Acting Friends (6 page)

I stood, panting for breath, outside the hut. I felt disorientated . . . sick from the musky fumes inside the hut. I desperately needed some air.
There.
A few 55

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metres away along the corridor was a fire door. I staggered towards it, forgetting everything else. I pressed down on the bar and went outside. Light flooded in from outside, far brighter than the party room. Was it really still daylight out here? It felt like midnight.

I slipped outside and leaned against the wall. I was in a dirty, empty alleyway but the air was mercifully cooler out here. I suddenly remembered I’d left Emmi’s cardigan in Madame van Persiana’s hut. Damn, I’d have to go back for it. I looked over at the bin bags piled in a heap opposite me. At least they didn’t smell. I let out my breath in a sigh.

Was anything Madame van Persiana had told me true? Now I was away from her, I was starting to doubt everything she’d said. And yet, at the time, it had felt totally convincing. An actor, whose name began with ‘F’, would be my true love. Could that be Frankie? But there would be ‘much time’ before he came. And there would be secrets.

No, it was crazy. She was just—

‘Hello.’ A smooth, male voice that sounded strangely familiar spoke beside me.

My eyes snapped open.

Oh. My. God.

Frankie Clarke was standing right in front of me.

I stared at his face which was at once wholly 56

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recognisable and yet completely new to me. In a split second I’d taken in those dark, soft eyes, the snub nose, the curve of his cheek. Close to, he wasn’t much taller than me – maybe just a few centimetres.

And more slightly-built than I’d thought. But he was still
totally
gorgeous.

‘Oh,’ I said.

Frankie smiled. ‘Sorry, did I make you jump? I was just wondering if you were all right. You looked like you might be ill.’

I pushed myself away from the wall.

Frankie Clarke is talking to you. Be cool.

‘I’m fine,’ I said, speaking far too fast. ‘Fine.

Totally fine. Great.’

Shut up, River, you sound like an idiot.

‘Good.’ Frankie moved a little closer. He had long, fair eyelashes. ‘So, what did you think of the film?’

Film.
What film?
Oh, goodness, he must be talking about the movie he was in – the one that this was the launch party for. Its name had completely gone out of my head.

‘Er, I haven’t seen it,’ I stammered. ‘But I’m sure you’re really good in it.’

Frankie’s smile deepened, his mouth a crooked line. ‘Didn’t you come to the screening, yesterday?

That was when we had the first party.’

‘No.’ Thoughts careered wildly through my head.

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There’d been another party? I didn’t really follow, but I didn’t want to look stupid, either, so I said nothing.

Frankie looked deep into my eyes. ‘You’re really pretty,’ he said shyly.

I could feel my face burning now.
Pretty?
Frankie Clarke thought I was
pretty?

‘It’s so nice to talk to someone around my own age,’ he went on. ‘All the older people here are really boring.’

I nodded, feeling pleased now that I’d taken off my cardigan
and
worn the strappy top. It obviously made me look more mature. Frankie moved a little closer. His gorgeous face was just centimetres away from mine now. ‘It’s really busy out there, but maybe I could see you later?’

‘Okay.’ I could barely speak.

‘Shall we take a picture . . . as a keepsake of our first meeting?’

First.
That meant there would be others. I nodded.

Frankie took out his phone and held it away from him. He extended his arm round me. I huddled closer. This was totally surreal. I racked my brain, trying to think of something interesting to say.

Nothing came.

‘A bit nearer.’ Frankie’s hand closed on my shoulder.

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I shuffled closer. Our heads were side by side.

Frankie held the phone steady then turned towards me. I could feel the brush of his lips on my cheek as he clicked down on the phone. My heart pounded.

And then Frankie drew back. He pocketed his phone.

‘Thanks,’ he said, running his hand through his hair. ‘I’ll send you a copy.’ He grinned. ‘See ya later.’

And before I could open my mouth to say

goodbye, he’d gone – vanishing through the fire door and back into the party.

