talking about,’ I said, turning back to focus on the contents of my locker in the hope that Jess wouldn’t make fun of how red my cheeks were going.
‘Did you . . . kiss?’
‘Jess!’ I exclaimed, hitting the back of my head on my locker door, which had started swinging closed behind me.
‘Well, did you, you smooth operator?’ Jess laughed, pushing the locker door back open for me as I rubbed my head.
‘It didn’t come up.’
Danny raised his eyebrows. ‘I’m surprised at that.’
‘Why?’
‘You obviously like each other.’ He shrugged. ‘Still, I suppose you can’t rush these things.’
‘OK, Dr Casanova,’ Jess snorted. ‘Since when do you know anything about these things?’
‘Casanova was not a doctor.’ Danny rolled his eyes. ‘What I meant was that Connor and Anna are both quite shy. Or, well, I guess I mean that Anna is quite socially awkward.’
‘I am not socially awkward,’ I protested.
They both looked at me.
‘Anyway,’ Jess cried. ‘Why didn’t Connor just lunge at you?’
‘JESS!’ I yelped, desperate for her to keep her voice down.
Despite my annoyance at Jess’s lack of subtlety, it was actually a question I had been asking myself too. Connor and I hadn’t seen much of each other during the Easter holidays. I’d had a bunch of things going on, including all of the celebrity events I now had to attend with Helena and Marianne, and Connor had been going to art lessons and working on his cartoon strip, The Amazing It Girl.
But still. There had been enough opportunities for him to, you know. Lunge at me.
‘It’s none of your business.’ I fumbled for my books and shoved them in my bag.
‘Oh please, it’s always our business. You’ve been thinking about it, I can tell,’ Jess teased.
‘I have not. Well, maybe a little. It’s just . . . do you think that . . . ?’
‘Ahem.’ Sophie Parker, the Queen Bee of Woodfield, had marched over with her ever-present sidekick Josie Graham. By the scowl on Josie’s face, she clearly still hadn’t forgiven me for setting her hair on fire last term.
‘Hello, Anna,’ Sophie said, coolly.
‘Hi, Sophie, how was your Easter?’
‘Great. I spent most of it with Brendan.’
I flinched. Brendan was the most popular boy in our school. In an attempt to prove my popularity last term I had accidentally (and temporarily) stolen him off Sophie. It was all sort of behind us now, though. Sort of. ‘That’s nice.’
‘It is,’ Josie sneered, from behind Sophie. ‘Because she’s Brendan’s girlfriend, duh. And it’s nice . . . being Brendan’s girlfriend.’
Danny snorted.
‘Thank you, Josie,’ Sophie hissed back at her. Josie looked embarrassed.
‘Miss Duke wants to see you in her office, Anna,’ Sophie told me, looking at her perfectly-manicured nails. ‘Pretty impressive, getting called to the headmistress’s office on the first day of term. Oh, and don’t forget to check out the list of events for sports day. I’ve put it up on the main noticeboard.’
‘Sophie was asked by the Sports department to put it up first thing this morning,’ Josie added as smugly as if Sophie had been asked to appear on the front cover of Vogue.
‘I take it you’ll be putting yourself forward to be team captain of the Puffins this year, Jess?’ Sophie raised an eyebrow. ‘Of course, there’ll be no competition for me – I’m going to be leading the Eagles.’
‘Actually, no,’ Jess answered calmly as I looked at them all in confusion. Puffins? Eagles? Had my school turned into a bird sanctuary over Easter? How had I missed this? ‘I want to put all of my focus on my Art project and my photography this term. So you don’t need to worry about me waving the winner’s trophy in your face when the Puffins win. I’m sure our captain will do the honours on my behalf.’
‘Oh per-lease!’ Sophie cackled. ‘The Puffins haven’t beaten the Eagles in years! Everyone knows you don’t have a chance. Besides,’ she looked me up and down, ‘it’s not like the Puffins have the . . . best team this year. Anna, I know you’re a Puffin. Good luck,’ she smirked. ‘I don’t think there are any plant-pot assault courses so you might not fail in every event.’ She turned on her heel and strode back down the hallway, with Josie laughing loudly next to her.
I looked at Jess in confusion.
‘Oh, don’t worry, I’ll fill you in about sports day later.’
‘Er . . . and the stern plant-pot telling-off you promised?’
‘Damn it!’
What’s wrong with you?
Nothing‘s wrong with me. I‘m concentrating, Jess.
No one concentrates this hard while Miss Brockley writes on the board in a language no one on the planet understands.
Yes they do. She‘s writing important words that we need to know for our end of term exams. And some people on the planet do understand French.
Some people like who?
Well, I‘m going to take a long shot and say that French people probably understand French.
Can you please tell me what’s wrong with you, so that we can hurry up and get to the bit where I tell you you’re ridiculous and then you realise that it’s actually fine? Are you worried about sports day? I told you I’d explain the whole Puffin thing to you. You don’t need to worry, the school’s just split into two teams.
Sounds weird to me – but no, I’m not worrying about sports day quite yet, although no doubt the fear will begin to loom soon.
Did Miss Duke say something weird? Was it something to do with the way you walk?
No, it wasn‘t a big deal, she just wanted to . . . Wait. What? What‘s wrong with my walk?
Nothing.
Jess! What is wrong with my walk?
Seriously, nothing. Stop passing notes. I’m concentrating.
Now
