FOR SAM

First published in paperback in Great Britain 2016

by Egmont UK Limited

The Yellow Building, 1 Nicholas Road, London W11 4AN

Text copyright © 2016 Katy Birchall

The moral rights of the author have been asserted

First e-book edition 2015

ISBN 978 1 4052 7826 3

eISBN 978 1 7803 1701 4

www.egmont.co.uk

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Stay safe online. Any website addresses listed in this book are correct at the time of going to print. However, Egmont is not responsible for content hosted by third parties. Please be aware that online content can be subject to change and websites can contain content that is unsuitable for children. We advise that all children are supervised when using the internet.

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Dedication and Copyright

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

23

24

25

26

27

28

Acknowledgments

Back series promotional page

About the Author

From: jess.delby@zingmail.co.uk

To: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

Subject: You’re overreacting

So you got stuck in a plant pot. It’s not that big of a deal.

J x

From: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

To: jess.delby@zingmail.co.uk

Subject: Re: You’re overreacting

No, you’re right. It’s not that big of a deal. It’s not that big of a deal that a video of me stuck in a plant pot, trying and failing to get out, has been watched on YouTube by MILLIONS OF PEOPLE.

Love, me xxx

From: jess.delby@zingmail.co.uk

To: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

Subject: You’re wrong

Excuse you, but you WISH you were that famous. It has not been watched by millions of people, only a few thousand. Let me check and I can tell you the precise –.

WHOA. It’s had almost two million views! That’s gone up really fast in the last hour.

Do you know what that means? Almost two million people have seen you stuck in a plant pot!

This is the best day of my life.

J x

From: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

To: jess.delby@zingmail.co.uk

Subject: Re: You’re wrong

I am never leaving the Hoover cupboard again. I don’t care how hard Dad is trying to tempt me out with that plate of duck pancakes he’s left right outside the door. I can smell it. He’s even shut Dog in the kitchen so he can’t get them. He thinks he’s so clever. HA.

Clearly he does not know me very well if he thinks that I would be tempted out of hiding by some stupid duck pancakes.

Honestly, I have more self-respect than that. This is all his fault in the first place, anyway. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t be the laughing stock of the ENTIRE country right now.

Love, me xxx

From: jess.delby@zingmail.co.uk

To: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

Subject: What?!

Explain to me how this is your dad’s fault?

J x

From: jess.delby@zingmail.co.uk

To: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

Subject: HELLO

Are you there? I sent that last email almost fifteen minutes ago. Why don’t you just answer your mobile? You’re so useless with your phone.

J x

From: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

To: jess.delby@zingmail.co.uk

Subject: Re: HELLO

Sorry about the delay there, I was just rearranging my cushions. If I’m going to be stuck in here for the rest of my life, this cupboard has to be comfy.

I can’t answer my phone because I’ve turned it off. I’ve had a crazy amount of calls and texts from people asking me to explain the plant pot situation and the beeping was driving me insane.

Love, me xxx

From: jess.delby@zingmail.co.uk

To: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

Subject: I’m on to you

You went out to get the duck pancakes, didn’t you?

J x

From: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

To: jess.delby@zingmail.co.uk

Subject: Re: I’m on to you

Absolutely not. What do you take me for? I am not that weak. Please. Have some faith.

Like I said, I was arranging cushions.

Love, me xxx

From: jess.delby@zingmail.co.uk

To: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

Subject: Stop your lies

Sure. I bet your dad blocked the door with his foot when you reached out to get the duck pancakes, so you were forced to talk to him for a bit. Is that why you took fifteen minutes to reply?

J x

From: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

To: jess.delby@zingmail.co.uk

Subject: Re: Stop your lies

No. I was arranging cushions. Then I replied to your email.

Love, me xxx

From: jess.delby@zingmail.co.uk

To: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

Subject: Re: Stop your lies

I just got this text from your dad:

‘Hi Jess, Nick Huntley here. Anna is refusing to come out of the Hoover cupboard again. Can you try talking to her? She’s eaten the duck pancakes I left out for her. I talked to her but she tried to slam the door on my foot. N.’

J x

From: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

To: jess.delby@zingmail.co.uk

Subject: Re: Stop your lies

What’s your point?

Love, me xxx

From: jess.delby@zingmail.co.uk

To: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

Subject: You’re ridiculous

Tell me why you think this is your dad’s fault.

J x

From: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

To: jess.delby@zingmail.co.uk

Subject: Re: You’re ridiculous

HELLO. Obviously it’s his fault.

He’s the one who had to have his stupid engagement celebration party in Helena’s stupid house, where she has stupid palm tree things in her hall sitting in stupidly massive pots, which innocent victims might stumble backwards into, get their bottom stuck in and then be filmed trying to get out on someone’s stupid smartphone.

If he had stayed single and not got engaged to the world’s most famous actress I would never have got stuck in a palm-tree plant pot and I would be living in PEACE.

And also, why did people FILM it rather than help get me out?! This is what is wrong with the world today. Why did they film it? WHY?!

Love, me xxx

From: jess.delby@zingmail.co.uk

To: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

Subject: Re: You’re ridiculous

Because you folded into the pot with your legs sticking up like that and your arms flailing around was really funny.

I’ve added it to my favourites. And I’ve bookmarked it. Now I can get it to come up on my screen with just one click.

My dad’s watched it five times. He said he’s sending it round his entire office first thing in the morning.

J x

From: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

To: jess.delby@zingmail.co.uk

Subject: Re: You’re ridiculous

Everyone is going to be laughing at me into the next century. This is the worst way to start the new term.

How come ever since I started there a term ago I’ve been the official laughing stock of Woodfield?

Love, me xxx

From: jess.delby@zingmail.co.uk

To: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

Cc: dantheman@zingmail.co.uk

Subject: Desperate times

Falling into a palm tree pot is so not the worst way to start a term, Anna. You did that last term. You set Josie Graham on fire, remember?

Look, I’ve brought Danny into the conversation to cheer you up.

Danny, Anna is upset because she’s a YouTube sensation. Any kind words you can throw her way?

J x

From: dantheman@zingmail.co.uk

To: jess.delby@zingmail.co.uk

Cc: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

Subject: Re: Desperate times

I’ve been looking at the video and it’s actually a Dracaena Lisa plant that you fell into, Anna, not a palm tree, although they are often mistakenly identified as palms due to their similar shape. The name Dracaena Lisa comes from the Greek word drakaina, which means ‘dragon’. This is because, if you cut the stem of the Dracaena, the juice that seeps out resembles dragon’s blood.

