Signs of Love: Stupid Cupid (18 page)

I’m still waiting for my mention. After all, it was me who overheard the first dodgy phone call and who dialled the police while Will was getting tenderized by the gorilla.

After the raid, officers filled dozens of evidence bags with the suspected stolen items. Two men aged fifty-five and thirty-two were arrested on suspicion of handling stolen goods and later
released on police bail pending further enquiries.

Is that it? Where’s my name? I look at Will. He’s looking very pleased with himself.

‘Thanks for the email, Will. It’s a good story.’ Cindy strides in and sits on her desk. She lifts the stack of articles Will’s left there and fans herself with them.

Will smiles smugly. ‘Worth waiting for?’ He’s clearly going to get as much mileage here as he can.

‘Will.’ Cindy leans forward and gives him the long-lashed look she normally saves for Sam. ‘You’re a genius.’ She keeps her gaze fixed on him as she beckons
Barbara, Phil and Dave through the door. ‘I don’t know what the webzine would do without you. We owe our very existence to your courage and integrity. You are now, and will for ever be,
my
hero
.’ With a flick of her perfect hair, she snaps back into Ice Queen mode and addresses the rest of us. ‘Anyone else want to massage Will’s ego?’ she asks.
‘I’ve only got one pair of hands.’

Will scowls at her as Jeff walks in and sits down.

‘What have I missed?’ Jeff asks.

Sam fills him in. ‘Will’s being smug. Cindy’s cutting him down to size.’

Jeff drags his chair forward. ‘Same as usual then.’

Cindy takes control. ‘It is a good scoop,’ she concedes. ‘And the local paper are picking up the story, which is a real boost for the webzine.’

I’ve made the local paper!

Except I haven’t.

I slump in my chair.

My name’s not mentioned anywhere.

Mr Harris swings in. ‘Congratulations!’ He’s eyes are shining. ‘Brilliant story, Will.’

‘I worked on it too,’ I snap.

Mr Harris looks round like he’s searching for mice, then spots me. ‘Oh, Gemma! Is this the piece you were helping out with?’ He smiles indulgently. ‘You must be really
pleased it turned out so well.’

I was the first one on the scene! Isn’t anyone going to mention that? I decide to blow my own trumpet. ‘I was there, you know. When they arrested Wiggins!’

Mr Harris frowns. ‘At the club?’

‘During the raid,’ I tell him.

Mr Harris frowns harder. ‘I don’t want you putting yourself at risk. I don’t want any students getting into trouble because of this webzine.’ He turns to Will. ‘I
hope you were looking after Gemma at the club.’

‘Of course.’ Will reassures Mr Harris. ‘I made sure she didn’t get in anyone’s way.’

‘You’re right, Mr Harris.’ Cindy chimes in. ‘Perhaps it’s safer to keep Gemma reviewing beauty products in future.’

I stare at the gruesome twosome as they suck up to Mr H. I know exactly what they’re doing. Will can’t bear to admit he had help making his big story. Cindy wants me to stay as her
secret horoscope writer.

Cindy heaves her bag on to her lap. ‘Why don’t we keep this meeting short?’ She’s eyeing Mr Harris. ‘We can go over our stories at Wednesday’s
meeting.’

Yeah. When Mr Harris isn’t here and you’re in charge
.

‘Sounds good to me.’ Will’s on his feet and following Mr Harris out of the door before I’ve finished riding the rest of Cindy’s thought-wave.

Barbara and Cindy follow them.

Jeff exits, flashing comic books at the twins. ‘Can you believe Hypno-Hustler tries to get the cops to protect him against Spider-Man?’

I stare after them, feeling like I’ve been mugged in broad daylight.

‘So you saw the raid?’

Sam’s still in the room.

I blink at him. ‘Yes.’

‘Wow.’ He leans back on his desk. ‘That must have been scary.’

‘It was exciting.’ I stare at my shoes, suddenly self-conscious. ‘
And
a bit scary. I thought they were drug dealers. When the bouncer grabbed Will I thought we were
dead. I’m just glad I got away long enough to phone the police.’

‘
You
phoned the police?’

‘Yeah.’ I look at him. ‘I’d overheard Wiggins making a deal on the phone that week you showed me backstage.’

‘
Backstage
!’ Sam looks like he’s doing sums in his head. ‘
That’s
why you wanted to see backstage.’

