Cathy Hopkins - [Mates, Dates 01] (6 page)

C h a p t e r
 
5

Disaster
Strikes

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I don’t believe it. I
just don’t believe it. What started out as a brilliant week has just ended in
complete, total and utter disaster.

Course Izzie told
Nesta I’d seen someone I liked. That part was OK, in fact Nesta was really
enthusiastic, though I did feel a prat when I had to admit that I hadn’t even
spoken to him.

‘So how do you know
what he’s like?’ she said.

‘I don’t. I just know
we’ll get on,’ I replied.

‘Then first of all, we
have to get him to notice you,’ she said.

‘I know,’ I replied.

I’d been thinking
about it a lot. Is he going to be another in a long line of people who think
I’m twelve and don’t even register me? No. I was being positive. I’d find a
way.

Don’t wait for your
ship to come in, swim out to it.

I had a plan.

Luckily I had Izzie to
myself for the week. Nesta’s in the school play and has rehearsals every night
and, I have to say, I was relieved. Not wanting to be mean or anything, but
she’s what Lai calls a Top Babe and the chances were if He saw her, I wouldn’t
even get a look-in.

So. The plan was that
Izzie and I’d get the bus up to Highgate and hopefully bump into him, sort of
accidentally on purpose.

Tuesday p.m.: went to
Highgate. I like it up there. Tall white Georgian houses set back behind
wrought iron railings around the square.
Tres
posh. And the village
isn’t like the rest of London with big supermarkets and chain stores. The shops
up there are all individual and interesting. Little jewellery shops and
nick-nacky places. We got so absorbed in looking in the windows at first that
we almost forgot to look for Mr MC. Mystery Contestant. (That’s Izzie’s
nickname for him.)

We tore ourselves away
from the shops and walked past the school about twenty times. We hung around at
the bus stop. Boys of every shape and size were pouring out. But did He appear?
No.

Wednesday p.m.:
Highgate. This time we went to the cafes. Cafe Uno. Cafe Rouge. Costa’s. I was
getting cap-puccinoed out by the time we’d finished. Everywhere was full of St
Michael’s boys. But Mr Top Totty? (My nickname for him.) No.

‘Maybe he’s off with
flu or something,’ said Izzie.

‘Maybe I imagined
him,’ I said. His image was already starting to fade in my mind.

Thursday p.m.: walked
past the school
and
did the cafes. I was running out of pocket money.
It’s an expensive business looking for the Mystery Contestant. Still no show.

Friday: Izzie was
convinced he’s off with a bug.

‘But you don’t know
for definite,’ I said. ‘And if he was, he might be better by now.’

We did our usual walk
past the school but, once again, he didn’t appear.

‘Let’s go to Costa’s,’
said Izzie. That’s where most of them go.‘

Just at that moment,
we saw Nesta crossing the road and waving. She looked amazing. Although we
don’t have to wear school uniform, she sometimes wears her own version and puts
on a shirt, tie, skirt and three-quarter stockings. Very Britney Spears. She’d
hitched her skirt up and her legs looked fantastic. Cars were almost driving
into lampposts as male drivers did double-takes.

‘Rehearsal was
cancelled so I thought I’d come and join the boy-chasing troops,’ she grinned.

My heart sank as Izzie
told her our plan and we set off for Costa’s.

‘I’ll meet you in
there,’ she said, ‘I’m just going to get a copy of
Bliss
. There’s a
piece in there on the Clothes Show I want to read.’

Izzie and I went to
the cafe and settled ourselves at a table by the window so we could look out as
well as in. I did a quick check of the customers. No, he wasn’t there.

That’s when my
brilliant plan took on a life of its own.

Izzie went to get the
cappuccinos and I looked out at the passers-by.

Suddenly my mouth
dropped open. Nesta was coming out of the shop and down the road. And guess who
she was with? Him. MC. Two minutes in the shop and she’d got talking to him.
Talk about fast worker. He was even laughing at something she said. I
knew
this would happen if Nesta came along.

Oh no. Even worse, she
was coming over the road. With him. Coming into the cafe. She couldn’t possibly
know that he was my He and I decided not to let on. But

I felt myself going red
and prayed no one would notice.

She burst in with him
in tow and came up to us just as Izzie came back with the coffees.

‘Iz, Lucy. This is
Tony,’ she said.

Close up he was even
better-looking than I remembered. Sleepy brown velvet eyes, thick black eyelashes
and a gorgeous mouth with a full bottom lip.

‘Tony’s my brother,’
said Nesta.

My jaw dropped and
Nesta started laughing.

‘I know what you’re
thinking,’ she said. ‘How can that be?’

I was thinking exactly
that. I mean, Nestas half Jamaican. Skin like coffee ice-cream. Tony’s
complexion is more Mediterranean. Luckily no one had noticed my face which by
this time was bright scarlet. Everyone was too busy looking at Tony.

‘He’s my
half-brother,’ she explained. ‘My mum is his dad’s second wife. A year after he
married my mum they had me. So same dad, different mums.’

She’d told us she had
a brother but I didn’t expect this! No wonder she and Izzie have so much in
common. But
brother
. He’s Nesta’s brother. Half, step or whatever. Oh
NO. Now I can never tell anyone, not Izzie, not Nesta. With Nestas big mouth,
she’s bound to blab to him that I fancy him and have been up here looking for
him. I’d end up looking really desperate. Can life possibly get any worse?

‘Hi,’ he smiled at us.
‘Which one of you is Lucy?’

I felt all wobbly and
faint when he looked at me.

‘I am,’ I said weakly
and blushing even more furiously.

‘Nesta tells me you’ve
got your eye on one of the St Michael’s kids. I go there so I might know him.
What year is he in? What does he look like?’

