Signs of Love: Stupid Cupid (16 page)

Sam looks up sharply. ‘I thought you’d bought tickets.’

Will smiles. ‘And we’ll be using them.’ He reaches out an arm and ruffles my hair like a fond uncle. ‘Won’t we, Gemma?’

I shake him off.

Sam snorts and looks back down at his guitar.

‘Jeff.’ Cindy steers the meeting back on course. ‘Miss Bayliss wants me to pass on her congratulations. She thought your coverage of the Year Nine netball final was great.
She’s pleased to see you applying the same standards to your coverage of girls’ sports as you do to boys’ sports.’

Jeff leans back on his chair. ‘I actually really enjoyed the game.’

Cindy makes a note on her clipboard. ‘Do we all have ideas for our next pieces?’

Phil sticks up his hand excitedly. ‘We’re going to get to see a brand new iPhone.’

Cindy arches an eyebrow. ‘Review?’

Dave grins. ‘Yep.’

‘Nice.’ Cindy makes a note.

Barbara winds her pen through her hair. ‘What do you think of a feature on the differences between US and UK schools?’

Jeff’s chair clanks from two legs to four as he swings forward. ‘An interview with LJ?’

Barbara nods. ‘I thought it might be interesting.’

‘If you can get him to stop talking about himself for long enough,’ Will growls.

‘You sound jealous, Will.’ Cindy’s eyes flash with interest. ‘Is LJ stealing too much of the limelight?’

‘He can have it.’ Will meets her gaze. ‘I’m surprised you’re not basking in his glow with the rest of girls.’

I think of Savannah.

‘He’s not my type,’ Cindy sniffs. ‘Way too cheesy.’

‘You should check with Jessica Jupiter,’ Will scoffs. ‘She’s advising one twelfth of the school to lay off American cheesecake this week.’

He reads Jessica!
I drop my head, grinning behind my hair.

Sam gets to his feet. ‘Are we done here?’

Cindy glances at the clock. ‘I guess.’ As Sam makes another of his fast exits, she grabs her bag, stows her clipboard and scurries after him. ‘Sam, I was wondering about Friday
. . .’

As they trail away down the corridor, Will grabs my arm.

‘Are you ready for Friday, Stone?’

I nod. I can’t wait!

‘Good.’ He lets go and heads for the door. ‘Don’t be late.’

No way! I close my eyes and wish.
Please let us find something on Wiggins!
This could be the first story of the rest of my life.

‘I told Jeff to meet us at the bus stop.’ Treacle peers at herself in my bedroom mirror.

It’s Friday night and we’re getting ready for the gig. Savannah is lolling on my bed. She’s already dressed, in full emo costume, for LJ’s benefit. ‘It’s so
cool we’re all going together this week.’ She rolls on to her back, mirror in one hand, eyeliner in the other, and thickens the black rim of her blue-shaded eyes.

Treacle’s babed up in a dusky-pink number with heels.

‘You look stunning,’ I tell her.

She smoothes her long, black hair then glances at my reflection. ‘Is that what you’re wearing?’

I’m dressed for reporting not flirting, wearing jeans and a plain top, just like last week.

‘I feel comfortable in this,’ I tell her.

Savannah climbs off the bed and grabs a hairbrush. ‘You could at least fix your hair.’ She starts bouncing my curls with deft strokes. ‘It’s one of your best
features.’

I duck away. ‘Don’t make it any curlier!’

‘But it’s gorgeous,’ Savannah argues.

I hold up my hands ‘I’m fine just as I am.’

Savannah drops the brush and sighs. ‘Whatever.’

By the time we’re boarding the bus to Sounds, my heart is hammering so fast I can hardly breathe.

This might be the night that launches my career.

Treacle pairs off with Jeff near the front of the bus, while Savannah and I head to the back, where Sally is beckoning. As we near her, a hand grabs my wrist and pulls me down on to a seat.

It’s Will, hunched beside the window, the collar of his leather jacket turned up. ‘We need to stay together all night,’ he tells me. ‘If we see anything incriminating, we
need the other one as a witness. Otherwise it’s just our word against Wiggins.’

Savannah glances over her shoulder. ‘Gem?’

