Читать книгу Strawberry Crush - Jean Ure, Stephen Lee, Jean Ure - Страница 6

Eight o’clock next morning found us at the bus stop, glumly waiting for a bus to appear. Well, I was glum. I hate waiting for buses! I suppose I am quite an impatient sort of person.

“This is all because of you,” I grumbled to Maya. “If you hadn’t made all that fuss …”

Maya gazed at me, sorrowfully. “I couldn’t help it! You heard what Jake said … it was a really bad fall.”

“Not that bad,” I said. “You didn’t have to be such a drama queen.”

“I wasn’t! It hurt. It still does. Look!” She held out her hand, palm up, to show me. “I might have needed stitches. It could have got infected.”

I said, “Oh, please! And why do you keep peering at cars like that?”

She started, guiltily. “I’m not!”

“Yes, you are. You’re hoping Jake’ll come by, aren’t you?”

Except she obviously couldn’t remember what sort of car he drove. I could remember. It was a Fiat! I’m quite good at recognising different makes of car. Dad and I sometimes look at car sites together on the internet, picking out ones Dad would like to drive. Dad usually goes for the big posh ones like BMW and Mercedes. I prefer the little ones cos I think they look more cosy. Like little Easter eggs on wheels. Maya’s mum and dad don’t actually have a car so she doesn’t really know anything about them. I bet all she could remember about Jake’s Fiat was that it was small and blue.

I’d obviously embarrassed her, but it didn’t stop her peering.

“Know what?” I said.

“What?”

“You’re being really obvious!”

She frowned, nibbling at a thumbnail. “What’s that s’pposed to mean?”

“You’re making it look like we’re desperate! If you’re not careful some nutter’ll pull up and tell us to get in.”

That scared her a bit. “We wouldn’t have to do it!”

“They might try and make us.”

“So we’d run!”

“I’d run,” I said. “You’d probably trip over and fall flat on your face.”

And this time Jake wouldn’t be there to pick her up.

She bit her lip.

“It’s what happens,” I said, “when people get crushes they can’t control.”

She didn’t try denying that she’d got a crush. Just as well cos I wouldn’t have believed her. I could recognise the signs when I saw them. It wasn’t the first crush she’d had. Not by a long chalk, as Dad would say. Back in Year Six she’d fallen in love with our class teacher, Mrs O’Malley. She’d trotted about after her like a little lost puppy, all beaming and trustful. It had gone on for weeks. Then last summer she’d got this massive crush on a boy called Anil, who worked at the minimart. The minimart was owned by his mum and dad, and Anil used to help out sometimes after school. Maya insisted that we call in there every single afternoon on the way home. It was like the highlight of her day – the moment she lived for. If Anil was there she was in heaven; on days when he wasn’t she was cast into the deepest depths of despair.

Needless to say we always had to buy something, like a tube of Smarties or a KitKat or something. We couldn’t just stand there gawping, though left to herself – that is, without me to hold her hand – it’s what she probably would have done. She was never brave enough to actually say anything. She just felt this desperate need to be near him for a few minutes. It seemed to satisfy her, which was just as well since Anil showed absolutely no interest in her whatsoever. Hardly surprising. He must have been at least sixteen, maybe even older, and with Maya being so tiny he probably thought she was still just a little kid at primary school.

I don’t know how long her obsession would have lasted, but at the start of the summer holidays new people took over the shop and Anil and his mum and dad disappeared and things went back to normal. It surprised me a bit cos I’d really thought Maya would be all broken up and weepy, but luckily Uncle Kev chose that moment to have one of his bright ideas: he and Maya and Auntie Megs were all going to go and live in a cottage on the Isle of Skye for a month. They were going to be entirely self-sufficient, like gas and electricity and stuff had never been invented, and then he was going to write a book about it. Another book.

Well, the book never got written and by the time they came home Maya had more or less forgotten about Anil, but it had been really tiresome while it lasted. I was just hoping this thing she was obviously getting about Jake wouldn’t develop into a full-blown crush. I wasn’t sure I could take it all over again!

She was still obsessively checking out every blue car that drove past. Big ones, small ones; just so long as they were blue. I hadn’t realised there were so many of them. Blue must be a really popular colour! (I would have red if it was me.)

“That was a Toyota,” I said as another one flashed past. “Toyota’s no good.”

From behind me came an indignant squawk: “Who says?”

I spun round. Oh, horrible! Linzi Baxter had snuck up behind us. I’d forgotten she got the bus.

“Ours is a Toyota,” she said.

I said, “Yes, well, we’re looking for a Fiat.”

“Why?” said Linzi.

“Cos it’s what Jake Harper drives.” I couldn’t resist adding, “He gave us a lift home yesterday.”

“Really?” Her eyes narrowed. She didn’t like that! I could almost hear the jealous thoughts whizzing round her brain: how come he’s giving lifts to these total nobodies?

In the distance, at the top of the hill, I could see a bus coming towards us. As it drew near Maya suddenly clutched at me.

“Mattie, Mattie! Is that a Fiat?”

