by Melody James
As I log in to the website, the storeroom door swings open.
‘Hi.’ It’s Sam.
I half look up from my keyboard as I type Marcus’s name into the search box. ‘Hi.’
‘Have you heard the news?’ He sounds excited.
‘What news?’ I ask, looking up properly now.
Sam’s perched on the desk opposite, staring at me with eager puppy eyes. ‘About my band.’
‘Your band?’ I hit the return key to enter my search.
‘We’ve been given a regular slot playing at the underage night at Sounds on Fridays.’
‘Wow!’ No wonder he looks so happy. Sounds is a nightclub in town. It’s normally eighteen-and-over but a couple of weeks ago they announced that there was going to be an underage night the first Friday of every month – so anyone from fourteen to eighteen can go. And this month every Friday night before midnight is teens only, as a kind of promotional thing, so getting a regular gig there is very cool. ‘That’s brilliant! I guess your new set is working.’
‘Yeah.’ His fingers fidget on the edge of the desk. ‘It’s sounding pretty good.’ He’s hiding behind his shaggy blond fringe. It’s cute that he’s self-conscious about his own music when he’s so passionate about other bands.
‘I’m really pleased for you,’ I tell him sincerely. ‘You deserve it.’
‘Thanks.’
I glance back at my screen, expecting to see a neat list of Marcus Bainbridges. But there’s no sign of search results; just my profile. And headlining my profile are the words: ‘Marcus Bainbridge’.
What?
Horror creeps over me like cold, dead fingers.
No!
I’ve typed Marcus’s name into my status box, not the search box.
Quick! Change it!
As I grab for the mouse, Cindy swings in. ‘I want a quick word with everyone before the bell goes,’ she announces briskly.
Will blows in after her. ‘Thanks, Gemma.’ He leans across my desk, steals the mouse from my fingers and clicks my browser window shut. ‘You’ve saved me having to wait for it to start up.’
‘B-but—’ I stare at him, open mouthed.
‘Sorry.’ He’s nudging me out of my chair. ‘But you can play on Facebook in the IT suite. I’ve got real work to do.’
I get to my feet, giving him angry eyes.
‘What?’ He looks at me in bewilderment. ‘You know this is my PC.’
Sam straightens. ‘They belong to everyone, Will.’
Will shrugs towards the computer on the next desk. ‘Then she can use that one.’
Cindy butts in. ‘Look, guys,’ she says, using her reasoning-with-toddlers voice, ‘it’s deadline day and I’ve had no submissions. I want them finished before this afternoon’s deadline meeting. It’s a big job, you know, checking them all over before they go out on Wednesday morning.’
I’m hardly listening to the Ice Queen’s pity-plea. I’m staring in dismay at Will’s PC. I’ve just published Marcus as my status! Everyone’s going to think I’m obsessed with him.
‘Gemma?’ Cindy taps her foot.
‘Yeah?’ I dive for the computer on the next desk and switch it on. Two minutes to the bell. Come on!
‘I hope you’ve got some feedback for me on the lip-shimmer.’
Will’s eyes light up. ‘Haven’t you finished your piece either, Cinders?’
‘I’m waiting for Gemma’s input.’ I guess Cindy wants to find out if I’ve finished the horoscopes but, right now, I don’t care. I’m too busy willing the PC to hurry up.
‘Can’t you write the reviews yourself?’ Will asks innocently. ‘I thought if you had a valid opinion on anything, it’d be make up.’
My fury doubles. Why steal my PC, then spend the last two minutes of break teasing Cindy? The school login screen appears and I type in my username. As the hard drive whirs and clicks, the lesson bell starts wailing.
No!
‘I’ll see you at the meeting.’ Sam’s leaving. I don’t look up. My eyes are fixed on my screen. The task bar’s hardly appeared.
Hurry up!
Will shuts down his PC and heads for the door.
Cindy evil-eyes him as he passes, then looks at me. ‘Come on.’
‘I’ll only be a minute,’ I snap.
I sense her prickle. ‘Now!’ She marches past my desk and switches the power off at the wall.
The screen turns black in front of me.
‘Why did you do that?’ I ask through clenched teeth.
