Signs of Love: Stupid Cupid (15 page)

Oh God, did she sign it?

‘It’s not from me!’ I tell him quickly. ‘Someone just asked me to deliver it for them.’ I keep backing away, wanting to turn and break into a sprint.

‘Look, I’m sorry, Gem.’ Marcus’s eyes glitter with sympathy. ‘I thought we’d talked about this. I’m really flattered.
Really
. You’re a nice
person but I just don’t feel the same way.’

‘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?’