Love-Struck Page 5

  I shrugged, passing Lizzy a bit of apple, which she started to gnaw on immediately. I do know why she’s so good for me; I slip her a bit of ice cream every so often, which Mum won’t do any more because she realized that it’s bad for you. I tried to tell her that everything is bad for you nowadays, but she was having none of it. She says that giving Lizzy ice cream will “make her even more hyperactive than she is now”, and she won’t touch it herself because it will “stay on my hips for ever”. But Mum doesn’t need to know about our Secret Ice Cream Arrangement, so I shake my head and smile.

  “I don’t know. Maybe I have The Touch!”

  Mum smiled. “Well, whatever you have, it’s invaluable!”

  I saw a glimmer of opportunity to address something I had wanted to address for a while. I knew it was a touchy subject in our household, but I just thought, seeing as the opportunity had arisen…

  “Yeah,” I agreed, nodding enthusiastically as I fed Liz a bit more apple. “Invaluable, that’s interesting. I don’t suppose … with me being invaluable and all, that I could have, well … I suppose you could think of it as, say, a ‘summer bonus’—”

  “Holly.” Mum’s face went stony as she pushed the next load of dirty washing into the washing machine. The radio was blaring, Lizzy was singing some tuneless, unrecognizable song and chucking her piece of apple into the washing basket, and it was now ten past eight. Hmm. I was beginning to think that maybe I should have addressed this at some other, less stressful, time.

  “Lizzy, don’t throw!” Mum reprimanded and she picked out the apple from the socks. She looked up at me and sighed. “Look, I’m not going through this again. You know things are tight at the moment; your father is working himself into the ground and I’m trying my hardest to write the draft for my next piece and look after Liz. We’re trying our best here. We just can’t give you a huge allowance like some of your friends get.” I knew that she was talking about Wes, but I blocked it out. “I can pay for your phone credit and give you a little bit of money each week, but that’s it. So no ‘summer bonuses’, no sudden cash flows and no windfalls, hon.” She looked up from her assault on the washing and looked me in the eye. I could see the strain in her face and the tiredness in her eyes, and the little bit of pain too. “I’m sorry, Hols.” she murmured. “Just … not right now, OK?”

  I nodded, feeling suddenly guilty. “Yeah, Mum. Don’t worry, just thought I would ask!” Goodbye gorgeous bikini I was going to buy for MSR! I did an internal sigh, and then looked back at the clock and had a sudden shock back into reality.

  “Ah! Mum, go get ready, your pupil will be here in a second!”

  “Ahh, you’re right! Thanks, Hol!”

  And with that, she ran off up the stairs and I heard the hairdryer blaring a few seconds later. Lizzy started grappling for some more apple, so I gave her a piece and watched her eat it, her little eyes focused on it with such attention and her smile all cute and satisfied. She gave a little giggle and banged the apple into the top of the high chair, and then laughed, a proper little-girl laugh, like it was the funniest thing in the world.

  If only I were so easily entertained.

  Unfortunately, the things that entertain me are music, clothes and boys. All of which have to be bought, I thought bitterly; the first two with money, the third with good taste in the former coupled with good wit and humour, and most importantly with a great pair of—

  The doorbell rang and made me jump so that I dropped the apple bowl again, but this time I cried out.

  “Oh dear, Liz! Your apple went all over the floor! What a shame! It’ll just have to go in the bin.” I looked at the time: just after quarter past eight. I needed to get out of there and get going to meet Wes. I picked up the apple and chucked it into the compost out the back door. I made a sad face at Lizzy. “Brekky-time’s over.”

  Lizzy pouted for a second, but then realized that it meant she could get out of the chair, so held out her arms to get lifted out. I picked her up as the doorbell rang again.

  “All right, all right, all right, I’m coming!” I muttered, jogging through to the hall. I ran a hand through my now tamed hair and then opened the door.

  To find Jonah Jones standing on my doorstep.

  Jonah.

  Jones.

  My mum’s new pupil was Jonah JONES?!

  And he was there.

  At my house.

