite Treacle’s frown she sits back down next to me. I breathe a sigh of relief.
‘I found something out about him the other day, something even he didn’t know, and I put it in his horoscope. Then I got him to read it at the meeting today and guess what?’
Treacle looks at me blankly. ‘What?’
‘It came true almost straight away!’
‘What came true?’
I struggle to contain my glee. ‘He’s going to be coaching the Year Nine girls’ football team. Your football team.’
‘What? Really?’ Treacle’s face lights up like a Christmas tree.
I nod. ‘Yep. And now he thinks Jessica Jupiter is the bee’s knees because she predicted it would happen. Hopefully, he’ll believe anything she says from now on.’
Treacle shakes her head and for a split second I think she’s going to tell me that I’m nuts and my plan stinks. But then she starts to grin. ‘I’m so sorry, Gem. I don’t know why I ever thought you liked him. I’ve been going crazy thinking I’d never get to talk to him properly. And thinking of you getting to see him on the webz
ine all the time felt horrible. But he’s really going to be coaching the girls’ team?’
I nod. ‘So you’re going to have loads of opportunities to talk to him. And you’ll have Jessica Jupiter helping out behind the scenes.’
Treacle starts to laugh and her giggle is infectious. ‘Think of the power you could have if everyone started to believe in the horoscopes.’
I give an evil cackle. ‘World domination will be mine!’
We both crack up laughing. Then Treacle grabs her can of Coke from my bedside table.
‘To Jessica Jupiter!’ she says, raising the can.
‘To Jessica Jupiter!’ I say with a grin.
Icy drizzle is streaming down the windows. The classroom smells of steaming duffle coats and wet hair gel. I glance at the clock. Five minutes until registration. The door’s swinging open and shut like it’s happy hour at Pizza Hut as damp kids stumble in from the cold. Susan bursts in with her iPod clamped to her ears. She is wearing a rain cape that looks like it has been made out of a bin liner decorated with silver foil patches. I had no idea what I might unleash with Jessica’s horoscopes! I cling to the radiator, trying to thaw out, while Treacle paces in front of me.
‘I tackled him!’ She flings her arms wide. ‘I tackled Jeff Simpson and won the ball.’ She stops and stares at me, as happy as Cinderella the morning after the ball. ‘I still can’t believe he’s coaching our team. He says he’s going to give me some one-on-one training to help me with my dribbling.’
‘It’s your drooling you need help with,’ I tease.
Treacle thumps me, then widens her eyes like a soap star overacting. ‘Hey, I forgot. The webzine’s out today. Have you seen it yet?’
I nod, clenching my teeth.
Treacle frowns. ‘Cindy’s shed article?’
‘Top story.’
‘That is beyond unfair.’
As she speaks, Savannah sweeps in. Her head’s bowed. She’s reading a print-out. ‘I don’t see how Jessica Jupiter can be so right one week and so wrong another.’ She flops on to the desk next to me and pokes her paper with a polished fingernail. ‘And if there’s a curly-haired merman in your life, beware. He may not be flapping his tail just for you,’ she quotes. ‘The only curly-haired man in my life is Josh.’ Her brow furrows. ‘Is she saying that he’s seeing someone else?’
