Secrets at St Jude’s: Rebel Girl

by Carmen Reid

  She checked her phone to see if there was a message. Nothing . . . but it was too early to worry, she told herself. Just because he wasn’t here at noon exactly, didn’t mean that he wasn’t going to come. Right?

  He’d been a few minutes late before. In fact, he was often a few minutes late. He always had to take a bus into town from his home and the bus service was unreliable. She would wait. She would pull up her coat collar, stand right here in this very visible spot and wait. If he wasn’t here by twenty past twelve, then she would call him and find out what was happening. But she didn’t want to call before then . . .

  Whump!!

  Something smacked very hard against her back. Arms grabbed round her waist, squeezed tight and lifted her off the ground.

  WHAT!!!

  Gina would have yelled out if the breath hadn’t been hugged right out of her.

  As soon as her feet were back on the ground again, she wheeled around angrily, determined to tell him off for being such a goofball.

  ‘Der—’ she began, but the rest of his name stuck in her throat.

  Because there, standing right behind her, his hands still around her waist, a wickedly mischievous grin across his face was: Callum.

  Callum??

  CALLUM!

  Her heart began to race in her chest. What was this? What was this about? Was he here instead of Dermot? Was he bringing a message from Dermot? Why was this happening?

  ‘Hello,’ Callum said.

  Gina just stared at him, too stunned to speak.

  ‘Hello,’ he repeated. ‘You look a bit surprised.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Gina managed.

  ‘Oh.’ His hands dropped from her sides. ‘Didn’t you work out you were meeting me here?’

  Gina shook her head.

  ‘Did you think you were meeting . . . er . . . someone else here?’

  Gina nodded.

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘How was I supposed to know?’ Gina asked.

  Callum, despite the cheeky grin and raised eyebrows, seemed to turn just slightly pink at this question.

  ‘But . . . I gave you such an obvious clue,’ he said.

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘In the card . . .’

  ‘Huh?’ Gina repeated. She had no idea what he was talking about.

  ‘Could a lad . . .’ Callum began, but tailed off, looking totally embarrassed.

  ‘Like you more?’ Gina finished the question for him. She was starting to enjoy just how pink the cool and collected Callum was turning.

  ‘That spells out my name,’ he said, turning his attention to a paper cup on the path and giving it a little kick.

  ‘Oh,’ Gina said. ‘Oh! Could A Lad . . . I geddit.’ She began to giggle.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ Callum said, sticking his hands into his jeans pockets, ‘I thought you were supposed to be clever!’

  This came with another cheeky grin.

  Gina’s eyes met his.

  Now, she could feel a blush all of her own starting up.

  ‘Well . . . here we are,’ Callum began. ‘Have you been up this thing before?’ He poked his thumb in the direction of the monument.

  For a moment Gina hesitated.

  As soon as she said ‘no’, he was going to convince her to go up, wasn’t he?

  Did she want to go up the Scott monument with Callum? Did she want to hang out with Callum for a few hours today? Even though he was not her boyfriend . . . she had a perfectly nice boyfriend all of her own, who was about to get a whole load of strange text messages he wouldn’t understand.

  And . . . if Callum had sent the card, well then, that meant that Dermot hadn’t sent her a Valentine, or made any kind of romantic date arrangement for today.

  ‘C’mon,’ Callum said, and he bumped his shoulder playfully against hers. ‘I won’t bite,’ he added.

  He flashed white teeth at her as he grinned.

  No, he wouldn’t bite, but he did look kind of hungry. His eyes weren’t moving from her face.

  ‘Well . . .’

  ‘Go on,’ he urged.

  ‘Why did you want me to come here?’ she risked. ‘You know I’m going out with Dermot.’

  ‘Yes . . . but Dermot’s very busy. He’s trying to get into Edinburgh Uni and you definitely look like the kind of girl who needs lots of attention. I’d quite like to be the person giving you some attention.’

  This was very flattering.

  ‘C’mon . . .’ he wheedled again. ‘We’re just being tourists. I’m just being your tour guide . . . there’s no harm in it.’

  ‘OK, then,’ Gina agreed.

