New Girl

by Carmen Reid

  And now here he was. Popping out of bushes. Completely unpredictable. And she couldn’t control the smile spreading across her face at the sight of him.

  ‘Waiting to see you,’ he replied, as if crouching in a hedge for an hour or so was the most obvious way to arrange a meeting.

  ‘Why?’ was the question that sprang to Amy’s mind.

  Jason looked down at the ground, scraped the front of his shoe across the gravel and for a moment or two looked almost shy.

  ‘Well . . . you know,’ he began, ‘I’ve been thinking about you. I’ve missed you.’

  So . . . despite the four unanswered emails and postcard . . . Jason Hernandez had been thinking of her? Jason Hernandez had missed her? Then, to recap: Jason Hernandez seemed to have some actual feelings about her, Amy McCorquodale. Internally, Amy was leaping about in a victory dance; she was running barefoot through grass, rolling crazily down a hill. Externally, she managed to pull the smile off her face and look at him just a little huffily.

  Meanwhile Jason pushed a hand through his hair, cleared his throat a little, then shot her one of his smiles. ‘C’mon,’ he said, walking towards her. ‘Haven’t you missed me too? Just a little bit?’

  Amy’s heart, very inconveniently, seemed to have jumped up and lodged itself in her throat, where it was beating wildly and making any chance of saying anything back extremely unlikely.

  ‘Erghmnm . . .’ was the sort of strangled sound she managed.

  He was smiling. Smiling and approaching. Smiling, approaching and holding out his arms. ‘You’re very sweet,’ he said as he got up close. He was very close, then he was right beside her – in fact, definitely too close for a casual conversation.

  ‘Nmmngh . . .’ she said as she realized he was about to put his arms round her and smack her on the lips.

  Then she was scrunched up tightly against him and his warm, coffee-flavoured mouth was on hers.

  She found herself closing her eyes, wrapping her arms up and over his neck and then, without any intention on her part, she was up on her tiptoes, pressing close to him.

  His tongue was sliding against hers and Amy could feel the tingle from the nape of her neck right down to the soles of her feet. If she hadn’t had her arms tightly around Jason, she felt her knees might have buckled.

  He broke the kiss off only to murmur, ‘You’re nice,’ right into her ear, and then the smooch started all over again.

  She clung on, gradually becoming aware of the ache in her jaw muscles. But she didn’t want this to end. Not ever.

  His hands had slipped down so that he was pulling her hips tightly against his. Amy wasn’t so far gone that she missed the effect this was having on Jason.

  Oh my God! I am snogging! In the school grounds! With Jason! On the school path! And he is so into it!

  And then she thought of Mel.

  She didn’t mean to think of Mel; in fact she definitely didn’t want to think of Mel. At all.

  Mel’s violet eyes, Mel’s tarty eyeliner, Mel’s bleached hair. Mel’s hand in Jason’s trousers. Well, that’s apparently where it had been. According to Gina. Jason’s hand on Mel’s boobs. Jason snuggled up in bed with Gina.

  Amy suddenly pulled her head back from the kiss, causing it to end with an abrupt smacking sound.

  She took a long look at Jason’s handsome face. He was gorgeous. She had thought about this face, this mouth, these lips for weeks . . . months!

  He tried to smile but the expression now looked a lot more like a smirk. ‘I really like you, Amy,’ he said.

  But his fingers were probably crossed behind his back, weren’t they?

  Their lips were in contact again: this was going to be hard, Amy realized. But it was obvious he was an untrustworthy louse. It was obvious she should not be kissing him. Or even speaking to him. She had to break this off right now. But, ha . . . here was the catch. He kissed . . . he kissed like . . . heaven. She could feel the brush of his long, soft eyelashes against her cheek.

  ‘Jason . . .’ She pulled out of the kiss again and found her voice. ‘Jason!’ She removed her arms from his neck. ‘Go away, Jason!’ she managed with a wobble, then added, despite the hurt look on his face, ‘I don’t want to go out with you!’

  She was mortified to hear something closely resembling a sob breaking through those final words.

  That was it. She was finished here. All she had to do now was turn on her heel and make a run for it. But as she turned, something caught her eye and held her transfixed to the spot.