Danny.

From: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

To: dantheman@zingmail.co.uk

Cc: jess.delby@zingmail.co.uk

Subject: Well, that settles it

I hate my life.

See you guys at school.

Love, me xxx

From: jess.delby@zingmail.co.uk

To: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk; dantheman@zingmail.co.uk

Subject: Re: Well, that settles it

Three million views and counting!

J x

‘You know, I think you will find that this whole situation will really boost your popularity,’ Jess said, leaning back against the cubicle door.

‘How, exactly?’

‘For one thing.’ She hauled her bag up from the floor sharply, causing her Chemistry book to tumble out on to the bathroom floor. Jess grimaced. ‘It makes you . . . approachable.’

‘Approachable?!’ I pulled my knees closer to my chest, struggling to maintain my balance on top of the closed toilet seat.

‘Yes.’ Jess shuffled into the corner of the cubicle and awkwardly leaned sideways to pick up her book, her forehead narrowly avoiding my knees. ‘Approachable. You’re one of the people, just like Princess Diana was.’

‘I don’t remember Diana, Princess of Wales, ever getting stuck in a plant pot,’ I huffed.

‘Probably because there were no smartphones back then,’ Jess said comfortingly.

‘This is so embarrassing.’

Jess looked at me. I could tell that she was less sympathetic than she had been before I’d forced her to cram herself into a toilet cubicle with me before school began on the first day of the summer term. ‘Are you speaking to your dad yet?’ she asked.

I sighed. The truth was, what had happened at Dad and Helena’s engagement party probably hadn’t all been his fault. But everything else that had happened up until then definitely was.

You’d think that after your dad decided that he was going to marry the most famous actress in the world, meaning that you suddenly have not only a future stepmum who has two Oscars sitting on her drinks cabinet but also a future stepsister who happens to be Britain’s most well-known It Girl, your life would get a bit better.

But noooooo. Since Dad’s sudden revelation last term I have:

1. Become the enemy of the most popular students in my year.

2. Accidentally tried to steal the Queen Bee’s boyfriend.

3. Accidentally set her best friend on fire.

4. Been left hanging upside down in a waterfall in front of my entire year, my Wolverine vest on full display.

5. Unintentionally become an It Girl in the press and almost lost my two best friends, Jess and Danny, when I attempted to use this to become more popular.

6. Sung Fame! in front of my WHOLE school, out of tune and with no backing music.

7. Fallen backwards into a plant pot, the video of which has now gone viral.

So yeah, you could say that Dad’s surprise, very public engagement hadn’t really helped my personal and emotional growth as a teenager.

And yes, it was pretty annoying of him to choose to have the party in Helena’s house rather than a super-cool exclusive club somewhere in London. I mean, come on, he’s marrying the most famous actress in the world and where do they choose to have their engagement party? At her home.

If you ask me, it’s disappointing.

But still. I guess it wasn’t not technically his fault that I fell into the plant pot. I don’t even blame Helena for having Dracaena Lisa plants in her house. Some people might think them an unnecessary decoration for a hallway. And yes, some people might perhaps have thought to move them away from a space that guests might be gathering in.

But I have decided to overlook this lack of judgement. For my humiliation there really is only one person to blame: the person who invented sausage rolls.

I told Jess this.

‘You’re blaming sausage rolls?’

‘No. Just the person who invented them,’ I stated. ‘I tried looking it up online. There’s no one listed specifically, but I bet it was someone who owned a cat.’

Jess, for some reason, looked confused. ‘What do cats have to do with anything? And why are we talking about sausage rolls?’

‘Because,’ I explained to her wearily, ‘that’s the whole reason we’re in this mess in the first place!’

At the party, I had been happily listening to Marianne Montaine, my It Girl soon-to-be stepsister, wax lyrical about her hugely famous rock star boyfriend Tom Kyzer. But Dad forced me to come with him so he could introduce me to some of his old-person author friends. They weren’t talking about interesting things like rock stars, either, just history and politics, which no one cares about really.

Luckily I spotted a waiter milling around with a platter of sausage rolls and an escape plan formed in my mind. ‘Sorry,’ I excused myself to no one in particular. ‘I’m going to go get a sausage roll.’

The waiter had sped back towards the kitchen, though, so I followed him. But as I looked back over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching, he came back out with another big tray of sausage rolls. I swerved to avoid him, he yelped, I got scared by the yelp, lost my balance and fell back into the plant pot.

Jess blinked at me. ‘And now you have a thing against sausage rolls?’

‘The inventor of sausage rolls. The sausage rolls themselves were not at fault.’

‘Well, it’s a great story that makes no sense,’ Jess nodded. ‘Now can we get out of this cubicle? There really is not enough space in here for both of us.’

‘But there are people out there.’

‘Yeah, and I’m sure they’re all desperate to hear the sausage-roll-plant-pot story.’

‘Jess, be serious. It’s all over the Internet. Everyone will be laughing at me. Again.’

‘I’m sure they won’t laugh. And if they do I’ll tell them off.’

‘Promise?’

‘Yes.’

‘OK, then,’ I gave in. Jess opened the cubicle door and squeezed herself behind it while I shuffled nervously out towards the sink and checked the coast was clear. She followed me.

‘Much better,’ she sighed, putting her bag down again so she could run her fingers through her hair in front of the mirror. ‘Now, what was I saying?’

As she spoke the door swung open and two girls from a couple of years below us came in chatting excitedly. They stopped as they saw us and then one of them hurriedly reached into her backpack, pulling out a notepad. ‘Hi Anna,’ she squeaked, coming nearer. ‘Can you sign this for me?’

Jess smiled at me encouragingly. This girl couldn’t be one of the four million people who had seen the plant-pot video.

‘Of course,’ I said in my most sophisticated voice, taking the pink sparkly pen that she offered and doing a swirly AH on the page.

‘Thanks!’ she giggled. ‘You getting stuck in the plant pot was really funny.’

I shot a look at Jess. I was very much ready for this girl to get told off.

‘It was hilarious, wasn’t it?’ Jess squealed – then she saw my face and stopped abruptly. ‘But, er, not that funny.’

I pursed my lips and then, head held high, swept past the two girls out of the bathroom. As the door swung back I heard the first girl say, ‘I’m putting this on eBay.’

‘OK, so that wasn’t the best telling-off I’ve given,’ Jess admitted as she walked beside me along the corridor, ‘but from now on I will be seriously cross if anyone even dares mention plant pots.’ She patiently waited while I fiddled around with the code on my locker.