‘If the webzine starts making us late for lessons, they’ll close us down.’
I breathe deeply. The Ice Queen has just destroyed my life again but I’m not going to give her the satisfaction of seeing me upset. Instead I grab my bag and slide past her, replaying her death by LJ’s chopsticks in my head.
I stomp to Maths, blind with rage and despair. Now I won’t be able to change my Facebook status till school ends. What if someone sees it? Oh, God, I’ll die!
Shoulders drooping, head down to hide the tears of frustration pricking at my eyes, I join the swarm streaming into the Maths room. Treacle’s already there. I slide into the seat next to her, flushed.
‘What’s up?’ Treacle asks as chairs scrape and clatter around us.
‘I’ve messed up my Facebook status,’ I whimper. ‘I was searching for Marcus to find his star sign and I put him in my status box instead of the search box.’
Treacle moves in closer. ‘But you deleted it, right?’
‘No!’ I wail. ‘Cindy came in and started burbling on and Will pushed me off the computer and then the bell went.’ Frustration is boiling in my stomach.
Treacle bites her lip. ‘You can change it after school before anyone sees it,’ she says encouragingly.
‘Yeah.’ I feel a glimmer of hope. I’m not the only one stuck in lessons. Surely, no one’s going to check Facebook before they get home from school.
My ray of hope shines for about three seconds. Then Treacle nudges me.
She’s staring at Ryan and Marcus, two desks ahead. From here I can see Ryan’s smartphone under the desk. Its blue glow is lighting up Marcus’s leg. Marcus is peering down, squinting.
My heart drops like a stone as I recognize the blue and white of the Facebook site. Ryan is showing off his page. As he tilts his phone closer to Marcus, he glances over his shoulder at me. His eyes are bright with amusement.
‘Oh. My. God. He’s seen it!’ I hiss at Treacle.
Marcus turns in his seat. I glimpse his amazed expression before I drop my head and bury my gaze in my maths books. My cheeks have caught fire. He’s going to think I’m crazy about him.
Time slows. The Double Maths lesson drags through the afternoon like walking through porridge. At last, the bell signals the end of the day.
I spring from my seat and hare for the door.
‘I’ll phone you later,’ Treacle calls.
‘Yeah!’ I’m out the door, across the hall and hopping up the stairs to the webzine HQ three at a time. An Olympic champion couldn’t have made the distance faster.
When I burst into the storeroom, I’m horrified to see all six PCs occupied. Cindy, Will, Jeff, Sam, Barbara, Dave and Phil are all here.
‘How did you get here so fast?’ I gasp.
Barbara looks up. ‘Hi, Gemma.’ She smiles. ‘Year Ten study period. We’re finishing our pieces before the deadline meeting.’
Cindy’s tapping away on the PC closest to the window. ‘Which starts in two minutes.’
Will’s hammering his keyboard. ‘Make it five,’ he comments without pausing. ‘Need to finish this paragraph.’
Jeff’s got his head down, frowning as he types.
‘Jeff,’ I ask tentatively, ‘can I borrow your PC, just for a minute?’
He shakes his head. ‘Sorry, Gem, just finishing this match report. I won’t be long.’
Will shifts in his seat. ‘Can’t you wait till you get home to check Facebook?’
I fight the urg
e to hurl my schoolbag at him. ‘There’s something important I have to do!’
‘How important can it be?’ he snaps back. ‘You’re just the assistant.’
His words stick me like a stiletto. You just wait, Will Bold! I’m going to grab the first chance I get and show you what I can do!
‘Do you want to use this one?’ Sam gets up from his seat.
Gratitude floods me. ‘Thanks, Sam, you’re a life-saver.’
Cindy clears her throat. ‘I hope everyone’s finished.’
Will gives his keyboard a final battering and then leans back in his chair looking pleased with himself. ‘I’m done.’
No!
‘Let’s get started then.’ Cindy hoists her chair over her desk and parks it in front. With a clatter, the rest of the team copy her, circling their chairs round the middle of the room.
‘Can I just make a quick change . . .?’ I stare longingly at Sam’s PC.
Cindy freezes me with an arctic look. ‘Some of us have buses to catch. Do you want to make everyone late, Gemma?’
