Signs of Love: Stupid Cupid

by Melody James

  ‘It’s not from me,’ I practically scream. ‘Honest.’

  Marcus walks toward me, holding out the note. ‘I can’t keep this.’ He stuffs it in my hand. ‘I’m sorry. I’m really touched but I just can’t keep it.’

  My gaze darts wildly around the corridor as I try to avoid his.

  With a rush of relief I spot Sam heading our way.

  ‘Sam! Hi!’ I welcome him like a long-lost friend. ‘Where are you heading?’ Perhaps I can go with Sam, anything to get me out of this deadly moment.

  Sam slows down. ‘I’m going to my form room.’

  ‘Are you passing the vending machines? We could get a Coke or something.’ Rescue me!

  Sam looks at me like I’m crazy. ‘No. Sorry, they’re nowhere near.’

  ‘Maybe we could share a Kit-Kat?’ I’m begging now. Surely Sam will take the hint? He’s Mr Nice Guy. But he just looks even more bewildered.

  ‘Sorry, Gemma.’ He keeps walking. ‘I can’t. I’ve got to get to class.’

  Marcus shrugs apologetically then heads toward the gym.

  I’m left standing beside the lockers feeling bewildered.

  I unfold Savannah’s note and read it.

  There’s no signature. Just three hideous words.

  I LOVE YOU.

  As the clock in the kitchen turns to eight o’clock I shrug on my blazer and stare in the hall mirror. I should wear a paper bag over my head. They do that with birds, don’t they? Put hoods on them to keep them calm. Apparently, if you cover a bird’s head, it thinks the world’s gone away.

  It should work on a bird-brain like me.

  I LOVE YOU.

  The words are still clanging round my head. I vow never to interfere with anyone’s love life again.

  ‘Bye, Mum,’ I call as I head out the door and trudge toward the bus stop, heels dragging.

  At least it was Marcus.

  If anyone else had that much incriminating evidence on me, it’d be all over their Facebook page by now. Marcus’s status just says: Gone kayaking. Perhaps that’s just his way of saying: Hiding from stalker.

  The bus is trundling towards the stop as I reach it. I stick out my thumb and steer my thoughts towards lunchtime’s webzine meeting.

  ‘Hey, Gem!’ Treacle comes puffing after me as I climb onboard. ‘I’ve had an idea.’ As I slide into a seat, she slides in beside me. ‘What if I slip a note into Marcus’s locker too?’ she suggests. She’s been fully briefed on yesterday’s disaster.

  ‘How will that help?’ I hug my bag miserably. ‘He’ll just assume I’ve put you up to it and get a restraining order.’

  Her eyes are sparkling with mischief. ‘Not if I sign it “from Chelsea”?’

  ‘What if he asks Chelsea about it?’ I argue. ‘Or catches you planting it like he caught me? What would Jeff say?’ I don’t want any more mix-ups. I just want Savannah and Marcus to read their horoscopes and fall in love.

  It’s a simple plan.

  So why does it keep going wrong?

  I spend the morning slouching behind desks, staring in rapt fascination at my pencil case and shuffling in and out of classrooms using Treacle as a human shield.

  The one time I bump into Marcus, he gives me a sympathetic smile then drops his gaze.

  ‘What’s up, Gem?’ Savannah slides one arm through mine and another through Treacle’s as we head toward the dining room for lunch. ‘You’ve hardly spoken all morning.’

  ‘I’m just tired.’ I can’t tell her I delivered her love note to Marcus.

  ‘But it’s Webzine Day!’ she reminds me. ‘You’re usually Mrs Chatty on Webzine Day.’

  Treacle draws her fire. ‘Have you read the new issue, Sav?’

  ‘Of course!’

  I blink at Savannah. ‘All of it?’

  ‘Well, mainly the horoscopes,’ she confesses.

  I act innocent. ‘So what did Jessica say this week?’ I want to know if my advice has hit home.

  ‘I think she’s worried about my diet.’ She gazes down at her stomach. ‘Do you think I’m getting fat?’

  Treacle stares at the hollow space where Savannah’s belly should be. ‘No.’

  ‘Maybe that’s why LJ hasn’t responded to my note yet,’ she sighs.

  Treacle shrugs. ‘Maybe he hasn’t spotted it.’ She catches my eye. ‘Those lockers are big. It could have landed behind his sports kit or something.’

  Savannah isn’t convinced. ‘You’ve seen American girls on TV.’ She blows out her cheeks. ‘Next to them I’m a whale.’

