to tell her exactly what Finn is like. I will tell her how he lied to Mum about me giving Pongo popcorn and making him sick. That way she will see how mean he is and she’ll lose interest in me ‘introducing’ them.
‘Sure. I’ll tell you
all
about Boy Next Door,’ I say.
Aubrey immediately stops fiddling with her locker and turns to face me, eyes shining. ‘Go on!’ she says.
Gotcha.
I take a deep breath. ‘So. First of all, Mum asks him – he’s called Finn by the way – to BABYSIT us. Can you believe it? Milly Badbreath couldn’t make it, and just as I am about to convince Mum that Harris and me would be OK home alone, Finn’s dad, Rob, rings the doorbell and ends up volunteering his son to stay and “look after” us. And Mum only stands and chats to him in her
hideous
sequins-and-spandex outfit as if everything is normal and then she leaves us with Finn and it is a
nightmare
. . .’ I tail off.
Aubrey has lost interest. It is because I started talking about Mum instead of giving her gossip about Finn. She is tutting over the fact that a protractor has found its way into the pen compartment in her oversized pencil case.
‘Aubrey?’ I say.
Aubrey puts the pencil case down and turns, putting her hands on her hips again. ‘What?’ she asks.
‘Mum is determined to ruin my life,’ I say.
Aubrey rolls her eyes. ‘Oh come on. Your mum is lovely! Anyway, I thought we were talking about Finn.’
I groan. ‘I was, and now I am talking about Mum. She is a nutter!’
Aubrey giggles. ‘Don’t be mean. Anyway –’ she leans in conspiratorially. ‘Back to more important matters: how come you didn’t text me the
minute
Finn otherwise-known-as Hot Boy Next Door came round last night? Is this all a plan to keep him to yourself?’ She does a weird kind of nudge-nudge-wink-wink manoeuvre, which I am guessing is supposed to mean that I too think Finn is ‘hot’.
I open my mouth to deny this, to apologize for not texting, to elaborate on the Pongo-and-popcorn story – anything to stop her looking at me like that and speaking in that frankly rather sick-making tone of voice – when Aubrey lets out a gasp and drops the book she is holding. On my foot.
‘OW!’ I say, hopping up and down.
‘Shh!’ says Aubrey. She flaps her hands at me and shrinks back against her locker. I realize she is staring at a point past my right shoulder.
I stop hopping and turn to follow her gaze. I can’t see anything worth gawping at. I turn back to face her, frowning.
‘Aubrey? What . . . ?’
My friend looks odd. Her face has gone shiny, as though she is bathed in golden light from on high. She looks literally awestruck.
Then she breaks out of her statue-mode and flicks her hair, dips her head and smiles in a shy kind of way while blinking as though she has got something in her eye. When did this whole hair-flicking thing start? She never used to do it. She looks as though she is having some kind of fit.
‘Are you feeling OK?’ I ask.
‘Shh,’ she hisses again through her fixed smile. ‘It’s him!’
I turn slowly back again.
No. Nononononono. The reason for Aubrey’s bizarre behaviour is standing by the Year 9 lockers.
It is, of course, Finn. He looks a bit lost. A tiny part of my brain tells me I should go and say hi, but then my sane brain clicks in and reminds me that Finn Parker is my nemesis.
And
he is my best friend’s heart’s desire. I look back at Aubrey who is clutching a folder to her chest and grinning at Finn as though she has fallen into a hypnotic trance. Any minute now she is going to do her own impression of the
Romeo and Juliet
‘Wherefore art thou?’ scene. This is enough to stop me from feeling even a weensy bit sorry for him being a newbie.
I try to think of something to distract Aubrey and get us away from Finn, but my mind has gone blank.
‘He is
seriously
hot,’ Aubrey whispers. ‘Even better than from a distance. Look at those eyes! Like . . . like
‘Sure. I’ll tell you
all
about Boy Next Door,’ I say.
Aubrey immediately stops fiddling with her locker and turns to face me, eyes shining. ‘Go on!’ she says.
Gotcha.
I take a deep breath. ‘So. First of all, Mum asks him – he’s called Finn by the way – to BABYSIT us. Can you believe it? Milly Badbreath couldn’t make it, and just as I am about to convince Mum that Harris and me would be OK home alone, Finn’s dad, Rob, rings the doorbell and ends up volunteering his son to stay and “look after” us. And Mum only stands and chats to him in her
hideous
sequins-and-spandex outfit as if everything is normal and then she leaves us with Finn and it is a
nightmare
. . .’ I tail off.
Aubrey has lost interest. It is because I started talking about Mum instead of giving her gossip about Finn. She is tutting over the fact that a protractor has found its way into the pen compartment in her oversized pencil case.
‘Aubrey?’ I say.
Aubrey puts the pencil case down and turns, putting her hands on her hips again. ‘What?’ she asks.
‘Mum is determined to ruin my life,’ I say.
Aubrey rolls her eyes. ‘Oh come on. Your mum is lovely! Anyway, I thought we were talking about Finn.’
I groan. ‘I was, and now I am talking about Mum. She is a nutter!’
Aubrey giggles. ‘Don’t be mean. Anyway –’ she leans in conspiratorially. ‘Back to more important matters: how come you didn’t text me the
minute
Finn otherwise-known-as Hot Boy Next Door came round last night? Is this all a plan to keep him to yourself?’ She does a weird kind of nudge-nudge-wink-wink manoeuvre, which I am guessing is supposed to mean that I too think Finn is ‘hot’.
I open my mouth to deny this, to apologize for not texting, to elaborate on the Pongo-and-popcorn story – anything to stop her looking at me like that and speaking in that frankly rather sick-making tone of voice – when Aubrey lets out a gasp and drops the book she is holding. On my foot.
‘OW!’ I say, hopping up and down.
‘Shh!’ says Aubrey. She flaps her hands at me and shrinks back against her locker. I realize she is staring at a point past my right shoulder.
I stop hopping and turn to follow her gaze. I can’t see anything worth gawping at. I turn back to face her, frowning.
‘Aubrey? What . . . ?’
My friend looks odd. Her face has gone shiny, as though she is bathed in golden light from on high. She looks literally awestruck.
Then she breaks out of her statue-mode and flicks her hair, dips her head and smiles in a shy kind of way while blinking as though she has got something in her eye. When did this whole hair-flicking thing start? She never used to do it. She looks as though she is having some kind of fit.
‘Are you feeling OK?’ I ask.
‘Shh,’ she hisses again through her fixed smile. ‘It’s him!’
I turn slowly back again.
No. Nononononono. The reason for Aubrey’s bizarre behaviour is standing by the Year 9 lockers.
It is, of course, Finn. He looks a bit lost. A tiny part of my brain tells me I should go and say hi, but then my sane brain clicks in and reminds me that Finn Parker is my nemesis.
And
he is my best friend’s heart’s desire. I look back at Aubrey who is clutching a folder to her chest and grinning at Finn as though she has fallen into a hypnotic trance. Any minute now she is going to do her own impression of the
Romeo and Juliet
‘Wherefore art thou?’ scene. This is enough to stop me from feeling even a weensy bit sorry for him being a newbie.
I try to think of something to distract Aubrey and get us away from Finn, but my mind has gone blank.
‘He is
seriously
hot,’ Aubrey whispers. ‘Even better than from a distance. Look at those eyes! Like . . . like
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