‘Hey, anyone got any spare plant pots?’

I didn’t give Danny the satisfaction of turning round.

‘No, Danny,’ Jess said sternly. ‘That’s not OK.’

‘Hey,’ he responded defensively. ‘You’re the one who told me that you’ve sent the video to your relatives in Canada.’

I looked at Jess accusingly. She held up her hands. ‘That has definitely not happened. I have definitely not sent it to my four relatives in Canada and also a random second cousin in New Zealand.’

‘Cheer up,’ Danny said happily, giving me a nudge. ‘It’ll blow over.’

‘Can it blow over quickly?’ I hissed, my eyes darting towards a group of students with their eyes glued to a phone. They burst into laughter and looked up at me.

‘You have way more important things to care about,’ Jess said, a smile slowly expanding across her face. ‘Like your boyfriend.’

I blushed furiously. ‘Connor is not my boyfriend.’

‘Maybe not yet, but you’re a great match,’ Jess said matter-of-factly. ‘You’re both kind of weird.’

‘Did you see him lots over the holidays?’ Danny asked as Jess ruffled his blond curls. He swatted her off.

‘A little,’ I said quietly, looking round to make sure he wasn’t there. I still didn’t know how Connor, the super-gorgeous, comic-drawing, perfect-in-every-way boy who made my hands go clammy just by smiling, still seemed to like me despite all the ridiculous things I had done last term. Well, I thought he still liked me . . . ‘We saw some films.’

‘Aaaaand?’ Jess asked.

‘And what?’

She sighed. ‘I’ve only been asking you this question all holidays and you’ve been avoiding it. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ I said, turning back to focus on the contents of my locker in the hope that Jess wouldn’t make fun of how red my cheeks were going.

‘Did you . . . kiss?’

‘Jess!’ I exclaimed, hitting the back of my head on my locker door, which had started swinging closed behind me.

‘Well, did you, you smooth operator?’ Jess laughed, pushing the locker door back open for me as I rubbed my head.

‘It didn’t come up.’

Danny raised his eyebrows. ‘I’m surprised at that.’

‘Why?’

‘You obviously like each other.’ He shrugged. ‘Still, I suppose you can’t rush these things.’

‘OK, Dr Casanova,’ Jess snorted. ‘Since when do you know anything about these things?’

‘Casanova was not a doctor.’ Danny rolled his eyes. ‘What I meant was that Connor and Anna are both quite shy. Or, well, I guess I mean that Anna is quite socially awkward.’

‘I am not socially awkward,’ I protested.

They both looked at me.

‘Anyway,’ Jess cried. ‘Why didn’t Connor just lunge at you?’

‘JESS!’ I yelped, desperate for her to keep her voice down.

Despite my annoyance at Jess’s lack of subtlety, it was actually a question I had been asking myself too. Connor and I hadn’t seen much of each other during the Easter holidays. I’d had a bunch of things going on, including all of the celebrity events I now had to attend with Helena and Marianne, and Connor had been going to art lessons and working on his cartoon strip, The Amazing It Girl.

But still. There had been enough opportunities for him to, you know. Lunge at me.

‘It’s none of your business.’ I fumbled for my books and shoved them in my bag.

‘Oh please, it’s always our business. You’ve been thinking about it, I can tell,’ Jess teased.

‘I have not. Well, maybe a little. It’s just . . . do you think that . . . ?’

‘Ahem.’ Sophie Parker, the Queen Bee of Woodfield, had marched over with her ever-present sidekick Josie Graham. By the scowl on Josie’s face, she clearly still hadn’t forgiven me for setting her hair on fire last term.

‘Hello, Anna,’ Sophie said, coolly.

‘Hi, Sophie, how was your Easter?’

‘Great. I spent most of it with Brendan.’

I flinched. Brendan was the most popular boy in our school. In an attempt to prove my popularity last term I had accidentally (and temporarily) stolen him off Sophie. It was all sort of behind us now, though. Sort of. ‘That’s nice.’

‘It is,’ Josie sneered, from behind Sophie. ‘Because she’s Brendan’s girlfriend, duh. And it’s nice . . . being Brendan’s girlfriend.’

Danny snorted.

‘Thank you, Josie,’ Sophie hissed back at her. Josie looked embarrassed.

‘Miss Duke wants to see you in her office, Anna,’ Sophie told me, looking at her perfectly-manicured nails. ‘Pretty impressive, getting called to the headmistress’s office on the first day of term. Oh, and don’t forget to check out the list of events for sports day. I’ve put it up on the main noticeboard.’

‘Sophie was asked by the Sports department to put it up first thing this morning,’ Josie added as smugly as if Sophie had been asked to appear on the front cover of Vogue.

‘I take it you’ll be putting yourself forward to be team captain of the Puffins this year, Jess?’ Sophie raised an eyebrow. ‘Of course, there’ll be no competition for me – I’m going to be leading the Eagles.’

‘Actually, no,’ Jess answered calmly as I looked at them all in confusion. Puffins? Eagles? Had my school turned into a bird sanctuary over Easter? How had I missed this? ‘I want to put all of my focus on my Art project and my photography this term. So you don’t need to worry about me waving the winner’s trophy in your face when the Puffins win. I’m sure our captain will do the honours on my behalf.’

‘Oh per-lease!’ Sophie cackled. ‘The Puffins haven’t beaten the Eagles in years! Everyone knows you don’t have a chance. Besides,’ she looked me up and down, ‘it’s not like the Puffins have the . . . best team this year. Anna, I know you’re a Puffin. Good luck,’ she smirked. ‘I don’t think there are any plant-pot assault courses so you might not fail in every event.’ She turned on her heel and strode back down the hallway, with Josie laughing loudly next to her.

I looked at Jess in confusion.

‘Oh, don’t worry, I’ll fill you in about sports day later.’

‘Er . . . and the stern plant-pot telling-off you promised?’

‘Damn it!’

What’s wrong with you?

Nothing‘s wrong with me. I‘m concentrating, Jess.

No one concentrates this hard while Miss Brockley writes on the board in a language no one on the planet understands.

Yes they do. She‘s writing important words that we need to know for our end of term exams. And some people on the planet do understand French.

Some people like who?

Well, I‘m going to take a long shot and say that French people probably understand French.

Can you please tell me what’s wrong with you, so that we can hurry up and get to the bit where I tell you you’re ridiculous and then you realise that it’s actually fine? Are you worried about sports day? I told you I’d explain the whole Puffin thing to you. You don’t need to worry, the school’s just split into two teams.

