Super Awkward

by Beth Garrod

  I picked a pin up off my desk and prodded it into my leg. Ow. This wasn’t all just an elaborate nightmare. Zac was the one thing that had been making my life amazing. But now pretending each other didn’t exist was the one thing standing between him and the trip of a lifetime.

  Can you emigrate when you’re fifteen? Or become a hermit? Or both? Hermitigrate? It was all so grim. I stared at my stupid phone, wishing it to change. Wishing everything to change.

  I messaged a final ‘sure/sorry’ and turned my bedside light off. Tonight was a no-teeth-brushing-sleeping-in-bra kind of a night.

  My mind raced, playing out every scenario, hunting for a needle of hope in my haystack of hopelessness. But there was something – something Jo had said. Zac was probably as shocked as me. Maybe even more. So maybe, just maybe, if I did what he said, gave him the time he wanted, stayed out of his way between now and prom, then I could talk him round?

  YES.

  All might not be lost! But if I had any hope of a second chance, Zac had to get on his art tour, and I had to be at the prom so he could hear me out. So what should be first on my list of turning my life from chaos to fully in control? From problems to prom points?

  One thing was certain – I had to let Luke carry on thinking Zac didn’t exist. There was no way he could connect the dots between my date-bragging and me hiding in art. Luke would make sure the whole school knew I’d been obsessing over the new sixth former and it could land both Zac and I in a whole heap of unwanted attention. And trouble.

  Plus, it wasn’t going to help my ‘I’m actually not totally lame so pleeeease give me a second chance’ campaign if Zac knew I’d already told the whole school (and even the goal shooter from a visiting netball team) the minute details of both our semi and full snogs.

  EURGH. How does Luke even manage to mess up the bits of my life he doesn’t even know about?! Still he did have his uses. I opened up PSSSST. I was still getting new followers every day. I was up to 323 and had over 900 likes on my posts. I sass-waved my nails to my invisible fans. Bella, you got this.

  A GUY I KNOW (BUT WISH I DIDN’T)

  USED TO REALLY LOOK UP TO HIS BIG SISTERS.

  SO MUCH SO THAT HE USED THEIR NORMAL

  EXCUSE TO TRY AND BLAG HIS DAD TO BUY

  HIM SOME CRISPS. SHAME HE’D NEVER

  ASKED WHAT IT MEANT. APPARENTLY THE

  WHOLE SUPERMARKET WENT SILENT WHEN

  A TEN-YEAR-OLD BOY YELLED ‘BUT DAD,

  IT’S MY TIME OF THE MONTH!’

  I couldn’t help but smile for the first time since Art, remembering how Luke’s mum had almost cried with laughter when she’d told me that. Luke had gone redder than he probably did when it actually happened. And that is why parents should never meet people you fancy. Unless the parentals are asleep. Still, if I could get people to like me on PSSSST, maybe I could get Zac to re-like me in real life?

  I closed the app and with a new sense of optimism, set my alarm for the next morning. The time had come to take control and mastermind the triumphant return of Bella and Zac.

  CHAPTER

  NINETEEN

  6:07. I hit my alarm clock like it had wronged me. Poor alarms, it must be rubbish knowing your entire purpose in life is to make people miserable. Still, why had I actively chosen to wake myself up at this hour? Oh yes, to prepare for Traumatic Tuesday. With in-control-ness to aim for, prom points to win back, and a threat of a Zac sighting around every corner, I needed more than my usual sixteen minute routine of shower/tinted moisturiser/run out the door with wet hair.

  Well, that was the idea, but an hour later I had to face up to the fact that I’d used my extra morning time to progress four levels on Puppy Dash Saga and make a pie chart that had worked out that my biggest hitters on PSSSST all seemed to feature Luke.

  I had managed to solve one problem though. Step two of my cunning plan was to sneak into art at lunchtime and de-Zacify my art. Obviously what they’d seen was a work in progress; the end product would be about a niche Chinese philosophy called ‘Zao’. It was so niche, that it only had one follower. Me. I wonder if I can get Jo to set up a Wikipedia entry on it later?