‘Er, tall, er… hair,’
I stuttered, trying my best not to describe the vision standing in front of me.
‘He was too far away for me to get a really close look.’

Izzie and Nesta
cracked up laughing.

‘Gorgeous,
apparently,’ said Izzie, coming to my rescue. ‘We know that much at least. Just
find us the best-looking boy at your school. He’ll do.’

‘Well you’re looking
at him,’ boasted Tony. ‘But I’ll try and look out for the next best thing.’

‘Big-head,’ said
Nesta.

I wanted to die.

Thankfully Tony didn’t
stay around too long and after a while I got up to go as well. I wanted to run
away and hide. All the St Michael’s boys were oggling Nesta and one even sent
her over a coffee and a Danish. Izzie got chatting to some strange-looking boy
with long hair in the corner who was reading
Mojo
magazine. She went
over to him and soon they were busy discussing music and the charts. I felt
like a spare part. No one noticed me. It’s like I’m invisible. It’s weird: when
I feel good, I can make people laugh but when I’m down, I disappear. And Tony’s
gone home. Not only is he Nesta’s brother but he was right about him being the
best-looking boy at the school. I can’t believe Izzie didn’t clock that he was
the One.

‘I’m off,’ I said.

‘Don’t you want to
stay and see if Mr Right appears?’ said Nesta, spooning the froth from her
cappuccino. ‘See I reckon the reason you haven’t seen him is that he’s been
doing some class after school. They do all sorts of extra-curriculum stuff -
fencing, music, drama. Tony told me. He’s often late because he’s been doing
something or other. Hang around another half hour or so and another lot of guys
will be out.’

How could I tell her
that He
was
out? That
He
was Tony. Tony, who was now, thanks
to Big Gob Nesta, only too happy to help me find my mystery boy.

I didn’t want her to
suspect so I sat down again and went along with the pretence that I was still
looking for Mr Right.

Luckily Nesta changed
the subject. She’s too excited about the up-and-coming Clothes Show to think
about anything else at the moment.

‘Premier, Storm and
Select are all sending talent scouts to the show,’ she read from her magazine,
‘and both Erin O’Connor andVernon were discovered at shows in the past. And we
could get a makeover. There will be people there giving a whole new look.’

Izzie came back to sit
with us and her and Nesta spent the next half hour gabbing about what they were
going to wear and what they were going to do there. Makeovers, accessories,
manicures.

‘What are you going to
wear, Lucy?’ asked Nesta. ‘I haven’t thought about it,’ I said. I’d been miles
away, thinking about Tony. I had a million questions I wanted to ask Nesta.

What birth sign is he?
Izzie could do his chart to see if we were a good match. What does he like
doing? What sort of girls does he like?

What did Nesta and
Izzie think he thought of me? He had smiled at me very warmly.

And why doesn’t he
live with his mum? Usually when a couple split up, the children stay with their
mum. So how come Tony lives with his dad but Nesta’s mum? Where’s his mum?

And oh! Worst of all.
What
if
Izzie
fancies Tony?
She’s bound to. He’s so cute. Irresistible.
Magnifique
. How can I find
out without her guessing that he’s the MC? But I couldn’t ask anything. It had to
be my secret. That ship I was going to swim out to? I think it just sunk.

The
New Me

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Izzie’s just phoned. Apparently
Tony told Nesta he thought I was a sweet kid. What kind of word is that? Sweet?
It’s like being told you’re nice. Pleasant. Agreeable.
Urggghhh
.

What makes me ‘me’?
I’m sweet. Yuk.

I don’t want to be
sweet. I want to be a Babe. A Boy Magnet.

But no. I’m
sweet
.

Sweeeeet. A sweet kid.
Kid.

But at least he
noticed me. And said something to Nesta.

I look at myself in
the bedroom mirror. I suppose I do look kind of sweet. Small, flat-chested, not
the slightest evidence of a bust. And that’s another thing. Izzie and Nesta
both have breasts, in fact Izzie says hers have taken on a life of their own
lately. But me, nothing. Pinpricks. Pimples. I have the body of a nine-year-old
boy.

I could have my hair
cut. It’s been long for years. I could have it done spiky. And highlighted.
Although it’s blonde, I could have white blonde streaked through it. Yeah, I
thought. Like how? On my pocket money?

I look around my
bedroom. It was last painted when I was ten. Pink. The beginning of my pink
phase. And fluffy toys everywhere, on the window ledge, the wardrobe, the bed.
I picked up Mr Mackety my favourite teddy. He’s fat and grumpy-looking and I’ve
had him since I was five. I thought about chucking him out. Nope. Mr Mackety in
a bin liner? Too awful. No way. Can’t. We’ve been through too much together.
Still, I can’t deny the overall effect of my room is sweet. Sweeeeet.

I went downstairs to
see what everyone was doing but the house was quiet for a change. Mum was out
doing her Saturday shop, Dad was at the health shop and the boys were out at
football.

I spied Mum’s Angel
Cards in a bowl on the kitchen table. I took the pack and shuffled them.

‘OK, oh clever clogs
cards, let’s see what words of wisdom you have for me today.’ I picked a card
and read.

‘
“
The people
who get on in the world are the people who get up and look for the
circumstances they want. And if they can’t find them, make them.” George
Bernard Shaw’

Well, that’s telling
me! If they can’t find them, make them.

OK. I will, Mr Shaw.
I’ll do my own makeover. I’ve had enough of mooching about feeling miserable.
Feeling like second best. I’m not like that normally. It’s only lately I’ve
been feeling peculiar. But I’m going to fight back. I’ll show them all who’s a
sweet kid.

I sat at the table and
made a list of all the changes I want to make.