Super Awkward

by Beth Garrod

  “I don’t know.” She lowered her voice. “But he’s A BOY.”

  ‘He’s’ do tend to be.

  Jo’s eyebrows shot up.

  “Is it Luke?!?”

  I had no idea. But today not even he could bring me down. I hopped out of the room, high-fiving Mum on my way out with a ‘namaste’, not even bothering to check my reflection in the microwave to see if I had small flecks of jelly on my top lip (I did).

  “Hey hey, namaste!” I sang happily at the door, flinging it open.

  But it wasn’t Luke standing there. What was standing there was a complete surprise in person form. And oh my holy moly, WHY WAS I WEARING PYJAMAS WITH TEDDY BEARS ON THEM? At three in the afternoon. On a Saturday.

  “What are YOU doing here?!” I couldn’t tell who was more embarrassed. Him or me? I DEFINITELY scooped the award for most embarrassing.

  For some reason, standing there, on my doorstep, totally unannounced, was MIAGTM. Football boy. Boy of my dreams. The man who, as his name suggested, I was going to marry. And there he was. Just standing there, with his mega smile, not flinching at my teddy bear attire. In his gorgeous baggy jeans, in his baggy undone hoodie. Looking entirely hot.

  And I’d just sung in his face.

  And he’d just met my mum.

  As my mouth gawped open, a small blob of jelly flopped on to my bottom lip. Was it too late to run back in and check for other morsels?

  “Er . . . I guess I’m just standing here trying to say hello?” He looked like he might turn and leave at any second. Which he probably should do as I looked like I was mid-electric-shock. Although he also totally shouldn’t do, as ideally I’d put him in a plant pot and keep him here for life. “Or even a namaste?”

  Fact. Our doorstep has never encountered anything so hot. And that includes the time my mum threw a snood out that had gone up in flames after she’d tried to experiment with an ear candle. But why was he here? Was it another goalkeeper crisis? Or was he here to report my dog for crimes against groin-sniffing?

  “How do you know where I house? Sorry, live?” Goodbye, ability to speak.

  “I saw it on your dog’s tag when we were chatting about colon?”

  “COLON?”

  I splurted the word so hard a jelly projectile hurtled towards MIAGTM and landed on a small tuft of hair just in front of his ear.

  “Your football league? Hope that’s OK. It sounds weird now I’ve said it outloud.”

  Oh my goodness. The jelly blob was still clinging on. Do not look at it whatever you do, Bella. He must not know!

  “No, course, that’s fine. Is that why you’re ear?” ARGH. “Here? Colon?”

  Quick, Bella, speak more before he dwells on why I was thinking about his ear and reclassifies me as a gelatinous spurting pyjama blob. “Cos I don’t play any more. We weren’t going anywhere. In Colon. So we made a quick exit. I hung up my boobs.”

  “Boobs?” He looked startled.

  I spluttered. “BOOTS.”

  This was a disaster. And I hadn’t brushed my hair for seventeen hours. And I probably had a whole jelly on my head and didn’t even know.

  “Riiiight.” He stepped up a step, and lent on the doorframe. Oh My Crusted Cod. He was touching my house. That basically counted as me. Although, ARGH. I angled my body to try and hide the ABBA Benny cut-out. He/it could be the final straw.

  “I’m actually around here loads cos I have my drum lessons round the corner.”

  What the what?! MIAGTM loiters near me?! I bet I’ve only not seen him here because I’ve been out trying to get a glimpse of him elsewhere. Damn myself.

  “Drums?!” Great. Another unauthorized mouth outburst. Why wasn’t Jo getting my telepathic vibes to come out and throw a sheet over me to stop this madness. “That’s. . .” say something normal. Just be honest. “Fit.” NOT THAT HONEST. “. . . ting! FITTING. For a drummer. Like you.”

  Of course he drummed. He ONLY did fit things. It was only non-interesting people like me that had to do non-fit things like brush teeth or change pillowcases.

