Signs of Love - Love Match

by Melody James

  ‘Savannah’s going to get hurt whatever,’ Treacle points out. ‘If he’s already cheating on her then it’s only going to get worse.’

  Registration sucks.

  I scowl at Josh as he drapes himself round Savannah. He’s got one eye on Chelsea, who’s chewing gum on the other side of the classroom.

  ‘I’m going to tell Savannah at break-time,’ I whisper to Treacle as the bell goes for the first lesson.

  ‘We’ll do it together,’ Treacle hisses back.

  Mr Harris catches my eye as I walk into English. ‘Good first effort,’ he smiles.

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘The webzine,’ he explains. ‘I enjoyed reading it.’

  I’ve been so wrapped up in Savannah’s heartbreak that I’ve totally forgotten that the webzine goes public today. It’ll be in everyone’s Inbox by now.

  Treacle grabs my arm as we take our seats. ‘The webzine! I forgot!’

  ‘Me too!’ I wish I had a smartphone so I could check my email.

  Behind me, Savannah leans over her desk. ‘I’m going to check it out at break,’ she whispers. ‘We can go to the IT suite. I must see Cindy’s beauty tips.’ She giggles. ‘I want to find out what she uses to freeze her smile.’

  I try and focus on Mr Harris. He’s snapped open a copy of To Kill a Mockingbird and started droning.

  As soon as the bell goes for break, I drag Treacle to the IT suite. Savannah and Sally Moore have got there before us and are already at two of the computers.

  I’m bouncing with excitement as I type in my password. I’m about to finally see my words in print!

  Suddenly Savannah explodes into laughter.

  Treacle looks at her. ‘What?’

  Savannah’s creased up, pointing at the screen. ‘Who is Jessica Jupiter?’

  Sally’s giggling beside her. ‘She’s crazy!’

  Savannah starts reading out my horoscopes. Her voice chokes with laughter. ‘An unexpected visit from a relative from overseas will bring cheese!’ She collapses, hooting, against Sally.

  I feel sick. My cheeks are on fire, my stomach as hollow as an empty locker.

  What a great start to my career.

  I grab my bag and head for the door. ‘I’ve got to go, I’m feeling sick,’ I somehow manage to blurt out on the way.

  ‘Wait!’ Treacle’s hot on my heels.

  I race from the IT suite. ‘I’m so embarrassed!’ I clutch Treacle’s arm. ‘You must promise never to tell anyone that it’s me!’

  ‘I know.’ Treacle’s nodding. ‘I swear on my mother’s chimichangas.’ Her eyes search mine hopefully. She’s trying to make me laugh.

  I droop. I don’t feel like laughing. ‘The whole school will be making fun of me by the end of the day.’

  ‘They don’t know it’s you who wrote it.’ Treacle puts her arm through mine and leads me down the corridor. ‘You did the best you could but it was never meant to be serious, was it?’

  ‘I guess not,’ I conceded. But it would have been nice if Savannah had just smiled instead of falling off her chair in hysterics.

  ‘I’m resigning,’ I tell Treacle as we cross the playground the next morning. A cold February mist has swallowed the school roof.

  ‘Resigning?’ Treacle’s shoes clip-clop on the front steps. ‘From what? School?’ She sounds hopeful. ‘I didn’t know you could resign from school.’

  A reluctant smile twitches my lips. ‘Not school. The webzine.’ I spent yesterday evening working myself into a full-blown huff. ‘If Cindy won’t take me seriously then there’s no point,’ I sniff. ‘Writing horoscopes is humiliating. It’s a sell-out. I should be writing serious pieces about serious things.’

  Treacle’s frowning. ‘But you were really looking forward to working on the webzine,’ she reminds me. ‘Shouldn’t you give it a bit longer?’

  I barge through the school doors and plunge into the crowd of students. ‘I’m not being the school laughing stock,’ I call over my shoulder as Treacle squeezes after me.

  She stops arguing as we focus on making it to the classroom without getting trampled. Savannah’s already there, perched on a desk. Sal, Anila and Susan Noakes are clustered round her. Even Chelsea’s crowding to hear.

  ‘I couldn’t believe it!’ Savannah exclaims. ‘I got home from school last night and my Uncle Pierre was sat at the kitchen table. He’d come on a surprise visit from France. Even Mum didn’t know he was coming. And guess what he brought as a gift?’

