Signs of Love: Stupid Cupid (6 page)

I hit return and my new status slides into place at the top of my profile.

I read it.
Was searching for Marcus and accidentally made him my status.

What am I thinking? That sounds even
worse
! Now everyone will know I was searching for his profile.

Including Marcus.

Stiff with panic, I stare at the screen, my hands hovering over the keyboard as I try to think of the perfect phrase to snatch me from the jaws of humiliation.

The desk phone rings. I pick it up before it wakes Dad. ‘Yes?’

‘It’s me!’ Savannah sounds delighted. ‘This is soooo romantic! Why didn’t you tell me? I had no idea. Sal’s in an absolute fit. She’s likes to be the
first to spot a budding romance.’

‘No, it’s not—’

But Savannah’s too busy gushing to let me get a word in. ‘You’ll make such a cute couple. Marcus is such a sweetie. Have you spoken to him this evening? He hasn’t changed
his relationships status yet. Nor have you. Are you going to do it at the same time? That’d be so romantic . . .’

I stop listening. My heart is sliding into my boots. So much for trying to get Savannah and Marcus together. My brilliant plan has gone horribly wrong. The love-missile I aimed at Marcus has
turned out to be a suicide bomb.

The next morning is one of those clear, crisp March mornings that makes you think spring might happen after all.

If you hadn’t just destroyed your life on Facebook.

Savannah’s bouncing along beside me as we walk the bus route to school. ‘So he’s not asked you out, right?’

I doh-eye her. ‘Why
would
he?’

‘Why wouldn’t he?’

‘Because I’m a freaky Facebook stalker?’

Treacle’s trailing behind us her giant sports bag weighing her down. ‘Explain to me again why we’re walking instead of bussing?’

Savannah rolls her eyes. ‘We need to
talk
, of course,’ she explains. ‘You don’t get chat-space on the number thirty-two bus.’

‘Oh.’ Treacle kicks a can and sends it rattling along the gutter. She spent half of last night dissecting the Marcus disaster with me on the phone after Savannah had hung up.
Savannah, on the other hand, is just coming to terms with the fact that my big status announcement was a mistake – though I can’t explain
why
I was searching for Marcus’s
profile without giving away my secret life as Jessica Jupiter and my plans for her and Marcus.

‘Sorry, Treac.’ I glance back

‘It’s OK.’ Treacle looks at her watch. ‘Jeff will just have to wait.’

‘Bike-shed rendezvous?’ Savannah spins like a terrier smelling a rabbit. ‘Planned a little early-morning kissing?’

Treacle glares at her. ‘Actually we’re going to practise keepie-uppies.’

Savannah sighs. ‘Is that all you do?’

‘So,
Gem
,’ Treacle says, quickly turning the spotlight back on me. ‘Are you going to ask Marcus out?’

Traitor!
She knows I have no interest in Marcus as boyfriend material. I zap her with my invisible death ray as Savannah turns and grabs my arm.

‘Shall I soften him up for you?’ she offers. ‘I can give him the big sell. Tell him how nice you are. What a great girlfriend you’d make. How clever you
are—’

I hold up my hands. ‘Whoa! I am
not
interested in Marcus.’

‘Then why the Facebook search?’

‘It was for a project.’ I try out the excuse I’d rehearsed with Treacle last night. ‘I’m collecting birthdays. For our class. I thought it would be cool if we
published a list in the webzine.’

‘Oh.’ Savannah looks disappointed, but not for long. ‘You’d make a great couple though.’ She’s off again, painting dream-pictures. ‘And if he
hasn’t asked you out yet, I can teach you a zillion ways to make sure he does.’

‘Really, Savannah. No.’

‘But why?’ She’s giving me pleading eyes. ‘Marcus is a sweetie. He’s so kind and thoughtful. And he’s not a cabbage-brain like Ryan or Josh. When he stops
being shy, he’s really smart and funny. You should definitely go out with him.’

I’m surprised to hear Savannah reel off so many plus-points for Marcus. A glimmer of hope flashes through me. She knows what a nice guy Marcus is; all I have to do is convince her that
he’d make a far better boyfriend than LJ.

