Signs of Love: Stupid Cupid (14 page)

‘I still can’t believe it!’ Savannah’s clutching her smartphone to her heart while Mrs Dalton walks the aisles of the English room, dumping copies of
Romeo and Juliet
on each desk. ‘We’re a match made in heaven.’ She shows me the email from Jessica again. ‘The stars are on our side. I knew Jessica would get it
right about LJ!’

I droop, dismayed. It’s eighteen hours later and LJ’s mocking comments are still ringing in my ears. Poor Savannah has no idea he’s amused by her crush and I’ve just made
the situation worse with my stupid advice.

Mrs Dalton stops beside our desk. ‘I’m glad to hear your stars aren’t crossed, Savannah.’ She arches an eyebrow. ‘Perhaps you’d like to read
Juliet?’

‘Oh no, Miss.’ Savannah clutches her throat. ‘I think I’m coming down with something.’

Treacle leans in from my other side. ‘She’s got a bad case of American fever.’

Mrs Dalton arches her other eyebrow sceptically. She’s a master of facial expressions. I think she must have been a mime in a previous life. ‘If you have, keep it to yourself,
dear.’ She marches back to the head of the class. ‘Marcus?’

Marcus jerks up his head as she calls him.

‘You made such a fine job of Byron’s love poem in assembly, will you come and read Romeo for me?’

Bilal hoots from his desk. ‘Yo, Romeo. It’s time to get your love on.’ He waves his arms, making gangsta fingers.

Mrs Dalton stares Bilal down. ‘Have you been watching too much MTV again?’

‘You know it, Miss.’ Bilal grins wide.

Marcus hauls himself to his feet and walks like a condemned man to the front of the class.

Ryan catcalls from the back. ‘Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou, Romeo?’

Chelsea glances over her shoulder at him. ‘He’s standing by Miss, stupid.’

Mrs Dalton sighs and hands Marcus a copy of the play. ‘Page sixty-eight,’ she instructs.

While Marcus is fumbling with his book, Mrs Dalton holds up another copy. ‘And who will be our Juliet?’

Savannah grabs my hand and lifts it like a boxing ref declaring the winner. ‘Gem would love to do it!’

I snatch my hand away, a blush running like scarlet fever over me. ‘No I wouldn’t.’

Mrs Dalton smiles warmly at me. ‘It would be good experience,’ she encourages. ‘If you can face thirty Year Nines, you can face anything.’

I glare at Savannah but she just smiles sweetly and whispers, ‘This could be your chance to reel Marcus in.’

Oh my God.
She still thinks that I have a crush on Marcus!

‘I told you I don’t like him!’ I hiss.

‘I know that’s what you
said
, but—’

Mrs Dalton interrupts our whispered discussion. ‘Come on, Gemma.’

I get up and put one foot in front of the other till I’m level with Marcus at the head of the class.

I don’t look at him. I just take the book from Mrs D and flick to page sixty-eight.

‘Start from the top,’ Mrs Dalton orders.

I obey.

‘If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully.

Or if thou thinkest I am too quickly won,’
I’m reading Juliet’s lines like a robot.

‘I’ll frown, and be perverse, and say thee nay,

So thou wilt woo; but else, not for the world.’

Woo? This is worse than I even imagined. I’ve just said ‘woo’ out loud. In public. I keep my eyes on the text and press on.

‘In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond,

And therefore thou mayst think my havior light;

But trust me, gentleman, I’ll prove more true

Than those that have more cunning to be strange—’

Mrs Dalton interrupts me. ‘Try and give it a little warmth,’ she suggests. ‘After all, Juliet is
o’erwhelmed
by love.’

I don’t have to worry about blushing. All the blood has rushed to my toes. I feel pale as the moon as I launch into the next lines.

‘I should have been more strange, I must confess,

But that thou overheard’st, ere I was ware,

My true love passion.’

I steal a glance at Marcus. Someone’s ripped off his head and stuck a beetroot in its place. His agonized gaze flashes toward mine.

Oh no.

My heart plummets.

There’s a look of apology in his eyes.

He feels sorry for me!
Marcus thinks I’m meaning every soppy word of the script. I screen him out. The rest of the class snicker and whisper. I focus on getting through the next few
lines.

‘Therefore pardon me,

And not impute this yielding to light love,

Which the dark night hath so discovered.’

I make it to the end of my speech and cling to my book as Marcus clears his throat and starts reading from his text.

‘Lady, by yonder blessed moon I vow,

That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops.’

I take over.

‘O, swear not by the moon, th’ inconstant moon,

That monthly changes in her circle orb,

Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.’

Bilal sticks up his hand. ‘Does anyone know what they’re talking about?’

Mrs Dalton steps forward. ‘Good question, Bilal.’ She scans the class. ‘Does anybody know what they’re saying?’

A bemused murmur ripples through the class. Then Treacle sticks up her hand. ‘You can’t trust the moon?’

Ryan laughs. ‘Maybe they’re werewolves.’

‘Or vampires,’ Sally adds. ‘Go on, Romeo,’ she calls to Marcus. ‘Sink your teeth into Gemma’s neck. It might make it a bit more interesting.’

Marcus shifts beside me.

I died about four minutes ago, so I don’t care.

‘What do you think it’s about, Gemma?’ Mrs Dalton’s question catches me by surprise. I glance back over the lines, relieved to engage my brain in something other than
death by humiliation.

‘I guess Juliet’s saying that she wants Romeo to tell her he loves her, but she’s worried she’s put him off by being too honest about the way she feels. She’s
wondering if she should have played more mind-games with him before saying how she felt, but there wasn’t time for that because when she said she loved him she thought no one was listening .
. .’

My rambling explanation stumbles to a halt.

Bilal pipes up. ‘It’s a bit like she’s accidentally declared her love in her Facebook status.’