  It was the hideous vision of Mrs Knebworth storming down the path towards them. There was an expression of absolute fury on her face, and in her hand was a shoe. Despite her rising panic, Amy recognized the shoe. It was Niffy’s.

  Chapter Twenty

  ‘I AM ASTONISHED at your behaviour! I am utterly, utterly mortified. By both of you . . . What has got into you? What exactly were you thinking of!’

  Mrs Knebworth angry was an unattractive sight. She was flushed, her chins wobbled, her beady little eyes glared. This rant had been going on for about five minutes now and she had worked herself up into a fury.

  ‘I am writing to your parents,’ she went on. ‘This evening! Have you got any sort of explanation for what has happened? Luella? How did your shoe get into Mrs Bannerman’s records office? At least have the decency to try and explain.’

  Niffy had been racking her brains ever since she’d had the summons to go to Mrs Knebworth’s private sitting room straight away. But no excuse had so far come to mind.

  ‘I can’t really say . . .’ was all she told the housemistress.

  ‘I see!’ Mrs Knebworth stormed. ‘Well, you’re gated. You’ll also go and see Mrs Bannerman first thing on Monday morning. She didn’t have time to deal with you this afternoon.’

  Then it was Amy’s turn to face the two barrels of the Neb’s anger.

  ‘To find you behaving like that in the school grounds! It is just beyond belief. Absolutely beyond belief! How long has this been going on?’

  ‘Nothing’s been going on. He just appeared out of nowhere – I didn’t know—’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ the Neb raged. ‘Boys don’t just pop out of bushes and start kissing you. This was prearranged.’

  ‘It wasn’t!’ Amy argued back, but that just inflamed Mrs K all the more.

  ‘Be quiet! What kind of an idiot do you think I am?’

  The snippy reply which sprang to Amy’s mind – A size twenty-four one! – fortunately stayed there.

  ‘You are gated and your father gets a letter from me. Now off you go to your dorm straight away,’ the Neb instructed.

  ‘That woman is so totally unreasonable!’ Amy stormed, once she was back in the dorm with Niffy. ‘Letters! Letters? How Victorian is that? Just because she doesn’t want to phone and have an actual conversation with my dad. Jason did appear from the bushes completely unexpectedly. And . . . I told him to get lost.’

  ‘But you snogged him first?’ Niffy wanted to get this straight.

  Amy treated her to a furious glare. ‘And what were you doing in the Banshee’s office?’ she asked.

  Niffy refused to explain. If she wasn’t going to tell the Neb or the Banshee, then she wasn’t going to tell Amy either. If anyone should explain anything, it was Gina. But so far, Gina had maintained a total silence. ‘And don’t feel you have to say anything,’ Niffy had told her. ‘This is private stuff. Absolutely nothing to do with them.’

  ‘What about the Freedom of Information Act?’ she shot back at Amy now.

  Amy snorted.

  ‘We should be allowed to see these things,’ Niffy argued. ‘Anyone would think I’d broken into MI5 or something.’

  ‘I’m going to get Mrs bloody Knebworth back,’ Amy promised. ‘I am so going to get her back. It’s Sports Day next week, isn’t it?’

  Min issued a groan from behind the book she was reading on her bed.

  ‘Sports Day should be an excellent opportunity to nobble the Neb.
What have you got to say about all this anyway, Min? I forgot you were here, you’re so bloody quiet.’

  ‘Leave me out of it,’ Min instructed. ‘Be grateful you didn’t have to spring-clean the sitting room. That was my punishment for stealing her spectacles.’ She looked at Amy significantly. ‘I’ve got enough to worry about. I can’t worry about your latest prank as well as everything else.’

  ‘But it wasn’t my fault!’ Amy insisted. ‘At least get that straight.’

  ‘Oh, whatever.’ Min pulled the book, Advanced Level Physics: the Basics, back up to cover her face.

  ‘I can’t even think about this!’ Amy wailed. ‘I’ve got to sort out my speech for the debate. It’s only nine days away . . . I’ve written about forty words and they’re all rubbish!’

  Niffy let out a long sigh at this information before the door opened and Gina came in.

  ‘We’re gated,’ Amy and Niffy announced together.

  ‘Amy can’t be gated for this evening though. The special viewing at the Arts Institute, which you have to go and see for your project?’ Gina reminded her. ‘And I’m coming with you.’