A bunch of Year Elevens jostle past us. We’re nearing the school entrance and students throng round the gates. I see Jeff watching through the fence like a chimp waiting for the
banana-man. His eyes light up as he spots Treacle.

I guess it’s feeding time at the zoo.

Treacle hooks her arm though mine. ‘Will you be OK?’ Meaning: Will you be OK if I desert you for Jeff? My heart sinks as I realize I’m going to have to face the jeering
Facebook crowds de-Treacled. I bite my lip. Her eyes are glittering with hope. She’s silently screaming the unspoken fear that makes ninety-nine percent of all girlfriends try too hard:
girlfriends will wait, boyfriends might not.

‘I’ll be fine.’ I give her a reassuring smile. I’ve got Savannah and her aura of confidence will surround us like a high-voltage force-field. Any Facebook-related comment
will get fried on entry.

Treacle gives me a quick hug. ‘You’re a star, Gem.’ She ducks into the crowds and is hanging off Jeff’s arm in three seconds flat. He passes her the football he’s
carrying and they head away towards the playing field.

Butterflies flicker in my stomach as we head through the gates. Chelsea Leeson spots us and comes barrelling towards me. Ryan Edwards and Josh Carter are hot on her heels. I push my lips into
the grin of a dead girl and fix my eyes on the school entrance.

‘Marcus is over there, Gem!’ Chelsea points towards the bike shed where Marcus is standing with Ryan, shifting from one foot to another, his gaze fixed on his boots.

‘Thanks, Chelsea.’ Savannah answers for me, her tone breezy. ‘But unlike you, Gemma doesn’t need to chase boys. They come to her.’

Chelsea flushes and stomps away, her mini-mob beetling after her.

‘Thanks, Sav.’ I squeeze her arm.

‘No probs.’ She flashes me a smile. ‘Just keep smil—’ She screeches to a halt as her gaze hits a stooping figure in the centre of the yard.

LJ.

The spring sunshine flashes off his hair gel. He’s surrounded by Year Ten girls all paying court like he’s Henry VIII. As we watch, he unpeels his shirt and starts counting his six
pack. I wait for one of his audience to swoon. But they stay standing, their eyes popping like steamrollered bubble-wrap.

‘I wonder if he’s remembered my name?’ Before I know it, Savannah is trying to drag me towards the group of girls.

I yank her back.

‘What?’ She stares at me.

‘I’ve been reading an article,’ I lie quickly. I’ve got to do something before she makes a total idiot of herself by throwing herself at LJ in front of an audience.
‘It says boys are more likely to fall for girls who are a challenge.’

‘Are you saying I’m easy?’ Savannah puts her hands on her hips.

‘No!’ I backtrack. ‘I’m just saying, play it cool.’

‘Since when did you give relationship advice?’

‘Like I said, I read it in an article.’ I grab a statistic from the air. ‘Eighty-four percent of all relationships start with an insult.’

Savannah narrows her eyes. ‘Really?’

I’ve got her hooked. ‘Yes. Just be rude, act aloof, as though he’s the last boy in the world you’d bother with.’

‘And that will get him interested in me?’ She sounds unconvinced.

‘He’ll be so hot for you, you’ll have to wear oven gloves.’ I smile in what I hope is a convincing way.

While Savannah digests, the first bell rings. LJ recovers his six-pack and his fan club begins to drift schoolward.

Savannah hoists her bag on to her shoulder and heads towards the front entrance, sweeping past LJ with impressive indifference.

‘Hey!’ he calls as her bag buffets him.

She turns, frowning. ‘Are you talking to me?’ I never knew Savannah could sound so cold. She’s Dr Freeze.

LJ looks confused, like a dog expecting a biscuit and getting a worm pill. ‘You’re climate-zone girl, aren’t you?’

Savannah tips her head, not missing a beat. ‘As far as you’re concerned, I’m the Arctic.’