The class roars with laughter.

‘And now she’s hoping he’ll declare it back.’ Chelsea pushes home the point.

‘Now, now, class.’ Mrs Dalton calms the laughter. She looks puzzled and delighted by the sudden enthusiasm. ‘You’ve got it exactly but we need to keep the volume down.
There are other classes trying to work.’

Marcus is staring at me like a celebrity confronting a stalker.

Chelsea’s on a roll. ‘Maybe if Juliet hadn’t squawked like a lovesick parrot, Romeo wouldn’t have died at the end.’

Mrs Dalton is pacing now, eyes bright. ‘But would that have been a better ending?’

‘It would’ve been better for Romeo,’ Ryan calls.

‘But was Shakespeare writing the play for Romeo?’ Mrs Dalton presses.

I hand Mrs Dalton the book and head back to my chair.

‘Thanks, Gemma.’ Mrs Dalton hardly notices as she launches into her post-match analysis.

I slide down low in my seat.

Marcus does the same.

Savanna whispers in my ear. ‘You should go for him, Gemma.’ She nods toward Marcus. ‘Did you hear how he was reading Romeo’s part? I reckon he’s a real
romantic.’

‘But
I’m not interested in him
,’ I mutter.

‘Then why were you blushing so much?’ Savannah gives me doe-eyes and I silently wish I had a hunting rifle.

‘Marcus is a real sweetie.’ Savannah sighs.

My frustration ebbs as I hear wistfulness in her voice. Perhaps there’s still a chance to re-focus Savannah’s gaze on to Marcus. She clearly thinks he’s Definitely
Dateable.

Savannah doodles a love-heart on her jotter. ‘I bet LJ’s a sweetie when you get to know him.’ My spark of hope sputters and dies. ‘Hearing Romeo and Juliet being all
gooey has inspired me.’ Savannah’s embellishing her doodle with mini-hearts. ‘I’m going to find LJ at break and tell him how I feel. Maybe he’s like Romeo and just
needs to hear me say it first before he can commit.’

It’s cute the way she trails around after me
. LJ’s mocking conversation echoes in my head. ‘You can’t!’ I gasp.

‘Don’t worry,’ Savannah reassures me. ‘I’m not going to say it to his face.’ She lifts her jotter to reveal a folded piece of paper. ‘I’ve written
him a note.’

‘Savannah Smith!’ Mrs Dalton barks from her desk. ‘We’re trying to have a discussion here and you’ve talked your way through the whole lesson!’

‘But I was quiet for the balcony scene!’ Savannah objects.

Mrs Dalton frowns. ‘That’s not good enough. I want you to stay behind for break and do some extra reading.’

‘Oh, Miss!’ Savannah slumps back in her chair, defeated.

I give her arm a sympathetic squeeze and feel her twitch.

‘Here.’ Savannah thrusts the note into my lap. ‘
You
can do it.’

I’ve one eye on Mrs Dalton.

She’s reading from the play. ‘
I have no joy of this contract tonight. It is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden
.’

‘Are you nuts?’ I hand it back under cover of the desk.

‘Please,’ Savannah begs. ‘You only have to slip it in his locker.’

Mrs Dalton looks up from the text. I’m scared Sav will get into more trouble for talking. I snatch the note from her hand. ‘OK,’ I agree through gritted teeth.
‘I’ll do it.’

‘Are you coming, Treac?’ I glance over my shoulder at her as I’m swept out of the English room in the flood of students heading for the vending machines.

‘I promised I’d meet Jeff,’ Treacle calls.

Savannah’s note is burning holes in my fingertips. ‘Can’t he wait?’ Now would be a good time to bring Treacle up to speed on LJ’s real opinion of Savannah. Then we
could decide together what to do with this note.

But Treacle’s caught up in her own drama. ‘He’s got county try-outs this afternoon, I need to help him practise his tackling.’

It looks like I’m flying solo with the note. ‘OK,’ I concede gracefully. There’s no need to lay a guilt trip on Treacle. I wave her goodbye and head for the lockers. I
don’t know why. After overhearing LJ’s boy-talk yesterday, I know I’m not giving him the note. It’s bound to be filled with soppy nonsense. My heart twists as I imagine LJ
making fun of its contents with Mark and Harry. Poor Savannah
.

Perhaps I can lose it. I could tell Savannah that someone accidentally knocked it out of my hand and it blew out of a window.

But I know she’ll worry at the thought of her innermost desires fluttering around the yard.

Then I have a better idea.

I could use this note to bring her closer to Marcus.

The idea zaps me like lightning. It’s so brilliant it could win an award. If I slip it into Marcus’s locker instead of LJ’s, he’ll think Savannah has a crush on him and
he might ask her out again.

It’s the perfect solution.

Marcus’s locker is 318. I know that because it’s two down from Treacle’s. The hall crowds are starting to thin out. I cross the corridor and follow the line of dented locker
doors till I reach the three hundreds.

315, 316, 317.

Smiling, I slip the note through the vent at the top of 318.

‘What are you doing?’

I jump at the sound of Marcus’s voice behind me.

Oh no!

There
is
a God, and he hates me.

I turn round, babbling. ‘Hi, Marcus. What are you doing here? I thought your locker was way over there.’ I point wildly along the corridor.

‘You know my locker’s near Treacle’s.’ Marcus looks at me like I’ve gone insane while he undoes the padlock.

I freeze, horror-stricken, as Savannah’s note slides out and floats gently to the floor.

Marcus bends down and picks it up, looking puzzled. ‘Is this from you?’ He opens the paper and reads.

I’m backing away, my stomach knotting as I watch Marcus turn red.

He looks up at me, waving the note helplessly. He’s turned zombie; his mouth is moving but no words are coming out. What on earth has Savannah written?