  Anila’s leaning forward. ‘What?’

  ‘Cheese!’

  Sal’s the first to burst into laughter. ‘So Jessica Jupiter was right!’

  ‘A hundred and ten per cent!’ Savannah exclaims. ‘She really is psychic!’

  I’m standing in the doorway, eyes wide.

  Treacle squeezes my arm. ‘How did you know he was coming?’

  ‘I didn’t!’ I hush her before she gives anything away.

  Jessica’s prediction actually came true! I couldn’t be more amazed if Miss Davis climbed on her desk and started tap-dancing.

  Savannah and the others are speed-talking about Jessica Jupiter and her horoscopes. They sound as excited as nerds in an Apple store. Do they actually believe Jessica’s predictions are real?

  An idea lights up my head.

  ‘Treacle!’ I drag her to our usual spot beside the radiator.

  ‘What?’ Her gaze is darting between me and Savannah.

  ‘I’ve just worked out how we can warn Savannah about Josh!’

  I don’t resign. In fact, at lunchtime I can’t wait to get to webzine HQ and start work on next week’s horoscopes.

  If Savannah believes in Jessica Jupiter, I can let Jessica break the bad news about Josh. Jessica’s way tougher than me. She’ll find a way to get her message across.

  I hurry past the staffroom, heading for the stairs. Mr Chapman’s outside talking to Miss Bayliss, our PE teacher.

  ‘Well Jeff Simpson seemed very keen when he watched the girls’ Cup match,’ Mr Chapman’s saying. ‘Maybe you should ask him.’

  I slow down, ears pricking like a cat’s. Ask him what?

  Miss Bayliss starts to smile. ‘Oh, yes, he’d make a perfect coach for the Year Nine girls’ team. He’s such a great player, they’d really look up to him.’

  I know one of them would. Even as I’m thinking it, another thought’s running in my head: this is GREAT info. My mind starts whirring; if I can get Jeff to believe in his horoscope then, with a couple of flicks of Jessica Jupiter’s pen, I can steer him towards Treacle, in the same way that I can warn Savannah not to trust Josh. I just need to word the horoscopes carefully. I’m such an Evil Genius, I should have my own comic book.

  Gemma Stone is the Dark Writer! With her mighty Pen of Destiny – sharper than any sword, stronger than any fist – the Dark Writer is the only Evil Genius who can rewrite the future before it’s even happened.

  Miss Bayliss glances at her watch. ‘When I get a spare moment, I’ll ask him if he’ll do it.’

  I sidle past, eyes fixed on the floor, already typing Jeff’s horoscope in my head. Expect an unexpected offer . . .

  Sam, Cindy and Will are already in the storeroom. Sam’s lost in music, eyes closed, biting his lip as he nods along to the MP3 player wired into his ears. Cindy’s typing. She doesn’t even look up as I enter. Will’s copying something from his screen on to a notepad beside his keyboard. I sit down and start up a PC.

  ‘Gemma?’

  I look up and jerk back in surprise as I see Cindy leaning over my desk.

  This girl moves like a ninja.

  ‘Y-yes?’

  A horrible mish-mash of fumes washes over me. Mouthwash, face powder, hairspray and perfume battle for supremacy in my nose. I fight back a sneeze, eyes smarting.

  ‘How did you get on with those samples I gave you?’ she asks, loud enough to rattle the windows.

  I guess she’s still pushing the idea that I’m helping her with her beauty column. ‘Fine,’ I tell h
er unenthusiastically.

  ‘Well?’ Her gaze is flitting over my desk. ‘Where are they? I’m not just giving you free stuff, you know.’

  Beside me, Will shifts in his seat. ‘I can’t imagine you giving anything away for free, Cinders.’

  She lasers him with a look. ‘Don’t call me Cinders.’

  His lips twitch and I know at once she’s been christened Cinders for life.

  I open my desk drawer, where I swept them last week, and dump the samples out on to my desk.

  ‘Good.’ Satisfied, Cindy heads back to her PC.

  Ignoring the sample pots, I open a browser window and start searching Facebook. Jeff’s profile is easy to find. I check his birthdate. He’s Capricorn.

  As I crack open a fresh Word doc, Will’s voice makes me jump.

  ‘Hi, my name’s Will Bold.’

