“You know, Amber,” Jazz said grudgingly, “sometimes your ideas aren't half bad.”
“Thank you,” I replied. “I'm on a roll at the moment, as you might have noticed.”
“Hi, girls,” said Lakshmi, the shop owner. She was tall and slim, with dyed red hair, a silver nose ring and Jimmy Choo shoes. “Long time no see.”
“We need some outfits for our aunt's wedding,” I explained. “Anything brown and sack-like is definitely off-limits.”
“And hurry,” Geena added.
However, Auntie-ji was a very long time. We'd all chosen our outfits by the time she peered through the shop window, looking for us. We'd even had time for a lengthy argument with Jazz about the revealing side splits in the skirt she'd chosen.
“Sorry I was so long, girls,” Auntie-ji panted. She was pink in the face with excitement. “There was so much to discuss.”
“So are you going to volunteer?” I asked eagerly.
Auntie-ji nodded. “I'm going to help with the mum and baby group on Monday afternoon. See how I get on.”
Geena and Jazz looked at me admiringly, and I felt very pleased with myself. I was sure that if Auntie-ji had something else to think about, she wouldnt interfere quite so much with the wedding. I was also sure that Auntie and Mr. Arora would be very grateful. Oh, why couldn't everyone be as clever as me?
“So you've chosen your outfits, then.” Auntie-ji noted the clothes we were carrying with slight disapproval.
“And for you?” Lakshmi hurried toward Auntie-ji
on her five-inch heels. “I have a lilac suit embroidered with gold that would suit you perfectly.”
“Oh!” Auntie-ji looked quite shocked as Lakshmi whisked the suit off a rail. “I never usually wear those kinds of colors.” She fingered the thin, silky material. “But it is lovely… .”
“Try it on,” urged Geena.
“Oh, all right.” Auntie-ji beamed at us. “No harm in living dangerously for once, is there, girls?”
Auntie-ji bought the lilac suit. Then she treated us to an eat-all-you-like lunch at the Curry Queen, at four pounds a head. Afterward we went home, where Auntie and Mr. Arora both looked pleased and relieved to hear that Auntie-ji had found something else to do other than interfere with their wedding. I also made sure that Auntie knew it was my idea. She thanked me, but she had something else to say too.
“Don't forget, Amber,” she said wisely, “the art of interfering is knowing exactly when to stop.”
Oh, why, why, why didn't I listen to her?
I was rushing headlong toward disaster, but by the beginning of the following week, I hadn't realized it yet. In fact, things were still going swimmingly.
First, Rocky turned up at school on Monday morning, precisely one minute before the bell rang, with a face of the darkest thunder.
“Let me guess,” I said instantly. “Kiran was right and you were wrong about that bhangra track.”
Rocky flushed deep red. “I don't know how I made a mistake,” he muttered. “I must have been having an off day.”
“That's all right,” I told him. “I'm sure Kiran won't hold it against you if you apologize right away.”
“Apologize?” Rocky gasped, as shocked as if I'd ordered him to kiss Mr. Grimwade.
“Well, yes,” I replied. “You do remember the deal?”
Rocky stared glumly at his expensive trainers (a different pair this time). “I'll do it later,” he mumbled. “There isn't time before the bell.”
“It only takes two seconds to say you're sorry.” I gave him a little push toward Kiran, who was sitting on the wall with a book. “Off you go.”
“I don't know how you're getting away with this, Amber,” Geena remarked as Rocky trudged off, “but all your ideas seem to be working splendidly.”
“At the moment,” Jazz added darkly.
“Well, she was bound to hit a lucky streak at some point,” Kim observed. “But it can't last forever.”
“You three can insult me all you like,” I said haughtily. “I'm not in this for the praise and glory. I just like helping people.”
“And you fancy Rocky,” Geena added. “That's a big incentive.”
We watched Rocky approach Kiran. I think he managed to force out an apology, but it took a great deal of effort. They chatted for a moment before the bell rang. Then they smiled at each other—actually smiled— before going their separate ways.