Wow
. I watch her walk away, glowing with pride. Then I see LJ’s eyes spark into life.
No!
For the first time, those dark brown pools have snapped into focus. He looks
interested. A small smile curls his lips as he watches Savannah skip up the school steps.

What have I done?

I race after Savannah, catching up at the top of the stairs. I try to block her view, but it’s too late. She’s staring back across the yard, her gaze locked with LJ’s.

She breaks it off. ‘Oh, Gem! You’re a genius! Did you see him staring at me. I’ve really got his attention now.’ She’s overjoyed.

I’m gutted. Another plan backfired. I’m the opposite of genius.

Then I spot Jeff and Treacle wandering arm in arm across the fast-emptying playground. They’re gazing sappily into each other’s eyes, meandering like drunks over the tarmac.

Maybe there’s hope. After all, I got it right with Jeff and Treacle. Perhaps, in the end, I’ll do the same for Savannah and Marcus.

‘Turn it down a bit!’ I yell over the racket of Ben’s Xbox.

Ben flashes me a death-glare but lowers the volume.

Once Sonic the Hedgehog isn’t making the ornaments rattle, I try again. ‘Will’s going to make it as hard for me as he can, I just know it.’

‘Don’t let him bully you.’ Treacle’s slouching on the armchair opposite, pulling a post-pizza muffin apart and filling her cheeks. She’s come round to help me
babysit Ben while Mum and Dad are feasting at the local gastropub. Not that I need help. I’m a world-expert on Ben. I know that in exchange for forty minutes uninterrupted Xbox he’ll
give in gracefully to physio, meds and bedtime. Especially if I airplane him from Xbox to physio-table to bed, while he machine-guns invisible aliens.

I check my watch. Thirty minutes of Xboxing to go. ‘I’m not so worried about him bossing me about,’ I confess. ‘I’m worried he won’t let me work on the
article at all. When Mr Harris told him he had to let me help, I thought he was going to strangle Cindy, then beat me to death with her cold, dead body.’

Treacle laughs, spraying a mouthful of muffin crumbs. ‘I can see why you want to be a journalist,’ she says, dabbing up the mess. ‘You do have tendency to thrive on
drama.’

I ignore the slur. ‘But he looked really angry.’

Treacle sits up. ‘Let’s not brand him a psycho-killer yet,’ she says sensibly.

‘OK.’ I sweep reality under the carpet. ‘Let’s pretend he’s a sweet, helpful, generous guy who
wants
me to help.’ I chew at my thumbnail. ‘But
what if I mess it up? This is my big chance to prove I can do some real journalism. What if I can’t? What if I just follow him around saying stuff so dumb I prove him right?’

Treacle gulps down the last of her muffin. ‘But, Gemma, you rock as a writer! Cindy gave you the horoscopes and you’ve made them the talk of the school. You’re going to do the
same with this article.’

I’m grateful, but unconvinced. ‘But I’m such a klutz around Will. He turns me into a quivering wreck. I’ll never be able to think straight with him snapping at me and
pointing out every tiny mistake.’

‘Fair enough.’ Treacle brushes the crumbs from her jersey into the palm of her hand and drops them into the bin beside her chair. ‘Let’s practise.’

I frown. ‘Practise what?’

‘You made me role-play meeting Jeff’s parents.’ She stands up. ‘Let’s role-play you working with Will Bold.’

‘The Jeff role-play didn’t turn out too well,’ I remind her.

‘Yes, but once you’d demonstrated just how horrible it could be, I felt ready for anything. I still do. You’ve totally prepared me for Friday night.’ She straightens up.
‘There’s no way Jeff’s mother will be as awful as you.’

‘Hey!’ I object.

She grins and hauls me to my feet. ‘Come on. I’ll be Will.’ She rolls her shoulders forward and drops her chin. ‘Right, Gemma,’ she growls, ‘I suppose
I’m stuck with you. We’d better start work.’

‘What do you want me to do, Will?’ I ask eagerly.

Treacle breaks character, ‘No! no! You have to play it cool. You’re not a puppy trying to please. You’re a reporter looking for a story.’