How to Write a Love Story

by Katy Cannon

  After doing a quick circuit of the fete grounds, Anja, Rohan and I snagged a patch of grass by the stage and settled back to listen to the music and chat. The spring sunshine was warm, if you stayed out of the wind, and it was nice to be outside and not freezing for a change. Rohan bought doughnuts to share and I picked up a bag of candyfloss. (There was also popcorn but I’d been turned off that for life.)

  “Is that Drew’s girlfriend?” Anja asked, nodding towards the stage where a pretty, blond girl was setting up. She looked familiar, somehow. Off to the side of the stage, holding her guitar, stood Drew.

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. Drew looked different again in jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt. Maybe I just wasn’t used to seeing him outside the school library.

  I peered more closely at the girl on the stage as she adjusted her microphone, and pulled her stool closer. She had wavy, dirty blond hair cut to her shoulders and falling over her face. I watched carefully as Drew handed her the guitar. No intimate smile or holding on for a second longer than necessary. Drew murmured something inaudible and she laughed – but I still didn’t get that girlfriend-boyfriend vibe from them.

  “It could be his step-sister,” I said.

  “Drew has a step-sister?” Rohan sounded surprised. “How do you know that?”

  I shrugged. “He said the other day.”

  “I thought Drew was – and I’m quoting you here – ‘the bane of your existence’,” Anja said. “Since when are you two having long chats about your families?”

  I rolled my eyes. Anja and Rohen had never been able to understand what I found so irritating about Drew but they didn’t have to spend hours in the library each week with him.

  “We’re not,” I told her. “It was just a passing comment.”

  The girl on stage started playing: a haunting, sweet acoustic number that cut across all our chatter as we shut up to listen.

  “She’s good,” Anja said as the song came to an end.

  “She’s fantastic,” Rohan corrected her. “Like, incredible.” He stared up at the stage in awe as she launched into her next song.

  “Couldn’t they get anybody better than her to play?” Zach dropped on to the grass directly behind me, pulling me closer to him by wrapping one arm around my waist. He had a full plastic pint glass of beer in his other hand but from the smell of his breath it wasn’t his first. And by the way his speech was starting to slur, it probably wasn’t his second, either.

  “I think she’s good,” I said mildly.

  Zach laughed, a little too loudly. “I’m sure she does, too.” Then he frowned, peering towards the stage. “Is that whatshisname? From school?”

  “Drew,” I replied. “Yeah. I think that might be his step-sister playing now.”

  “Huh.” Zach turned his back on the stage and downed half the pint in one long gulp.

  Yeah, this was going to be another fantastic date. I could tell.

  Anja gave me a concerned look and I shrugged, shaking my head. It wasn’t worth getting upset about. This was what the rugby boys always did at events like this – at least, since they’d looked old enough to get away with ordering drinks at the bar. Zach was probably just trying to fit in with his new friends. I knew how that felt – trying to be the sort of person others expected you to be. I just wished we’d been able to have a date on our own the weekend before. Maybe then I wouldn’t be feeling so disappointed now.

  Zach pressed a sloppy kiss to the side of my head, and I turned my face away, just in case. I wasn’t having my first proper kiss be a drunken fumble he probably wouldn’t remember in the morning, thanks.

  I looked up towards the stage and saw Drew standing at the steps, watching us. His face was dark, shadowed by the staging and the angle of the sun. But somehow, I knew he wasn’t smiling, the same way I knew he was staring at us even though I couldn’t see his eyes.

  What was his problem with Zach? I should ask him. Except … for some strange reason, I was almost certain I wouldn’t like the answer.

  The girl on stage finished her set. Drew turned away to help her pack up and the moment was over.

  Rohan jumped to his feet. “I’m going to go check out the arena. The sheepdog display starts soon.”

  “Sounds like a party,” Zach said sarcastically. He lay back on the grass and flung an arm over his eyes.

  Anja reached out and took the beer from his hand before it fell, propping it up against his side.

  “I’ll come with you,” she told Rohan. “I like seeing all the lambs.”

  Will you be OK? She mouthed at me as they left.

  I nodded and forced a smile, as beside me, Zach started to snore.

  In the end, I headed home alone. Zach woke up in time to head back to the beer tent with the boys when Barney came looking for him (“You don’t mind, do you babe? Great!”) and Anja texted me a few moments later to say she’d gone home with a headache. Rohan was nowhere to be found and wouldn’t answer his phone, so I decided to call it a day.

  Another rubbish date and still no kiss. I scowled down at the pavement as I walked home, frustrated. In fact, the highlight of the whole day was probably the runaway lamb that leaped over Zach’s legs – followed by the pursuing sheepdog, and shepherd – and Zach had slept through that part. I was starting to think that we did better just spending time together at school, rather than out of it. But that didn’t help me at all with getting to know Zach better. Or with writing Eva and Will’s story.

  Gran hadn’t mentioned it but I knew the deadline for the first draft of the book was looming, only a few months away – and I hadn’t even finished the opening three chapters. Even when I found the time to write, in between school and Zach and everything else, I was completely stalled without more good date experience to write about.