  As if summoned by my thought process, she poked her head around the door, annoyingly catching me mid-steal of her ‘fresh glow’ cheek highlighter. Personally I think it should be rebranded as ‘makes you look shiny in a perspiring way’ highlighter, but the damage was done.

  “Oi, sweaty, want a lift? I’ve got a meet, so am going your way.”

  Jo often had meets – they were day-long athletic sessions that seemed to consist of running all over the place in tiny shorts while people shouted at you. I still cannot believe that this is something anyone would do voluntarily. She’d been having loads recently as her county athletics club were off on another tour.

  Jo looked at her watch. She had her special one on that recorded things like split times.

  “You’ve got three minutes. So get a move on. I can’t be late or I’ll miss the coach.”

  Before I could reply, she dashed back downstairs, probably setting a new PB.

  I tried to un-sweat my face, but mainly just smeared my blusher. Wearing make-up for school was tough, as you had to make it look to teachers like you weren’t wearing any, but still appear flawless to the rest of the world.

  I heard the engine starting, so grabbed my stuff, ran downstairs and jumped into Jo’s car. But I’d forgotten the downside of getting a lift. Being locked in a small space with my sister. It wasn’t a risk at home, as even bathroom locks were against Mum’s ‘freedom principles’. But in the car meant I had nowhere to run, and nowhere to hide. Jo went straight for the jugular.

  “So, what are you going to do about today’s big decision?”

  “I thought you said I wasn’t old enough to resign from school?”

  “No, doof. Is today going to be the day you speak to Tegan?”

  BLEURGH. She made it sound so simple. But with all the Zac drama I didn’t have the time or energy to deal with any more problems. Maybe I was better off without her? Rachel would just have to be like a child that we time-shared.

  “Bells, I’ve been thinking it about after our chat last night. . . If you want my advice.”

  “I don’t.” Annoyingly I did, but I didn’t want her to know that I did. Luckily she ignored me. She’d had 15.5 years of practice at doing that.

  “Well, you’re in my car, so you’ve got no choice but to get it. Plus, it’s an older sister’s prerogative.” She smiled smugly. “So, I was thinking, what do you want Zac to do after yesterday’s run-in?”

  Run away and start a new life with me in Wales and/or California?

  “Hmm, I’d take anything at this point . . . anything from not hating upwards.”

  “OK, and then what? If you got everything your way?”

  Good question.

  “I guess he’d hear me out at prom, realize that I’d only done it so he would give me a chance in the first place, forgive me . . . and then start a new life with me in Wales making fancy-dress outfits for puppies?”

  “I see. . .” She sounded unconvinced. “So, dog costumes aside, if you’re so desperate for him to give you a second chance –” she paused, letting me fill in the answer in my head, before she said it out loud – “maybe you should think about doing the same for Tegan? Seems to me you could do with an extra friend right now?”

  Argh. Why was she always so wise?! Like an owl, but with less head movement. And feathers (I hope). How come it felt so much less reasonable to forgive and forget, than to ask for it? EURGH.

  For the rest of the morning I skulked around, my brain carrying out only two functions (well, three if you counted sustaining vital organ function, but that was way down on my priority list) – bouncing Jo’s words back and forth in my head, and helping me stealth-avoid Zac, Mr Lutas, Luke and Tegan. I really was collecting people to hide from.

  When I finally plucked up the courage to dash through the corridors of doom to get to the canteen, Ra
chel and Mikey were already at a table, and they’d saved me a seat. Rachel had her head in a book and Mikey was staring across to the table where Tegan was. She was talking to some of the girls from Tailor Swiftly, her after-school sewing club. Earlier this term, she’d helped them rebrand from Mend It Like Beckham, and they’d been pretty tight ever since. She looked deep in chat, probably working out some more designs. Good. This seemed very undramatic.

  I opened up Peppa – what delights did today have in store? Last night’s meatless-meatballs and cauli-rice (which Mum had added ham to). But as I tucked in, I felt like I was being watched.

  I was. It was Luke – but as soon as I turned towards him, he flicked his eyes back to his mates. Still, he was a safe non-prom-point-losing three-table distance away. Seconds later, the room shushed, signalling teacher arrival. Mrs Hitchman strutted in behind me, in full-on professional teacher mode.