  Treacle pops Savannah’s balloon face with two fingers. ‘Don’t be dumb.’

  ‘Why else did LJ tell me not to mix carbs and protein?’ Savannah frowns. ‘And now Jessica’s telling me to lay off the cheesecake.’

  ‘Are you sure Jessica was actually talking about food?’ I ask.

  ‘What did the horoscope say exactly?’ Treacle asks like she doesn’t know already.

  ‘Stay off cheesecake and eat homegrown food.’

  ‘Are you sure she meant real cheesecake?’ Treacle presses.

  Before Savannah can answer we hit the lunch-room crowds and have to fight our way to our favourite table. Sally and Ryan are already there. My heart sinks as I spot Marcus sitting beside them. Savannah pulls out a chair beside him and beckons me toward it. But I’m already squeezing into a space at the other end of the table. Treacle sits beside me.

  Sally waves a piece of paper, grinning. ‘I’ve printed them out!’

  Savannah grabs the A4. ‘The horoscopes! What’s yours?’

  ‘Don’t talk with your mouth full, you might spit crumbs.’ Sally shrugs. ‘Jessica seems to have some food issues this week.’

  Or she might be gently hinting for you to gossip less. I peel the lid off my lunch box and take out an apple.

  Savannah takes the chair beside Marcus and pulls a chocolate mousse from her lunch box.

  Sally stares at it, horrified. ‘I thought Jessica warned you to go easy on dessert?’

  ‘Just cheesecake,’ Savannah argues.

  ‘Don’t mess with Jess.’ Sally gives her a warning look. ‘She’s never been wrong before.’

  As Savannah hesitates, Sally hooks the apple from my hand, pointing excitedly at the little Union Jack sticker on the side. ‘Didn’t Jessica say something about homegrown food?’

  Savannah’s gaze swivels toward me. ‘Can we swap, Gem?’

  She looks so hopeful, I give in. ‘OK.’

  Savannah flashes me a smile and hands me her mousse while Sal rolls my apple across the table.

  Marcus watches as it tumbles into Savannah’s hand.

  His horoscope twinkles in my head. Don’t do a Newton and worry about the gravity of the situation, sink your teeth in and enjoy.

  I watch him, breathless, hoping he’s read Jessica’s column. This could be the sign he needs to ask Savannah out again. His cheeks flush as Savannah puts the apple to her lips.

  ‘Hey, Climate-Zone!’

  LJ’s holler makes Savannah jump. He’s weaving his way toward our table. Bethany’s beetling along behind him, trying to keep up.

  ‘Nice choice of food group.’ LJ glances at Savannah’s apple. ‘I’ve got an aunt who’s a fruitarian. She’s nearly thirty but she only looks twenty-five.’ He widens his perfect smile and moves on.

  Sally whispers something in Savannah’s ear and Savannah’s face lights up.

  ‘You’re right!’ Savannah watches LJ leave, her face glowing. ‘How did Jessica know an apple would attract his attention? That woman is amazing. I wish I could meet her.’

  My stomach lurches.

  ‘Oh that would be so cool!’ Sally sighs. ‘Can’t you sort something out, Gem?’

  ‘No!’ I bark, then notice the odd look that passes over Sally’s face. I attempt to smile sweetly – and calmly – at Sally. ‘I mean, she lives a long way away, so it’s not that easy.’

  ‘Where does she live?’ Savannah immediately asks.

  ‘I’m not sure.�
��

  ‘Well how do you know it’s a long way away then?’ Sally says.

  ‘Because – because – Cindy told us.’ Desperate to change the subject, I make a grab for Sal’s printout. ‘Hey Marcus, have you read your stars?’ There’s no way I’m going to let this opportunity pass. ‘Though it may seem hopeless, the apple of your eye is still on the tree. Stay close by and it may drop into your lap.’

  Savannah gasps. ‘Quick!’ She thrusts the apple back at me. ‘It’s your apple!’ She’s giving me big eyes, clearly trying to tell me to make my move.

  The apple is like a hot coal in my hand. ‘Here!’ Panicking, I toss it to Marcus and stand up. ‘I’m not hungry.’ Grabbing my lunch box, I flee the room.

  ‘Gemma!’ Treacle sprints after me.

  ‘I did it again, didn’t I?’ My face is burning as she catches up with me outside the lunch room.

  ‘It did look kind of odd,’ she admits. ‘Though I’m not sure whether, technically, flinging fruit at your loved one is considered a seduction technique.’