  Standing on my doorstep.

  Looking at me like I was a Martian.

  That was when I realized that I was still in my Kitty Kat pyjamas, with no make-up on, and with my baby sister banging me on the head with her last bit of mushed apple and crying out: “Bounc-ee, bounc-ee, bounce bounce BOUNCE!”

  She wanted me to play the game where I bounce her up and down.

  Great.

  I wanted the ground to decide it was hungry for a bit of brekky too and just swallow me up right there and then, but it didn’t.

  “Hockers?” Jonah asked, his mind-melting eyes all quizzical and gorgeous. “What are you doing here? Am I at the right house?”

  He took a step back to glance at the house number and I glanced sideways at the mirror. I had a bit of apple in my hair and my right eye was a little puffy. Oh, why do the bad things always happen to good people?!

  “Errm…” I cleared my throat and just told myself to play it cool. “If you’re here for English tuition, you’re in the right place! Come in.”

  My voice miraculously sounded steady and friendly, as if I wasn’t freaking out like crazy inside. Thank goodness. I stepped aside to let him in, and he walked into the house. He was wearing really nice dark jeans and a light polo shirt that showed off his arm and back muscles to perfection, and he smelt all clean and minty as he walked past. Oh be still my beating heart!

  “I didn’t know Mrs Cook was your mum,” he started, as I shut the door. “Isn’t your last name Hockers?”

  I smiled. “Yeah, so is hers. She uses her maiden name when she teaches. Come into the dining room…”

  Ahh, so awkward!

  He followed me through and I gestured to the table as best I could with a scrambling child in my arms. He put down his bag and leaned against the table with a sexy smile.

  “Sister?” he gestured.

  I nodded apologetically. “Yep, this is Lizzy!”

  “She’s cute.”

  I shrugged. Ahh, I needed to get out of there! Quickly!

  “Yeah, well … I better go get her dressed and, err …” I looked down at my pyjamas with dismay. “… get ready for school, too…”

  Oh, how embarrassing.

  I turned on my heel and started to leave the room as fast as possible.

  “Wait—”

  Hold the phone – did he just ask me to wait? For the second time in a week?

  I turned around slowly, Lizzy still batting me on the head.

  He was looking at his feet, and started to scuff his toe on the rug.

  “Holly, I’ve been meaning to call you for the past few days. Well, I’ve been meaning to call you for the past few weeks, ever since…”

  He trailed off dramatically, and I thought back to the night that we had kissed, in the corner of the room when The Mechanics were playing. The whole year was there. It was such a good night – I was wearing my new skirt and a really cute sparkly top so I felt really good, and then I was just dancing with Faye and Jess and up came Jonah, so I thought why not, I’ll just dance with him. So we danced. And somehow we ended up in a dark corner in a lip lock, and he took my number! Talk about a Cloud Nine situation. He carried on talking.

  “Because I’d really like it if we could do something, y’know … like,” he looked up, chewing on his lip ring (hmm, lip ring) slightly. “This Friday … maybe?”

  It took all my brainpower to stop my mouth from dropping open. There I was, standing in my messy dining ro
om, in my pyjamas, wearing no make-up, with bits of apple in my hair and my little sister trying to beat me up – and the guy I’d been dreaming about for months asking me out.

  To be honest?

  This is so not how I envisioned this moment.

  Silence filled the room and I realized that I had just let his question hang in the air like last week’s washing.

  “Because I kind of can’t stop thinking about you…”

  Jonah Jones can’t stop thinking about who, sorry?

  About ME!

  “So … what do you think?”

  I looked up at his expectant eyes and their power nearly knocked me over. What do I think? I think it sounds like heaven on earth, that’s what I think!

  “Sounds … good!” I managed to squeeze out. But then I remembered. “Oh no, I can’t! I’m going to the gig on Friday. It’s the Midsummer Rave bands setting up and doing taster acts, sorry.”