‘Yeah.’ I wind a strand of hair round my finger. ‘I hope you don’t mind. Will asked me to look around and when I heard Wiggins making dodgy phone calls, we came back to
investigate.’

‘So
that’s
why you were with Will!’ Sam’s eyes light up. ‘You were working on a story with him?’

‘Duh!’ I use Savannah’s idiot look. ‘Did you think I was enjoying his company?’

‘He’s not so bad,’ Sam says generously.

‘Try being a Year Nine girl when he’s around.’

‘Do I have to?’

I laugh. ‘No.’

‘I enjoyed your performance, by the way,’ Sam says, as he tugs his bag off the desk.

‘Performance?’ It takes me a moment to catch up. ‘Oh on stage!’ In all the excitement of the article I’d almost forgotten my impromptu tambourine solo. I shrivel
into my blazer. ‘Sorry about that,’ I murmur. ‘I was hiding from the bouncer.’

‘Interesting place to hide.’ He hooks his bag on to his shoulder.

I hear the crowd laughing in my head and cringe even more. ‘Don’t worry, I think I’ll leave the music scene to you in future.’

‘Shame.’ Sam holds the door open for me.

I slip past him and head into the hallway. ‘Why?’

‘I’ve got two tickets to the Spider Monkeys gig this weekend and I was wondering if you’d like to come with me.’ He avoids my gaze.

‘OK,’ I tell him. I feel suddenly happy. ‘I’d love to.’

We head out into the hallway.

‘Great.’ Sam flicks off the light and closes the door behind us. ‘I’ll pick you up on Saturday at seven.’

‘Sam asked you
out
?’ Savannah nearly drops her purse.

I’ve just dropped the Spider Monkeys bomb. ‘It’s not a date or anything,’ I tell her quickly.

Treacle nudges me. ‘Are you sure?’

I’m queuing for popcorn with Savannah and Treacle at the cinema multiplex. It’s Thursday night and Savannah has set her heart on seeing the latest sappy rom-com. Marcus and Jeff are
here too and I feel like the only singleton in a kingdom of couples. I’m walking the line between spinster-aunt chaperone and independent young woman, too cool to need a boyfriend. I
wasn’t sure whether to come but they had begged.

‘It won’t be the same without you, Gem,’ Treacle had pleaded with me.

‘You’re the third musketeer,’ Savannah added.

‘More like the third wheel,’ I muttered.

I’d consulted Mum about whether to go.

‘They asked you,’ Mum had said. ‘So go.’

‘They were just being polite,’ I argued.

Ben had chimed in too. ‘Treacle and Savannah are your friends. You have to go.’

So here I am, feeling like the odd one out.

I scan the foyer, wondering who designs the carpet pattern for cinemas. I decide it’s someone who hates cinemas. Or carpets.

Marcus and Jeff are hanging out by a pillar. Jeff’s gazing wistfully at a movie poster. It’s a three-metre high picture of an iron-jawed soldier framed by an exploding tank.
MEGABOMBER – the action will blow you away!
Marcus is staring at the ground with the sad look of a dog waiting outside a supermarket. I’m guessing that a rom-com is not his idea
of a ‘must-see’ film.

I check my watch. Ten minutes before the film starts.

‘It
has
to be a date,’ Savannah insists.

I tuck a stray tendril of hair behind my ear. ‘There’s no way he’d ask me on a date when he’s got Cindy.’

‘But he’s not dating Cindy,’ Savannah points out.

‘Not
yet
.’ I picture the way Cindy looks at Sam. Like a cat watching a goldfish bowl, waiting for the shiny fish to get close enough to the surface to catch without getting
her paws wet.

‘Why didn’t he ask
her
to the Spider Monkey gig, then?’ Sav shuffles forward with the queue.

The smell of hotdogs is making my stomach growl. ‘You can’t talk at a gig. It’s just music and crowds and you can hardly see anything except the band on stage. He’d
probably take Cindy out somewhere quiet and candlelit. Somewhere intimate he could get to know her.’ I see them at a table in a restaurant. Linen tablecloths, soft lighting, a waiter hovering
politely. They glow – blonde, good-looking, too close to a Coke ad to be real.

Treacle rubs her nose. ‘I see what you’re saying, Gem. A gig isn’t exactly romantic but—’

I interrupt before she tries to raise my hopes. ‘He just wants someone to watch the gig with. It’s probably an assignment for the webzine.’