  I glance sideways and see him talking on his mobile.

  ‘I’m writing a piece on knife crime for my school webzine.’ He leans back in his chair and hooks a leg over the corner of his desk. He sounds so confident and experienced, but then he has won an award for his writing. I sigh and pull my monitor closer, risking eye-burn to stop him seeing what I’m doing.

  Will’s phone voice is high volume. giving you free stuff, you know.’‘I was wondering if you’d be willing to answer some questions about knife crime in this area.’ He scribbles on a notepad and underlines ferociously. I ignore him and start typing.

  Capricorn, Star-ling! Sign of the goat? Never! You don’t belong on the farm.

  I grit my teeth as Will bellows into his phone. ‘So this year’s figures are up on last year?’

  This week, a familiar face will offer you the chance to work with a very unfamiliar flock.

  ‘And what’s the average age of knife-crime victims?’ Will’s taking notes again.

  Leave your shyness in the barn and polish your horns.

  Will runs his fingers through his hair, frowning. ‘So female victims are on the increase? And female offenders? That’s interesting.’

  I focus on my screen. Seize this opportunity with both hooves, you lucky goat; it will bring you closer to the opposite sex, and Jessica’s not talking about knitting with your nanny.

  I tackle Savannah’s horoscope next. It’s half-written in my head.

  Pisces

  Hey, fish-face!

  OK, so I’m still a little stung from her laughing at my first published article.

  You’ve been swimming along happily for a while, but watch out. Those goldfish you’ve been hanging out with may turn out to be sharks. And if there’s a curly-haired merman in your life, beware. He may not be flapping his tail just for you.

  Will’s phone interview cuts into my train of thought again. ‘Do you have his number?’ He makes another note. ‘Thanks. You’ve been a great help.’ He ends the call and picks up his notepad. Tapping it with a pen, he frowns.

  ‘Do you need any help?’ I switch windows, from my horoscopes back to Facebook, hiding my work.

  He narrows his eyes. ‘Do you know anything about knife crime?’

  ‘I could do some research for you.’ I’m supposed to be editorial assistant for the whole webzine after all, not just product tester for Cindy.

  He leans back to get a look at my screen. ‘Does Facebook have a page on knife crime then?’ he sniffs. ‘Perhaps you could become a fan.’

  I bristle. ‘Facebook is useful for researching some things.’

  ‘Yeah, I can see that.’ His gaze sweeps the tester pots cluttering my desk then flicks back to his own screen. ‘Stick with your face cream. I can handle this.’

  He thinks I’m a ditz! Furious, I pick up a pot and shake it at him. ‘How do you know I’m not writing a piece on animal testing?’

  Suddenly the lid frisbees off the pot and a dollop of cream splatters his leather jacket.

  Oh, no! I am a ditz! My confidence shrivels like a crisp packet in a microwave.

  Sam explodes with laughter and drags his earphones out. ‘Great aim, Gem!’

  Cindy looks up from her desk. ‘Oh, dear.’ A smile breaks over her face. ‘Rub it in, Will. It might soften you up.’

  Eyes blazing, Will pushes back his chair and storms from the room.

  ‘Not bad, Gemma.’ Cindy’s clearly enjoying my embarrassment. ‘You should test some other products on him when he gets back. Maybe wart remover. Banish him for good.’ She switches her gaze to Sam, beckoning him over with her pen. ‘There’s a new band I want you to review.’ As Sam leans in, she taps the pen on her screen. ‘They’re playing Friday night. I thought we could check it out.’

  Sam’s nodding. ‘Great.’ He glances at me. ‘We could all go. A webzine night out.’

  Cindy cuts him off. ‘Sorry, Sam.’ She lets remorse darken her big blue eyes. ‘I’ve only got two tickets.’ She pouts. ‘So only enough for you and me, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Oh.’ Sam shoves his hands into his pockets. ‘OK.’ He’s so easy-going! No wonder Cindy’s got her eye on him. A few more pouts and she’ll have him following her round like a happy puppy. Like Barbara. Both of them high on her deadly perfume trail.

  I screw the lid back on the pot and pull a tissue from my pocket. Silently fuming, I wipe up the cream dotting my desk. Sometimes it seems as if everybody is having fun except me.

  By the next Monday I’m determined that Jeff sees his horoscope asap.