‘I’m fine here,’ I tell her.

She gives me a knowing wink and squeezes in beside Sally.

I cringe as I realize what’s going through her mind. Now she thinks I like Will!

Will slides a look at my hair. ‘Couldn’t you have worn a hat or something? I mean this whole pre-Raphaelite thing you’ve got going on may score points in the lunch room but, if
you’re working undercover, it makes you kind of easy to spot.’

Flushing, I grab a hairband from my pocket and tie my insanely wavy hair into a ponytail.

Will stares out of the window and stays silent while the bus bounces its way into town.

As it nears our stop, Savannah and Sally get up and join Jeff and Treacle as they crowd the aisle.

‘Are you coming, Gem?’ Savannah asks.

‘Will’s got my ticket,’ I mutter, not even trying to explain.

Will glowers at her like the Big Bad Wolf. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t eat her.’

Savannah swaps looks with Sal. ‘I guess we’ll see you in there then.’

I shrink into my jacket. I can’t wait till this story gets published and I can explain to everyone why I’ve been hanging out with Will.

He nudges me up from the seat and we filter off the bus, hanging back as the others jostle their way into the club.

A steady drizzle sweeps the pavement. Neon lights frame the doorway of Sounds and flash in the puddles on the floor.

I follow Will to the door and wait like a trained poodle while he shows our tickets. Then we head inside.

He gazes, blinking, around the foyer like a Martian in Tesco.

‘This way.’ I take the lead and push through the doors to the dance floor. Alex and Kenny are setting up on stage while the DJ pumps some Beyoncé into the room. Savannah and
Sally are already making their way through the crowd, heading for LJ’s gang clustered at the bar.

‘Gemma!’ Treacle beckons from a table at the edge of the heaving dance floor.

‘I’ll be there in a minute,’ I mouth, pointing at my watch.

Treacle hurries over, one eye on Will. ‘You’re going to sit with us, right?’

‘We’ve got a message for – er – Sam,’ I nod toward the stage. ‘Webzine stuff. We won’t be long.’

Treacle shrugs. ‘OK.’ She waves at Jeff, who’s sitting at the table as awkwardly as a Man U supporter in Liverpool’s end of the stadium. ‘I’m going to see if
I can get Jeff dancing.’ She disappears into the wall of sound and I turn back to Will.

He’s got his hands in his jacket pocket and he’s scanning the club. ‘How do we get backstage?’ he asks.

‘This way.’ I lead him to the door Sam showed me last week and we burst out of the heat and darkness into the cool breezeblock corridor.

The hairs on the back of my neck are pricking. What if Wiggins spots me? Will he remember me from last week? I suddenly wish I had worn a hat.

I glance around. The hallway’s empty.

‘Which way?’ Will asks.

‘Here.’ I head down the corridor toward Sam’s dressing room. The door’s open and I put my finger to my lips as I lead Will past.

I can hear Sam inside, chatting to Pete. ‘Ready?’ he says as a guitar riff rips through the air. ‘Let’s go.’

‘Come on!’ I grab Will’s arm and drag him toward the fire door. We slip through it just a moment before Sam and Pete appear from the dressing room. They’re toting guitars
and heading for the stage.

‘Whoa!’ Will’s staring at the stacks of boxes lining the walls.

There are twice as many as last week.

‘That delivery must have arrived,’ I guess.

‘I wonder what’s in them.’ Will jabs a box with his finger.

I’m scanning the corridor where it corners toward Wiggins’s office. My ears are peeled.

In the distance I hear Sam’s band crank into action. Guitars wail and drums hammer. As Sam launches into the lyric, Will pulls a box off one of the stacks. It’s taped shut. He slides
a bank card out of his pocket and uses it to slice through the tape. Then he pulls at the lid.

As the tape rips at one end, I hear footsteps.

Wiggins appears round the corner. His eyes pop as he spots us.

‘Look out!’ I grab Will’s arm. A large square man steps out behind Wiggins. He looks like a shaved gorilla.

‘Oi! What are you doing?’ Wiggins points at us, colour flooding his big round head. His gorilla plunges past him. I swear I feel the ground shake as he pounds towards us.

