Super Awkward by Beth Garrod Page B

Waters who opened the door.
    â€œOooh, Bella, you, erm . . . startled me there.”
    Note to self, must work on my enthusiastic hello-parent face. I stopped the manic smile.
    â€œHaven’t you just come back from holiday?” She looked me up and down searching for the faintest hint of a tan.
    â€œIt was just a week with my mum and sister.”
    â€œOh, a lovely beach holiday?” She nodded, as if willing the answer to be ‘yes’.
    â€œSort of, we went to Wales.”
    Her nodding stopped. I put her out of her misery.
    â€œIn a caravan.”
    Her smile remained, but her eyes screamed, ‘Is
that
what people call a holiday these days?’
    â€œBelllllllaaaaa!!” Rachel’s long red hair swooshed round the door. “You’re here! MUM, why didn’t you shout for me?” She pushed past her mum, opening the door wide enough to walk through. “We have SO much to talk about.”
    Rachel’s manicured hands grabbed my arm and pulled me in. I couldn’t help but note her fingers were 1.2 centimetres from the exact spot where Zac’s had been fifteen hours earlier. New favourite bit of skin, beating my previous favourite of a weirdly smooth bit next to my armpit.
    Taking my shoes off, I looked for evidence of the party. Nope, still a gleaming show home. I could murder someone here, and it would be so spotlessly clean the next day that the police forensic team wouldn’t be able to find a single clue. Good to keep in mind if Jo ever snogterupts me again. Or tells that story again about me taking a selfie with a waxwork nun in Madame Tussauds, only for me to discover it was a real – and quite annoyed – old lady.
    â€œSorry about my mum, you know what she’s like. She can be so cringe sometimes.”
    â€œAs if! You’ve met
my
mum. You have NO NEED to apologize. Your mum isn’t the one who once sent you to school with a cheese sandwich – made from human breast milk.”
    Her already massive blue eyes got even wider.
    â€œOh yeah! I still can’t believe Mikey ate it?!”
    I laughed. I’d forgotten about that bit! He really would do anything to impress Tegan.
    â€œSomeone should have let him know the way to Tegan’s heart isn’t via ‘eating lady cheese’.”
    Rach faked gagged, looking a total contrast to the professional photoshoots of her fam we were walking past.
    â€œPure vileness! On a total level with my mum telling Mr Lutas that in her day he would have been a hottie. I wished the ground would open up and hollow me.”
    If it was anyone other than Rachel, I’d probably point out it’s ‘swallow’? But best not add to the already difficult thought of why her mum would crack on to an art teacher who always had suspect chalk marks around his groin from where he was ‘adjusting’ himself. He’s prob the only teacher in the UK that still uses a blackboard to make notes.
    We went into Rach’s room, which had real-life framed modern art on the walls, and crashed on her bed. It was big enough to lie widthways on. I stared up at her big wall, which was covered with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. It never failed to amaze me. The top shelves were stacked with the ones she’d inherited (mainly dull, but there were some well-funny ones of naked people in giant champagne glasses we occasionally got down), the middle shelves were the art ones her mum had got for her, and the bottom shelves were full of the well-thumbed ones you never saw her without.
    Rachel prodded me with a glittery nail.
    â€œCome on then, how was your holibobs?”
    Deep breath, me. Play it casual. Maybe don’t even mention Zac for a while? Perhaps seem cool for once by making out the biggest deal ever was, like, not that big a deal. Yes. Good plan.
    â€œOMGItwasAMAZING. I SNOGGED, well semi-snogged, the FITTEST boy and it was probably the GREATEST moment to have EVER happened to anyone