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I stood, shocked to my core, as Frankie rushed away.

He’d
been
here. He’d said he’d see me again . . .
and
that he’d send me the photo he’d just taken. For a few seconds my mind whirled with fantasy

scenarios: Frankie and me walking hand-in-hand down the street . . . Frankie smiling at something I said. . . Frankie looking deep into my eyes again . . .

A shiver thrilled down my spine. Frankie had said I was pretty. He was going to see me later. He’d even taken a picture to remember me by.

A keepsake of our first meeting.

Happiness twirled inside my chest. This was unbelievable. And it was all thanks to Emmi. She’d invited me here. I mean, who cared about Shaz?

Frankie hadn’t even mentioned her. He must have got bored with her and wandered around until he met me.

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For a second, I wondered about this: after all, he’d barely talked to me so how did he know how special I was? And, if he was so intent on seeing me later, why hadn’t he made an arrangement to meet me or taken my phone number? He hadn’t even asked my name.

Stop it, River.
This was exactly how I’d ended up upsetting Emmi – getting all insecure about everything. As I thought this, I remembered Emmi and Grace must be in the party room, somewhere. I
had
to find them and tell them what had just happened.

I rushed along the corridor and out into the room with all the stalls. I couldn’t see them. Or Emmi’s older sister. Or even Shaz and
her
sister.

I darted between the crowds, peering this way and that. No sign. Maybe they were in the bathroom.

I rushed into the ladies.

And ran straight into Shaz.
Wham.
I rebounded off her, onto the wall. My elbow slammed against the concrete.

‘Why don’t you watch where you’re going,’ she snapped.

I straightened up, rubbing my elbow.

‘Sorry,’ I said. Then I felt annoyed. Shaz hadn’t been looking where she was going either. She’d bumped into me as much as I’d bumped into her.

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Shaz looked me up and down. I suddenly

remembered Emmi’s cardigan. It was still in Madame van Persiana’s hut. I
had
to go and get it.

Shaz’s eyes fixed on my strappy top. She was dressed in jeans and a cropped vest under a jacket herself. The vest was dark red and really suited her skin colour but close up I noticed she had spots on her chin and that there were dark shadows under her eyes. I remembered what Emmi had said about her being ill last year. If she’d been off school for six months, it must have been something serious.

Maybe she’d just been rude to me because she was feeling bad about being kept down in year seven. Maybe I should give her another chance.

‘Shaz . . .’ I started.

‘That top looks all wrong on you,’ Shaz sneered.

All thoughts of a second chance vanished. There was no excuse for how rude she was being. Fury swelled inside me.

‘Frankie Clarke seemed to think my top looked okay,’ I said. ‘He took my picture with his phone and said we should meet up later.’

Shaz stared at me. I braced myself. She was, surely, about to make another scathing remark about my appearance – and that I must have imagined what Frankie had said to me.

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But instead, Shaz frowned. She looked puzzled . . .

and upset.

‘When did you speak to him?’ she asked.

‘Just now . . .’ I hesitated.

‘And he took . . . your photo together?’

I nodded.

‘Did he say . . . how nice it was to talk to someone his age?’ Shaz went on, her voice now rather shaky.

‘Did he say the photo would be a keepsake of your first meeting? Did he forget to ask your name?’

My chest tightened. Had she somehow overheard our conversation? ‘How do you know what he said?’ I asked.

Shaz bit her lip. For the first time since I’d met her, she looked uncertain . . . vulnerable, almost.

‘Because . . .’ she blew out her breath in a sigh.

‘Because he said the same things to me.’

No.
This was just another part of her wind-up.

Another way for Shaz to make me feel bad.

‘Do you work hard at being this nasty?’ I snapped.

‘Or were you just born mean?’

I turned and stalked away, back into the heart of the funfair room. How dare Shaz try and spoil my special moment with Frankie. She was just jealous that he paid me a bit of attention. I marched across the room, looking around for Emmi and Grace.

Where
were
they?

