Super Awkward (21 page)

“Great, great. . . Any questions before we move on?” No one said a word. “Excellent, well let's go and have a quick chat with today's lunch attendant.”

Mrs Hitchman power-marched them to the corner of the room, stopping to chat to the head girl. The sixth formers waited beside her, being all, ‘Let's act like we don't think we're being watched, while being all brooding cos we totally know everyone's staring at us.' But something made my insides twist like when Mum rings out my swimming costume. Why was Lou slinking her way over to Zac? Why had SHE stopped beside him way too close for (my) comfort?? Why was she batting her eyelashes and fiddling with her frayed jumper cuff at
my
OTP? Why wasn't I allowed to speak to him, but
she
was getting away with oozing her extreme-girl-ness all over him?! I clutched Rachel's leg like it could whack out a Stupefy across the room. Or at least a Deflirtify.

I. Could. Not. Watch.

“You alright, B?” Mikey looked genuinely concerned. “Do you need me to Heimlich? I watched it on
Casualty
once.” He pushed his stool out to stand up.

But like an angel in a tweed two-piece, Mrs
Hitchman
came to my rescue, breaking up the conversation by summoning the group out. Lou tossed her hair over her shoulder and wiggle-walked her way back towards her friends looking pleased with herself. I harrumphed. Mikey looked disappointed he wasn't going to put his dubious medical skills into practice. Rachel rubbed her hand on my mine and gave me a supportive smile.

“BREATHE, Bells. Just because you and Zac are on a blip right now. . .”

I spluttered cauli-rice in her face.

“BLIP?! As in, he won't talk to me, thinks I'm an idiot and is now realizing that everyone else in the school – who isn't an idiot – wants to snog his face off?”

“Well, yes, that little blip. But it doesn't mean he's had a total brain transplant and is suddenly going to go for girls like Lou-ser. She knows even less about French films and art and stuff than you.” Was this meant to be reassuring? “She probably doesn't even know who Munch was?!” I didn't point out I thought he/she/it was a type of crisp. Rachel grabbed my shoulders and gave me a firm shake. “Be strong, B. He liked you before. And no one except Tegan and I know what really went down, so let's make sure it stays that way and then work your magic at prom. Simplington.”

Rachel
made the plan sound way more doable than it felt. Especially when the only prom magic I had up my sleeve was knowing the full rap to ‘Drunk in Love'. Although thanks to Tegan's patient tutorials I could also do a pretty good Stanky Leg.

I stabbed at a piece of ham like it was to blame. In fairness, the pig should have a lot more beef (well, pork) with me than I did with it.

“Long time no see.”

GULP. Why was Luke here? And why had he brought Lou?

“Mind if we join you ladies?” Luke looked at Mikey. “I include you as one of those.”

Mikey spoke for the three of us.

“We do actually.”

But Luke slid on to the stool next to me, Lou draping herself forward over his shoulder, knowing full well Mikey could see right down her shirt. Note to self, stop sitting at tables that have spare seats. In fact, stop sitting – moving targets are harder to converse with.

“It'll only take a sec. I'm just a bit confused about something. Well, we both are. Because yesterday Lou had a chat with me. Didn't you?”

They were probably arguing over which one of them did the best duckface selfies.

“
Sure did.” Lou smiled sweetly. This was obviously something they'd rehearsed. “I was telling Luke about our art lesson, when that new sixth former turned up.” I stopped mid-chew, like I'd chomped on a piece of concrete. What did this have to do with anything?! “The really fit one? The one I was just chatting to?”

Oh flapballs. I HAD to make sure they didn't make a connection between Zac and me. I forced myself to chew and tried to channel all kinds of nonchalance.

“I didn't see, soz –
were
you speaking to someone?”

Mikey looked baffled. Seconds ago he'd almost had to medically intervene to help me get over the exact thing I was now pretending hadn't happened.

Lou lent up on to her elbows.

“Don't act stupid. I KNOW you were watching.”

I pretended to think so hard I must have looked like I was recalling an event from ten centuries ago, not ten seconds ago.

“Hmmmm. I was probably just staring and thinking. Stinking?” That didn't work. “Or not. You know, like when you stare at a teacher, but you're thinking about who on
Hollyoaks
you'd most like to date.”