  Everyone seems to be starting to believe in Jessica Jupiter’s predictions and the column has been getting some very unexpected results. On Thursday mousey Susan Noakes stunned the whole class by declaring that she wanted to sing ‘Bad Romance’ by Lady Gaga for the Valentine’s assembly. When Miss Davis asked her why, Susan stammered that she felt it was really important to present both the positive and negative sides of love. Then she muttered under her breath that the assembly was also a great opportunity to shine.

  I don’t think anyone else heard her – they were all probably trying to picture Susan tottering round the stage in a pair of platform shoes made from lamb chops. But I remembered my prediction for Virgo about turning shy into shine and realised what had happened. Susan had clearly taken Jessica Jupiter’s words to heart. And hopefully, so will Jeff. I need to help Treacle kick-start her love life as soon as possible.

  The school bell’s rung for the last time and the webzine team have crowded into the storeroom to check issue two before it goes out on Wednesday.

  This time Cindy’s allocated us one article each. I’ve been given Barbara’s latest stink-piece. I glance nervously at Jeff, wondering what Cindy gave him. Just to be sure he doesn’t miss Jessica’s personalised prediction, I slide quietly out from behind my desk and sidle across the room.

  ‘Hey, Jeff.’ I hold out a copy of this week’s predictions. ‘Would you mind checking Jessica’s column too? She just emailed it over to me and I never know how to spell Pisces.’

  Jeff looks up. ‘The horoscopes?’ He waves his own print-out. ‘I’m already checking Phil and Dave’s tech piece.’

  ‘It’s really short,’ I wheedle.

  ‘I can check that if you want, Gemma,’ Cindy says. She prickles like a nervous cat whenever someone else takes the initiative.

  Will’s on to it like a dog on a bone. ‘Chill, Cinders. The kid’s handling it.’ He glances up from his piece on knife crime. It’s going to be a two-part series: facts this week, interview next week. I was hoping to proofread it and have an early look, but Will likes to check his own copy. As far as he’s concerned, we’re not ‘real’ enough to get it.

  I wonder if he’ll find his horoscope real enough. I remember it word for word.

  Aquarius, you’re going to need a bit more than pimple cream to shrink the trouble spots in your life this week. Homework will feel heavy, friends will feel hard work and family will feel irritating. If you want to make it over the bumps, take any help you’re offered. If you’re too proud to take help, take a hike.

  I thrust Jessica’s column harder at Jeff.

&
nbsp; ‘OK then.’ He takes it. ‘Who are you checking?’

  I hold up Barbara’s latest masterpiece. How to Get the Most from Your Homework.

  ‘Oh.’ Jeff reads the title, throwing a weak smile at Barbara.

  She’s arranging pencils on her desk. She likes to mark spelling mistakes in blue, and grammatical errors in green like a human word-processing app. She looks up and sees us staring at her. ‘I hope you’re enjoying it, Gemma,’ she smiles. ‘I really think a little more planning could make homework far more productive and rewarding.’

  ‘Yu-huh.’ I sit down and sneak sideways glances at Jeff, relaxing when he switches from the tech piece to the horoscopes. Satisfied, I turn my attention back to Barbara’s article and start reading.

  Step One: organise your time

  The hours between 4.00 pm and 6.00 pm are usually the most wasted hours of the day. Set this time aside. Cancel all other arrangements. Make these the most productive hours of your day. If your homework’s finished by teatime, you can reward yourself with a full evening of free time for yourself.

  Step Two: organise your workspace

  Declutter your desk. Turn off your phone. Leave your MP3 player somewhere else. The last thing you need is distractions. The place where you work should be dedicated only to work. Fill a basket with stationery supplies such as pens, pencils, eraser, scissors, highlighters, ruler, calculator, glue, stapler. Then you won’t have to run around the house looking for anything and there’s no chance you’ll get sidetracked.

  I resist a yawn, wishing there was something to sidetrack me right now.

  The only Green Park students who are going to read past the first paragraph are probably already organising their time and workspace just fine. The F-class students are just going to flick to Jeff’s sports feature or Cindy’s beauty column. I sigh. I’m sure my shed idea would set the whole school talking.

  I skim to the final paragraph of Barbara’s piece.

  Step Seventeen: always, always, always tackle your hardest assignments first

  Yeah, like reading this article before you begin. It’ll make your homework seem interesting.