“Watch and learn from the queen of the good idea,” I told Geena, Jazz and Kim smugly as I strolled toward the lower-school entrance. Sadly, the effect was spoilt a little when I tripped over my trailing shoelace. They all sniggered as my nose headed straight toward the floor, but luckily someone caught my arm just before I made contact.
“It's OK, Amber,” said George with a grin. “You don't have to fall at my feet every time you see me.”
“Very amusing,” I said coldly, pulling myself free.
George cocked an eyebrow at me. “Thank you, George. Don't mention it, Amber.”
“I was just coming to that,” I snapped. “Thank you.”
George followed me into the lower school. Jazz and Kim hurried along behind us, ears flapping.
“When you get fed up with old Bighead,” George went on, “I'll still be here.”
“Bighead?” I repeated, pretending I didn't know whom he meant.
George roared with laughter while I stared crossly at him. “You know who. He's a loser.”
“I think not,” I said, as coolly as I could.
George shrugged. “Still trying to win the bet, then?”
I stopped dead, and Kim and Jazz thudded heavily into the back of me.
“How do you know about the bet?” I demanded.
George tapped me teasingly on the nose. “I have my ways,” he said with glee, and sauntered away.
“Right!” I snapped. “Only four people know about this bet. Me, Geena, Jazz and—”
I stared hard at Kim, who had gone crimson.
“I didn't think it was a secret,” she said, trying to sound assertive instead of guilty.
“It isn't.” I scowled. “But I expect a bit more loyalty from my friends.”
“If it's not a secret,” Kim replied, “then I haven't been disloyal.”
“There are different ways of being disloyal,” I countered.
“So was it a secret or wasn't it?”
Jazz groaned. “This conversation is killing me,” she muttered, wandering off toward the Year 8 classrooms.
“Look,” said Kim, “George asked me if you liked Rocky, so I told him about the bet. End of story.”
“That was a mistake,” I said crossly. “You should have kept your mouth shut.”
“Does it matter?” asked Kim as we walked into the classroom. “No one else knows.”
“Amber!” Chelsea Dixon screeched across the room. “Is it true that you, Geena and Jazz have made a bet to see which one of you Rocky Gill likes best?”
The whole class cheered as I blushed.
“My money's on you, Amber,” said Mr. Hernandez, who was engaged in his daily task of searching for the register.
“Is that true?” Kiran asked me as I sank into my chair and tried to make myself invisible.
“Oh, it's just a bit of fun,” I said in an offhand tone.
Kiran said no more. I didn't think anything of that at the time.
It only began to make sense later…
“I want a word with you, Ambajit Dhillon.” Jazz stomped across the playground toward me, fury radiating from every pore. “The whole of Year Eight is talking about our bet!”
“Our year too.” Geena flew toward me from the
opposite corner of the playground like an avenging fury. “Rocky must have heard about it by now. It's totally embarrassing.”
I pointed at Kim. “Blame Miss Blabbermouth here.”
Kim looked unconcerned. “Rocky already guessed what you were up to. I told you that before.”
“You can't know th
at for sure,” Geena retorted.
“I do,” Kim argued. “He always has a smug look on his face when he talks to you three.”
“Can I just suggest that you stop interfering in other people's business,” I said in a freezing tone.
“Ha!” Kim exclaimed scornfully. “That's a joke, coming from you.”
“I don't interfere,” I said. “I help people. That's the difference. See?”
I pointed across the playground. Rocky and Kiran were walking slowly toward the school. Their heads were close together, and they were having what looked like a very deep discussion.
“Like that's not going to end in tears,” Kim said in a doom-laden voice.
We ignored her and left to join Rocky and Kiran. They were arguing about music, but in a good-humored way. They were both laughing.
“Hey, girls.” Rocky gave us a slow, deliberate wink, which left me in no doubt at all that he knew about the bet. “Sorry, haven't got time to chat at the moment.”
“Why not?” demanded Jazz.
“Mr. Fowler wants volunteers to help him tidy the
music room,” Rocky replied. “So I asked Kiran to give me a hand.”
“Let me get this straight,” I said. “You two are giving up part of your lunch hour to help the head of the music department tidy up?”