‘Are you saying he just wants editorial backup?’ Savannah’s eyebrows arch. ‘Are you going to hold his notebook?’ She’s still trying to understand what I
actually do on the webzine. ‘Sharpen his pencils?’

I avoid the question. ‘I guess he goes to so many gigs he’s running out of gig-buddies.’

Treacle tugs my hair. ‘Gem-
ma
!’ she says crossly. ‘Why are you trying to persuade us – and yourself – that he’s only asked you out because you’re
the last person on earth?’ She looks me up and down. ‘Why wouldn’t he want to date you?’

Savannah nods vigorously. ‘You have gorgeous hair. You’ve got that pretty-but-don’t-know-it vibe, which is always a
major
turn-on for boys.
Of course
it’s a
date.’

Hope fizzes. For a second I believe that Sam Baynham, the nicest, coolest, fittest guy in Year Ten wants to date me, Gemma Stone. Jessica Jupiter’s whispering in my ear:
Darling, stop
playing wallflower. If you want him to act sweet, give the boy some sugar and stir
. I huff her out of my thoughts. ‘Can we change the subject?’

We reach the counter.

‘Next.’ A twenty-foot beanpole is behind it. He’s straight up and down, except for the Adam’s apple bulging in his throat. He eyes us wearily. ‘What do you
want?’

‘Two medium Cokes, one Evian and two raspberry slushies, please.’ Savannah flaps her lashes, leaning across the counter eagerly, as though meeting a human beanpole is the highlight
of her week. ‘Two large popcorns, regular nachos, a bag of M&Ms and a hotdog.’ She glances at me. ‘Onions?’

‘Of course.’ There’s one major advantage to being boyfriendless: I can choose whatever hotdog toppings I like. ‘And relish and ketchup.’ Treacle and Savannah
daren’t eat anything that might taint a kiss. I could eat raw garlic and no one would mind.

Savannah starts passing drinks and popcorn back to me till my arms are full. Then she loads up Treacle and pays the beanpole. She’s holding my hotdog like it’s a grenade. ‘How
can you eat this trash, Gem?’ She swaps it for the tub of popcorn I’m holding. ‘You know you’re eating nothing but ears and noses, don’t you?’

‘Ears and noses taste great.’ I take a bite, giving myself a ketchup moustache.

Jeff’s heading toward us, Marcus behind him. He relieves Treacle of her snack burden. Marcus takes the popcorn from Savannah.

‘Who wanted what?’ Savannah runs cinema trips like the Vice President of Cinema Trips Incorporated. Without listening for an answer, she starts swapping snacks and drinks until
everyone’s holding their dream treat. ‘Tickets.’ She whips five out of her pocket and gives two to Marcus.

He looks at them, confused. ‘These say
MegaBomber
.’

‘Uh-huh.’ Savannah touches his cheek. ‘You didn’t actually think I was going to make you boys sit through
Hearts Over Manhattan
, did you?’ She pouts
prettily, giving Marcus big eyes and cute voice. ‘You must think I’m a terrible monster.’

Marcus melts. ‘Thanks, Sav.’

Jeff takes his
MegaBomber
ticket and glances at Treacle. ‘You’re OK with seeing separate movies?’

Treacle, arms hugging a bucket of popcorn, kicks his shin. ‘Duh!’ She grins. ‘We need some serious girl-time. Besides, you totally wouldn’t get
Hearts Over
Manhattan
. It’s a chick-flick. They speak in code. You’d need subtitles.’

Jeff grabs a handful of her popcorn. ‘What code?’

‘“I hate you” means “I love you”,’ Savannah explains. ‘And “I love you” means “You’re just back-up, I actually love that really
handsome guy I bumped into this morning while picking up my mail”.’

Marcus looks alarmed. ‘Is it like that in real life?’

Savannah throws her arm round his shoulders. ‘Aww,’ she sympathizes. ‘No. If I ever tell you I hate you, it’s because I hate you.’

Jeff sneaks a grin. ‘And what if you tell him you love him?’

Savannah runs her finger under Marcus’s chin. ‘Then he’ll be a very lucky boy.’ She starts to turn on her pink kitten heels then freezes. Her dismayed gaze fixes on the
entrance. ‘Looks like you were right, Gem.’

Sam’s holding the door open for Cindy, who sweeps in, Barbara scuttling after her.

Treacle nearly spills her slushie. ‘She takes Barbara on
dates
?’ She moves in close to me, like we’re lining up for battle. ‘Mind you, we don’t
know
it’s a date.’