This time, she was right. It was a Fiat, and Jake was at the wheel. Maya was already dancing about on tiptoe, waving her arms in the air.

I made a grab at her. “Maya! Stop it!”

“But it’s Jake!”

“I know, but this is a bus lane; he can’t pull up here.”

If I hadn’t got hold of her she’d have gone running off down the road, windmilling her arms in the hope of attracting his attention. I practically had to drag her on to the bus. Linzi followed as I pushed a reluctant Maya in front of me up the stairs. The minute we reached the top deck she raced to the nearest window to watch as Jake drove past. Linzi, to my enormous joy, plonked herself down next to me on the back seat.

“What’s she up to?” she said.

“Oh!” I waved a hand. “I dunno. She thought he might give us a lift again.”

Linzi regarded Maya in silence for a few seconds. Maya was standing with her nose pressed against the glass. She looked like a child wistfully gazing into a toyshop. Linzi shook her head.

“Pathetic,” she said.

I bristled at that. It’s hardly Maya’s fault if she has a mum who is permanently anxious and a dad who is always rushing off in all directions, leaving them to cope without him. It would be enough, I should think, to make anyone pathetic.

“I don’t know how you put up with her,” said Linzi.

“She’s my cousin,” I said.

Lots of my friends wonder how I manage – on the whole! – to be patient with Maya; but they are my friends. Friends have the right to ask that sort of question. Plus they understand when I tell them about Mum and Auntie Megs being twins and me feeling the need to look out for Maya. Linzi Baxter was not my friend and I had no intention of explaining myself to her.

“Why did he give you a lift, anyway?” she said.

The cheek of it! What business was it of hers? I was still trying to think of a suitably crushing response when Maya suddenly decided to join in the conversation. She sank down into the seat in front of us and draped herself over the back, her eyes shining.

“He rescued me,” she said. “I came off my bike, and he rescued me! He was soooo sweet. He picked me up and drove us home and then he carried me into the house cos I couldn’t walk. If Jake hadn’t been there I don’t know what we’d have done. We might have had to call an ambulance! Mightn’t we?”

I shrugged. I did wish Maya hadn’t felt the need to tell everything to Linzi. She obviously wasn’t impressed. She is not the sort of girl to be impressed. She gave Maya this long unblinking stare then said, “Yeah. Right.”

Even then Maya didn’t get the message. Eagerly she said, “Lots of boys wouldn’t have bothered. I don’t know why Jake did! Just cos he’s a really nice young man, my mum says.”

“You don’t think p’raps he fancies you?” said Linzi.

She was being sarcastic. That anyone as cool as Jake Harper could possibly fancy a Year Eight nobody, especially one as small and skinny as Maya, obviously struck her as absurd. I guess it did me, too. To be honest, I hadn’t even considered it. It was only Auntie Megs being his mum’s cleaning lady that had made him stop. Cos he knew who Maya was, that was all. Nothing to do with him fancying her.

“Omigod,” said Linzi, as Maya’s face turned a bright happy scarlet, “she actually thinks he does!”

Maya at once protested that of course she didn’t. “He just happened to be there!”

That was what she said; but I could tell she was seriously taken with the idea. Trust Linzi! This was going to make matters a whole lot worse. All we needed was Maya having fantasies that Jake had as much of a crush on her as she had on him.

People like Linzi are such a menace. And I was stuck with her all the way to school! It’s not really that long a walk from where we get off the bus; it just seemed that it was, with Linzi droning on non-stop in my ear. All about boys. Boys that fancied her, boys that wanted to go out with her. Boys that she might possibly go out with, boys she wouldn’t touch with a barge pole. Nothing but boys, boys, boys the whole length of Sheepcote Road! They are her main topic of conversation. Practically her only topic of conversation. If conversation it could be called, which strictly speaking it couldn’t since I was hardly able to get a word in edgeways. Not that I tried very hard. Mostly I just tuned out, cos who’s interested in hearing about Linzi Baxter and her boring stupid love life? Not me!

Once through the school gates, thank goodness, we parted company. In spite of being in the same class, Linzi and I don’t really have much to do with each other. Nor, for that matter, do me and Maya. I have my friends, Maya has hers. She’d gone waltzing off to join a couple of them as soon as we’d got off the bus, leaving me on my own to suffer permanent brain damage from Linzi and her loudmouth wittering.

Fortunately on the way home that afternoon I was spared the earbashing on account of Linzi having to stay behind for something or other. All the same, I told Maya that in future, until Auntie Megs calmed down and we could use our bikes again, we were going to leave home fifteen minutes earlier. Maya immediately protested.

“I can’t! I’ll never be ready in time.”

I said, “Well, you’d better be or I’ll go without you.”

There wasn’t any reason I shouldn’t go without her. It was only habit that kept us together.

“We’ll need to be here by at least a quarter to eight.”

“But why?” wailed Maya. “We got to school in plenty of time! What d’you want us to leave earlier for?”

“You can do what you like,” I said. “I just don’t want to get stuck with Linzi again.”

“Oh,” said Maya. Her face cleared. “Is that all?”