Kiran grinned. “Not just that,” she said. “I reckon Rocky here thinks that if he gets in Mr. Fowler's good books, he might be asked to DJ at the next school disco!”
“Yeah, why not?” Rocky retorted. “I'm the best.” And the two of them started laughing again.
“I see,” I said. “Do you want any more help?”
“Nah, we're good, thanks.” Rocky raised a hand at us. “Catch you later.”
They went into the upper-school entrance, and we were left outside like starving urchins with our noses pressed up against a baker's window. It did not feel good to watch Kiran waltzing off with the best-looking boy in the school. I knew Rocky was only hanging out with her because it was part of the deal. But still…
“They seem to be getting on well,” I muttered sulkily.
“At least Rocky's keeping his part of the bargain,” Geena said, looking no better pleased herself.
“Yes, but how are we supposed to keep this bet going if he's spending all his time with Kiran?” Jazz wanted to know.
“Patience,” I replied. “This is only a temporary blip. We watch and we wait.”
So we watched and we waited. That week, things appeared to be going as wonderfully as even I could
have wished for. Kiran and Rocky met up whenever they could to talk about music, swap CDs, borrow each other's MP3 players and generally have what looked like a very good time of it. Kiran had started to look a lot more relaxed. And within a few days everyone in the school had started to notice that she and Rocky were becoming rather matey mates.
“So what's Kiran got that you, Jazz and Geena haven't?” asked Chelsea Dixon, quite offensively, on seeing Kiran and Rocky fooling around one break time.
“An in-depth knowledge of bhangra and hip-hop,” I retorted. “And that is all.”
“They look very cozy together,” observed Sharelle Alexander. “Are they in love?”
I laughed long and hard. “Don't be ridiculous,” I said coolly. “They're just friends.”
And, of course, George Botley had to stick his oar in too, didn't he.
“Has Lover Boy found someone else, then, Amber?” he inquired with a grin. “Never mind. You've still got me.”
“Now why does that make me feel like slitting my throat?” I replied.
George laughed uproariously. “You can mock—” he began.
“Thanks, I will,” I broke in.
“But you'll see I'm right eventually,” George went on. “You'll soon get fed up with Rocky Gill. He's not your type.”
“And you are?” I asked with more than a touch of scorn.
“Yep.” George nodded. “Rocky's an idiot.”
I did not reply to that. Rocky was no idiot, but a tiny part of me—a teeny, weeny part—knew that otherwise George was absolutely right.
I mean, you couldn't expect someone as stunningly good-looking as Rocky to have a personality to match, could you? That would be totally unfair and against all the laws of nature.
Oh, Rocky was beautiful, yes indeed. But he wasn't exactly the sharpest knife in the drawer. Geena was in all the top sets in her year, and Rocky wasn't in any of her classes. He was nice enough. He just wasn't Mr. Charisma. He was very self-absorbed, in himself and in his music. That didn't make him a bad person. But it did make him a not-very-interesting one.
So did that mean I was giving up on the bet? Are you crazy! I was more determined than ever to win it and show Geena and Jazz exactly who was the boss around here! And anyway, I was still enjoying feasting my eyes on Rocky whenever the occasion arose.
But I should have guessed that trouble was just around the corner….
The bubble finally burst at the end of the week. Geena, Jazz and I were wandering on our merry way to school, feeling quite calm and at peace with the world. Well, I was. Geena and Jazz were moaning, as ever.
“It's impossible to get near Rocky these days,” Geena grumbled, “what with Kiran sticking to him like glue.”
“I vote we declare this bet null and void,” Jazz complained.
I raised my eyebrows. “Scared of losing?”
“Not at all,” Jazz shot back. “But like Geena said, it's impossible.”
“You two are never happy,” I sighed. “Mr. Arora landed us with looking after Kiran. I sorted that out. I got Auntie-ji fixed up at the community center. Which, may I remind you, calmed our auntie down and made life at home a lot more bearable.”
“I'll give you that,” Geena said grudgingly.