  I was starting to worry I’d never get the experience I needed to make the story feel real.

  I stopped by Gran’s study on my way to bed that evening and found her curled up on the chaise longue, one of her own books in her hand.

  “Tilly?” She put the book down as I came in. “Everything OK?”

  “Yeah. I guess.” I shifted from one foot to the other, wondering how to broach the subject of deadlines and missing them. “I was just thinking about the book…”

  Gran beamed. “I’m so looking forward to reading the rest of it, Tilly! The first couple of chapters you gave me were so much fun. I just know you’re going to do a spectacular job of the whole thing.”

  I swallowed. “You really want me to write the whole book?” Never mind that I wasn’t sure I even could. “Don’t you think your editor – and your readers – will mind? I mean, if I write it, it’s not a real Beatrix Frost, is it? Not like Building the Dawn,” I added, pointing to the book in her hand.

  Gran closed the book and put it down beside her. “Tilly, it’s all about the brand, darling. That’s what you have to understand. As long as it has my name on it, it’s a Bea Frost book, as far as the rest of the world is concerned.”

  “Even if it has my name on, too?”

  “Even then.”

  “And you’ll help me? I mean, once I finish the first draft.” If I ever finished it. “You’ll help me make it good?” If Gran took over then at least she could rewrite the whole thing if it needed it. I’d have given her a starting point and got the experience but it would still be her book.

  “Of course,” Gran said, waving a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry so much, Tilly. Everything will be fine.”

  Except everything didn’t feel fine.

  But Gran had already gone back to her book, so I turned and left.

  I went to bed that night confused and uncertain, which led to weird dreams of mirrors and hats and old-fashioned typewriters, interspersed with leaping lambs, all of which kept me tossing and turning through the night. At around 3 a.m. I snapped awake completely and stared out into the night, my heart racing for no reason.

  What was wrong with me? I felt like all the pieces of my life were
out of place and I couldn’t work out a way to put them back together that made sense. Like trying to figure out the plot for my book and knowing it was missing something.

  In an attempt to calm down enough to sleep again, I logged on to The Writers’ Room on my laptop and found a new chapter of Looking Glass waiting for me to read. At the start, it said:

  Thanks to the readers who took the time to give me feedback on the last chapters. I hope you agree with how I’ve used your suggestions.

  Intrigued, I started to read on and, within moments, I was totally hooked again. Best of all, when I reached the end of the chapter, I knew that the author had really understood what I was trying to say in my email to them, even if their response had been rather less than enthusiastic.

  That said, there were still a few points in the latest chapter I thought could do with some work. Mostly to do with bringing out the characters more and their relationships to one another. I blinked into the darkened room for a moment, biting my lip. I really needed to get some sleep. But I also wanted to get my thoughts down in writing before I forgot them…

  Surrendering to the inevitable, I flipped on my beside lamp, plugged in my laptop, and began writing another email to the anonymous author.

  Maybe this time I’d get more than a one-word reply.

  Zach texted me Sunday morning to apologize for abandoning me at the fete. I let him stew for a few hours then told him it was fine. Apparently the playing hard-to-get part of the plan was well and truly over.

  How about we go out on Thursday, he suggested. Before I go away for Easter?

  I’ve got the Juanita Cabrera event, I reminded him.

  His response was instant. Wednesday, then?

  I was halfway through texting Absolutely! when I remembered I already had plans.

  I’m meeting Anja and Rohan at our favourite restaurant. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t see Zach too, right? Before I could overthink it, I sent another message. You should come with.

  Sure, it wouldn’t be as private as a one-on-one date, but I’d have my friends there to protect me from making an absolute idiot of myself, which could prove handy. And if we had to go out with my friends or his … let’s just say a night out with Zach, Rohan and Anja sounded a lot more fun than going anywhere with Barney and the other rugby boys.

  It could be good for Zach to get to know my friends better, anyway. They had too many after-school activities between them to join us at the Hot Cup most days, and it wasn’t as if Zach had spent any quality time with them at the fete, either.

  In Gran’s books, how a heroine’s friends felt about the hero, and vice versa, was always a good indication of how things would turn out. Sometimes they might need a little convincing before they could believe that the hero was right for her. Anja and Rohan hadn’t had much of a chance to get to know Zach yet, and I knew Anja hadn’t been impressed with his behaviour at the fete. Maybe this would be my chance to show them how great Zach was – and show Zach how awesome my friends were in turn. Another step in building our relationship. And potentially another scene in my book, too.

  It’s a plan, Zach texted back and I smiled.

  With only four days to go until An Audience with Juanita Cabrera, the last week before the Easter holidays was manic. Wednesday afternoon, Rachel shut the library to students so Drew and I could use our Free Choice session to get everything prepared for the following night. We spent hours folding programmes, checking ticket lists, organizing refreshments and planning the best possible set-up for the room. We’d sold so many tickets that we were having to hold the event in the school hall but since that was being used by the drama club that afternoon, we’d have to wait until the day to get the chairs laid out.