I said, “Yes. Why?” She didn’t say anything to that, but her cheeks had gone a bright give-away pink. I knew what she’d been thinking. I can read her like a book! She’d thought I was trying to stop her cadging a lift from Jake. Like it was some jealous ploy on my part to come between them.

“Well, anyway,” I said, “it’s up to you. Either we go early or I’ll use my bike.”

Maya heaved a sigh. “Oh, all right! If I have to. But if I’m doing something for you I think you ought to do something for me.”

I was immediately suspicious. I said, “Like what?”

“I want us to join the Music Club!”

“The Music Club?”

Why on earth would she want to join the Music Club? She isn’t in the least bit musical! Nor am I, to be honest. I once tried out for the junior choir, but Mrs Morgan said I wasn’t quite ready for it. According to Mum she was just being kind. “What she really meant was, you have a voice like a screech owl!”

Well, and Maya’s not much better. Worse if anything. She sings flat.

I reminded her of this, but she said just because she couldn’t sing didn’t mean she couldn’t learn how to appreciate good music.

“You mean like classical?”

“Anything,” said Maya.

“Classical’s all they listen to,” I said. “Beethoven and stuff. It’s really boring! Emily Armstrong goes.”

Emily is this girl in our class that is really sweet but has these totally weird tastes in practically everything. She loves poetry. She adores paintings. She worships Shakespeare. She goes to the opera. If it was Linzi you’d know she was just showing off; with Emily you know it’s the real thing. She lives in a totally different world from the rest of us.

“Honestly,” I said, “you’d be bored out of your mind.”

“Mattie, please,” begged Maya. “I want to learn!”

Well, I am never against learning, cos that would just be ignorant, but I didn’t see why I had to do it. Why couldn’t she get one of her friends to go with her? Tansy or Bella, for instance. They were her best mates! Why not ask them? Maya said cos they would get silly.

“They’d only start giggling.”

I couldn’t imagine anyone actually giggling at Beethoven. Fall asleep, more like. It was only when I allowed myself to be dragged along next day during the lunch break that I discovered what it was that would have made them giggle: Jake was there, sitting next to a girl from his class. He glanced up and smiled as he saw Maya. Well, I suppose he might have been smiling at both of us, but from the way Maya turned her usual bright pink I knew she was taking it as being especially for her.

No wonder she hadn’t wanted her friends to come along! When Maya has one of her obsessions she makes it plain for all to see, and Tansy and Bella are gigglers at the best of times. I’m not above getting the occasional fit of the giggles myself, but I didn’t find this a particularly gigglesome occasion. I was quite cross with Maya. I felt like I’d been cheated. Thanks to her I was going to waste the whole of my lunch break! I really don’t know why I allow myself to be talked into these things. She is always managing to get round me. She has this way of smiling very sweetly and looking very fragile and pathetic, and I always, always fall for it.

As it was I had to sit through three quarters of an hour of mental torture. Actually, to be honest, that is not quite fair. Miss Hopwood is young and blonde and really pretty, plus she is new to teaching and still bursting with enthusiasm, so it wasn’t as bad as if it had been Mrs Morgan, who is old and boring. I don’t mean to be ageist, but sometimes old people can be boring, just like young people can, only if they’re old you’re not supposed to say so.

To be fair the first ten minutes were quite interesting. Miss Hopwood told us about this piece of music, Pictures at an Exhibition, by someone called Mussorgsky. (I think that’s how it’s spelt.) She said it was about two men walking round a gallery looking at paintings, and she played twiddly bits on the piano by way of illustration. Like “This is them walking round” and “This is a painting called Ballet of the Unhatched Chicks”. Cool! I didn’t mind that. But then she put on a CD and she said we all had to concentrate and see if we could recognise the bits she’d played, only I couldn’t, except maybe where they were walking around. The rest was just plinking and plonking on the piano. No real tune at all.

Everybody else seemed to get it. Jake was listening really hard, you could tell, and the girl next to him looked like she was in some kind of ecstasy. Lots of people had their eyes closed. Emily not only had her eyes closed but this radiant smile on her lips. How come they all got it and not me? It made me feel I was missing something.

I stole a glance at Maya. She hadn’t got it! She was peering in a lovelorn fashion at Jake from under her lashes, trying to make like she was lost in the music, but only managing to look faintly ridiculous. All daft and soppy. Tansy and Bella would have giggled themselves inside out. I prodded at her, but she swatted me away, angrily.

In the end I started peering at Jake, as well. I had to do something to keep myself awake. He is what my mum would call “tall dark and handsome”. Definitely crush material, if you are the sort of person that indulges in crushes, but for goodness’ sake he was eighteen! Practically grown up. And the girl sitting next to him, Hope Kennedy, was really beautiful. Thick honey-coloured hair in a ponytail, with these long, long legs like a dancer’s that seemed to go on for ever. And she was in his year. And they obviously had the same taste in music.

I stole another glance at Maya. I was beginning to have bad feelings. I did so hope she came to her senses! Maddening though she could be, I would really hate for her to get hurt.