Читать книгу Happy Girl Lucky - Holly Smale, Холли Смейл - Страница 17

HOPE sprints along the banks of the River Thames. The night is warm, the air is fragrant, the stars are shining. A HOT BOY—

OK, I think I might be running the wrong way.

And reshoot.

HOPE sprints along the banks of the River Thames in the opposite direction. A HOT BOY, busy examining the stars because he has a poetic soul, slams into her.

BOY

(blinking in amazement)

I thought all the beauty of the universe was above me, yet nothing could compare to the wonder standing in front of—

No, he has to play a bit hard to get.

BOY

(angry)

HEY! Watch where you’re—

Just rude.

BOY

(embarrassed)

I’m terribly sorry! Can I make amends by taking you for a long, meaningful walk in the moonlight?

Ooh, I like that one.

Obviously, this scenario is ridiculous. I’m going to meet Him at the party, not running as fast as I can from Waterloo Station. But it’s a good idea to prepare my shocked-but-humble-yet-illuminated expression.

Once I meet Him, I might need a brief sit-down and maybe an energy drink.

Plus, it’s such a great setting.

Twinkling lights are reflected in the river, a busker is playing the violin and kissing couples are scattered like rose petals every few metres. My epic romance is on the verge of starting, I can feel it. By tomorrow, half of one of those couples is going to be me.

Tingling, I arrive at the Tate Modern.

It’s impressive – immense and squat with thin windows and a long chimney sticking out of the middle like a nose. And it’s 10pm so the party’s in full swing. The floodlights are blue, the trees in the grounds are blue-lit, there are blue lasers shooting into the air and there’s an ice-blue carpet running up to the front doors. It’s surrounded eight-deep by my future adoring public, patiently screaming and cheering and clapping.

Somewhere inside this very building are Mum, Dad, Mercy, Max, Faith …

And Him.

Huffing and slightly sweaty, I shove with effort through the crowd, shrug off Mercy’s coat and hand it to a bouncer.

‘Will you look after this, please?’

I pull my shoulders back. Posture: excellent.

‘Please don’t crumple it! It’s Prada and not mine. Thank you so much.’

The bouncer’s mouth drops open.

Then I dip under the blue rope, put a hand on my hip and sashay rapidly down the carpet, waving and nodding, pausing once or twice so people can take my photograph. I’m in deep trouble once Mum and Dad catch me here, but I might as well enjoy this moment of glory while I can.

‘WHO EVEN ARE YOU?’ somebody yells.

‘It’s top-secret!’ I call, blowing them a kiss. ‘But check the papers in about four months’ time and my identity will be revealed!’

With a dazzling smile, I slip through the glass entrance.

The windows are dark, and there’s yet another bouncer. This one’s got a clipboard and a list of names – time to Be the Orange again, Hope. Quickly, I inflate my already heaving diaphragm, lift my chin and make sure I truly embody my role of very-much-invited-party-attendee.

Casually, I lean against the door frame with one hand.

‘Oh, hello there,’ I puff as a glamorous couple nod at the bouncer and are immediately waved through. ‘I’m afraid I can’t give you my real name right now –’ another sparkling couple glide past me, followed by an old man I know from action films – ‘but let me assure you –’ a girl a few years older than me pushes past – ‘that I am in no way banned from this party. Relax in the knowledge that you can totally let me—’

A shout of laughter. ‘You flaming little mousebear.’

I freeze.

‘Why are you breathing so hard?’ Max steps out from a dark corner and puts his phone back in his pocket. ‘Did you run after us, Poodle? Ears flapping, tongue trailing in the wind?’

A really gorgeous boy with a Mohican walks past and winks at me. Then he disappears through the door.

I automatically stretch after him – a wink! He’s The One! – and get pulled back by the shoulders. Max is wearing a new black felt hat. His new hat is dumb. The hat is dumb and my brother is dumb and I hate them both.

