Читать книгу All That Glitters - Holly Smale, Холли Смейл - Страница 14

o, my plan for the next morning is as follows:

Admittedly, the last point on the list is a bit vague, but I’m leaving it up to the teachers.

That is what they’re paid for, after all.

The way I see it, yesterday was just a dress rehearsal: one that went spectacularly badly. Statistically, a first impression is usually cemented in seven seconds (although obviously I’ve disappointed people far more quickly than that).

This time, I’m not taking any chances.

At 8am, I stand on the doorstep and double-check my carefully selected outfit. A quick study of the psychology of colours has established that white clothes make strangers think you’re honest, yellow clothes make them think you’re friendly and orange implies that you’re a whole lot of spontaneous fun.

So I’m wearing a white jumper, orange leggings and yellow pumps. Hopefully this will silently represent an excellent personality before I’ve said a word.

It may even be powerful enough to make me appealing after I’ve said some too.

Then I roll my eyes at the enormous rustling purple hydrangea to my right. “Come on, Tobes. We’re friends now. Why don’t you just walk to school with me instead of hiding in bushes?”

There’s another rustle and a small squeak. Then Annabel’s cat, Victor, struts out from behind the pot with a piercing expression that says: I’m not going anywhere with you, weirdo.

Flushing slightly as a neighbour gives me the kind of glance you give to people who talk to plants, I decide to go ahead and just start walking to school on my own.

“Tobes,” I say with a small smile when I reach the tree at the bottom of my road, “you’re not being very subtle. I can totally see you …”

A squirrel runs out.

“Toby …” I say as a jogger runs past.

“Tob—” I start again, but it’s just a leaf skittering along the ground.

With growing confusion, I continue walking: past the bench Toby isn’t crouching behind, in front of the lamp-post Toby isn’t pretending to fix with a small screwdriver, past the old man with a big newspaper held up to his face.

“Sorry,” I say after I’ve pulled it down and shouted “Ha! Gotcha!”

“Girls these days,” the man snorts angrily, burying himself in it again. Which is really unfair: I’m pretty sure I’d have done that if I was a boy too.

By the time I approach the road to school and – somewhat reassuringly – spot a group of students in school uniform, I’m starting to feel a little off-centre. I hadn’t realised quite how much of my day is constructed around various degrees of pretending to be irritated with Toby.

Finally, I spot him: crouched on the floor next to the front school gates in a pale brown T-shirt with little flecks all over it. He’s obviously pretending to be a boulder. Or a huge tortoise. Or something else that would never, ever be found outside a British school in a million years.

“Toby,” I say with a huge wave of relief. “There you are. I really don’t think you need to—”

“Hello, Harriet!” he says, redoing a shoe and standing up. His pale sideburns are fluffy and sticking out, and I realise he must have grown another four centimetres over the summer: he’s starting to look like a lightning bolt. “Did you know that Velcro was inspired by the tiny hooks on a burr that stuck to the inventor’s dog? I prefer it to laces, even if evidence of string does date back 28,000 years.”

I beam at him.

That is exactly what I needed to make me feel grounded and secure this morning. A fascinating, shoe-based historical fact, guest-featuring dogs.

“That’s interesting, becau—” I start enthusiastically, but I don’t get any further because Toby sticks two thumbs up and starts powering towards the school gates, slightly-too-short trousers flapping around his ankles.

“See you later, Harriet!” he calls over his shoulder.

“But,” I stutter in amazement, “w-wait, Toby. Don’t we have class together? Shouldn’t we … go in at the same time?”

Or – you know – with him ten paces behind me.

It’s kind of a tradition.

“We’re in different forms now, Harriet!” Toby says cheerfully. “Plus I have a super important project to get on with before class starts. Have a great day!”

And my stalker disappears into school.

Leaving me following ten paces behind him.