Blueberry Wishes (14 page)

She gave me a blank look and I dragged her off before she could say anything.

“What's going on?” she asked, as I pulled her into the girls' loos.

I braced myself. Show time. “Okay, I'm just going to come straight out with it. Ben. Why do you think he was so keen to work with you in Media?”

Summer peered at me in the mirror. “Was he?”

“Yeah! It was SO obvious. He
jumped
at the chance to swap.” I rearranged my little sparkly hair clips as an excuse not to look her straight in the eye. I didn't want her to realize that what I was saying was a little, weeny, tiny bit
not entirely true
.

“But that's just because Marco hardly does anything whereas I'm an excellent student…”

I sighed. “No, it's not. Look, you saw me and Marco talking after the lesson, didn't you?”

“No, but, go on…”

“You have to swear not to act like you know this,” I hissed, lowering my voice even though we were alone in there. “He let something slip. Something Ben told him.” Pause for dramatic effect. “Ben told him he really likes you.”

“Of course he does. We're mates,” said Summer. You've got to hand it to her – full marks for acting like she wasn't bothered. But she was blushing, and desperately trying to keep a smile off her face.

“No, he really, really
likes
you, as in capital L,” I insisted. “Fancies you, capital F, and thinks you're an Amazing Person, capital A and P.”

Summer giggled. “Okay, okay, I Get It, capital I, G and I.”

Then Mrs. Lurman popped her head round the door and said that the bell had gone two minutes before. She held the door open for us, so we
had
to head straight to her lesson.

We linked arms and walked quickly down the corridor to get out of earshot. “But why hasn't he said anything?” Summer hissed.

“He made such a big idiot of himself at the beach party that he thinks he's blown it,” I said. “But he hasn't, has he? You still like him, right?”

Summer blushed about a zillion degrees. “Well, I can admit it now that I know
he
likes
me
,” she whispered. “Yes, I still like him.” Cue some really high-pitched girly squealing. Seriously, there were probably bats in caves a hundred miles away with sore ears.

“I knew it. Yes,
yes
!” I yelled, doing that punching-the-air American thing.

Summer leaped on me and got me into a headlock and hissed, “For goodness' sakes, calm down! Mrs. Lurman's right behind us!”

So then we had to be sensible because we'd reached the classroom and not only was Mrs. Lurman behind us but Ben and Marco were coming towards us.

“Just act normal!” I hissed.

Summer looked at me in horror, blushed crimson and clung onto the classroom door frame (i.e. NOT acting very normal).

“What's up with you?” Marco asked her, as he walked past us into the room.

“Oh, time of the month,” said Ben knowledgeably, and followed him in.

I looked at Summer. Her face was twice as horrified after that. “OMG, Abbie! Why on earth did you say—”

I giggled. “I didn't
say
. He must have
thought
when we went to the loos…”

“Come on, girls!” Mrs. Lurman trilled, shooing us into the room and closing the door. “I'm going to assume this excitement is because of your thirst for knowledge,” she added archly.

So we had to wait until the bell went to talk about it again, because we had one of those whole-class-debate things where you all bring your chairs into a circle and try to focus on the Poor Laws of 1834, when your gorgeous boyfriend is sitting two seats away.

Afterwards Summer grabbed me beside the lockers, and by grabbed, I mean actually
grabbed
. She looked in a complete panic as she hissed, “What shall I do? Me and him are working on our recycling project together all week!”

I glanced up and down the corridor for signs of Ben or Marco, then said, “Don't try any of your flirting, you'll terrify him. Just be yourself.” Then the boys came round the corner and Summer leaped about five feet in the air and bolted in the opposite direction. That's when I started to feel a tiny bit worried that she'd never go near Ben again and my plan was going to totally backfire.

As Ben was rummaging in his locker, I did a most uncool double-thumbs-up thing to Marco to mean that I'd told Summer and she'd revealed she liked Ben. Then I did a big shrug to mean:
Have you talked to him yet?
And he shook his head and did a shooing-away-with-his-hands thing, meaning:
Scoot, I'm just about to
. So I stuck my tongue out at him and hurried off to meet Grace.