  Damn! My heart sank and I couldn’t believe that the one night I got asked by the perfect boy to go out on a date was the one night I couldn’t possibly go. Wes and I got our tickets for MSR as soon as they went on sale, but we decided to get the Maximum Tickets – the tickets that include passes to the actual MSR gig (and a camping space), but then also passes to the two warm-up gigs, one a week before MSR and the other the day before it started. It was so expensive, but Wes said that he would go halfsies with me, and the bit that he bought could be my Christmas AND birthday presents, and who can refuse a deal like that?! Anyway, the whole reason we were going to MSR was because The Faeries were playing their Best Set Ever with all of our favourite songs, but they weren’t playing until the next week: the day-before gig and the actual MSR gig. The gig that Friday was some other acts who had finished their tours and come to have a bit of a laugh and warm up the stage and hype for MSR. So because The Faeries weren’t actually playing that week, I supposed I could just not go, but then I’d be letting down Wes, and he’d be gutted, and—

  His smooth voice interrupted my jumbled thoughts.

  “That’s cool,” he half-smiled. “I’ve got a ticket too. I thought you’d be going, so I got one and thought … maybe I could meet you there?”

  YESSSS!

  “Yeah.” I smiled. Well, I pretty much beamed. “Yeah, that sounds good. I’ll be there about half seven-ish.”

  “How about I meet you at the bar at the back, then?”

  “Yeah!” I willed myself to say something other than “yeah”. “Sounds like a rave, I guess.”

  “Cool,” he smiled, giving me a wink. “I guess.”

  We stood there for a second, our eyes just … locked. Then my mum came rushing down the stairs.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m late!” she gasped as she walked into the room, carrying a copy of Romeo and Juliet and some help textbooks, rushing over to the table and setting it up. “Is it Josh?” she asked, eyebrows frowning in confusion.

  He smiled and shook his head, his eyes still on mine. “No, it’s Jonah, but no worries.”

  Behind Jonah, I saw Mum look up, look at me, then look at Jonah, and put two and two together that this is the boy I’ve been talking about for most of my teenage life. Her jaw dropped open.

  Before she could say anything, I suddenly remembered that I looked an absolute state and I was supposed to be meeting Wes in ten minutes.

  “Er, I’ve got to go! I’ll see you,” I said, dropping my eyes straight to the floor as I felt my face flush, and I turned around to hear him say:

  “Friday, seven-thirty, by the bar.”

  I rushed up the stairs, set Lizzy down on her bed, and changed her on autopilot. I couldn’t believe it! I’d been asked out by Jonah Jones!

  I put Liz in front of the TV to watch a quick round of Teletubbies (which is strictly forbidden by my cruel, Victorian mother, as it “melts children’s minds”), tied my hair back and got the quickest shower in the world. I then practically jumped into my clothes, applied my make-up like it was an Olympic sport, grabbed my bag and ran down the stairs. The door to the dining room was closed, but it was enough to put the biggest smile on my face. I flew out of the door on wings made just for me, and grabbed my phone:

  Recipient: The Best Friend

  SORRY LAMEBOI RUNNING A

  TAD LATE. U WILL NEVR

  BELIEVE WAT JUST HAPND!

  C U IN 5 :D

  Send?

  MESSAGE SENT.

  I arrived at the gates five minutes later than planned, grinning like a loon. Wes was stood, leaning against a pillar, looking … pretty good, actually! We’d had a think the day before and I thought that if she was a Barbie, we should start off by dressing Wes as Ken. Actually, this is the Logic of Lizzy. I talk to her about a lot of stuff, and she usually just sits there and blinks, all covered in ice cream, and says the odd word like “Mams”, “din-dins” or “Hoh-wy”. However, this time she sat there, blinked, all covered in ice cream like usual, but then said “Barbie like Ken”, and I thought it was worth a shot.

  I saw that he was wearing the army pants we found at the back of his closet, some sandals (very manly-looking sandals – it took me ages to convince him that men’s sandals are way more sophis than flip-flops) and a white T-shirt that showed off his permatan really well. Actually, the whole look gave a nice finish. And the tight top suited him – I never realized that he had such good shoulders before. He must have been doing some weights or something.