  “Yeah. . . so I was hoping to see you around. . .”

  I nodded dumbly like those nodding dogs people put on windscreens. He’d been hoping to see ME?!?! If my brain actually popped with dealing with this, would it ooze out of my ears, or would he just think it was more flying jelly?

  “. . . cos I’d wanted to tell you something.”

  “I’M IN MY PYJAMAS.”

  For some reason I just stated the obvious. Loudly. In his face.

  “Erm, yes. You are. But no, that’s not it. The thing is. . . It’s me.”

  He was almost as baffling as me.

  “What is?”

  “LilDrummerBoy? The one that had been writing?”

  Oh. My. Holy. Codballs. This was too much. HE was LilDrummerBoy? Reading my innermost thoughts on PSSSST? Laughing at my inability to be normal?! Being non-normal himself?! I was so speechless, I worried I’d forgotten all words. But then I realized I was thinking with words, so calmed down a bit.

  MIAGTM looked super awkward.

  “I thought you knew. You kept chatting back . . . but then you disappeared offline.” Disappeared?! More like deleted to save any shred of dignity. “I’d been wanting to talk to you about it, say a proper hello ever since that day we chatted about football. When you showed me the pics of you and your friend with Sellotape on your faces?”

  FOR THE MENTAL RECORD, MIAGTM, I DIDN’T SHOW YOU, YOU ACCIDENTALLY SAW.

  “That was not ME, it was just someone who looked like me. And someone who looked like my friend. Together. That both happened to be on my phone.”

  He looked unconvinced.

  “Err, well, either way, it was around then that you put that football story up on PSSSST and I realized it was you that I was following. Online! Not in real life or anything. You’d been in my feed ever since I’d signed up, when I was waiting for my drumming lesson to start. It’d recommended you cos you were nearby.” OK WORLD I GET THE MEMO. I REALLY AM THE ONLY PERSON WHO DIDN’T GET HOW PSSSST WORKS. “I thought you were dead funny.”

  Hang on, so all along MIAGTM had been chatting to me on PSSSST and I’d thought he was a general randomer, as opposed to a non-random major hottie?

  “But you do realize I’m in my pyjamas, right?”

  “Erm, yes,” he looked me up and down. “I can still see that. . . Anyway, despite the fact your mum thinks I’m insane, your dog thinks my, er, trousers smell, and not forgetting, I made you think you had an online stalker for the last couple of months . . . would you be up for hanging out with me? Maybe tomorrow? Maybe at six?”

  Can. Not. Deal. Was he asking me out? To HANG.

  “Tomorrow? Six?” All I could muster was repetition. I needed an interpreter. If only Benny was real. I couldn’t speak. “I’m in my pyjamas.”

  Wow, Bella. If your knockout style hadn’t impressed him enough, your grade-A chat will really seal the deal.

  “Yes, I still, still know that. So, how about I come and call for you? Would you be around?”

  There was only one thing I could say. Quite literally – I could only remember ten words.

  “Yes. Cool.” I tried to think of more words. “One thing though. . .”

  “Yup?” Concern flashed across his freckled face.

  “Please don’t ask me to catch any footballs.”

  “Agreed. And you – can you maybe not wear that teddy print in public again? It’s a bit . . . last season. Though the horse slippers? They can stay.”

  BUMFLAPS. I hadn’t even noticed those! I thought horseshoes were meant to bring you good luck?!

  “So, see you here tomorrow? Same place – different outfits?”

  I nodded, trying to hold back what I think was a one hundred per cent mega dreamy smile that was trying to invade my face.

  MIAGTM turned to leave, but stopped in his tracks.

  “Oh, one last thing before I go.”

  What? Please don’t tell me now this was all a jok
e?! Please no. I couldn’t flee whilst wearing these slippers; the fake horse tails on my heels were too much of a trip hazard.

