chosen the window seat, which feels a bit public really, but I pull my cloche hat a little lower and try not to mind.
‘OK, Skye, I need your help,’ he says. ‘You are a girl, so you might be able to tell me where I’ve been going wrong. I have a plan, and you can help me make it happen. The thing is … I want to be irresistible to women.’
I choke on my hot chocolate, snorting in a very unladylike way.
Alfie’s cheeks glow pink. ‘What?’ he asks, sounding a little hurt. ‘Is that funny or something?’
‘No, no,’ I assure him. ‘I wasn’t laughing. It’s just thatsome of my hot chocolate went down the wrong way …’
‘Yeah, right,’ Alfie sulks. ‘That is exactly the problem. I am crushing on a girl who thinks I am a complete idiot, and it hurts, so I figured I should do some homework on what girls are actually looking for in a boy. I don’t actually spend much time with girls, apart from my little sisters. They are a bit of a mystery to me. And obviously, we have been friends forever, so who better to ask than you?’
Friends forever? I’m not sure that’s how I’d describe it … although I vaguely recall he was at the last big birthday party Summer and I had, when we were nine, the year Dad left. He ate all the sausage rolls, most of the trifle, and at least half a dozen chocolate cupcakes, and ended up being sick in the bathroom. He did give us a packet of Rolos each as presents, but he must have got hungry on the way because half of mine were missing.
Alfie takes out a notepad and pen and looks at me expectantly.
‘You’re taking notes?’ I ask. ‘Seriously?’
‘It’s a very serious problem,’ he says. ‘Like I said, there is this girl I like. I have liked her for quite a while, but she thinks I am an idiot.’
Got to be Tia, I think. I am not sure there is any hope for Alfie’s crush.
‘Is there anywhere you can see where I might be going wrong?’ he asks. ‘Any tips?’
I sigh. ‘OK then – hair,’ I begin. ‘Ditch the straighteners and the gel. You look like a maniac.’
‘But … I got this look out of a fashion mag!’ he protests. ‘It takes me half an hour every morning to get right!’
‘That’s just it – I’m not sure you are getting it right,’ I say patiently. ‘You look like you’ve ironed your fringe in about seven different directions, then had a fight with a tub of gel and a can of hairspray. Trust me, it’s not a good look. Ditch it – stay in bed for an extra half-hour. Go for the natural look.’
‘OK,’ he says, scribbling in the notebook. ‘Anything else?’
‘You need to dredge up a few manners. Like this week, with the sponge pudding at school … that was kind of distressing. Slow down a little. Eat your food, don’t wear it!’
Alfie grins. ‘I can do that,’ he says. ‘Definitely.’
‘And no more clowning around in class,’ I add. ‘That’s important. It’s … well, kind of childish. You are thirteen now, right? Practical jokes just aren’t that funny any more.’
Alfie’s eyes widen. ‘But … everyone laughs!’ he argues. ‘They expect it of me! I am the class joker!’
‘I thought you wanted to be the class Romeo?’
He frowns.
‘What would happen if you stopped the messing about?’ I ask. ‘You would have less detentions, get more work done, spend less time sitting outside Mr King’s office writing lines. Teachers would like you. People would take you more seriously. And that is exactly what they’re not doing at the moment, right?’
‘Girls?’ Alfie checks.
‘Well … maybe,’ I shrug.
‘But I thought girls liked funny boys?’ he questions. ‘Making someone laugh is supposed to be a good thing, isn’t it? Besides, I am going to be a stand-up comedian one day. It’s probably my only talent!’
‘You have lots of talents!’ I say kindly. ‘Probably. Just … maybe not comedy. You need people to laugh with you, not at you. I think there’s more to you than
‘OK, Skye, I need your help,’ he says. ‘You are a girl, so you might be able to tell me where I’ve been going wrong. I have a plan, and you can help me make it happen. The thing is … I want to be irresistible to women.’
I choke on my hot chocolate, snorting in a very unladylike way.
Alfie’s cheeks glow pink. ‘What?’ he asks, sounding a little hurt. ‘Is that funny or something?’
‘No, no,’ I assure him. ‘I wasn’t laughing. It’s just thatsome of my hot chocolate went down the wrong way …’
‘Yeah, right,’ Alfie sulks. ‘That is exactly the problem. I am crushing on a girl who thinks I am a complete idiot, and it hurts, so I figured I should do some homework on what girls are actually looking for in a boy. I don’t actually spend much time with girls, apart from my little sisters. They are a bit of a mystery to me. And obviously, we have been friends forever, so who better to ask than you?’
Friends forever? I’m not sure that’s how I’d describe it … although I vaguely recall he was at the last big birthday party Summer and I had, when we were nine, the year Dad left. He ate all the sausage rolls, most of the trifle, and at least half a dozen chocolate cupcakes, and ended up being sick in the bathroom. He did give us a packet of Rolos each as presents, but he must have got hungry on the way because half of mine were missing.
Alfie takes out a notepad and pen and looks at me expectantly.
‘You’re taking notes?’ I ask. ‘Seriously?’
‘It’s a very serious problem,’ he says. ‘Like I said, there is this girl I like. I have liked her for quite a while, but she thinks I am an idiot.’
Got to be Tia, I think. I am not sure there is any hope for Alfie’s crush.
‘Is there anywhere you can see where I might be going wrong?’ he asks. ‘Any tips?’
I sigh. ‘OK then – hair,’ I begin. ‘Ditch the straighteners and the gel. You look like a maniac.’
‘But … I got this look out of a fashion mag!’ he protests. ‘It takes me half an hour every morning to get right!’
‘That’s just it – I’m not sure you are getting it right,’ I say patiently. ‘You look like you’ve ironed your fringe in about seven different directions, then had a fight with a tub of gel and a can of hairspray. Trust me, it’s not a good look. Ditch it – stay in bed for an extra half-hour. Go for the natural look.’
‘OK,’ he says, scribbling in the notebook. ‘Anything else?’
‘You need to dredge up a few manners. Like this week, with the sponge pudding at school … that was kind of distressing. Slow down a little. Eat your food, don’t wear it!’
Alfie grins. ‘I can do that,’ he says. ‘Definitely.’
‘And no more clowning around in class,’ I add. ‘That’s important. It’s … well, kind of childish. You are thirteen now, right? Practical jokes just aren’t that funny any more.’
Alfie’s eyes widen. ‘But … everyone laughs!’ he argues. ‘They expect it of me! I am the class joker!’
‘I thought you wanted to be the class Romeo?’
He frowns.
‘What would happen if you stopped the messing about?’ I ask. ‘You would have less detentions, get more work done, spend less time sitting outside Mr King’s office writing lines. Teachers would like you. People would take you more seriously. And that is exactly what they’re not doing at the moment, right?’
‘Girls?’ Alfie checks.
‘Well … maybe,’ I shrug.
‘But I thought girls liked funny boys?’ he questions. ‘Making someone laugh is supposed to be a good thing, isn’t it? Besides, I am going to be a stand-up comedian one day. It’s probably my only talent!’
‘You have lots of talents!’ I say kindly. ‘Probably. Just … maybe not comedy. You need people to laugh with you, not at you. I think there’s more to you than
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