  “And for those that don’t know, this is where the younger years have lunch. It’s a multi-use space, for supervised activities like bake sales and any entrepreneurial projects they come up with.”

  I choked on my ham. As if anyone had ever done anything off their own back?! (Except that time that Lou attempted to sell five minute massages, but got busted for charging extra for additional snogging services.)

  Rachel kicked me under the table and mouthed, “Sheila’s sack.”

  ‘What?’ I mouthed back.

  She pointed her fork behind me to where Mrs Hitchman was getting ever closer. She mouthed more slowly this time.

  “She’s. With. Zac.”

  I re-choked on my ham. This was meant to be a safe zone! I dropped my fork so I could hide my head in my hands and hang my hair forward like a privacy curtain. Maybe this is how Cousin It got started. Pleeeease don’t let them notice me. Pleeease don’t let Luke notice me noticing them. Pleeease don’t let Luke notice them either noticing or not noticing me. Please just walk on by.

  But the clack of Mrs Hitchman’s heels came to a stop. Along with the sixth formers who she was briefing on their teaching assistant duties.

  “And don’t panic. Supervision’s not a big job. Especially at lunchtime – all the students seem to be well behaved when they’ve got food in front of them! Isn’t that right . . . Bella – I know you love a good meal?”

  Argh! Why had I just stuffed a second meatless-meatball in my mouth, so I looked like a human hamster? As much as I’d rather do anything else in the world, including being photographed in a beige unitard while eating an egg sandwich, I looked up. Zac didn’t react. Everything about him was icy cold. Even his hands looked less friendly. He was blanking me harder than if I was in an invisibility cloak. I gulped so hard both meatless-meatballs disappeared. Please let them have gone into my stomach and not my lungs. Mrs Hitchman ignored me ignoring her.

  “Great, great. . . Any questions before we move on?” No one said a word. “Excellent, well let’s go and have a quick chat with today’s lunch attendant.”

  Mrs Hitchman power-marched them to the corner of the room, stopping to chat to the head girl. The sixth formers waited beside her, being all, ‘Let’s act like we don’t think we’re being watched, while being all brooding cos we totally know everyone’s staring at us.’ But something made my insides twist like when Mum rings out my swimming costume. Why was Lou slinking her way over to Zac? Why had SHE stopped beside him way too close for (my) comfort?? Why was she batting her eyelashes and fiddling with her frayed jumper cuff at my OTP? Why wasn’t I allowed to speak to him, but she was getting away with oozing her extreme-girl-ness all over him?! I clutched Rachel’s leg like it could whack out a Stupefy across the room. Or at least a Deflirtify.

  I. Could. Not. Watch.

  “You alright, B?” Mikey looked genuinely concerned. “Do you need me to Heimlich? I watched it on Casualty once.” He pushed his stool out to stand up.

  But like an angel in a tweed two-piece, Mrs Hitchman came to my rescue, breaking up the conversation by summoning the group out. Lou tossed her hair over her shoulder and wiggle-walked her way back towards her friends looking pleased with herself. I harrumphed. Mikey looked disappointed he wasn’t going to put his dubious medical skills into practice. Rachel rubbed her hand on my mine and gave me a supportive smile.

  “BREATHE, Bells. Just because you and Zac are on a blip right now. . .”

  I spluttered cauli-rice in her face.

  “BLIP?! As in, he won’t talk to me, thinks I’m an idiot and is now realizing that everyone else in the school – who isn’t an idiot – wants to snog his face off?”

  “Well, yes, that little blip. But it doesn’t mean he’s had a total brain transplant and is suddenly going to go for girls like Lou-ser. She knows even less about French films and art and stuff than you.” Was this meant to be reassuring? “She probably doesn’t even know who Munch was?!” I didn’t point out I thought he/she/it was a type of crisp. Rachel grabbed my shoulders and gave me a firm shake. “Be strong, B. He liked you before. And no one except Tegan and I know what really went down, so let’s make sure it stays that way and then work your magic at prom. Simplington.”

  Rachel made the plan sound way more doable than it felt. Especially when the only prom magic I had up my sleeve was knowing the full rap to ‘Drunk in Love’. Although thanks to Tegan’s patient tutorials I could also do a pretty good Stanky Leg.