  But instead he just put his left hand out towards me, his blue eyes looking straight into mine.

  “I’m Adam. Pleased to meet you.”

  MIAGTM finally had a name.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Books are weird – because there’s a name on the cover, it seems like they might be the work of one person. But it’s ALL LIES. They’re a team effort. But, if all the names of all the amazing people who made it happen went on the cover, then book covers would be a whole lot less fun to look at. So I shall try and put some of them here instead.

  To my real life MIAGTM/MIDMBITHMHGCATW TATETM (Man I Did Marry, Because I Think He Must Have Got Confused And Then Was Too Awkward To Ever Tell Me), Chris. You are a bottomless pit of wonderfulness (and emergency tea), and my calm in any storm. Thank you for making me know love at first sight is real, and for still making me cry-snort with laughter every day.

  And an indescribably huge thank you to the person who began it all when they believed in this book when it really wasn’t one. You make me (and everyone) feel non-stupid when I don’t have a clue what I’m doing (AKA all the time). Your patience is a thing of wonder – as are your nails, and well, just you. Gemma, thanks for loving love, and loving Bells, and letting me be a part of the amazing world you help create for so many people. And thank you for introducing me to Team Cooper. How can such talented people be so nice?

  Lucy Rogers – ERM, WHAT? Have you actually made this happen?! How can someone so wonderful and wonderfully together ever identify with such awkwardness? You are a person of too many talents (and most excellent imaginary timekeeping). Fishy Balls and I couldn’t have found an editor who gets us more than you do. Thank you for knowing exactly what was needed EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. What a total HELL YEAH-ditor (does that work?!) (no). And thank you for welcoming me into the world of the Scholastic crew (Jamie Gregory! Cover designer of dreams!), who have been amazing every awkward step of the way.

  A big massive dollop of love to my first reader, who ALWAYS makes time, even though she’s busy overachieving on all fronts, Jessica Hitchrod/man. You’re more excellent than you will ever let me say. And an over-familiar body hug to the insanely talented Ali – the best person I could have ever learnt from (thanks for helping me reign in all the exclamation marks!!!!!).

  And thank you to all my incredible friends for waiting for me to un-hermit/inspiring me with life disasters. You are too funny, too smart and too good-looking to hang out with me. But if I write your names here, YOU CAN NEVER LEAVE ME. Pam (we NEED a character called Escherichia), Tina Bean (where is Australia anyway?), Rosanna (Brit and I can’t WAIT to read your book), Becky and Sarah (I know April Fools is the first of one month…), James (housemate for life), Yasmine, Anna, Vicki, Trev (thank you for reading way back when & making it real), and the whole Switch crew (HIGH FIVE!) (Tom B, I’m probably crying right now). And of course NYC BG Julie (bet you don’t make it this far), Dan (take it easel, baby), the rest of the N-Unit – Matt, Mikey, Lyndon, Jono, Katie, Vivek and David – team MTV ISR (more stories please VM), and the Gornell crew (I won a whole new rad fam!).

  But none of this could have happened without the people who were there when I was Bella’s age (and way more awkward that she will ever be). My amazing family who always believe anything is possible; Moomin, Daddles and the best big sister imaginable, Becca. I couldn’t be more overjoyed that Chris, Ian and Rose have joined the club too. Thank you for being my wall of arms and bringing so much magic into the everyday.

  And finally, finally, a massive shout-out to anyone who has ever felt like Bella does, AKA the best people in the world. Because being super awkward means you’re super awesome – and one day you might get to write a book about it.

  Scholastic Children’s Books

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  First published in the UK by Scholastic Ltd, 2016

  This electronic edition published by Scholastic Ltd, 2016

  Text copyright © Beth Garrod, 2016

  The right of Beth Garrod to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her.

  eISBN 978140717026 8

  A CIP catalogue record for this work is available from the British Library.

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  Produced in the UK by Newgen

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, incidents and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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