‘Run!’ Will pushes me ahead of him and I sprint for the fire door. I barge through it, my heart busting up into my throat. I glance back, expecting to see Will at my heels, but the
gorilla’s got him and is pressing him up against a wall. Will’s dangling from his meaty fists like a beanie-baby.

‘Call the police!’ Will shouts to me.

The gorilla lands a fist in Will’s stomach and Will crumples.

Horrified, I flee.

I race past Sam’s dressing room, blind with panic, looking for a place to shelter.

Veering left, I scale a short staircase three steps at a time and dive past a stack of speakers.

The world opens up around me in a blaze of noise and light.

I blink into spotlights. A roar erupts somewhere beyond the blinding flare.

Oh no!

I’m on stage.

Drums pound behind me. My eyes adjust. I make out Sam hanging on to his mic, staring at me as he mouths his song.

Something hard jabs my back. I spin. Alex nods at me, grinning, and nudges me across the stage with his Fender. As I stumble backward, tripping over wires, Sam grabs a tambourine from the floor
and shoves it into my hand.

‘Shake it!’ he hisses.

Numb with shock I start tapping the tambourine against the heel of my hand. The drums are making my head rattle and my ears are ringing from the screaming guitars. Desperate to look part of the
band, I chase the beat with the tambourine, searching for the riff, so disoriented by the racket that every tap is a miss-hit. A chimpanzee would be giving a better performance.

‘Gem!’

I spot Savannah, leaning over the stage waving her arms toward me. Treacle’s next to her, whooping through cupped hands.

Oh great! A fan club
. I grin at them inanely, my eyes swivelling as I look for an escape route.

‘Tambourine solo!’ Treacle roars.

Sam and Alex swap looks, then Sam nods at Kenny and Pete.

They take the noise level down by about four thousand decibels, till the hopeless rattling of my tambourine stands out like a one-man-band at a wedding.

The crowd yowl with delight as I swing the tambourine above my head and start clapping it wildly against my other hand. Savannah and Treacle are falling against each other, screaming with
laughter.

I stare pleadingly at Sam.
Let me go!

He shrugs and signals to the band with a shake of his mic and they crank up the noise once more.

Desperate to escape, I stumble across the stage and ease myself through the gap between Pete’s bass and Kenny’s drums.

Will’s being pulped! I’ve got to call the police. I squeeze past Pete and head for the stage wings. Sam watches me go, still working at the mic, his face baffled.

I shrug at him apologetically and bow my way into the shadows. ‘Sorry!’ I mouth before I drop the tambourine and leap down a short staircase.

I crouch in the pool of shadow beside the stage and pull out my phone. My hands are shaking as I dial nine-nine-nine, swallowing panic as the voice at the other end of the line makes me go
through name and number until finally I blurt: ‘There’re drug dealers at Sounds nightclub! They’ve got my friend, Will. They’re going to kill him!’

As soon as the operator has all the details I terminate the call and start fighting through a jumble of wires and boxes, trying to find my way backstage again. At last I burst out into the
familiar breezeblock hallway. The fire door is to my right and I creep toward it.

There’s nothing but boxes in the corridor behind.

What have they done with Will?

I push open the fire door gingerly and slip through.

I hear Dave Wiggins’s voice echo from around the corner.

Tiptoeing, I creep closer, then dart across the opening and duck down against the emergency exit. Leaning forward, I can see round a stack of boxes. I have a clear view along the corridor to
Wiggins’s office. He’s standing outside while his gorilla holds Will in a vicious arm lock.

‘I’ll ask you again.’ Wiggins leans closer to Will. ‘What were you doing back here?’

Will’s acting tough. ‘Tell your bouncer to let go and I’ll tell you.’

Wiggins nods to the gorilla, who releases Will.

‘I’m with the band.’ Will rubs his arm where the gorilla gripped it. ‘They told me to come back here and get some snacks.’ He sounds indignant.

‘So you thought you’d rip off a few boxes while you were here.’

‘When I couldn’t find a vending machine I thought the snacks must be in the boxes.’ I’m impressed. Even I’m half convinced by Will’s wide-eyed act.

Young Reporters Foil Drug Baron
.

I’m already writing the story in my head.