Sounds weird to me – but no, I’m not worrying about sports day quite yet, although no doubt the fear will begin to loom soon.

Did Miss Duke say something weird? Was it something to do with the way you walk?

No, it wasn‘t a big deal, she just wanted to . . . Wait. What? What‘s wrong with my walk?

Nothing.

Jess! What is wrong with my walk?

Seriously, nothing. Stop passing notes. I’m concentrating.

Now I really am panicking. Why would you ask me if the headmistress wanted to see me about my walk?!

Geez, you’re such a drama queen. You just walk a bit funny, that’s all. Kind of . . . slumpy. I just wondered if she thought you had a problem or something that needed looking at. You know, in a caring way. Now tell me what’s bothering you. You have a funny look on your face. Is it Connor?

Forget what I’m thinking about Connor, now all I can think about is my ‘slumpy walk’.

Aha! So you were thinking about Connor! Spill.

It‘s nothing. I saw him this morning.

When?! What did he say???

When I came out of Miss Duke’s office. I walked straight into them.

Them? Who is THEM?

I mean him. Him. I think Miss Brockley is looking this way. Wait, no, she‘s looking past me. Hah, she definitely is. I‘m so stealthy at this. She’s none the wiser. What a dodo. Anyway–

‘What do you mean, you have detention?’

Why does Dad always have to make tiny things into such big deals? For example, that time when we went on holiday to the middle of nowhere in Ireland and as a joke I hid the hire car keys in a bush to make him panic. I couldn’t have predicted that I wouldn’t be able to remember which one I had hidden them in. I didn’t stop hearing about that for days.

And now here he was all angry at me because I’d had the courtesy to ring him to tell him I’d be late home for supper.

‘I got caught passing notes with Jess in French.’

‘And they gave you detention? That seems pretty extreme,’ Dad huffed. ‘Let me come in and have a word with them.’

‘In the note I called Miss Brockley a dodo for not realising I was passing notes.’

There was silence on the other end of the phone, and then a long-drawn-out sigh.

‘Fine. Come home straight afterwards, we have people round this evening.’

‘Who do we have coming round? Actually, never mind,’ I said hurriedly as Jess mouthed ‘lunch’ at me. ‘Got to go, Dad, see you at home.’

‘Bye, Anna,’ he said grumpily. ‘Try not to insult too many teachers this afternoon.’

I rolled my eyes, said goodbye and then hung up before heading to the dining room.

‘Why are you two always late?’ Danny grumbled, coming up behind us.

‘Duh, she’s an It Girl,’ Jess grinned. ‘It’s fashionable to be late. Anyway, Anna had to make a call.’

‘Don’t look too impressed,’ I said as Danny raised his eyebrows at me. ‘It was my dad.’

But as I sat down with my tray next to Danny I suddenly realised the whole room was staring at me and a spatter of giggles was coming from Sophie’s table.

‘What?’ Jess asked them, hands on hips. ‘Haven’t any of you seen a celebrity before? Play it cool, guys.’

There was an uncomfortable pause, and then everyone started talking again. I smiled gratefully at Jess. ‘Thanks.’

‘Whatever,’ she said, picking the mushrooms off her chicken. ‘They were probably just staring because of your walk. Nothing to do with any plant pots.’

‘Danny,’ I said, ‘do you think I walk funny?’

He shrugged. ‘Maybe a little. Not really. I’m not sure I’ve noticed.’

‘How would you describe Anna’s walk?’ Jess asked, picking up her glass of water. ‘If you had to use a word to describe her walk, what would it be?’

‘I don’t know.’ Danny looked thoughtful. ‘Slumpy?’

‘For goodness’ sake!’ I said as Jess raised her eyebrows victoriously at me. ‘That’s not even a thing!’

‘It is a thing. You have a slumpy walk,’ she said, with a smug I-told-you-so smile. ‘Will you tell me about seeing Connor this morning?’

‘Jess!’ I glanced around me nervously. ‘Stop talking about him so loudly.’

‘He’s not in here, I already checked.’

I craned my head to look carefully around the dining room. ‘You’re right. I wonder where he is.’

‘You should know that,’ Jess teased. ‘He’s your boyfriend.’

‘How has your morning been, Danny?’ I asked, attempting to change the conversation.

‘Oh you know, the usual, teachers trying to frighten us with exam talk,’ he sighed. ‘I watched such a good nature programme last night though. Did you know that a scorpion will attract a mate by taking her pincers in his and then commencing a dance of courtship?’

‘Well,’ Jess looked bemused, ‘that’s interesting, Danny. Has Connor done that to you yet, Anna?’

‘Done what?’ I played with my food.

‘Taken your pincers in his before commencing a dance of courtship.’

‘We did dance together at the Beatus dance last term,’ I shrugged.

‘Yeah, but all of us were dancing together then,’ Jess pointed out. ‘And he was doing a meerkat impression. I’m not sure that counts as a dance of courtship. We’ll have to consult Marianne. But tell us what happened with Connor this morning. You had such a weird face on in French class.’

‘Nothing, really. We just talked.’

‘No passionate kissing, then?’

‘No, Jess! Outside Miss Duke’s office is hardly a romantic setting,’ I hissed. ‘Stop talking about . . . kissing so loud! Imagine if someone heard you!’

Jess rolled her eyes but went quiet and Danny began to talk about scorpions again.

I was being honest: Connor and I had talked. But what I wasn’t telling Jess was that it hadn’t just been the two of us . . .

I was only in the headmistress’s office for about thirty seconds. She’d wanted to check whether if I was OK after the whole me-stuck-in-a-plant-pot-being-an-Internet-sensation thing.

‘You know . . .’ Miss Duke began, no doubt wondering how she could possibly comfort me, ‘. . . these things blow over.’

‘The Internet doesn’t help that.’

‘In this day and age I’m afraid that fame is a very difficult game.’ She sat back in her chair thoughtfully, like a wise owl. Now that I think about it, her bright, round eyes and pointy features do kind of remind me of an owl.

‘I’m not even sure why I’m famous. I haven’t done anything except fall into a plant pot!’ I shook my head. ‘Seems unfair, really.’

‘Well, if you feel like everything is getting too much for you,’ Miss Duke looked at me kindly, ‘my door is always open.’

I smiled at her and was getting up to leave, but she carried on.

‘Except for Friday lunchtimes, when Mrs Ginnwell and I play Cluedo. I’m afraid my door is firmly closed then. I need all the concentration I can get.’