  I stabbed at a piece of ham like it was to blame. In fairness, the pig should have a lot more beef (well, pork) with me than I did with it.

  “Long time no see.”

  GULP. Why was Luke here? And why had he brought Lou?

  “Mind if we join you ladies?” Luke looked at Mikey. “I include you as one of those.”

  Mikey spoke for the three of us.

  “We do actually.”

  But Luke slid on to the stool next to me, Lou draping herself forward over his shoulder, knowing full well Mikey could see right down her shirt. Note to self, stop sitting at tables that have spare seats. In fact, stop sitting – moving targets are harder to converse with.

  “It’ll only take a sec. I’m just a bit confused about something. Well, we both are. Because yesterday Lou had a chat with me. Didn’t you?”

  They were probably arguing over which one of them did the best duckface selfies.

  “Sure did.” Lou smiled sweetly. This was obviously something they’d rehearsed. “I was telling Luke about our art lesson, when that new sixth former turned up.” I stopped mid-chew, like I’d chomped on a piece of concrete. What did this have to do with anything?! “The really fit one? The one I was just chatting to?”

  Oh flapballs. I HAD to make sure they didn’t make a connection between Zac and me. I forced myself to chew and tried to channel all kinds of nonchalance.

  “I didn’t see, soz – were you speaking to someone?”

  Mikey looked baffled. Seconds ago he’d almost had to medically intervene to help me get over the exact thing I was now pretending hadn’t happened.

  Lou lent up on to her elbows.

  “Don’t act stupid. I KNOW you were watching.”

  I pretended to think so hard I must have looked like I was recalling an event from ten centuries ago, not ten seconds ago.

  “Hmmmm. I was probably just staring and thinking. Stinking?” That didn’t work. “Or not. You know, like when you stare at a teacher, but you’re thinking about who on Hollyoaks you’d most like to date.”

  “No. I don’t do that.”

  Of course she didn’t. She probably just dated them in real life.

  Rachel loudly snapped her lunchbox shut and cleared her throat.

  “Look – is there a point to this, or can you leave us in peace?”

  Luke grinned. “Rach, can I just say how especially fit you’re looking today.”

  Rachel tucked her hair behind her ears and tried her hardest to look anything less than amazing. Although she just looked like an amazing person with hair tucked behind her ears. “No, you can’t.”

  “Well, I jus
t did. But that’s not what I came over for. Lou was telling me what a massive scene you made –” Luke stared right at me – “when that kid walked in.”

  Lou nodded.

  “Yeah, it was well embarrassing – even for you. And when you got up off the floor I totally heard you telling Rachel that he was the one you’d been snogging. The one you’ve been going on about all over school. I was right behind you.”

  OH SLOW-HAND CLAP ME. Why had I been so busy not looking at Zac that I’d forgotten to see if anyone else was around? Especially someone who spent their whole time sliming over Luke. I looked to Rachel for support, but she just mouthed ‘gulp’ which wasn’t hugely reassuring.

  Luke pulled his stool nearer.

  “You see, Blobfish, that got me thinking. Why were you telling your bessie mate this kid was your imaginary boyfriend? That the guy in school that everyone is after and Fishy Balls had been the one to get him?” He laughed as if it was the funniest thing imaginable, rather than the exact thing that happened. “You really are TOO FUNNY.”

  But Puke and Lou were the only ones laughing.

  Lou twirled her hair around her finger. “So I went to chat to him. Y’know, get to know him a bit better.” She winked. I wanted to stab her in the eye with my fork. But then I’d have an eye on my fork, and that would probably put me off my lunch. “And I asked him if he was with anyone. . .”

  My response came out too quickly. A bit too not-not-bothered.

  “What did he say?”

  “He said that he was completely single. New to the area, and didn’t know anyone here. That he was ‘open to offers’.” Ouch. That stung. She winked again. I had to drop my fork on the table as I couldn’t trust myself.

  I did know deep down that, as normal, she had to be exaggerating – there’s no way Zac would tell Lou he was on the lookout if he was trying to ace his placement – but it still wasn’t a highlight to hear him act as if I didn’t even exist.

  Luke lent forward.