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I caught sight of Emmi at the edge of the hot dog stand. She was flicking back her hair, sipping her drink and chatting to someone hidden by the side of the stand. Hopefully that was Grace.

I raced over. Emmi had her back to me, but as I drew close I could hear her speaking.

‘There was
another
party? Really?’

A boy’s voice replied. ‘It’s kind of busy here at the moment, but maybe I could see you later?’

I froze. That was
Frankie.

I stood, listening as Emmi, clearly smiling, said
yes.

‘Shall we take our picture . . . as a keepsake of our first meeting?’ Frankie went on.

My stomach seemed to fall out of me. He was saying exactly the same things to Emmi as he had to me. And to Shaz. Which meant she had been telling the truth.

I felt numb. It wasn’t that I’d ever thought Frankie might ask me on a date. But the idea that someone I’d idolised . . . someone so attractive on the outside . . . could be so two-faced, was horrible.

Emmi disappeared out of sight as Frankie drew her towards him for the photo. I leaned against the hot dog stand, my head spinning.

‘See?’ said Shaz miserably, behind me. ‘He’s doing the same thing with her now.’

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I looked round. Shaz was standing, hands on hips.

Her expression was angry, but I could see she was as upset as I was underneath.

‘I thought you didn’t like him,’ I said.

Shaz gave an awkward shrug and I suddenly realised she’d been talking for effect before . . .

that maybe she even fancied Frankie as much as I did.

Just then Emmi appeared. When she saw me she squealed.

‘River, you’ll never guess who I’ve been talking to!’ she said.

‘Frankie Clarke?’ I raised my eyebrows.

‘Yes,’ Emmi’s eyes widened. ‘And he wants to see me later.’

I exchanged a look with Shaz.

‘Actually, he might not have totally meant that.’ I squirmed as I spoke. I hated the idea that I was going to upset Emmi by telling her what Frankie had been doing.

‘What?’ Emmi frowned.

‘He’s going round saying he wants to see
everyone
later,’ Shaz said.

I could feel my face reddening again. This was
so
embarrassing. I couldn’t believe Frankie had fooled me . . . us . . . so easily.

Emmi glanced from me to Shaz, then back again.

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‘You mean he said it to you two as well?’ she asked.

I nodded. Shaz sighed.

‘I thought he was cool,’ I said. ‘But he’s not.’

‘No,’ Shaz agreed. ‘He’s not.’

Emmi shook her head, then said a rude word.

‘Where’s Grace?’ I asked.

The three of us looked at each other. The same thought was clearly flashing through Emmi and Shaz’s mind as it was through mine. If Frankie had lied to the three of us, he could easily do the same to Grace.

‘We can’t let him upset Grace,’ I said. ‘She’ll be totally devastated.’

‘We have to find her,’ Shaz said.

‘Yes,’ Emmi added. ‘Come on.’

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We spotted Grace within seconds. She was

wandering past the go-karting area, peering between the knots of people cheering on the sidelines.

‘She’s looking for us,’ Emmi said.

‘Come on.’ We hurried after her, then lost her in the crowd. I spotted her again by the hook-the-duck stall. She was looking up, chatting to someone.

I took another step.
No.
It was Frankie Clarke.

I sped up. Emmi and Shaz were on either side of me. We raced over, arriving at Grace’s side just in time to overhear Frankie.

‘Maybe I could see you later?’ he was saying.

‘That’s gonna get a little crowded,’ Emmi said drily.

Frankie jumped back – into Shaz who was

standing behind him. He glanced from her to me and Emmi.

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‘Fancy you being here, chatting to Grace,’ I said sarcastically.

‘What’s going on?’ Grace’s face was red as a tomato.

‘I haven’t done anything wrong,’ Frankie said defensively.

Emmi raised her eyebrows. She looked at me.

‘What do you think, River?’

‘I think making out you’re hoping to see all of us again and taking a picture as a “keepsake” . . .’

‘. . . “of our first meeting” . . .’ added Shaz.