“No. I don't do that.”

Of course she didn't. She probably just dated them in real life.

Rachel
loudly snapped her lunchbox shut and cleared her throat.

“Look – is there a point to this, or can you leave us in peace?”

Luke grinned. “Rach, can I just say how especially fit you're looking today.”

Rachel tucked her hair behind her ears and tried her hardest to look anything less than amazing. Although she just looked like an amazing person with hair tucked behind her ears. “No, you can't.”

“Well, I just did. But that's not what I came over for. Lou was telling me what a massive scene you made –” Luke stared right at me – “when that kid walked in.”

Lou nodded.

“Yeah, it was well embarrassing – even for you. And when you got up off the floor I
totally
heard you telling Rachel that he was the one you'd been snogging. The one you've been going on about all over school. I was
right
behind you.”

OH SLOW-HAND CLAP ME. Why had I been so busy not looking at Zac that I'd forgotten to see if anyone else was around? Especially someone who spent their whole time sliming over Luke. I looked to Rachel for support, but she just mouthed ‘gulp' which wasn't hugely reassuring.

Luke
pulled his stool nearer.

“You see, Blobfish, that got me thinking. Why were you telling your bessie mate this kid was your imaginary boyfriend? That the guy in school that everyone is after and Fishy Balls had been the one to get him?” He laughed as if it was the funniest thing imaginable, rather than the exact thing that happened. “You really are TOO FUNNY.”

But Puke and Lou were the only ones laughing.

Lou twirled her hair around her finger. “So I went to chat to him. Y'know, get to know him a bit better.” She winked. I wanted to stab her in the eye with my fork. But then I'd have an eye on my fork, and that would probably put me off my lunch. “And I asked him if he was with anyone. . .”

My response came out too quickly. A bit too not-not-bothered.

“What did he say?”

“He said that he was completely single. New to the area, and didn't know anyone here. That he was ‘open to offers'.” Ouch. That stung. She winked again. I had to drop my fork on the table as I couldn't trust myself.

I did know deep down that, as normal, she
had
to be exaggerating – there's no way Zac would tell Lou he was on the lookout if he was trying to ace his
placement
– but it still wasn't a highlight to hear him act as if I didn't even exist.

Luke lent forward.

“Oh dear, oh dear. Has the time finally come to admit your lies are a bit out of hand? Just like when you tried to pretend you hadn't been massively binned off by me?”

ARGH! How could one person be so evil? Was it a class he took on Saturdays?

Mum always says the best thing to do when someone was winding you up is ignore them. But she wasn't here. And I couldn't keep calm any longer.

“When will you just SHUT UP?! I didn't pretend ANYTHING! We broke up. Who cares?! Seriously, if I could take back a SINGLE second I spent with you, I would.”

“Oh, diddums, still not over me, are you?”

It took more restraint than I knew I had, not to run around the canteen waving my hands in the air, screaming ‘SOMEBODY DROWN THAT BOY IN THE VAT OF SCHOOL BOLOGNESE'. But this wasn't the look I needed. I could NOT let this stupid game-playing loser push me over the edge and make a scene.

“AS IF. I've deleted the whole massive mistake from
my
memory. And then deleted it from my brain deleted items just in case. So can you just do one? Both of you?” I shut my mouth, frustrated I was letting Luke see he was getting to me.

Luke didn't budge.

“Not until you admit you're lying.”

Mikey stood up. I shook my head at him, willing him to stay back, keep quiet. I didn't want to make Luke more mad, attract any more attention. But oblivious, Mikey walked round to my side of the table and stopped right behind me.

“Mate, I haven't got a clue what's going on here.” Luke muttered ‘like normal'. But Mikey was better than his low blows. “But one thing I do know – none of Bella's business has got ANYTHING to do with you. So just leave her alone. Unless of course it's
you
that's not over
Bella
? Which is what it's starting to look like. . .”

GULP. This was
not
the definition of how to not make Luke more mad. Luke looked like he was one word away from punching Mikey on the nose. His jaw was clenched so hard his whole face had gone square.