  ‘What was I meant to do?’ I squeak. ‘Sit and eat it in front of him?’ I hold my head. ‘Why didn’t Savannah just eat it?’

  ‘She was just trying to help you,’ Treacle soothes.

  ‘I know.’ I shove my lunch box into my bag. ‘Jessica Jupiter is an idiot. She just keeps making everything worse, not better! And now they want to meet her!’

  Treacle gives me a squeeze. ‘Don’t worry,’ she says. ‘I’ll go back and say you’d just realized you were late for your webzine meeting.’

  I look at my watch. The meeting starts in five minutes. ‘Thanks, Treacle.’

  ‘Make sure you eat something.’ She turns and heads back to the lunch room.

  I picture the sandwiches wilting in my lunch box. I couldn’t be less hungry. ‘OK,’ I call after her and head for webzine HQ.

  ‘Hi, Sam.’ He’s the only one in the storeroom when I arrive.

  He’s strumming his guitar and doesn’t look up. ‘Hello.’

  ‘Are you nervous about Friday’s gig?’

  ‘No, not really.’ He still doesn’t look up.

  I take a seat behind a PC, relieved when Barbara and Cindy barge in, breaking the weird silence with chatter. I guess not everyone can be super-friendly all the time, not even Sam.

  ‘. . . and now Bethany Richards is talking with an American accent.’ Cindy flicks her hair back. ‘She sounds like Teen-Talk Barbie.’

  ‘I think it’s sweet,’ Barbara coos.

  ‘Clearly not sweet enough for Loud Jerk.’ Cindy sits on her desk and surveys the room. ‘Hi, Sam.’

  ‘Hi.’ Sam’s fingers are running up and down the fret-board but his eyes are fixed firmly on his strings.

  As the twins file in, Cindy slides a clipboard from her bag. When Jeff arrives next, Will loping after him, she launches straight into the webzine post-mortem. ‘Your school-trip-fatality piece went down well, Will. Four emails already. And all of them accusing you of being a spoil-sport.’ She smiles. ‘I didn’t realize our readers were so smart.’

  ‘Who cares?’ Will holds up a yellow office slip. ‘I think we’ve made the staff nervous.’ He waves the bit of paper. ‘I’ve been summoned by the Head.’

  Barbara shakes her head. ‘He’ll be worrying about parental anxieties.’

  Will sniffs. ‘He’ll be worrying about his insurance coverage.’

  Cindy glances at her clipboard. ‘Nice feedback on the earphone reviews,’ she tells Phil and Dave. ‘I’ve had two emails already asking about suppliers. Perhaps next time you could include a list in your article?’

  ‘No problem.’ David scribbles a note in his jotter.

  Barbara looks at Cindy hopefully. ‘Were there any comments on my Helping Out with Chores piece?’

  ‘Not yet, but it’s still early,’ Cindy reassures her.

  ‘I’m sure the emails will start flooding in once your fans have taken out the trash,’ Will snipes.

  Cindy turns on him. ‘How’s your big article going, Will? Any progress yet?’ Her gaze swoops toward me. ‘Have you two made any kind of breakthrough?’

  I swap looks with Will and let him answer.

  ‘We’ll find out on Friday,’ he tells her.

  ‘Oh?’ Cindy tips her head. ‘Does that mean you’ll be missing Sam’s gig?’

  Sam looks up sharply. ‘I thought you’d bought tickets.’

  Will smiles. ‘And we’ll be using them.’ He reaches out an arm and ruffles my hair like a fond uncle. ‘Won’t we, Gemma?’

  I shake him off.

  Sam snorts and looks back down at his guitar.

  ‘Jeff.’ Cindy steers the meeting back on course. ‘Miss Bayliss wants me to pass on her congratulations. She thought your coverage of the Year Nine netball final was great. She’s pleased to see you applying the same standards to your coverage of girls’ sports as you do to boys’ sports.’

  Jeff leans back on his chair. ‘I actually really enjoyed the game.’

  Cindy makes a note on her clipboard. ‘Do we all have ideas for our next pieces?’

  Phil sticks up his hand excitedly. ‘We’re going to get to see a brand new iPhone.’

  Cindy arches an eyebrow. ‘Review?’

  Dave grins. ‘Yep.’

  ‘Nice.’ Cindy makes a note.

  Barbara winds her pen through her hair. ‘What do you think of a feature on the differences between US and UK schools?’

  Jeff’s chair clanks from two legs to four as he swings forward. ‘An interview with LJ?’

