Super Awkward (20 page)

How come you didn't tell me you'd already

moved?

I didn't mean to sound moody, but I couldn't work out how he was here. In my town, at my school, and I'd had no idea. No warning. No time to even make sure I wasn't wearing my school jumper with the brown sauce stain on it.

I was going to give it a week to settle in and

surprise you. Didn't see your name on the college

list, so didn't think we'd run into each other there.

Guess you're the one full of surprises

Mortification.
He'd been trying to be extra nice, and I'd been an extra-massive disappointment. If only there was a ‘Please forgive me, I'm a total idiot, and I make terrible decisions when around insanely perfect people' emoji.

Was there anything I could do to convince him to give me a second chance? Try and remind him how much fun we had before all this? I HAD to go all out. I HAD to get him to hear me out.

I'm not. I swear. I'm sorry x 1 million. Can we

talk? Tomorrow at first break?

My life hung in the balance of his reply. ‘Typing'. TYPE FASTER!

Y'know my Italy trip? Well, it's a yes IF I get

full marks for this placement. So I can't risk any

drama, or anyone finding out we've got history.

I was getting in touch to say we should probably

give each other some space. . . Hope you

understand.

I stared numbly at the screen. His one-hundred-and-ninety-eight-character way of saying ‘no'. He'd
been
so excited about trying to get on that Italy/Fitaly art trip – and I'd been so excited for him. I never guessed I'd end up being the one thing putting it at risk.

Another message popped up.

Look, I'll know about the trip by that end of

term party. How about we speak then? I'll be

supervising.

Eurgh. He meant prom and that was almost two weeks away. So much for him being my date to it – now he was going to be the one telling me off for walking on the wrong side of the corridor.

I picked a pin up off my desk and prodded it into my leg. Ow. This wasn't all just an elaborate nightmare. Zac was the one thing that had been making my life amazing. But now pretending each other didn't exist was the one thing standing between him and the trip of a lifetime.

Can you emigrate when you're fifteen? Or become a hermit? Or both? Hermitigrate? It was all so grim. I stared at my stupid phone, wishing it to change. Wishing everything to change.

I messaged a final ‘sure/sorry' and turned my
bedside
light off. Tonight was a no-teeth-brushing-sleeping-in-bra kind of a night.

My mind raced, playing out every scenario, hunting for a needle of hope in my haystack of hopelessness. But there was
something
– something Jo had said. Zac was probably as shocked as me. Maybe even more. So maybe, just maybe, if I did what he said, gave him the time he wanted, stayed out of his way between now and prom, then I
could
talk him round?

YES.

All might not be lost! But if I had
any
hope of a second chance, Zac had to get on his art tour, and I had to be at the prom so he could hear me out. So what should be first on my list of turning my life from chaos to fully in control? From problems to prom points?

One thing was certain – I
had
to let Luke carry on thinking Zac didn't exist. There was no way he could connect the dots between my date-bragging and me hiding in art. Luke would make sure the whole school knew I'd been obsessing over the new sixth former and it could land both Zac and I in a whole heap of unwanted attention. And trouble.

Plus, it wasn't going to help my ‘I'm actually not totally lame so pleeeease give me a second chance'
campaign
if Zac knew I'd already told the whole school (and even the goal shooter from a visiting netball team) the minute details of both our semi and full snogs.

EURGH. How does Luke even manage to mess up the bits of my life he doesn't even know about?! Still he did have his uses. I opened up
PSSSST
. I was still getting new followers every day. I was up to 323 and had over 900 likes on my posts. I sass-waved my nails to my invisible fans. Bella, you got this.

A GUY I KNOW (BUT WISH I DIDN'T)

USED TO REALLY LOOK UP TO HIS BIG SISTERS.

SO MUCH SO THAT HE USED THEIR NORMAL

EXCUSE TO TRY AND BLAG HIS DAD TO BUY

HIM SOME CRISPS. SHAME HE'D NEVER

ASKED WHAT IT MEANT. APPARENTLY THE

WHOLE SUPERMARKET WENT SILENT WHEN

A TEN-YEAR-OLD BOY YELLED ‘BUT DAD,

IT'S MY TIME OF THE MONTH!'

I couldn't help but smile for the first time since Art, remembering how Luke's mum had almost cried with laughter when she'd told me that. Luke had gone redder than he probably did when it actually happened. And
that
is why parents should never meet people you
fancy.
Unless the parentals are asleep. Still, if I could get people to like me on
PSSSST
, maybe I
could
get Zac to re-like me in real life?

I closed the app and with a new sense of optimism, set my alarm for the next morning. The time had come to take control and mastermind the triumphant return of Bella and Zac.

CHAPTER

NINETEEN

6:07. I hit my alarm clock like it had wronged me. Poor alarms, it must be rubbish knowing your entire purpose in life is to make people miserable. Still, why
had
I actively chosen to wake myself up at this hour? Oh yes, to prepare for Traumatic Tuesday. With in-control-ness to aim for, prom points to win back, and a threat of a Zac sighting around every corner, I needed more than my usual sixteen minute routine of shower/tinted moisturiser/run out the door with wet hair.

Well, that was the idea, but an hour later I had to face up to the fact that I'd used my extra morning time to progress four levels on Puppy Dash Saga and make a pie chart that had worked out that my biggest hitters on
PSSSST
all seemed to feature Luke.

I
had
managed to solve one problem though. Step two of my cunning plan was to sneak into art at lunchtime and de-Zacify my art.
Obviously
what they'd seen was a work in progress; the end product would be about a niche Chinese philosophy called ‘Zao'. It was so niche, that it only had one follower. Me. I wonder if I can get Jo to set up a Wikipedia entry on it later?

