Super Awkward by Beth Garrod Page A

misfortune on
PSSSST
, I was going to have to share my own?!
    I looked at Jo bouncing up and down happily to Mum’s panpipe musical torture. Suck-up. Maybe
she
could help
me
out for a change.
    MY STRAIGHT-A SISTER THOUGHT THAT WHEN
    A FILM SAID ‘PRESENT DAY’ IT WAS SOMETHING
    TO DO WITH CHRISTMAS.
    I pressed post. But it came back with an error message as it wanted a profile pic first. As tempting as it was to put up a bad picture of Jo’s annoying face, I figured that, as Zac said, the best thing about it was it being secret. I scrolled through my camera roll and chose a nice non-descript pic of my feet up on the caravan windowsill.
    UPLOAD PIC. UPLOAD PSSSST.
    Ha, not so cool are you now, Joanna? She caught my eye in the mirror. She knew I was up to something. I smiled back sweetly enough to make sure I unnerved her, and got back to staring out of the window. What she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.
    With Black Bay gone for ever, and probably Zac too, my life outlook was fifty shades of bleak. When Zac was around, the total mess of my real life hadn’t seemed so important. But as the black and white sign of A PPLETON flew past the window, I couldn’t pretend any longer. Mum and Jo had ruined the one good thing about the holiday, and now I was going to have to face up to reality. First stop, Rachel’s house. Like it or not, it was time for me to find out what really went down at the party.

CHAPTER
    SEVEN
    Why is it when you stare at your phone for incoming friend messages it never, ever beeps? Even when you look away in an effort to fool it, it STILL does nothing. It’s like it
knows
.
    I grabbed it off my bedside table and ran downstairs.
    â€œSee you later, Mum.” AKA Killer of Dreams. “I’ll be back for tea.”
    They were the first words I’d said since we’d been back. I knew when to take the high ground, and when to take the pie ground. I marched out the door and towards Rachel’s. She lives a ten-minute walk away, and despite hating all forms of exercise (except sass-waving my nails) I love the amble there. I normally take Mumbles and do the route at least twice a week. I’m not a keen dog walker, but I AM a semi-professional boy spotter, and the journey takes me past the playing fields where I’m often treated to a sighting of MIAGTM – Man I Am Going To Marry. I don’t know his name, but he’s a bit skatery and I’ve crushed on him since I spotted him three years ago. Although,
crisis
: now I’ve met Zac, do I need to change his name to MIMPM – Man I Might Possibly Marry?
    MIAGTM is my old faithful. I dial my crush levels up or down on him to fit whatever boy drama is happening in the rest of my life. He’s like the Jay-Z to my Beyoncé, he just doesn’t know it yet, and I’m assuming neither of us can rap.
    As I walked past the playing field, I rang Tegan’s house phone again. Her mum picked up. Apparently Tegan was teaching at one of her mammoth day-long gymnastics classes. That meant she’d have zero reception, which made more sense than my network just selectively blocking her messages. I’m so in awe of Tegan’s dedication to stuff. Hardly anyone at school even knows she does gymnastics, let alone teaches or competes. For her it’s never about what other people think. If I was as good as her at
anything
, I’d probably get it printed on a T-shirt. And matching trousers to be on the safe side.
    But Tegan was off-radar all day, and to make matters worse, there was also a total lack of MIAGTM/ MIMPM sighting. He was probably off saving a puppy’s life, or trying out for a professional football team or something.
    I rang Rachel’s doorbell and waited for someone to make the trek to the front door. Their house is mahoosive. Maybe that’s why rich people tend to be thin – they get their daily exercise just going to the kitchen and back to make tea. It was Mrs