  ‘Great. I’ll get the tickets,’ he offered and they began to walk towards the booth.

  Callum was really fit, Gina couldn’t help thinking as she trailed several steps behind him, up and up the endless winding staircase.

  While she tried not to pant with effort, he was chatting as he bounded up the steps. As she glanced up, she could see the rear view of his slim body, clad in dark, tight jeans and a black leather jacket, collar turned up against the cold.

  ‘Do you play a lot of sport?’ she asked, trying not to wheeze.

  ‘Yeah. Football. On the school team,’ came his reply. ‘What about you?’

  ‘They try to make me play hockey at St Jude’s, but I suck.’

  He turned to face her. ‘Mmmm, short skirts, though,’ he said with an eyebrow waggle.

  ‘They’re sludge-green with woollen socks,’ she said with a smile. ‘It’s really not a good look, trust me.’

  He held out his hand. ‘I’ll pull you up,’ he offered.

  She accepted gratefully, slipping her hand into his. His felt warm and took hold of hers firmly.

  Now they were hurrying up the steps together, Gina feeling a fresh surge of energy at the prospect of reaching the top.

  Light broke into the dark stairwell and then they were both up and out on the viewing platform.

  As Gina looked around at the view, she couldn’t help exclaiming: ‘Wow! Awesome.’

  ‘Awesome? That’s sweet,’ Callum said.

  He hadn’t let go of her hand. Gina was marvelling at the views right over the rooftops and buildings and out to the hills and sparkling blue sea beyond. But it wasn’t the views that were making her heart thud.

  Callum was still holding her hand. He was standing right beside her, almost pressed in against her side.

  Gina looked at the view, then she glanced at the other people on the platform, anything to take her mind off this boy standing so close to her and making her heart jump just about into her throat.

  Callum turned towards her. He was bending closer. Maybe, for a moment, she thought he was going to whisper something in her ear. But then, no, he was moving his face in towards hers.

  She had a moment to decide.

  If she wanted to pull back, this was it. She would have to do it now.

  But her eyes were on his lips, and the very white teeth, and more than anything, Gina wanted to see what kissing him was going to be like.

  Then his lips were pressed up against hers. His eyelashes were brushing against her cheeks. And she could feel a breathless, nervy excitement shoot all the way from the pit of her stomach down to the toes in her shoes.

  Callum was kissing her!

  She and Callum were kissing, right here in plain view . . . Thoughts of Dermot seemed to flash before her eyes. But the arms around her waist pulled her in tightly.

  She was kissing someone different. Someone whose mouth felt strange and new, whose smell was . . . OK, a little heavy on the overpowering aftershave, but still, new. Different. Other.

  Gina thought she might forget to breathe with excitement.

  She let her eyes open a little; she saw Callum’s inky-black hair and pale skin. He was totally gorgeous.

  This was all tingle. Totally one hundred per cent tingly.

  It didn’t stop.

  She didn’t let it stop. When there was a hint that he was pulling back, she moved towards him. />
  Long, thrilling moments went past. But finally they were going to have to break apart and say something. Look at each other. Acknowledge this.

  She leaned back, feeling Callum’s arms firmly interlocked behind her back. She looked into his face. He was smiling with his eyebrows raised.

  He looked just a little bit smug. His cheeky grin seemed to say that he’d known all along that this was how it was going to go.

  ‘Whew!’ he said.

  ‘Yeah,’ she replied.

  Before Gina had even noticed, Callum had slipped his mobile from his pocket and was holding it up above them.

  ‘Smile!’ he instructed, then clicked the photo as he drew her towards him for another kiss.

  Chapter Thirty

  AFTER ASSEMBLY ON Monday morning, as the Upper Fifth were filing out of the hall, the physics teacher, Mrs Wilson, spotted Min and pulled her to one side.

  ‘Asimina!’ she called out with a friendly smile.

  ‘Hi, Mrs Wilson,’ Min smiled back. Of all the teachers at St Jude’s, Mrs Wilson was her favourite, and physics was her best subject.

  ‘The exam results are up in the corridor outside the staff room. Have you had a chance to see them yet?’