As if summoned by my thought process, she poked her head around the door, annoyingly catching me mid-steal of her ‘fresh glow' cheek highlighter. Personally I think it should be rebranded as ‘makes you look shiny in a perspiring way' highlighter, but the damage was done.

“Oi, sweaty, want a lift? I've got a meet, so am going your way.”

Jo often had meets – they were day-long athletic sessions that seemed to consist of running all over the place in tiny shorts while people shouted at you. I still cannot believe that this is something anyone would do voluntarily. She'd been having loads recently as her county athletics club were off on another tour.

Jo looked at her watch. She had her special one on that recorded things like split times.

“You've got three minutes. So get a move on. I can't be late or I'll miss the coach.”

Before
I could reply, she dashed back downstairs, probably setting a new PB.

I tried to un-sweat my face, but mainly just smeared my blusher. Wearing make-up for school was tough, as you had to make it look to teachers like you weren't wearing any, but still appear flawless to the rest of the world.

I heard the engine starting, so grabbed my stuff, ran downstairs and jumped into Jo's car. But I'd forgotten the downside of getting a lift. Being locked in a small space with my sister. It wasn't a risk at home, as even bathroom locks were against Mum's ‘freedom principles'. But in the car meant I had nowhere to run, and nowhere to hide. Jo went straight for the jugular.

“So, what are you going to do about today's big decision?”

“I thought you said I wasn't old enough to resign from school?”

“No, doof. Is today going to be the day you speak to Tegan?”

BLEURGH. She made it sound so simple. But with all the Zac drama I didn't have the time or energy to deal with any more problems. Maybe I
was
better off without her? Rachel would just have to be like a child that we time-shared.

“
Bells, I've been thinking it about after our chat last night. . . If you want my advice.”

“I don't.” Annoyingly I did, but I didn't want her to know that I did. Luckily she ignored me. She'd had 15.5 years of practice at doing that.

“Well, you're in my car, so you've got no choice but to get it. Plus, it's an older sister's prerogative.” She smiled smugly. “So, I was thinking, what do you want Zac to do after yesterday's run-in?”

Run away and start a new life with me in Wales and/or California?

“Hmm, I'd take anything at this point . . . anything from not hating upwards.”

“OK, and
then
what? If you got everything your way?”

Good question.

“I guess he'd hear me out at prom, realize that I'd only done it so he would give me a chance in the first place, forgive me . . . and then start a new life with me in Wales making fancy-dress outfits for puppies?”

“I see. . .” She sounded unconvinced. “So, dog costumes aside, if you're so desperate for him to give you a second chance –” she paused, letting me fill in the answer in my head, before she said it out loud – “maybe you should think about doing the same for
Tegan?
Seems to me you could do with an extra friend right now?”

Argh. Why was she always so wise?! Like an owl, but with less head movement. And feathers (I hope). How come it felt so much less reasonable to forgive and forget, than to ask for it? EURGH.

For the rest of the morning I skulked around, my brain carrying out only two functions (well, three if you counted sustaining vital organ function, but that was way down on my priority list) – bouncing Jo's words back and forth in my head, and helping me stealth-avoid Zac, Mr Lutas, Luke and Tegan. I really was collecting people to hide from.

When I finally plucked up the courage to dash through the corridors of doom to get to the canteen, Rachel and Mikey were already at a table, and they'd saved me a seat. Rachel had her head in a book and Mikey was staring across to the table where Tegan was. She was talking to some of the girls from Tailor Swiftly, her after-school sewing club. Earlier this term, she'd helped them rebrand from Mend It Like Beckham, and they'd been pretty tight ever since. She looked deep in chat, probably working out some more designs. Good. This seemed very undramatic.

I opened up Peppa – what delights did today have
in
store? Last night's meatless-meatballs and cauli-rice (which Mum had added ham to). But as I tucked in, I felt like I was being watched.

I was. It was Luke – but as soon as I turned towards him, he flicked his eyes back to his mates. Still, he was a safe non-prom-point-losing three-table distance away. Seconds later, the room shushed, signalling teacher arrival. Mrs Hitchman strutted in behind me, in full-on professional teacher mode.

“And for those that don't know, this is where the younger years have lunch. It's a multi-use space, for supervised activities like bake sales and any entrepreneurial projects they come up with.”

I choked on my ham. As if anyone had ever done anything off their own back?! (Except that time that Lou attempted to sell five minute massages, but got busted for charging extra for additional snogging services.)

Rachel kicked me under the table and mouthed, “Sheila's sack.”

‘What?' I mouthed back.

She pointed her fork behind me to where Mrs Hitchman was getting ever closer. She mouthed more slowly this time.

“She's. With. Zac.”

I
re-choked on my ham. This was meant to be a safe zone! I dropped my fork so I could hide my head in my hands and hang my hair forward like a privacy curtain. Maybe this is how Cousin It got started. Pleeeease don't let them notice me. Pleeease don't let Luke notice me noticing them. Pleeease don't let Luke notice them either noticing or not noticing me. Please just walk on by.

But the clack of Mrs Hitchman's heels came to a stop. Along with the sixth formers who she was briefing on their teaching assistant duties.

“And don't panic. Supervision's not a big job. Especially at lunchtime – all the students seem to be well behaved when they've got food in front of them! Isn't that right . . . Bella – I know you love a good meal?”

Argh! Why had I just stuffed a second meatless-meatball in my mouth, so I looked like a human hamster? As much as I'd rather do
anything
else in the world, including being photographed in a beige unitard while eating an egg sandwich, I looked up. Zac didn't react. Everything about him was icy cold. Even his hands looked less friendly. He was blanking me harder than if I was in an invisibility cloak. I gulped so hard both meatless-meatballs disappeared. Please let them
have
gone into my stomach and not my lungs. Mrs Hitchman ignored me ignoring her.