  ‘Oh yes . . .’ Amy had forgotten. ‘Do you think she’ll still let us?’

  ‘If it’s for a project, she’ll have to let you.’ Niffy didn’t sound sure. ‘But she’ll be furious!’

  ‘And who’s to know if we drop in on the Arts Café while we’re there?’ Gina asked, sounding a little mysterious.

  ‘I can’t go to the café. I’ll have a quick look round the show and then I’ve got to do my speech,’ Amy moaned.

  ‘But I’ve been thinking about that: what you need is Dermot,’ Gina told her.

  ‘Dermot?’ Amy sounded confused.

  ‘Dermot is perfect,’ Gina said.

  ‘Didn’t know you felt like that about him,’ Niffy snapped.

  Gina coloured up a little but insisted, ‘No! Duh! We need Dermot to help Amy with her speech.’

  There was a pause before Amy finally got it. ‘Dermot? Oh my God. Dermot!’

  Dermot was definitely a comprehensive school guy who clearly hated private school types – apart from them, of course. He’d have plenty to say on the subject.

  ‘Min, are you going to come with us – provided we’re allowed to go, obviously?’ Gina asked.

  ‘No. Got to go out and train,’ Min replied. She snapped the textbook shut and heaved herself wearily from the bed.

  ‘Girls! I’ve been counting the hours! What can I get for you?’ was Dermot’s cheerful greeting as Amy and Gina settled themselves into their favourite sofa after a very quick tour of the gallery downstairs.

  ‘None of those posh nobs joining you today then?’ he added.

  ‘No, you’re safe,’ Amy told him.

  ‘You look smart,’ Gina said with a smile. ‘New shirt?’

  Dermot was dressed in a sky-blue shirt, crisply ironed and tucked into baggy blue jeans. His white waiter’s apron was tied round his waist. The shirt, so much better than the thin white nipple-revealers he usually wore, matched his blue eyes, which Gina, not for the first time, found herself drawn towards.

  ‘New uniform,’ Dermot replied with a touch of pride. ‘We’re shooting upmarket in here. Blue shirts, blue trays, blue mugs . . . so long as they don’t start making any blue food or blue coffees, we’ll be fine.’

  ‘We want to talk to you about something. You’re not too busy, are you?’ Gina asked, with a glance around the room, which wasn’t nearly as packed as it was on a Saturday.

  Dermot perched himself on the arm of the sofa closest to Gina. ‘I am never, never, ever too busy to talk to the Daffodils.’ He grinned at them.

  ‘Bet you say that to all the girls,’ Gina teased.

  ‘No, I don’t!’ he insisted. ‘How many other Daffodils do I know? How many other girls have midnight feasts in long white nighties?’

  Gina smacked his arm.

  ‘Oh no, I’ve upset the vicious one!’ he teased, smiling.

  When she smiled back at him, he held her look and flushed slightly, which gave Gina an unexpectedly strange, nervy feeling.

  ‘OK.’ Amy opened up her notebook and took the lid off her pen in preparation. ‘We want you to tell us why you think private schools are a really bad idea and why comprehensives are much better.’

  ‘What? Why?’ Dermot exclaimed. ‘That’s just a wee bit heavy, isn’t it, for a sunny Friday evening? And who says that’s what I think, anyway?’

  ‘Oh, come on!’ Amy fired back. ‘You hate the boys we meet in here – you just called them posh nobs and I’ve seen you try to pour coffee into their laps.’

  ‘That’s because they’re tossers,’ Dermot insisted. ‘Nothing to do with the school they go to.’

  ‘Oh really?’ Amy teased.

  ‘Why are you asking me about this anyway?’ Dermot wanted to know.

  ‘C’mon, sit down beside us,’ Gina urged. ‘The boss isn’t looking!’

  Once they had explained all about the debate and the loathsome Penny and how she had to be defeated, no matter what, Dermot was much more sympathetic.

  ‘Right then,’ he began, rolling up his sleeves for emphasis. ‘Where do I begin?’

  Prompted only by the odd question here and there, Dermot was soon letting rip full throttle: unfairness, elitism, snobbery . . . money buying good exam results.

  Amy and Gina couldn’t help but be impressed. They’d hoped for a few little pointers, not for the full speech.