  Min looked surprised. ‘Really? Already?!’ she asked. ‘No . . . no, I haven’t.’

  ‘Well go, Min, go and take a look. If you’re quick you’ll get a look before the first lesson.’

  Now Min looked almost frightened.

  ‘Don’t be silly!’ Mrs Wilson said. ‘You’ve done incredibly well. I shouldn’t say, you should go and look for yourself. But I will tell you that you’ve got one hundred per cent in your physics papers. And I made that exam tough, you know.’

  ‘A hundred per cent?’ Min repeated. ‘Really? Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes, I marked the thing myself. I am sure. Now go, go look at the board. Quick!’

  Min didn’t need to be told again. Turning on her heel, she began to sprint up the huge wooden staircase towards the staff-room corridor.

  As soon as she reached the place, she began to scan the big white pages pinned to the cork notice board for her name.

  ‘Sallih, Sargent . . . Singupta,’ she whispered under her breath, following the names down the list.

  ‘English A, Maths A, History A, French A?’

  She had to pause and double-check that. An A in French?! She was rubbish at French compared to her friends.

  Chemistry A, Biology A, Physics A with a star. Star? Was that the 100% result Mrs Wilson had been talking about. Good grief!

  ‘So? How well have you done?’

  Min felt a hand clap her on the shoulder, and she turned to see that Niffy had followed her into the corridor.

  ‘Not bad,’ she said modestly. ‘I’ve managed to get As in everything.’ She kept the precious star to herself. She didn’t like to boast.

  ‘Not bad?’ Niffy teased. ‘The girl gets an A in everything and says she’s done not bad!’ She began to scan the board for her name. More girls were coming down the corridor now. Word about the results board must have got out. The bell rang for the first class of the day, but no one paid it any attention – everyone was desperate to see how they’d done.

  Min and Niffy were beginning to feel jostled by the crowd building up behind them.

  ‘All right,’ Niffy said. ‘No need to get your knickers in a twist, we’ll be out of your way in a second.’

  ‘What about you? What did you get?’ Min asked her friend.

  ‘Bs . . . ooops, a C in history . . . and an A in maths. Not too bad then . . .’

  ‘Let’s take a look.’ Amy and Gina were behind them now.

  As Amy’s eyes scanned the assortment of As, Bs and Cs she’d scored, she heard Penny B-H’s plummy tones ringing out in the corridor.

  She’d managed to keep out of Penny’s way for some time now and really, she liked it that way. She could always come back and check the board thoroughly at break time. So she turned and tried to make her way out of the corridor in the opposite direction from Penny.

  ‘Not so fast, Amy McCorquodale,’ Penny said, her voice travelling in clear, ringing tones across the large huddle of thirty or so Upper Fifths all scrambling for a look at the results.

  ‘I’d just like to know if your dad is Glasgow nightclub owner, Gary McCorquodale? The same Gary McCorquodale who featured in a little news story in the Herald on Saturday. Apparently his “empire” of clubs is finished: almost all of them are up for sale due to financial “irregularities”. So is that him, then?’

  Penny was standing right in front of Amy, one hand on her hip as she gazed coolly down.

  All the girls in front of the boards had fallen silent. Everyone was straining to hear what was going to come next.

  Amy was looking at Penny closely. Penny had a face which could have been pretty, except the features were just a little blunted, her nose was too snub, her chin was too small and her pale skin was lost in a blur of freckles. Her brown, curly hair had an unflatteringly short fringe across the forehead. Yes, Penny could have been pretty, but instead, she just looked mean. Her eyes were a cool grey-blue and they looked odd. Something was not right about the eyes . . . it was the lashes.

  The brown lashes were missing. They’d been cut so short on both eyes that they were hardly there at all.

  Amy glanced over at Piggy and Weasel, who were now on either side of Penny. As usual, Penny never had the guts to be rude to Amy unless she had her support team crowded around her.

  ‘Hmmm?’ Penny said, sounding impatient. ‘So has your dad gone bust, Amy? Are you about to leave St Jude’s? Where, let’s face it, a Glaswegian like you, was never going to fit in.’

  ‘Shut up!’ Niffy piped up.