  “Hey, was that your step-sister on stage at the Spring Fete?” I asked Drew, as I reached for another programme to fold.

  Drew nodded. “Yeah. That was Eleanor.”

  “She’s fantastic,” I said. “Rohan particularly was blown away – he loves acoustic guitar music. He’s trying to teach himself.”

  “Eleanor taught herself,” Drew replied. “She was terrible to start with. But she stuck with it and now…”

  “She’s incredible. Does she want to do it professionally?”

  “Yeah. Probably.”

  I was about to ask more about his sister, but just then Drew reached for another programme at the same moment I did and our hands brushed. I jumped at the sensation of his skin against mine, my gaze flying up to his before we both looked hurriedly away. I tried to tell myself it was just the surprise of the contact but the way my arm still tingled told me otherwise. It felt like when Zach held my hand … only more so.

  No. I was absolutely not going there.

  “You had fun at the Spring Fete, then?” Drew asked as if nothing had happened. Maybe it hadn’t, for him.

  And it shouldn’t have for me.

  I swallowed. “Yeah. I guess. The runaway lamb was cute.”

  “I meant with Zach.”

  “Oh.” Straightening my stack of programmes, I tried to figure out how to answer that. “He was … well, he was mostly having fun with his friends, so…”

  “Right.”

  “But we’re going out again tonight with Anja and Rohan, which will be nice.” Why was I telling him this? I was pretty sure Drew didn’t care about my love life. Although he was the one who’d asked about Zach… Did he care?

  Did I want him to?

  I couldn’t think about this right now.

  As a distraction, I opened one of the programmes and started reading it. I’d seen the original when Rachel designed it but it seemed there had been a couple of changes since then.

  Including one that read ‘Q&A panel with Juanita Cabrera, interviewers Drew Farrow and Tilly Frost.’

  “Hang on.” I shoved the programme under Drew’s nose. “Did you know about this?”

  He took it from me, frowning. “A Q&A panel?”

  “How’s it going, guys?” Rachel breezed out of the office just as the school bell rang to mark the end of the day. “Are we all ready? I just re-confirmed the catering and the— What’s the matter?”

  “Drew and I are doing a Q&A panel for Juanita Cabrera?” I asked, my voice getting a little high and squeaky towards the end.

  “Well, yes! It’s in the programme. You got my email about it, right? Last week? I thought it would be nice to include some students and of course I thought of you…” Rachel looked suddenly panicked, and I felt my own stress levels rising just standing next to her.

  I yanked out my phone and checked my emails. Nothing from Rachel. Beside me, Drew was doing the same.

  “There was no email.”

  Rachel’s eyes widened. “Oh God…” Dashing behind the desk to the library laptop, she woke the screen and tapped a few keys. “I forgot to send it. How could I forget to send it?”

  “Why don’t you just tell us what it said?” Drew suggested. “The Q&A panel?”

  Rachel nodded. “Right. Yes. I thought the two of you could do, like, an interview with Juanita. For maybe the first hour or so. She’s already agreed, said she’s looking forward to it. You’ve both worked so hard getting everything ready for this. It was supposed to be a reward of sorts…”

  Rachel looked so distraught at the oversight I found myself saying, “Don’t worry. We’ll sort it and it will be brilliant. Won’t it, Drew?”

  “Absolutely,” Drew lied.

  We both kept smiling until Rachel headed back into the tiny office to finish writing her opening remarks. Then we turned to each other.

  “OK. We need to fix this in the next…” I checked the time on my phone. “Hour and a half. I’m meeting Zach and the others at six and I’d like to not be wearing school uniform when I do.”

  “Easy.” Drew was already pulling out his laptop again and setting it up on the central table. “All we need to do is come up with, say, ten really interesting and engaging questions for Juanita Cabrera. About her books, how she writes, her influences,
that sort of thing.” He pulled up a search of ‘best questions to ask authors’.

  I slipped into the chair beside him. “I don’t want to just ask her the same questions everyone else always does,” I said. “I mean, this women is basically my idol. I don’t want to look … ignorant.”

  “I don’t think you could if you tried,” Drew murmured, but he didn’t take his eyes off the screen as he spoke. And before I could ask him what he meant, he went on. “OK, so let’s start from a different angle. Never mind the usual stuff. What have you always wanted to know about writing a book, for instance?”

  “Why you have to wear a hat.” The words were out before I thought about them.

  Drew looked at me like I was crazy. Understandably. “A hat?”

  “It’s a Gran thing. She buys a new hat for each book. She even bought me one when—” I cut myself off.

  “You started writing your own?” he guessed. “This is that ‘creative writing’ project for English you didn’t want to talk about, right?”

  “Yeah. Except, not exactly for English.”

  “I guessed.” He leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his chest and his legs stretched out under the table. “So, do you want to tell me about it?”

  “Not really.” What would I say? I’m writing a romance novel for my gran when I thought I’d only be writing three chapters and I’m trying to experience love but I keep having disastrous dates instead. Maybe not. “Besides, we need to come up with some non-hat-based questions.”