Everyone is looking at me expectantly.
‘No,’ I sigh.
‘Well, grab a chair and sit down,’ Cindy orders.
My heart is as heavy as lead. I haul a chair over Sam’s desk and plonk it beside Dave’s.
As my universe collapses around me, Cindy reaches for her clipboard. ‘Item number one.’
Oh, God. This meeting is going to take forever.
The whole world will have time to get home, eat a snack, see my Facebook status and start a comment-fest I don’t even want to imagine.
‘Right.’ Cindy taps her pen on her clipboard. ‘Now on to article submissions. Has everyone finished their piece for this week?’
A nod goes round the circle like a Mexican wave.
‘Good.’ She makes a tick on her agenda. ‘What have we got?’ She scans the group, her blonde bob flicking against her cheeks. ‘Dave?’
Dave Senior pushes his glasses up his nose. ‘Phil and I have been reviewing the latest Space Cops shoot-em-up,’ he announces.
Sam grins. ‘I’ve tried it too,’ he confesses. ‘It’s fantastic. Great range of weapons.’
Phil’s nodding. ‘The game-play’s good too. Nice, tight plotting. Good learning curve. You don’t end up dead on the first mission, but the third one is challenging enough to keep you playing.’
Barbara blinks at him with the earnestness of a middle-aged owl. ‘Doesn’t the violence worry you?’
Phil looks at her like she’s just asked him if he’s scared of monsters. ‘Why should it? It’s not real.’
Sam leans forward in his chair. ‘Did you see the trap on level two?’
Dave slaps his knee. ‘I fell into it four times before I came up with a workaround.’
Phil’s nodding now. ‘You have to shoot the compound guard before you enter the walkway.’
Cindy rolls her eyes. ‘Yes, yes. We get the picture.’ Her gaze shoots back to Dave. ‘How many words did you write?’
‘Six hundred and fifty-two.’
‘Good.’ Cindy makes a sharp tick on her agenda. ‘Now, Jeff, which matches have you covered this week?’
Jeff leans back in his chair, tipping it on to its hind legs. ‘The rugby under fifteens and the Senior Swimming Gala. And I’ve listed the results of the Year Nine netball playoffs.’
‘Great.’ Cindy makes another tick on her clipboard, then turns to Barbara. ‘I hope you’ve got another of your wonderful lifestyle articles for us, Barbie.’
Frustration flares in my chest. Barbara’s pieces to date have been so dull I’ve had to break off reading to stick forks in my eyes for light relief. One of them was called Homework Presentation – Twelve Steps to Neatness for goodness’ sake. I could do so much better. There are three ideas jostling in my head right now: Eating Disorders: the Five Warning Signs, Get a Head Start on Your Dream Job: Ten Aspirational Tips and Year Tens: one thousand and one Reasons Why They Should be Home-schooled’.
I’m grinding my teeth. Barbara only got the job as lifestyle features writer because she’s Cindy’s best friend. The two of them have been inseparable since nursery school, even though Cindy looks like she fell off the cover of Vogue and Barbara looks like she fell out of a recycling bin. I can picture them now, sitting in Cindy’s perfectly pink bedroom, toasting marshmallows over a candle while they share their innermost secrets.
‘Oh, Barbie,’ Cindy turns her mallow as it blisters over the tiny flame. ‘It would be ab-fab if you’d write the dullest thing you can think of this week.’
‘Oh, Cindy,’ Barbara simpers back, ‘I have a perfect idea.’
Cindy’s hand flutters to her throat excitedly. ‘Is it duller than your piece on homework? I’m hoping to actually bore a reader to death this week.’
‘Well, this piece will do it.’ Barbara nods eagerly. ‘It’s far duller than anything I’ve written so far.’
My rose-coloured fantasy fades as real-life Barbara tugs her shapeless brown skirt to cover her knees. I notice the wrinkles in her thick fawn tights and wonder if she’d like the tweed suit I bought for Treacle.
‘This week I’ve moved the focus to relationships,’ she announces proudly.
I sit up. Could she possibly have written something interesting? Ten Kissing Secrets You Don’t Know; The First Date: How Far Should You Go?