I almost laughed, but then I noticed her deadpan expression, so I just nodded and hurried out of the office. That’s when I saw Connor down the corridor. He was talking animatedly with a girl from our year, Stephanie. I didn’t know her very well, and I definitely hadn’t been aware that Connor knew her that well either, but clearly he did. She was laughing out loud and tossing her very shiny hair around glamorously. Why hadn’t Connor ever mentioned being friends with her before?

Flustered, I turned round to walk the other way. But then Connor called out, ‘Spidey!’

‘Er, hi,’ I said, turning around. I could feel myself blushing all the way down to my toes. Connor had called me ‘Spidey’ ever since last term, when he had discovered in detention that I shared his love of superheroes and all things comic book. I was usually teased for my Marvel comic-book obsession – especially by Jess, who continued to call it my ‘weird, geeky Marvin habit’, despite me correcting her a hundred billion times – but Connor didn’t tease me one bit. He had even created a comic strip, called The Amazing It Girl, that was inspired by me. It was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for me.

‘You’re looking very furtive,’ he grinned as he strolled up to me. ‘Where have you been?’

‘Miss Duke’s office.’

‘We haven’t even got to the first lesson of term yet.’ He folded his arms and smiled cheekily. ‘That’s impressive, even for you, Anna.’

‘She just wanted to, um . . . she wanted to check that I was OK. After the . . . plant pot incident.’

‘Ah yes,’ Connor nodded slowly, a look on his face that I couldn’t quite work out.

Just then Stephanie and her impossibly shiny hair joined us. I saw that she had a cool, super short block fringe – I’d always wanted one and had considered cutting my long shaggy fringe shorter, but I knew I couldn’t pull it off. Once I’d combed my hair forwards to see if it would give me a geek chic celebrity look. Dad walked in as I was doing it and asked, ‘are you acting out War Horse again?’

I decided the look wasn’t for me.

‘Hi, Anna, did you have a nice holiday?’ Stephanie asked.

‘Um, yes, thank you. Not much happened,’ I lied, hoping that she was the only person in the world who hadn’t seen the plant pot video.

‘I felt like I was working the whole time,’ Stephanie said, rolling her eyes. ‘So much revision!’

‘Yeah, it wasn’t fun,’ Connor agreed. ‘But there were some highlights.’

I felt a flutter in my tummy. Was he talking about hanging out with me? He must be! He had just been doing revision or Art class otherwise. Oh my goodness, Connor had referred to me as a HIGHLIGHT. I couldn’t wait to tell Marianne and Jess!

‘Well, you might call them highlights. But they were quite stressful as well!’ Stephanie nudged Connor’s arm.

Well, that was a little uncalled for, I thought. Hanging out with me hadn’t been stressful! OK, fine, there had been moments of stress, like the time I got chased by a goose. But that only happened once and I was sure that Connor had just found it funny, not stressful.

‘We learnt a lot,’ Connor argued.

Very true. Next time, I was just going to surrender the bread to the goose.

‘Maybe, but I still think I enjoyed the milkshake bar more.’

Wait. There definitely hadn’t been a milkshake bar involved. What were they talking about?

‘Milkshake bar?’ I asked, as casually as possible.

‘Sorry, Anna, I should have explained,’ said Connor, turning to me. ‘Stephanie was in those Art classes I went to, and after class a couple of times we went to this amazing milkshake bar. It does every flavour in the world.’

‘You should come next time we go, Anna! Connor told me that you have a bit of a sweet tooth. They do Nutella flavour, and I know it’s your favourite.’ Stephanie smiled, hitching up all the books she was holding.

He’d told her about my Nutella love? I tried not to feel jealous of this girl who not only had very nice hair but was apparently artistic too, and who had spent her Easter holidays with Connor at a milkshake bar.

‘I had a Nutella milkshake once in your honour,’ Connor informed me proudly. ‘It was pretty good.’

The bell rang, echoing down the near-empty corridor.

‘Right, better get to class.’ Connor hitched his bag on to his shoulder. ‘Anyone walking this way?’

‘I am,’ Stephanie smiled.

Of course she was.

‘I’m going the other way,’ I said, in my most cheerful-not-minding voice.

‘See you later, Spidey.’ Connor smiled at me. ‘I’ll come find you.’

I nodded and walked away, glancing back to see Stephanie launching into what was probably another hilarious, sophisticated Art story that didn’t involve anyone being chased by a vicious goose. But just as my heart was sinking, Connor looked back over his shoulder, catching my eye and smiling slowly, and the butterflies in my stomach went sugar-high crazy.

Jess can be very secretive.

While we were in detention that afternoon I could see that she was working on something, but annoyingly she wasn’t sitting near enough for me to slip her a note as easily as we do in French. Mr Kenton had made us sit a couple of desks apart so we didn’t distract each other.

Like that could stop me.

I screwed up a piece of paper tightly and tossed it towards her desk. I missed. Jess didn’t look up.

‘Psst!’

She still didn’t look up. I saw how it was. Well, if it was OK for her to distract me and get us detention in the first place . . .

‘PSST!’

Mr Kenton looked up, and I smiled innocently at him until he slowly looked back down at his book.

More inventive measures were clearly called for. I folded a paper airplane, wrote ‘pay attention!!!’ on one of its wings and skilfully (I thought) hurled it into the air in Jess’s direction.

It went straight up and then just plopped back down pathetically on to the ground by my feet.

I’m almost FIFTEEN and I can’t even make paper airplanes.

In desperation, I threw a rubber at her head.

‘What the . . . ?’

‘Jess!’ I whispered enthusiastically. ‘It’s me!’

‘No kidding.’ She rubbed the side of her head and gestured irritably around at the empty room. Somehow even Connor, who had been in detention all of last term for drawing comics and not concentrating, had escaped detention today.

‘Are you practising French vocab?’ I asked in a low voice, glancing warily at Mr Kenton.

‘No.’

‘Science?’

‘No.’

‘Is it English? Are you going over some notes for the exam?’

She shook her head. ‘It’s my Art project.’

‘Geez!’ I exclaimed, a little louder than I meant to. ‘What is so good about Art?! I hear nothing else these days except for art, art, art!’

Mr Kenton looked up again and cleared his throat as Jess looked bewildered. ‘Miss Huntley, might I suggest you use this hour to actually do some work? I know that it’s far more tempting to throw rubbers at the heads of your peers and rant about creative subjects, but this is detention. I can’t bend all of the rules. I’m sure you have some homework to be getting on with?’