  “Hey, handsome!” I called as I walked up beside him. “Don’t you look good?” I winked.

  He turned to smile at me self-consciously and tugged at the T-shirt. “Y’think? I personally feel a bit of a prat. Don’t you think the T-shirt is a bit too tight?”

  “Stand away from the gate and let me have a look at you.”

  I circled him to get a full vision of how he looked. No, the top didn’t look too tight. It looked perfect. Like, really good. A bit wrinkled around his shoulders. I smoothed it out. Whoa, muscle! When did he get a bit on the muscular side? How did I not notice this?! I realized I was still stroking his shoulders. Whoops! I cleared my throat and took a step back.

  “No, no, you look … really good!”

  “Then why are you smiling all weird like that?” he asked suspiciously.

  I checked back into reality and frowned.

  “Smiling like what? I’m not smiling weirdly, you’re smiling weirdly!”

  Before either of us could figure out what I meant by that, I took his arm and steered him into the school gates.

  “So. Are you ready, captain?”

  He nodded, an “I’m-so-scared-that-I’m-going-to-look-an-idiot-but-yeah” nod. “Hmm. Suppose so.” He looked at me sideways on, and I was practically skipping down the pavement remembering Jonah’s gorgeous half-smile when he asked me out this morning. He frowned, all confused. “All right, H – either tell me what’s going on or quit jumping around. You’re acting like a jelly bean and it’s just a tad annoying.”

  I couldn’t keep it in any longer.

  I told him how Jonah had appeared at my door, and how I’d looked a right state, and how he’d talked to me, and how he’d been all shy when he asked me out—

  “He looked shy?” Wes asked, nonplussed, pausing me in the tracks of my story.

  “Yeah,” I answered, stopping in my actual tracks and turning to face him. “Why do you sound so surprised?”

  Wes looked uneasy. “Well, I just don’t think he’s the shy type. He’s all masculine and … erm.” He looked really uncomfortable and rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know…”

  He was really bothering me now. “What are you trying to say?”

  “Well, I’ve always known Jonah to be the ‘man’s man’ – y’know, like, the player?” he said gently. “So, I don’t know, this could be, like, a thing to make you think he’s really sensitive, because he knows it’s
what you like?” At the look on my face, he changed his tactics. “Well, I don’t know. I suppose … just be careful that he’s not going to play you, OK?”

  I didn’t know whether to be mad or not. Why was he trying to rain on my parade? Was he jealous? No, he couldn’t be, not of me… And besides, he knew that I’d liked Jonah for ages and now he’d finally asked me out and it was perfect and—

  OH, I got it! He was jealous because he wanted that for himself! Just because I was getting my Mr Incredibly Gorgeous (hmm, drooly drool drool) and he was a bit far off his own dream gal didn’t mean that he had to go all protective big brother on me.

  I decided to not be angry – I was in too good a mood and I didn’t want to fall out with Wes just before the Best Summer Of All Time. Besides, I wanted Wes to be happy for me, and to have him be happy for me he needed Emily.

  “Don’t worry, Lameboy! I’m not going to let anyone play me, so no worries.”

  I gave him a big smile, and as we carried on walking into the school I shoved an iPod earphone into his left ear and switched on The Song.

  “A bit of Faerie courage!” I whispered.

  The guitar riff.

  You’re the riff that starts this story…

  A bit of drums, and a touch of the cymbals—

  You’re the drums, your one song glory…

  Which come in with the bass.

  This song, your song, our song, it’s true—

  Then silence:

  ’Cause everything is idle when it’s done for you.

  Then the song starts.

  A story about a boy who loves a girl (aren’t they all?) and he loves her even though she seems like she doesn’t even know, or care. It’s one of those songs that comes on the radio and everyone who’s anyone shouts “TURN IT UP!” It’s called “Love in Idleness”, and because it’s A Bit Of A Tune, it’s our theme tune.

  So we cruised into school, cool as cucumbers, and walked into form just as the song finished. I put my iPod away and I pulled Wes back before we walked in.