  ‘And then,’ Dermot added, hardly pausing for breath, ‘let’s not forget about how much pressure you’re under to perform. Do either of you study subjects you enjoy? Or get any enjoyment out of your studies?’

  When they looked at him as if he’d finally lost the plot, he said, ‘I didn’t think so. At your school it’s just about exam results, league tables and a nice long row of As. I mean, don’t get me wrong, my school’s no picnic. In fact, I’d say it’s pretty rubbish, but at least I’m not going to be taken out the back and shot if I don’t get starred As in my Highers.’

  This made the girls laugh, but it also made Gina think of her mom, who had O-level results she’d not even been able to confess to her own daughter. Gina knew she had to have a conversation with her mother about this, but she still didn’t know how to start it.

  ‘But if we suddenly turned up at your school, we’d get our heads kicked in,’ Amy insisted.

  ‘Nah! Well . . . you’d get teased for a bit, but you’d soon learn how to blend in,’ Dermot said. ‘And don’t you think that would be a good skill? Their lordships could certainly learn a bit about how to fit in and rub along. And you know what? I don’t think it’s right that there’s no one rich and no one really clever at my school – apart from me, obviously’ – he smiled – ‘because it would be better for us if there was. We’re all under the impression that everyone at private school is a spoiled, swotty tosser.’

  Amy laughed.

  ‘You know my dad owns this café,’ Dermot told them. ‘Well, he was always on at me to try for a scholarship to St Lennox or somewhere like that. “We can just about scrape enough together for it,” he’d tell me. But I didn’t think it was fair. There are a couple of decent teachers at my school and they need my good results to make sure the headmaster knows they can actually teach. If I’d left to go somewhere else like loads of smart kids did for the sixth form, those teachers would have been left with the dregs and a long list of Ds, Es and Fs.

  ‘I study on my own,’ he added. ‘No one comes at me with a big stick like at your place. I’m an independent thinker. So there! If my grades are good enough, I’m going to go to Edinburgh University. But I’ll have to work here for a year first to get the money together.’

  Gina looked at Dermot with fresh admiration after this speech. Meanwhile Amy was scribbling hard in her notebook.

  ‘Look at you! It’s Friday and you’re still swotting – that’s why I’d never go out with a St Jude’s girl!’ he teased.

  Amy looked up fr
om her notes and couldn’t resist asking him, ‘Have you got a girlfriend, Dermot?’

  At this, Gina found herself staring at the ice cubes floating in her glass of Coke, but she realized she was listening very hard. She was much more intensely interested in Dermot’s answer than she would like to have admitted to anyone. Including herself.

  ‘Nah,’ he said casually.

  Gina suddenly felt light-headed.

  ‘Not really . . .’ he added.

  And now Gina felt as heavy as a lump of stone.

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Amy asked him straight back.

  ‘Oh, you know . . .’ Dermot got up from the sofa he’d perched on, suddenly keen to escape this line of questioning. ‘There’s this girl and . . .’

  ‘She doesn’t like you?’ Amy persevered.

  ‘Who knows?’ He gave a small smile and held his tray protectively up over his chest. ‘Female of the species . . .’

  ‘You should ask her!’ Amy encouraged him.

  ‘Yeah, right . . . thanks! I hadn’t thought of that!’

  Before he turned to head back to the bar, Dermot’s eyes met Gina’s briefly, and once again that feeling shot through her. This time she could feel the warm prickling of a blush starting up at her collarbone. She took a gulp of Coke to cool herself down.

  Gagged. Choked. Spluttered. Coughed dramatically. Turned a dangerous shade of red.

  ‘You should have had a coffee,’ Amy told her.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  ‘MIN!’ AMY BURST into the study room (where else would Min be at five on a Saturday?) and announced, ‘There’s someone here to see you!’

  ‘What? Me?’ Min was astonished. ‘But I’m not expecting anyone! I can’t even think who it could be!’

  ‘Come on!’ Amy insisted. ‘This is someone I’ve invited for you. Don’t worry,’ she added, seeing the anxious look on Min’s face. ‘You’re going to be just as pleased to see her as she will be to see you. And I’ve told her all about the biology thing and your parents and the doctor business and we’ve had a few ideas. But come on, Min, for goodness’ sake. She’s already waiting for you in the Year Four sitting room.’