I nodded, flicking through some pages of notes and feigning interest in them until he went back to his book. Then I quietly tore out a piece of paper from my Chemistry book.

TOP SECRET

Jess, do you think Connor hasn’t kissed me because I can’t draw? WRITE BACK ASAP.

This time I got lucky. The scrunched-up ball landed on top of Jess’s pencil case. She rolled her eyes at me. ‘Read it!’ I mouthed, glancing warily at Mr Kenton. Luckily, he was now engrossed in his novel.

I watched Jess as she opened it up, sighed and then wrote what I hoped was a sensitive and intuitive answer to my love-life woes. The paper whipped past my nose and skitted across the desk on my right. I reached over and eagerly opened it.

You’re a loser.

When detention finally came to an end, Mr Kenton said, ‘You know, Anna, you shouldn’t let that YouTube video get you down. If anything, it’s a lovely insight into the life of celebrities! I’m rather inspired to get a set of palm trees to frame my own staircase now. They add a certain je ne sais quoi.’

‘Not a bad idea, Mr Kenton,’ Jess nodded. ‘Anna, maybe you should get Helena to put the palm trees on eBay! I bet you’d make a fortune.’

‘Excellent business thinking, Jessica,’ Mr Kenton said. ‘Gold star!’

‘They’re not palm trees,’ I cried, ‘they’re Dracaena Lisa plants!’ And I flung my bag over my shoulder and flounced out the door.

‘Word of advice, It Girl,’ Jess grinned as she caught up with me, ‘next time you make a witty comeback, try not to sound like the biggest nerd in the world. You just managed to make Mr Kenton look cooler than you.’

Note to self: kill Danny.

As we made our way towards the school gate, I caught sight of something that made my heart race about ten times faster than normal. Connor was standing right by it, rooting through his bag.

Jess sighed and shook her head as she noticed him. ‘Seriously? You guys kind of disgust me, you’re so cute.’

‘What?’ I played innocent.

‘You said he wasn’t your boyfriend! He’s totally waiting for you.’

‘Keep your voice down, Jess!’ I hissed. ‘He’s not my boyfriend. He hasn’t said anything about it and nothing’s, you know, happened. We haven’t even really been on a date, unless you count the goose incident.’

‘Just lean in and kiss him, it’s no big deal,’ Jess said a little too loudly for my liking as we crossed the yard towards Connor.

‘It is a big deal when you’ve never kissed anyone before. Anyway, stop talking, he’ll hear us.’

‘Hey guys,’ Connor smiled, looking up as we reached him. ‘How are you, Jess? How did the photography internship at the magazine go?’

‘It was great!’ said Jess cheerfully. ‘I’ll have to show you some of the work I did sometime. I’ve got to rush off now. See you guys tomorrow!’ She gave me the most unsubtle wink I have ever seen and jogged away, grinning.

I was left blushing at Connor. Then my phone beeped. ‘Sorry,’ I mumbled and dug around in my bag. I pulled it out.

SMOOCH TIME. Jx

Connor watched me, bemused, as I threw the phone back as if I’d been bitten. Did she have to use capslock?!

‘You OK there, Spidey?’ he asked.

‘Yeah, just . . . um . . . someone annoying messaging me,’ I sighed. ‘Fans, you know how it is.’

‘Sure.’

‘And, um, how come you’re still here?’ I asked as innocently as I could, hoping he might say something like, ‘I’m madly in love with you and I wanted to wait for you to tell you that. Will you be my girlfriend for ever more?’

He shrugged. ‘I was in the Art studio with Stephanie after school, doing a bit of planning for my Art project this term. I left, but then I thought I must have left my phone there, so I came back for it. I’ve just found it, though,’ he said happily, tapping his bag. ‘In here all along. Hey, this was great timing, I forgot you had detention.’

Oh.

‘I’ll walk you back home if you’d like? It’s kind of on the way to mine, after all, and it’s a nice day.’

‘I’d love . . . er . . . like, er . . . that would be cool.’

‘Right.’ He grinned and pulled a bag of Milk Bottles out of his bag. ‘So, how was detention without me?’

Distracted by my favourite sweets, I was relieved to find I could speak like a Normal Person again. ‘It was fine. Not as entertaining as when you’re there, though.’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘You and Jess didn’t just chat the entire time?’

‘She’s working on her Art project. And, you know, I’ve got lots of stuff to do. We were both pretty focused.’

‘Right,’ he chuckled. ‘All that stuff you have to do.’

‘Hey! I’m very busy and important, I’ll have you know.’

‘Oh, yes,’ he said, suddenly serious. ‘I forgot that you were Britain’s favourite It Girl.’

‘Second-favourite. Marianne is firmly in the lead, especially now that she and Tom Kyzer are a proper thing.’

‘Does it feel weird that you’re about to be the stepsister of someone who’s dating a rock star?’ he asked, looking at me quizzically and pushing back his dark hair from his eyes.

He was so nice to look at.

‘Anna?’

Oh my god. I’d been STARING at him.

‘Oh. Haha. Yes, well,’ I mumbled trying to remember the question. ‘I’ve only met Tom properly once, and my dad was so embarrassing then that I’m pretty sure Marianne will never bring him round again.’

‘Did your dad really ask him if he wanted to do a duet?’

‘A guitar duet,’ I sighed, recalling the moment in agony. ‘He actually said, “back in the day I could have been a rock star myself.” I almost died.’

‘Your dad’s amazing,’ Connor said, shaking his head.

‘Not when there’s a rock star in your house and he’s rummaging around in the attic for his old guitar. Then Helena told Tom the story about the time Marianne was little and she lifted her dress up in front of Madonna to show off her Disney pants, and I laughed so hard that I spilt my lemonade all over Tom’s shoes. To top it off, Dog nicked his wallet off the table and chewed his bank card.’ I bit my lip. ‘I don’t think any of us will be seeing Tom Kyzer any time soon.’

Connor laughed. ‘I missed chatting to you properly over the holidays, Spidey.’

He stopped and I tripped over my own feet before I realised that he’d stopped because we’d reached my front door. He’d MISSED ME.

‘I’ll see you at school tomorrow then?’ he asked.

‘Yeah. I’m glad I survived today,’ I chuckled nervously. ‘Plant pot incident and everything.’

‘Don’t worry about that,’ said Connor. ‘People will get distracted by something else soon. Plus, I think the plant pot video was an excellent publicity stunt.’

‘Connor, it wasn’t a . . . I mean, I didn’t do it on . . .’