Just as me and my sister were heading off down the road, Marco came rushing up. “Wait!” he called. “Hi, Grace.”

“Hi,” said my sister, looking bemused.

“I just wanted to tell you…job done,” he said to me, looking very pleased with himself. “I just talked to him, once you'd
finally
gone.”

“And? OMG, I hope he said he does like her, or I've actually
lied
to her, instead of telling the truth but just kind of switching the timing round a bit…” I gabbled.

Marco smirked. “Well, if you'll let me get a word in…”

I swatted him and said, “Fine. Continue.” Then I made a zipping-my-lips sign.

“Erm, what are you two on about?” asked Grace.

“Well,” said Marco, “I said she liked him and he was really surprised because he said that after the…you know…the
disaster
in the holidays, he thought it was a no go. But once he knew she liked him, he admitted that he liked her.”

I clutched his arm. “OMG!” I squealed.
“
That's brilliant!”

“Nope, still no clue what's going on,” said Grace, rolling her eyes.

“What did you say? What did he say?” I cried, gripping Marco's arm.

Marco gave me a girls-are-mad look. “I
just
told you.”

“No, dipstick, I mean the
actual words
!”

Marco repeated the look, but ramped it up to a girls-are-really-really-nuts level. “I said, ‘Abbie's definite that Summer fancies you. She's fit. I mean, not to
me
cos she's like my sister, which would be gross, but you should get in there'. And Ben said, ‘Cool'.”

“Oh!” said Grace. “Right!”

I shook my head in despair. “A bit lacking in romance, wasn't it? Oh, well, it did the job, I suppose.”

We had a quick hug (I wanted to give him a kiss too, but I knew that if I did Grace wouldn't shut up about it the entire way home) and then he went off to band practice. I linked arms with my sis and did a little skip so our steps matched, left, right, left, right.

“Abbie, you haven't been matchmaking, have you?” Grace asked.

“Not really. It was more like just helping things along,” I said, with a smile. “I've done all I can do now, though. The rest is up to them.”

At home on Monday and Tuesday evenings, I kept quiet about what me and my friends were up to, and I joined in when Mum, Saff and Grace talked about packing, and the new school and college. And when Liam came to see how much stuff there was, to make sure it would all fit in his van, I had to go down to Rainbow Beauty and show him what stock we had left.

As we checked through the boxes, I put on a sad smile, while inside I was struggling to stop myself crying out, “We're not going!” But then, as soon as I'd thought that, I couldn't help wondering,
but what if we are?
Then I felt a huge wave of sadness break over me for real, and I had to make an excuse to go into the kitchenette for a minute and pull myself together before I started crying.

Ben and Summer were flirting like crazy all Wednesday (Summer seemed to have finally worked out how to do it without being too scary) but somehow they managed to concentrate on what they were doing long enough to collect up the money from the girls who'd bought Rainbow Beauty products. We gave out loads of our leaflets in the playground too, and told everyone to get their mums to book in for the pamper day (we still had a few tickets left) or just for treatments in general.

Headrush's lunchtime gig in the hall on Thursday was completely packed out (and
A-Mazing
, BTW!), and when Marco came in late to Geography, he was beaming like a little boy. “We made more than £130,” he told me. “I went to get it changed into notes for you by the secretary, and she said you can't walk round with it so you'll have to collect it at the end of the day.”

“Thanks!” I hissed. I really, really wanted to hug him so much, and because Mrs. Leavis is so nice, and because she was busy setting up stuff on the laptop, I did.

When people started coming in to English after last break, they all seemed to know that I was leaving (Mum must have called the school, despite me begging her not to, just yet). Amany and Iola gave me big hugs and we swapped email addresses. Then Jess, Bex and Rachel came in and we did the whole hugging-and-address-swapping thing as well, and then Ben's footie mates all started hugging me. I thought it was sweet, but Marco, who'd just come in himself, scowled at them and muttered “Any excuse”.