  Barbara nods. ‘I thought it might be interesting.’

  ‘If you can get him to stop talking about himself for long enough,’ Will growls.

  ‘You sound jealous, Will.’ Cindy’s eyes flash with interest. ‘Is LJ stealing too much of the limelight?’

  ‘He can have it.’ Will meets her gaze. ‘I’m surprised you’re not basking in his glow with the rest of girls.’

  I think of Savannah.

  ‘He’s not my type,’ Cindy sniffs. ‘Way too cheesy.’

  ‘You should check with Jessica Jupiter,’ Will scoffs. ‘She’s advising one twelfth of the school to lay off American cheesecake this week.’

  He reads Jessica! I drop my head, grinning behind my hair.

  Sam gets to his feet. ‘Are we done here?’

  Cindy glances at the clock. ‘I guess.’ As Sam makes another of his fast exits, she grabs her bag, stows her clipboard and scurries after him. ‘Sam, I was wondering about Friday . . .’

  As they trail away down the corridor, Will grabs my arm.

  ‘Are you ready for Friday, Stone?’

  I nod. I can’t wait!

  ‘Good.’ He lets go and heads for the door. ‘Don’t be late.’

  No way! I close my eyes and wish. Please let us find something on Wiggins! This could be the first story of the rest of my life.

  ‘I told Jeff to meet us at the bus stop.’ Treacle peers at herself in my bedroom mirror.

  It’s Friday night and we’re getting ready for the gig. Savannah is lolling on my bed. She’s already dressed, in full emo costume, for LJ’s benefit. ‘It’s so cool we’re all going together this week.’ She rolls on to her back, mirror in one hand, eyeliner in the other, and thickens the black rim of her blue-shaded eyes.

  Treacle’s babed up in a dusky-pink number with heels.

  ‘You look stunning,’ I tell her.

  She smoothes her long, black hair then glances at my reflection. ‘Is that what you’re wearing?’

  I’m dressed for reporting not flirting, wearing jeans and a plain top, just like last week.

  ‘I feel comfortable in this,’ I tell her.

  Savannah climbs off the bed and grabs a hairbrush. ‘You could at least fix your hair.’ She starts bouncing my curls with deft strokes. ‘It’s one of your best features.’

  I duck away. ‘Don’t make it any curlier!’

  ‘But it’s gorgeous,’ Savannah argues.

  I hold up my
hands ‘I’m fine just as I am.’

  Savannah drops the brush and sighs. ‘Whatever.’

  By the time we’re boarding the bus to Sounds, my heart is hammering so fast I can hardly breathe.

  This might be the night that launches my career.

  Treacle pairs off with Jeff near the front of the bus, while Savannah and I head to the back, where Sally is beckoning. As we near her, a hand grabs my wrist and pulls me down on to a seat.

  It’s Will, hunched beside the window, the collar of his leather jacket turned up. ‘We need to stay together all night,’ he tells me. ‘If we see anything incriminating, we need the other one as a witness. Otherwise it’s just our word against Wiggins.’

  Savannah glances over her shoulder. ‘Gem?’

  ‘I’m fine here,’ I tell her.

  She gives me a knowing wink and squeezes in beside Sally.

  I cringe as I realize what’s going through her mind. Now she thinks I like Will!

  Will slides a look at my hair. ‘Couldn’t you have worn a hat or something? I mean this whole pre-Raphaelite thing you’ve got going on may score points in the lunch room but, if you’re working undercover, it makes you kind of easy to spot.’

  Flushing, I grab a hairband from my pocket and tie my insanely wavy hair into a ponytail.

  Will stares out of the window and stays silent while the bus bounces its way into town.

  As it nears our stop, Savannah and Sally get up and join Jeff and Treacle as they crowd the aisle.

  ‘Are you coming, Gem?’ Savannah asks.

  ‘Will’s got my ticket,’ I mutter, not even trying to explain.

  Will glowers at her like the Big Bad Wolf. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t eat her.’

  Savannah swaps looks with Sal. ‘I guess we’ll see you in there then.’

  I shrink into my jacket. I can’t wait till this story gets published and I can explain to everyone why I’ve been hanging out with Will.

  He nudges me up from the seat and we filter off the bus, hanging back as the others jostle their way into the club.

  A steady drizzle sweeps the pavement. Neon lights frame the doorway of Sounds and flash in the puddles on the floor.

  I follow Will to the door and wait like a trained poodle while he shows our tickets. Then we head inside.