I did a quick scan for any teachers looking our way, but we were still in the clear. I needed to keep it that way.

But
Luke had other ideas. He was almost at a shout.

“Over her? OVER HER? I was never even ‘on her', mate.” He spat the words out, along with a small bit of his lunch. “She was just something to make me laugh. And now I want everyone else to see how tragic she is too.”

Luke put his face up close to mine trying to intimidate me, but all it did was remind me he borrowed his aftershave from his dad.

“So if she's not going to make this easy for me, I'm going to have to prove it some other way. Wonder what that poor newbie's going to say when he finds out some loser Year 10's been making up fake dates with him? Poor little Blob's probably going to get in very big trouble.”

Luke put his arm round me, giving me a fake supportive squeeze, making sure everyone could see. I wriggled free desperate to get his hands off me.

But as I opened my mouth, he jerked back, brushing at his hair, like an electrocuted caveman.

“Who threw that?” He stood up, his voice louder this time. “Who. Threw. That?”

Flakes of potato were raining down from his head like carbohydrate dandruff. Mikey and Rachel looked like OMG emojis (slash ones that were trying to not
laugh).
The entire canteen had shut up, like someone had pressed a real-life mute button. People love drama, especially when they're not involved.

“I said. Who. Was. That?” He was practically at a yell. Lucky the attendant was still outside with Mrs Hitchman.

A morsel of potato clung to the top of his spikey hair like a flag on the top of Mount Everest. I would have laughed if I wasn't so transfixed by its wobbling.

I looked around to figure out who it was that had thrown it. Who was brave enough to stand up to the one person who would now dedicate their life to making theirs a misery?

But the second I saw them I knew. It wasn't something everyone would notice, but behind that calm face, that neutral expression, I saw the glint of someone who had finally had enough.

THUD.

A lone baked bean joined its potato friend at the top of Luke's hair.

He span round to face Matt, one of the prefects in our year, who always has pink cheeks like he's accidentally just walked into the girls' changing room.

“Was it you, you . . . you red-faced . . . baboon?”

Matt shook his head, but he didn't look scared. He
looked
like someone who wanted to point out baboons didn't have red faces. And I respected that.

“Wasn't me. I'm allergic to haricot beans.”

Luke spluttered, as some bean juice dripped on to his nose.

“They're baked, not Harry Co.”

The thrower stood up.

“Haricot beans ARE baked beans. Idiot.”

OMG. Was I really in the middle of a fight about pulses?

Luke dug his hand into my meatless-meatballs. Next thing they were flying through the air. Why couldn't this be happening on a day when I had a rubbish sandwich instead? I guess the three-second rule doesn't apply to things that are on the canteen floor? The original thrower dodged out the way. They always were the most flexible person in our year.

Luke scooped up another handful, but just as he went to lob them, there was a loud splat, as some gloopy brie flew into his ear, cheesy globules flicking off on to Lou's face as it landed. There was only one person who brought posh cheese, not string cheese, to lunch. Mikey winked at me, and gave Rachel her lunch box back.

Half a second later, cauli-rice was showering across
the
canteen, as Luke's friends joined in and a wave of Monster Munch and tiny tomatoes flew in our direction from their table. Lou crouched and fled the danger zone as tomatoes were joined by peas, unidentifiable brown crumbs and some Alphabites (our cheap canteen variety only has Os, Hs and Ns so it looks like ‘OOOH NOOO') flying through the air. I ducked, trying to avoid the flying feast, grabbing the red and yellow bottles on our table and squirting them at Luke. As a fan of food, it was against my principles to throw it, but these sauces were technically so rank they were inedible, so were fair game.

Suddenly someone at the back of the room yelled.

“MRS HITCHMAN'S COMING.”

Suddenly the prom-point-losing reality took grip of the room. And my don't-cause-any-drama mission sprang back into life. We shoved our food away, tried to de-crisp/cheese/bean ourselves and scrambled to appear as normal as possible, which is hard when there's a carpet of peas between three tables and one of you looks like a Jackson Pollock (an artist I'd learnt about during Zac revision, who basically threw paint everywhere, and then got people to think he was a genius for doing it, which is actually incredibly genius-ey of him) but with mustard and ketchup.