‘Actually,’ I tell the bouncer desperately, shoving my hand in Max’s face. ‘I’m afraid this is just a maniac fan of mine who wants to ruin my life. I’ve got a restraining order so if you could escort him out of the area and into the river that would be very helpful.’

‘Is this one being a nuisance, Mr Valentine?’

‘Usually,’ Max grins at the bouncer, dragging me by the arm towards the exit. ‘Almost always, actually.’

Another beautiful A-list couple swish past us, disappearing into the Magical Kingdom of Party filled with All the Hot Boys. A pulse of alarm ripples through me.

My Love Destiny is happening in the other direction.

‘Oh, please.’ Bending my knees, I shove my heels into the floor, tense my leg muscles and grip on to a snowflake-covered cloth hanging from the wall. ‘Please, Max, you don’t understand. Tonight is so important. I’m already late! It’s in my stars, Max – it’s my fate. The universe needs me to be here – it told me, Max. VENUS IS MOVING.’

To our left, there’s loud music and chatter.

Glasses are being clinked and flashes of light glint through the edges of the door. Every time the door opens, I see slices of life: beautiful clothes, beautiful food, beautiful people, beautiful conversations. Mum’s in there being beautiful with Dad, Faith and Mercy and Grandma, and photographers, and olives on sticks, and loads of boys I have the potential to fall in love with.

I stretch towards it again.

‘The universe needs you to be here?’ Max frowns at me. ‘Hope, you have got to stop doing whatever those horoscopes tell you. They’re not instructions – they’re random lines made up by a loser sitting in a cupboard somewhere.’

‘You’re made up by a loser in a cupboard somewhere.’

‘That doesn’t even make sense. Do you know how much trouble I’d be in if I let you in, Poodle? I’m already playing a dead person every night as it is.’

To our left is the clink of champagne glasses.

‘Please, Max.’ My voice is wobbling, which is weird because I’m telling it to be confident and assertive. ‘Please. Life is happening in there, but I’m always out here. I don’t think I can wait any longer. I’m so tired of always, always, always being on my own.’

My brother blinks. ‘You are, aren’t you?’

‘The point is— Max?’ He’s staring blankly at my forehead. ‘Max.’ I pull hard on his tux sleeve. ‘Hello? Listen to me! I am talking to you, Max.’

‘Pipe down, Poodle. I’m thinking.’

Before I know it, there’s a hat on my head.

‘What are you doing?’ I snap in irritation, taking it off again. ‘If you want to look like a fashion-tasteless idiot, that’s up to you, but don’t destroy my Look.’

‘You’ll have to look like an idiot too if you want to go to this party.’

I stare at him. What the hell is that supposed to—? ‘Oh my GOSH, REALLY? If I wear the hat, you’ll take me in? Do you really mean it? Really, truly? Inbu— Inbudi—’

‘Indubitably? Yes.’ Max smiles. ‘You need a night out. Possibly a mindfulness app. Definitely a dictionary.’

With a happy squeak, I spin in a circle.

I love my brother! He’s the best big brother that ever lived and I retract everything I just thought about him.

‘Do me a favour, though,’ Max says, grabbing my shoulders. ‘Keep a low profile and stop with the twirling. Bring anyone you meet to see me first. Anyone. Avoid Granny, Mer and Faith, keep your head down, stay quiet and stick to the edges of the room. You’re a phantom this evening, understand?’

‘Absolutely.’ I nod passionately, holding my hand in the air. ‘Nobody will see me. I’ll be invisible. A ghost. I will make an absolute spectacle of myself. I won’t even say hi to Mum and Dad when I see them, I promise.’

‘It’s spectre, mousebear.’ Max frowns slightly and puts his arm round me. ‘Remember, Po, you make your own destiny, OK?’

I roll my eyes. What does he think I’m trying to do?

‘This one’s with me.’ Max grins at the bouncer, plopping the wide-rimmed hat back on my head. ‘Who doesn’t like a bit of trouble, eh?’

With an unnecessarily grand gesture, my big brother bows and flings the doors of the party open with an attention-seeking bang.

‘It’s time to party.’