Auntie-ji had popped in for five minutes early one morning, just to see how the wedding arrangements were coming along, with just over two weeks to go. But she hadn't stayed long because she was taking a party of pensioners to the seaside. She had bounced out of the house, looking as happy as Larry, whoever he might be.
“That reminds me,” Jazz said, with the air of one who was determined to stir it. “What's going to happen after the wedding?”
I looked blank. “Auntie and Mr. Arora are going to live happily ever after, I suppose,” I replied.
“No, I meant Rocky and Kiran,” said Jazz impatiently. “He's only being friendly with her because you made that deal. Is he going to drop her like a hot potato after the wedding?”
“Ooh, good point,” Geena agreed. “Amber?”
“Of course not,” I blustered. “I think Rocky has actually discovered that he really does like Kiran. All
right, so he's never going to fall madly in love with her, but they'll stay mates.”
Geena and Jazz both looked disappointed.
“I could bang your heads together,” I grumbled. “You complain when my ideas don't work, and then you don't like it when they do.”
Geena and Jazz were now grinning like two idiots.
“What?” I asked, looking round.
Rocky was walking down the road toward us. Did I say walk? Stamp would describe it better. Or stomp. Anyway, he looked very angry. But still beautiful, of course.
“Hello, Rocky,” Geena said in a Marilyn Monroe breathy voice. “Don't you usually get a lift to school?”
“Yeah, I do,” Rocky growled sulkily. “Only my daft mother has gone and pranged the side of the Merc. It's gone to be fixed. Dad's away on business and he's got the BMW. So I've got to walk.”
“Well, it's nice to see you—” I began, elbowing Jazz neatly into the gutter to get beside him.
Rocky ignored me. “We've got the van, but Mum won't drive it. Which is probably a good thing. She'd only smash it up, anyway.” He scowled. “Women drivers!”
Jazz frowned. I bit down on my lip. Geena wasn't going to let that go, however. Not even for the sake of a slave-for-the-day bet.
“
What do you mean?” she said.
“You know.” Rocky shrugged. “They're always driving into things.”
“So your dad's never bumped into anything?” Geena asked coolly
“Well, yeah, once or twice,” muttered Rocky
Geena was going for the kill. “How many times?”
I think Rocky was just starting to realize that Geena wasn't too happy when something happened that grabbed our attention. We turned the corner, and there at the other end of the street we saw Kim and Kiran.
They were standing in the road, facing up to two boys who wore the uniform of Grange Street School, Coppergate's biggest enemy. The boys were older, and one of them was even taller than Kiran. It seemed as if they were arguing.
“What's going on?” I asked.
“Looks like trouble,” said Rocky.
I half expected him to race down the road ahead of us like some superhero. He didn't.
We hurried toward them. But before we got there, the two boys turned and walked off, making rude gestures as they went.
“Are you OK?” I rushed up to Kim and Kiran. Kim was looking quite pale and shaken, and I put my arm round her. “What happened?”
“I was on my way to school early to go to the library,” Kim gulped, “and those two boys grabbed my bag and threw it into the tree.” She pointed upward.
Kiran was already climbing the tree to get it. She retrieved Kim's rucksack from the branch where it was lying, and climbed neatly down again.
“Where did you learn to do that?” asked Jazz, mouth open wide.
“I was a monkey in a previous life,” Kiran said with a grin. She handed the rucksack to Kim. “There you go.”
Kim took the rucksack and hugged it to her. “Kiran came along and saved me,” she said shakily. “I asked those boys—assertively—to leave me alone. But they wouldn't.”
I stared at Kiran. “That was brave,” I said. “One of them was built like the Incredible Hulk.”
Kiran shrugged. “It was nothing.”
“Shame we didn't turn up a bit earlier,” said Rocky. “I'd soon have sorted them out.”
“Yeah, I'm sure you would have,” Kiran replied with a little smile.
I was still staring at her. Changes had been happening over the last few weeks, which I was only just noticing. Her cropped hair had grown and it was curling all over her head now. She looked smarter and generally a bit more together. And was that a touch of lip gloss she was wearing?
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