  ‘It’s OK,’ Amy said. ‘Let her have her little moment. Yeah, my dad’s having some difficulties. His business partner wasn’t all that he was supposed to be. My dad’s squared up to it and is trying to put it right just as soon as he can.

  ‘That’s business, Penny, some ups, some downs. You’ve got to be brave and take the rough with the smooth if you want to get anywhere. My dad started with nothing. Less than nothing, but he worked all the way up to be a multi-millionaire. He’s not worried about a little set-back like this; he can work his way up all over again. He’s only thirty-three, for Pete’s sake.’

  There was an audible gasp from the crowd.

  ‘And don’t even think I’m going anywhere,’ she added, sounding much more defiant and confident than she really felt. ‘I’m going to be right here at St Jude’s for the rest of my school life, bugging the tits off of you!’

  Amy decided to leave it there and make a break for it, so she turned and began to speed walk in the direction of the English classroom.

  ‘What’s wrong with her eyes?’ she hissed at Niffy as they hurried down the corridor together. ‘She doesn’t seem to have any eyelashes left.’

  ‘Oh . . . well . . . I might have put a little drop of superglue in her mascara.’

  ‘You did NOT!’

  Chapter Thirty-one

  ‘THAT IS A gorgeous belt, Five ninety-nine? What a total bargain. You know it looks just like Gucci. Really,’ Amy said, curling the red and black patent plastic into a spiral. Then she reached down underneath the counter for a bag and took the ten-pound note from the shopper.

  When the till kerrrrrr-chinged open, Amy put the note into the correct slot, drew out the change and tore off the receipt.

  ‘There you go: four pounds and a penny change to you. You’ve got twenty-eight days to return it, in perfect condition, but I know you won’t!’

  This was fun. This was much more fun than she could possibly have imagined. In fact, it was just as much fun being on this side of the till as being on the other. And she was getting paid . . . and in a few months’ time, she’d be entitled to a staff discount of her very own. At River Island!

  Who’d have ever thought she’d want a staff discount at River Island? But she did. There was loads of great stuf
f in there. In fact, Amy was rapidly reviewing her opinion that only losers shopped in chain stores. During her first day in the job, she’d seen some very smart customers come in – ones with lovely bags and posh boots, who clearly did their top-up shopping right here on the high street.

  So far, she’d made £467 with her eBay wardrobe sale. She was planning to work every Saturday during term time and then hopefully she could get longer hours at the Glasgow branch during the holidays.

  Amy was now putting money in to her bank account. Before, she’d only ever taken money out. And putting it in felt better. It really did. Plus, she had a feeling that she was going to be much more careful with money she’d earned than with money her dad had given to her.

  As she glanced up to see who her next customer was, a grin crossed her face. Niffy and Gina were walking towards her till, Gina holding a pair of earrings in her hand.

  ‘Hi!’ Gina exclaimed.

  ‘How’s it going?’ Niffy asked.

  ‘Great. But you’ll have to be quick. No chit-chatting on the job!’

  ‘Is it really OK?’ Gina asked.

  ‘I’m having a ball,’ Amy assured her.

  ‘What if Penny comes in?’ Niffy wanted to know. ‘Have you thought about that.’

  ‘Yeah, I have actually. I’m going to tell her that hey, broke is the new rich, bling is dead. Get used to it. Make do and mend . . . or in my case, good-bye shopping at Harvey Nichols, hello working in River Island.’

  ‘Nice,’ Niffy exclaimed.

  ‘So, are these for your date tonight?’ Amy asked Gina as she scanned the earrings and popped them into a bag.

  ‘Maybe . . .’

  ‘With Dermot? Or with Callum?’ Amy asked. ‘We just don’t know these days.’

  ‘Don’t,’ said Gina. ‘I’m feeling bad enough.’

  ‘Which one is it?’ Amy asked again.

  ‘I’m going to meet Dermot at the cinema tonight . . . and Callum thinks I’m going to break up with him . . . with Dermot,’ Gina explained.

  ‘Thinks?’

  ‘Well, he knows. That’s what I’ve told Callum I’m going to do.’