Geek Drama. Holly Smale
grins and takes a step towards me. “I had to pick up a Versace contract from Wilbur, and he told me you’d gone missing. He’s checking under all the tables in the building, and I’m doing all the cupboards.”
My cheeks get steadily hotter.
Just because the first time I ever met Nick Hidaka I was hiding under a table doesn’t mean I’m always under one. I’ve seen him several times outside of furniture too.
His memory is very selective.
We stare each other out for a few seconds.
Clearly the only way to get out of this predicament in style is to stalk out of the cupboard. To stick my nose in the air, be dignified, and charge out in an adult, sophisticated kind of—
A bubble of embarrassed laughter pops out of my mouth.
Nope, that wasn’t it, was it?
“I’m a ninny, aren’t I?” I say, twisting my mouth and staring at the floor.
“A little bit,” Nick laughs in his warm Australian twang.
“I try really hard but I’m not entirely sure I can help it,” I admit. “It seems to be inbuilt.”
Nick puts a hand under my chin and gently tilts my head back up so I’m looking at him again. “Luckily, I have a soft spot for ninnies. Especially the kind that can recite the periodic table backwards.”
And as the boy I like best in the world leans down to kiss me, suddenly a cupboard doesn’t seem like the worst place in the world to be stuck in after all.
I pitch for it quite hard. I suggest a cupboard picnic: I’m pretty sure I have a few bits of broken chocolate bar at the bottom of my satchel and, if I rummage hard enough, half a cheese and onion sandwich we can split in two.
Basically anything that will prolong my time in what now magically appear to be incredibly romantic surroundings.
Unfortunately, Nick has other ideas.
“Isn’t there somewhere you’re supposed to be?”
“The casting?” I poke my head out of the cupboard and frown. The lights of the corridor upstairs have all been turned off. “I think everyone’s gone now. It doesn’t matter. I wasn’t that bothered anyway.”
I lean up to kiss him again.
“Nope,” Nick laughs, kissing the end of my nose instead. “Not Brink. Somewhere else.”
Sugar cookies. Why does he always remember everything I say? If I didn’t know better, I’d think Nick had my life itinerary bullet pointed and stashed away in his pocket somewhere.
Which is totally the kind of thing I’d do, but I didn’t think it was his style.
“Oh,” I say airily, waving a hand, “I guess I’ve missed it by now. Never mind.”
Nick lifts an eyebrow. “I’m not sure Nat would see it like that.”
Nat.
I’m suddenly flooded with a wave of shame and guilt so intense I almost fall over. Because I’m going to be honest: if there was another bright side to being stuck in a cupboard, it was that I couldn’t be anywhere else.
Somewhere even worse.
I look at the floor. “I suppose I did promise,” I admit in a small voice. “And she is my best friend.”
Only friend.
Now is probably not the time to make that clarification.
“Exactly.” Nick grins and leans towards me. “It’ll be fun. No biggy.”
We all know what he means when he says that, which is: exactly the opposite. I try to look cross, which is almost impossible when you’re being kissed.
“Next you’ll be telling me to break a leg,” I mutter grumpily.
Nick laughs and grabs my hand. “Come on, Table Girl. There’s a train to your school in fifteen minutes. I’ll walk you to the station.”
It’s 6:30pm on a Saturday evening, and I’m now standing back outside the gates of what should really be a closed building. Usually I’d be delighted to be here out of hours, but right now, frankly, there are other places I’d rather be.
Anywhere, actually.
The winds on Neptune reach at least 2,000 kilometres per hour and are capable of ripping a building to shreds. After a bit of consideration, I’d probably choose to hang out there instead.
“Where have you been?” Nat charges towards me like Boudicca on the back of a chariot: perfectly straightened hair flying, perfectly lined eyes narrowed and what I guess is an expensive silver handbag wielded like some kind of boxy shield. “I’ve been calling for hours and left a billion messages and—” She frowns and looks down. “Harriet, why do you have a ring of dirt around your waist?”
I tug at my stripy jumper. I now look like a grubby human version of Saturn. “I’m so sorry I’m late.”
My best friend takes a deep breath and then lets it out with one smooth hand gesture, like a composer about to conduct an orchestra. “It’s OK. There’s still time.”
Sugar cookies. There was still a tiny bit of me hoping I’d managed to totally miss the whole thing.
The horrible, selfish, terrible-friend part, obviously.
Break a leg.
Oooh. That’s quite a good idea. If I can just find a few stairs to fall down, I might be able to—
“Don’t even think about it,” Nat snaps as I start frantically searching the school corridors for some kind of stepped elevation. “I mean it, Harriet. Don’t even think about thinking about it. You’re auditioning for Hamlet with me if I have to wheel you up there in a shopping trolley.”
Every now and then I wish I didn’t have a best friend who knows me inside and out.
Now is definitely one of those times.
“But you don’t even like Shakespeare, Nat,” I point out. I’m going to give it one last shot. “You use Julius Caesar to prop up your magnifying mirror.”
Nat pulls a face, and I suddenly realise how nervous she is. There’s a pink flush on her neck and she’s nibbled off all but one varnished nail: her stomach must be full of tiny bits of blue enamel.
Nat sticks her thumb in her mouth and starts attacking the final nail. “This is my last chance, Harriet. If I can’t be a model then an actress is the next best thing, right? Maybe I can get some kind of lipstick campaign this way instead.”
I flinch.
This is exactly why I agreed to audition with her in the first place. Three months ago, I accidentally stole my best friend’s lifelong dream of modelling while on a school trip in Birmingham. The least I can do is support