‘Anna,’ he interrupted, winking at me. ‘It was an excellent publicity stunt . . . I think the whole thing is pretty genius of you. It was a brilliant way of cheering the nation, getting more followers on social media and guaranteeing more support for anything you do in the future. So if anyone else asks, I’ll say that it was an excellent publicity stunt.’

‘Ohhhh,’ I said, catching on at last. ‘Yes, well. Not everyone can be a PR genius, but I try.’

‘You do. Hey, we should have filmed the goose chase too. Your audience would have doubled with that one. Maybe we could pay the goose another visit?’

‘Never!’

He laughed. ‘Well, I’d better get going.’

‘Yeah,’ I replied, leaning back against my front door with my key in my hand and shuffling my feet.

There was a moment’s silence. We caught each other’s eye and Connor took a small step towards me. Considering he hadn’t been standing too far away in the first place, this meant that he was really close all of a sudden. Close enough for my face to grow really hot. Close enough for me to forget to breathe. He reached out and his hand brushed my face. I started closing my eyes. I could hardly believe that it was actually happening. I was about to have my FIRST. EVER. KISS. This was it.

Except that, suddenly, the door was no longer behind me. I stumbled and fell backwards, landing with a thump on my bum.

Five reasons why the whole world should get rid of doors:

1. They are kind of pointless. I mean, what do they really do? If you think about it, they have no real function.

2. They might keep things out, but isn’t that negative? Doors contribute to negative thinking. And we have enough negative thinking in the world already without doors.

3. Fingers can get caught in them. Doors are a danger to mankind.

4. People walk into them the whole time. Not only are doors a danger to mankind, but clearly we have not developed enough intelligence to handle their complex and cruel nature.

5. People are very irresponsible with them. Like when they just swing one open without checking to see if someone is leaning on the other side of it about to have their FIRST KISS.

‘Anna, are you OK?’ Connor’s face popped into view as he knelt over me. I blinked up at him.

‘Is there any chance that you didn’t see that happen?’

His face broke into a look of relief and he chuckled. ‘I didn’t see a thing, I swear.’ He reached out for my hand and gently pulled me up into a sitting position.

‘Anna,’ said my dad’s voice. ‘What’s going on? Oh, hello Connor.’

‘Hi, Mr Huntley,’ said Connor.

Oh, brilliant. My dad was getting in on the act.

‘Why are you on the floor?’ Dad asked. ‘Were you trying to salsa again? I told you the last time, it’s just not the dance step for you.’

There it was. Things could always get worse.

‘No, Dad, I was not trying to salsa.’ I clambered to my feet and peered into the hall. Standing behind my dad were several men and women, all dressed in expensive-looking black tailored trouser suits. The men had their hair slicked back, while the girls had their hair in high, ridiculously-neat ponytails and sported bright red lipstick.

‘Who are these strange people?’ I looked round at them all. ‘Er, no offence. I meant strange as in new. Not strange as in . . . strange. I’m sure you’re all lovely. Whoever you are. Hello.’

Next to me, Connor sniggered and I elbowed him in the ribs.

‘This is the wedding team.’ Dad didn’t sound too happy about it. ‘But what happened to you, Anna?’

‘Nothing! I fell through the door. What’s a wedding team?’

‘Anna! There you are, darling!’ Helena breezed into the hall from the sitting room, looking very smart in a black knee-length dress and peach blazer. ‘I thought I heard a commotion.’

‘She fell through the door,’ Dad informed her as she pulled me into a hug.

‘Nice to see you, Miss Montaine,’ said Connor politely.

‘Connor, I’ve told you, call me Helena,’ Helena gushed, embracing him dramatically. ‘How is your Art going? Anna says you’re the most talented artist she’s ever seen.’

WAY TO PLAY IT COOL, HELENA.

‘Um, did she?’ asked Connor, sounding uncomfortable. ‘Well, I’ve been going to some Art classes, so I think I’m getting better. I could show you some stuff next time I come over?’

‘That would be simply fantastic, I just love art,’ Helena declared, so enthusiastically it sounded as though she thought Connor was the next Picasso.

‘If you’re OK, Anna, then I should probably head off,’ Connor said, now looking like a rabbit caught in the headlights. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow?’

I opened my mouth to speak, but before I could say anything there was a loud crash from the sitting room, a shrill scream and an explosion of panicked voices shouting.

‘What the . . . ?’

Suddenly about fifteen owls came flying towards us down the hall, flapping wildly.

‘SHUT THE DOOR,’ yelped one of the wedding team, and another threw himself courageously at the front door, slamming it closed just in time. Connor and I ducked as the owls, shut off from their escape route, were forced into a mass U-turn back towards the sitting room.

Then the wedding team leapt into action. They rushed away and reappeared wearing long, brown-leather gloves. The owls, noticing them, calmed and flapped over to them obediently.

‘Gosh, how interesting,’ Dad said weakly, patting himself down as he got up from his crouching position by the telephone table.

‘What on EARTH is going on?’ I demanded, completely bewildered.

‘It’s an idea for the wedding,’ Dad said in a very, very strained voice.

‘Don’t you think it’s precious?’ Helena cooed, patting her hair.

‘No, I don’t think it’s precious. There are OWLS casually flying around my house! Where’s Dog? That could have been carnage!’

‘One of the wedding team took him for a walk,’ Helena explained as she led us all into the sitting room.

‘YOU WHAT?’ Letting Dog be taken for a walk by a STRANGER? That was completely unacceptable. What if someone stole him? It would be understandable – Dog is one of the most beautiful and intelligent creatures on this earth, after all. Also, Dog always gets sulky with me when other people take him on walks. It makes him think that Dad and I are neglecting him. Once, when Helena took him for a stroll because I was staying the night at Jess’s house and Dad was on a tight deadline, Dog punished me by sneaking into my room and eating chapters one to ten of The Hobbit.

Dad looked at me apologetically. ‘We had to get him out of the house while the owls were here. Helena insisted on seeing the birds herself. I made sure the dog walker was very trustworthy – Fenella assured me that he was very good with dogs.’

‘Who is Fenella? What is going on? Why owls? Why has my house turned into Hogwarts?’

‘Um, Anna?’ Connor spoke up, patting my arm lightly. ‘I really am going to have to head home now. Nice to see you again, Mr Huntley, er, Helena.’

He waved goodbye awkwardly. As the door shut behind him, I slapped my palm on my forehead. ‘Well, that was mortifying. Dad, what is going on?’