Barbara gives a wide smile. Why Teachers Are Our Friends.
This girl is from Planet Dweeb! I’m not surprised when Will laughs out loud.
Cindy hurls him a glare.
I search the expressions of the rest of the team. Sam’s scratching his head. ‘How can teachers be our friends?’
Barbara leans forward, concern clouding her round brown eyes. ‘How can they not be?’ she breathes earnestly. ‘They do so much for us – I really don’t think we appreciate that. If we did, we could get so much more from them and from our education.’
Will leans forward to meet her eye. ‘Are you serious?’
‘Absolutely.’ Barbara’s gaze doesn’t waver. She might not be the coolest chick in Green Park High, but I admire the way she makes no apology for what she thinks or feels.
Will leans back with a shrug. ‘Whatever.’
‘Barbara, that sounds really great. I’m looking forward to reading it.’ Cindy makes a note on her clipboard then she turns to Will. ‘What have you got for us this week?’
Will slowly crosses his legs. ‘Solid, fact-based prose as usual,’ he drawls. ‘I don’t want to bore you with the details.’
Cindy’s lips twitch. Drawing her perfectly plucked brows into a sympathetic frown, she reaches out and touches his knee. ‘Don’t worry, Will.’ Her voice is like syrup. ‘If it’s boring I can always brighten it up here and there when I edit.’
He swipes her hand away. ‘Don’t you dare!’ he snarls. ‘I don’t want it ruined by your frilly prose.’
‘Calm down, William.’ Cindy leans back, a slow smile on her lips. ‘Go on then, tell us what it’s about. We’re all dying to know.’
He fries her with a death stare. ‘Revision,’ he growls.
‘Ooh.’ Barbara claps her hands together. ‘How helpful. Do you give tips on how to revise more effectively?’
Will doesn’t even look at her. He’s still barbequing Cindy with flame-eyes but he can’t shift her smug grin. ‘It’s about the dangers of over-revising,’ he says. ‘I’ve quoted medical reports, specialist opinion and given case studies.’
‘Sounds fascinating.’ Cindy makes a leisurely tick on her clipboard. ‘I can hardly wait to read it.’
Will sits up, his face dark with menace. ‘What’s your piece about, Cinders?’
Cindy raises her chin. We’re glued to our seats like monkeys watching the gorillas fight.
‘I’ve written an amazing article on how certain foods are linked to ugliness.’
How certain foods are linked to ugliness! Where does she get this nonsense? Will’s going to annihilate her.
He
slides down in his chair and grins. ‘I knew you could eat yourself thin, but I didn’t know you could eat yourself pretty.’
‘Oh, yes.’ Cindy’s earnest now. ‘It’s totally up to us whether we’re pretty of not. A good diet is key to good looks. Too many carbs make you sallow and jowly, while raw vegetables will give you the face and figure of a supermodel.’
I shrink behind my frothing curls. She must think I eat nothing but crusts.
Will folds his arms. ‘Perhaps you could give a PowerPoint presentation to the canteen staff,’ he suggests. ‘Green Park could do with a few supermodels.’
I scowl at him. Is that what it takes to get liked by him? Supermodel looks? If I ever have a boyfriend, he’s going to love me for my mind.
Who am I kidding? I slump in my seat. It would be fantastic if boys thought I was stunning, despite my wildly curly hair and freckly nose.
‘It’s getting late.’ Sam glances at the clock. ‘Shall I tell you about my piece, then we can call it a day?’
Cindy tucks her hair behind one ear. ‘I was saving you till last, Sam,’ she says in her honey voice.
Sam rubs his palms on his knees. ‘I checked out a new band, the Raging Dwarves.’
Cindy sucks the end of her pen. ‘Cool.’
‘Great live band,’ he says. ‘Good atmosphere. And I made a list of this week’s top-ten MP3 downloads. Added a few comments.’ He runs his fingers through his hair. ‘Just my opinion. Everyone’s taste is different.’
‘Sounds great, Sam.’ Cindy’s too busy winding her pen round a stray tendril of silky hair to make a tick on her clipboard. ‘I’m sure our readers will love it.’
