The Booby Trap and Other Bits and Boobs by Dawn O'Porter Page A

Grace is still interested.’
    â€˜You’re sure?’
    â€˜Well, no. I mean, to be honest, she’s probably thinks you bottled sending her a message back. But there could still be a chance. Like, a really small one. So that’s something, eh?’
    The next morning Ben walked to school with his heart pounding against his ribs, his palms clammy, and his legs feeling like they were made of jelly. His plan was simple; get through maths and English, track down Bonnie Dean during first break, send a message via her to Grace Matthews, meet up with Grace at lunchtime, and be well on the way to completing his quest by the end of school.
    The first part of the plan went perfectly. Ben safely negotiated an hour of sines and cosines, along with one of Mr Barrington’s characteristic tangents into how best to survive a nuclear apocalypse, including a basic rations list and the best places to buy a home Geiger counter. English too appeared to be passing without incident, as Ben answered a couple of early questions regarding the setting and atmosphere of Charles Dickens’
Hard Times
and then settled down for what should have been forty minutes of blissful, relaxing obscurity.
    Then, with barely five minutes to go until the bell would have rung for morning break, Mrs James caught him doodling breasts of all shapes and sizes in the margins of his exercise book. This in itself was not disastrous, worthy of no more than a sharp telling-off after the bell, and the loss of a minute or two of his break time. Unfortunately for Ben, his mind was already rehearsing what he was going to say to Bonnie Dean when he tracked her down, and he responded to his English teacher with two words that would haunt his nightmares for months to come.
    â€˜Sorry, Mum.’
    There was a moment of incredulous silence, then the rest of the class burst into laughter of a volume and ferocity that Ben had never before encountered. At that moment, the trail that led towards the Orbs of Power, the trail which had seemed on the verge of bursting thrillingly, brilliantly into life in the Year Eleven shape of Grace Matthews, disappeared along with his social life and, or so it seemed to Ben, any possibility of his life ever again being anything other than cold and miserable.
    â€˜So how come you never asked me out?’
    Ben considered this, trying to keep this attention on Grace’s pale, lovely face and not on the black bra that was hovering at the lower edge of his vision, taunting him. ‘I was going to,’ he said, eventually. ‘But Sean didn’t give me your message for about a week and he didn’t think you would still be interested, and then the thing in Mrs James’ class happened, and after that I was sure you wouldn’t be.’
    â€˜Your mate Sean’s a moron. You know that, right?’
    Ben frowned. ‘He’s all right.’
    â€˜No,’ said Grace. ‘He’s not. He’s a moron.’
    â€˜I know,’ said Ben, loyalty twisting in his gut. ‘I mean, I get why you would think so. But when you get to know him … ’
    â€˜I would never want to,’ said Grace. ‘And you’d be better off without him. I think you know it, too.’
    â€˜Maybe,’ allowed Ben. ‘But then, I’ve known him since I was six.’
    â€˜I’ve known the kid next door to me who eats his own snot since I was three. Doesn’t mean I have to be friends with him.’
    Ben grinned. ‘Fair enough.’
    â€˜None of my business, like. Do whatever you want. But I reckon you’ll see I’m right, eventually.’
    Ben struck out for safer ground. ‘Who’s your best mate? Bonnie?’
    Grace appeared to consider this. ‘I suppose so.’
    â€˜You aren’t sure?’
    â€˜Not really. I mean, I am sure that she’s my best friend now. But I’m not going to spend the rest of my life in this crappy little town, so I like to think