Dad gestured dejectedly towards the sitting room and I marched past him to see for myself. I was greeted with what looked like a scene out of those totally random arty films that Dad loves: several empty owl cages, the wedding team standing around the room holding owls and clipboards, what appeared to be an extremely disgruntled bird handler sitting on the windowsill with his head in his hands, and Helena in a frenzied conversation with a woman who looked like she had walked out of the Vogue head office. Marianne was slumped back on a sofa fanning herself with a newspaper.

‘Anna, come and meet Fenella,’ Helena instructed jovially, leading the tall Vogue woman towards me. ‘She’s our wedding planner.’

‘Yeah, hi.’ I offered my hand, which Fenella took rather reluctantly. ‘Why are there owls everywhere?’

‘I thought we could have one carrying the ring. What do you think?’ Helena clapped her hands excitedly.

‘It’s the stupidest idea of all time,’ Marianne grumbled, rubbing her forehead. ‘Did you not just witness the chaos?’

‘I told you not to let them all out at once,’ the bird handler growled.

‘What’s the point in having birds if they can’t fly about? I didn’t realise they would go mental.’ Marianne rolled her eyes. ‘Anna, did you see them flying about everywhere? We can’t have them at the wedding, they’re completely wild.’

‘Yeah, I did happen to notice them when they flew at CONNOR’S HEAD.’ I sat down in a strop, pausing to accept the sparkling water that one of the wedding team offered me.

‘Connor was here?’ Marianne perked up at that.

‘Connor is Anna’s beau,’ Helena explained to Fenella, who looked like she didn’t care in the least.

‘He is not my “beau”!’ I groaned.

‘I’ve told you this so many times, Mum. Stop using the word “beau”,’ Marianne instructed. ‘You sound weird.’

‘I am not weird!’ Helena protested. An owl behind her made a loud hooting noise, prompting all the other owls to start hooting too. She glanced around. ‘OK, fine, this is a slightly weird situation.’

‘I think it is time we take our leave,’ Fenella announced, and she clapped her hands three times.

The wedding team acted at once. They moved around the room at lighting speed, impressive considering their very tight black uniforms. They gathered together boxes of material and folders and rushed them outside to the line of black cars that I only noticed now were parked along our road.

‘It looks like we’re being investigated by the FBI,’ Marianne observed as she pulled herself forwards to watch from the window. She was wearing a t-shirt with I’m dating the band on it.

‘The FBI is American,’ I corrected, spilling my sparkling water down my top and trying to act like nothing had happened.

‘I’m glad that’s over,’ Dad said when the last owl had been carefully carried from the house and Dog had been returned, clearly very annoyed at not only missing out on whatever had left the strong bird-like scent in his house but also at being walked by a strange man. I knew it was Dad he was mad at – I saw him sniff agitatedly around before sitting his furry bottom down on Dad’s reading glasses. Still, I ran upstairs when he wasn’t looking and quickly moved all my books, just in case.

‘No owls at the wedding,’ Marianne stated firmly, looking at her mother.

‘You’re all very boring indeed,’ Helena pouted.

Marianne ignored her. ‘So, Anna, how was it with Connor?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Oh come on,’ Marianne grinned. ‘Are you guys properly together at last, or are you still playing it cool?’

‘I think her coolness factor went out the window when she fell through the door,’ Dad observed.

I narrowed my eyes at him. ‘Coming from the man who writes books about tanks and sings Disney songs in the shower?’

That shut him up.

‘You fell through the door? Anna!’ Marianne said, throwing up her arms and causing all of the bangles around her wrists to jangle loudly. ‘Why do you keep falling over all the time? What’s wrong with you?’

‘Nothing! I was leaning against the stupid door and someone opened it for no reason.’ I looked accusingly at Helena. ‘Someone from the wedding team. What even is a wedding team?’

‘They’re putting the wedding together for us,’ Helena explained, flicking through a bridal magazine. ‘I make all the decisions, they do all the work.’

‘We make all the decisions,’ Dad corrected. Helena ignored him, engrossed by a feature on cake.

‘Why were you leaning against the door?’ Marianne asked. ‘Why weren’t you just opening it?’

‘Because . . . we were chatting.’ I shrugged and kicked off my shoes. ‘I’m going to go upstairs and change.’

‘Oh my goodness,’ Marianne gasped. ‘Was he about to kiss you?’

‘What? No!’ I blushed furiously.

‘He totally was! You’ve gone bright red!’ She squealed. ‘You guys!’

‘No, he wasn’t. We were chatting,’ I explained to the room. ‘There was no kissing, or attempted kissing.’

‘I should hope not,’ Dad went all huffily. ‘You’re only fourteen.’

‘Oh Nick.’ Marianne looked at him sympathetically. ‘You’re so naive.’

‘Look, there was no kissing and there probably never will be,’ I announced, standing up. ‘Everyone at school has seen the plant pot video. Including Connor.’

‘Connor doesn’t care about plant pots,’ Marianne said smugly. ‘He’s just potty about you.’

‘Very nice, how long have you been waiting to say that?’

‘Basically since the video went viral. But I needed the right moment. Don’t worry about it, he’ll kiss you soon enough.’ Marianne winked.

‘Not under my roof. And I think Anna’s mother would agree with me too,’ Dad added.

Marianne snorted. I knew what she meant. My mum and dad had never actually been married, or even really together, and they were both very happy with this arrangement. Mum was what you might call a free spirit, and me kissing a boy was something I suspected she would have been delighted at, especially as she kept telling her friends that, unlike her, I was a ‘late bloomer’. Mortifying. She and Helena were just as bad as each other when it came to the topic of my barely-existent love life.

‘Everyone!’ Helena suddenly exclaimed from where she was perched on the end of the sofa. She held up her magazine for us all to see. ‘How do we all feel about exploding cakes?’

From: jess.delby@zingmail.co.uk

To: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

Subject: YAWN

OK, where are you? It does NOT take this long to walk back to your house, even if you’re distracted by . . . oh, I don’t know . . . KISSING A BOY????

Come on. Spill. And make it snappy. Mum keeps yelling at me because she can’t find the power button on the TV controller.

J x

From: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

To: jess.delby@zingmail.co.uk

Subject: Re: YAWN

There was no kissing. I fell through the front door.

Love, me xxx

From: jess.delby@zingmail.co.uk

To: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

Subject: Wow

You fell through the front door. Seriously?

What is wrong with you?

J x

From: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

To: jess.delby@zingmail.co.uk

Subject: Re: Wow

I’ve been asking myself that question a lot this evening.

Love, me xxx

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