On Thursday night back at the flat we all sat round after supper and double-checked we had everything ready for the pamper day. No one was talking about leaving any more. I think they just wanted to put it out of their minds and enjoy the final few days we still had left in Totnes.

“It's typical that business is really picking up now,” said Mum. “I had three new clients just walk in off the street today, and another five people rang to book tickets for the pamper day. We're pushing thirty now, Abbie, double what we originally planned. I think we'd better stop there or we won't have room for them all!”

“I have no idea why it's all picked up,” I said, trying not to smile as I thought of us four giving out our double-sided flyers to all the kids at school.

Mum sighed. “Oh, well, it's too little, too late, sadly… But it's nice to go out on a brighter note.”

“True,” said Saff.

“It means I've managed to put another £160 away for our rent fund,” said Grace, looking up from her homework (yes, she was still bothering to do it, even though she thought she was leaving the school the next day!).

“I don't know why we don't just blow that cash on a massive shopping trip and dinner out,” said Saff. “It's not like there's any point saving…”

“No, don't!” I cried, in a sudden panic, and then I had to calm myself down and try to look casual. “I just mean…because we'll need it, won't we? We'll need money when we get to London – for ingredients for products and stuff.”

“I agree with you, Abbie,” said Grace, giving me an approving look. “It's still vital to save as much as we can.”

“You two are so
boring
!” Saff grumbled. “I haven't had anything new in, like, for ever! I'm almost in rags here!”

“Cheer up, Cinders,” I said. “I'll make you a cuppa.”

It took me a while to do the maths in my head while I made the tea, but I eventually managed to work out that with Grace's extra savings we had £722, and then the gig money brought that up to £856, and the profit from the products we'd sold at school made a total of £970. About half the people who'd booked tickets for the pamper day were paying on the day, too, so altogether, our extra ticket sales would give us another £375 (assuming they all actually came, of course). So that was £1345, and then there'd be product sales on the day, and the raffle and stalls, and goodie bags, and Sienna's draw… Raising the final £655 from all that would be a big ask, but perhaps it might be possible.

“Abbie, love, are you okay?” Mum was asking (for the fifth time, as it turned out).

“Yeah, sure…it's just, you know, it's all…” I began, but then I didn't really know how to finish, because there was so much going on in my head, and I didn't want to accidentally let anything slip about my saving-Rainbow-Beauty plans. Mum didn't seem to know what to say either, and she obviously assumed I was just sad about leaving, so she came over and gave me a big hug.

Friday was my last day at Cavendish High, so when I walked into the kitchen that morning wearing purple sparkly tights, little fingerless gloves and enough eye make-up for
ten
Saturday nights, Mum managed to restrain herself from saying anything. Grace had gone wild too – well, wild for her – with loads of mascara and eyeliner, and stripy tights with her Converse. I loved walking across the playground with her into school, seeing everyone turn and look at us. Shappi and Nicky and the other Marco fans from Year 9 all watched as we swished along, arms linked, just like we had on our first day (except we'd both been wearing our revolting pea-green posh-girl uniforms and hideous brown loafers then). The way Marco looked at me when I got into class was very satisfying too. He stared in a
she-is-my-girlfriend-and-I-lurve-her
kind of way, as Saff would put it (well, sing it).

At last break, Ben and Summer were giving a demonstration as part of their recycling campaign for Media, and they'd put posters up all round the school about it, so there was a big crowd of people gathered to watch, including all of us Media lot obviously, plus most of our class, the Year 9 Fan Club, the band, and Grace, Maisy and Aran. Raven was filming it to create a video for YouTube and Selima was taking pictures for Summer and Ben's leaflet campaign.

Summer had told me that the idea was to create a bit of theatre to get the point across in a memorable way, and they'd certainly done that – they were stood in the middle of a massive pile of stinky rubbish, dressed in blue plastic boiler suits with the hoods up. They'd pulled the string bit tight so just their faces were sticking out.