Flirting with Disaster (6 page)

The day didn’t seem to be going well for Hazelle, Cancer or not. But for me? Fine.

On the way from third period to lunch, Chloe passed me in the hall. She flicked her gaze at me, but it certainly wasn’t friendly. I was so glad I hadn’t forwarded her text.

I sat at the newspaper table that day, chatting with Melissa about the article I was proposing. Natalie was sitting close to Rodney . . . but not as close as she’d been sitting with him at the hamburger place on Saturday. Hazelle was staring into her tuna fish sandwich. I wavered between feeling really bad for her and wishing she’d wrap the sandwich up before the smell permeated all our clothing. Feeling bad won, and I said nothing.

“Savvy?” Jack grabbed my elbow. “Can I have a word with you? In the courtyard?”

“Sure.” I tossed my apple into the dustbin. It landed with a heavy thud, kind of like my heart. When Jack wanted to talk in private, something was most likely wrong. I followed him into the bright May sunlight. We sat down together on a bench.

“Well, I don’t know why it hasn’t crossed my mind before now,” he started, “but you do realize that we’re going to have to let the new editor in on our secret.”

I looked at him blankly. “Secret?”

“The Asking for Trouble column,” he said.

Oh yeah. That.
“Will I . . . Will I get to keep the column?”

“I dunno. The column is a great asset, and right now it’s our most popular feature, given the amount of mail we get on it. But every editor gets to choose his—I mean
her
own lineup.” He stood up to leave. “Just something to think about, okay? No need to say anything till after the vote.”

I nodded and stayed on the bench, waiting for the bell to ring. In spite of her friendliness for the past two weeks, I still believed Natalie resented me because of my history with Rhys. Plus, she liked to be number one at everything.

She might want to write the most popular column herself—and take the credit.

Hazelle, on the other hand, would never forgive me for getting the column instead of her in the first place. Once she found out that her own sister, Julia, whom she idolized, had chosen me, she would never let me keep the column.

Suddenly, just like that, a thick cloud smothered the sun. I pulled my sweater around me and went to fourth period. I dug out my phone, scrolled through till I found Chloe’s forward, and sent it on.

Chapter 11

Friday was no-uniform day. I loved it, lived for it—the day we could wear our own styles. Because the weather was warming up some, I wore my best pair of nonbleached jeans with layered tanks and tees over it and some Converse shoes. In Seattle I probably would have worn flip-flops, but even the relaxed dress code didn’t allow for those here.

On the way to last period, Tommy came up alongside me. “Can I walk you to class?” he asked.

“Sure.” We talked comfortably about our classes and last week’s game. “I enjoyed watching it,” I said. “My dad has become a real British football fan since we moved here.”

“We play again tomorrow, but it’s an away game,” he said.

I felt a pang of disappointment that I couldn’t watch it. “I hope you win.” I stopped at my classroom. “One more class till Fishcoteque,” I said, then immediately regretted it. Girl rule #109: don’t bring up food with guys.

“I haven’t been there in a long time,” he said. “Mind if I join you?”

I grinned.
Cross off rule #109, ladies. Dudes like food.

An hour later we pushed open the door to the steamy fish-and-chips shop, or chippie, as the Brits called it. Even though I was from Seattle—a seafood-lovin’ town—I’d never liked fish till I moved to London. Here the fish consisted of firm little bites of moist flesh enrobed in a crispy crust and accessorized with tartar sauce or vinegar.

“What’ll it be, luv?” Jeannie asked me. “The usual, then?”

I nodded, wishing she hadn’t made it sound like I was here every day.

Tommy placed his order and then insisted on paying for mine.

“No, really,” I said. What would my dad think?

“You can pick it up next time,” he said.

That meant there would
be
a next time.

Tommy grabbed some napkins, and Jeannie leaned in close to me. “Dishy, that one,” she said knowingly.

I didn’t disagree. I smiled.

We sat and talked, mostly about church and how we both ended up there. “Joe asked me to play in the worship band,” I shared.

“What did you say?” he asked.

“Nothing yet. I, uh . . . I guess I should pray about it,” I said. “I’m getting really involved with another ministry.”

“Sounds good,” he said. We chatted and ate, and after a bit he said good-bye. I wished him good luck in his game the next day.

I finished my chips and orange Fanta and then grabbed the newspaper sitting on the next table. I turned to Auntie Agatha, my favorite column. After I finished reading it, I saw that the horoscope column was nearby. Funny, I’d never even noticed it was on that page before.

Before I could help it, I glanced at Cancer. “If you encourage someone you love, things will work out well for you,” it said.

I pushed the paper away. And then a text came in. It was from Penny.

Chapter 12

I packed up my stuff and hoofed it the few blocks to Cinnamon Street and then raced inside. “Mom?”

“In here, Savvy,” she called from the kitchen. Louanne was parked in front of the telly brushing Growl. One glance at his grumpy face and soggy paws told me that he’d been involved in some recent combat with Dr. Ruff’s organic dog wash. By the looks of things, Growl had lost.

I called out a greeting to Louanne, who ignored me in favor of whatever show she was engrossed in, and I went into the kitchen. “Stay here,” I instructed my mom. I saw the look on her face and added, “Please.”

I called Penny. “Hey, Penny, it’s me.”

“Savvy! Has your mom checked her e-mail? My mum just told me she sent her a message a couple of days ago about the Chelsea Flower Show. It’s tomorrow, and she wondered if she wanted to come. It’d be a good way to get to know the ladies in the garden club.”

“Just a minute; I’ll ask her,” I said, ready to set the phone down.

“Savvy, wait!” Penny said. I pressed the phone back to my ear. “We get to come too. We stay in a hotel overnight, and we girls go shopping whilst the mums are at the show. I want you to come too!”

“Wow!” I said. “I’ll call you right back.”

I clicked off the phone and looked at my mom. This could be a really good thing . . . for both of us.