Chocolate Box Girls: Bittersweet (7 page)

‘What does it matter who made the page?’ she shrugs. ‘Just leave it. One of life’s great mysteries.’

‘I’ve solved it,’ I smile. ‘I loved what you did with the video – very arty.’

‘Thanks,’ she says. ‘Best if they think Ben made it, though. We don’t want you getting into trouble again, do we?’

‘That won’t happen. Cherry and me, we’re fine now – unbreakable.’

‘Right,’ Honey says. ‘Well. That’s … good.’

I catch the bright glint of tears in her eyes and look away, embarrassed. When I glance up again there’s no trace of sadness, just perfectly painted eyeliner, a glossy smile, the cool, hard look I know so well.

‘Run along, Shay,’ she tells me. ‘You know what happens when you’re seen hanging out with me. I’m bad news. Trouble. Selfish to the bone.’

‘I don’t believe that.’

‘I know you don’t,’ Honey says, and the ghost of a smile flickers across her face. ‘You never did, and I sometimes think you were the only one. But trust me, Shay … some things are better left unsaid.’

She turns and walks away along the sand, back towards Tanglewood, and she doesn’t look back.

I set up a table in the foyer of Exmoor Park Middle School, cover it with a red-and-white checked cloth and drape my hand-painted banner, S
AVE THE
G
IANT
P
ANDA
, across the front of it. Then I set out the plates and arrange my home-baked cupcakes, which I have iced with little black-and-white panda faces. Who could resist?

‘They look better than the whale ones you made last time,’ my friend Sarah comments. ‘These ones are actually quite cute. What are we charging? Ten pence? Twenty pence?’

‘Thirty pence, or two for fifty pence,’ I decide. ‘It’s for charity, isn’t it?’

It is the first day back after the October holiday and Sarah and I have been allowed out of history ten minutes early to
set up our stall, so that we can make the most of the break-time rush once the bell goes.

Sarah unpacks a Tupperware box of chocolate fridge cake and I set out a slightly dented Victoria sponge, a tin of chocolate crispy cakes and a tub of rock buns that are a little too rock-like for comfort. My friends always rally round at times like this and manage to contribute something. I arrange my handmade leaflets, explaining why the giant panda is endangered and needs our help. I have learnt the hard way that my fellow pupils are rarely impressed by my efforts to raise funds with sponsored walks or silences. They are much more likely to part with their cash if cake is involved.

‘OK,’ Sarah says. ‘Thirty seconds and counting. Watch out for those Year Six boys – I’m sure they nicked my flapjacks last time!’

‘Nobody will dare swipe so much as a crumb while I’m watching,’ I promise. I pull on my fake fur panda hat with the sticky-up ears and square my shoulders, ready to do battle.

‘Here we go,’ I say to Sarah. ‘For the pandas!’

The bell goes and the foyer floods with kids. They can scent cake, and they swarm around the stall, grabbing panda cupcakes and wedges of Victoria sponge, shoving warm, sticky coins into the collection tin.

One cute little Year Five girl buys up the whole tin of chocolate crispy cakes for £5, because it’s her mum’s birthday. Then I spot a weaselly Year Six boy trying to pocket a couple of chunks of chocolate fridge cake and grab his wrist firmly. ‘Fifty pence, please,’ I say sweetly. ‘All proceeds go to help the giant panda!’

‘Help it do what?’ he asks, reluctantly handing over his cash.

‘Survive,’ I explain patiently. ‘They are almost extinct, because bamboo forests are being cut down and pandas eat mainly bamboo shoots.’

‘Why don’t they eat something different then?’ the kid asks. ‘Fish ’n’ chips. Big Macs. Chocolate fridge cake.’

I roll my eyes. ‘They can’t,’ I explain. ‘They are PANDAS, not people. They are supposed to eat bamboo shoots, and people are destroying their habitat. It’s up to us to save them!’

The boy’s face hardens. ‘If that’s true, you really shouldn’t wear a panda hat,’ he says. ‘That’s just sick.’ He walks away, scoffing fridge cake.

Boys really are infuriating and dim, especially Year Six boys.

And Year Eight boys are not much better. Lawrie Marshall has edged his way to the front of the crowd and is reading my panda leaflet with a sneery, disgusted look on his face.

Lawrie is the scratchiest, surliest boy I’ve ever met. He’s a loner, radiating waves of simmering anger that keep both kids and teachers at arm’s length. If he were a chocolate truffle, he’d be one of Paddy’s disastrous experiments – dark chocolate filled with gherkins and liquorice, or something equally horrific.

He must have a sweet tooth, though, because he always turns up at my cake sales.

‘How come you think you can change the world with cake?’ he snarls, bundling four cupcakes into a paper bag and handing over a pound coin.

‘I just do,’ I say. ‘I care about the pandas, and anything I can do to raise awareness and raise money has got to help.’

‘Huh,’ Lawrie says. ‘What’s the black-and-white icing supposed to be, anyway? Badgers?’

‘Panda faces,’ I say through gritted teeth. ‘Obviously.’

‘Right,’ he grunts. ‘Don’t give up the day job, OK?’

I roll my eyes.

‘Like the hat,’ Lawrie sneers, stalking away. I resist the temptation to throw a rock bun at the back of his head – but only just.

‘Ignore him,’ Sarah says. ‘He has a chip on his shoulder.’

‘A what?’

She shrugs. ‘You know – it’s just one of those things that people say. He’s angry at the world. Snippy with everyone. Don’t take it personally.’

The teachers drift over, buying the last few cakes for the staffroom, and I hand out the remaining leaflets to anyone who will take one.

‘There has to be twenty quid in there, at least,’ Sarah says, grinning at the collection tin, and suddenly I feel doubtful, disappointed. Twenty quid isn’t a whole lot really, especially considering all the flour and eggs and sugar and food colouring I’ve forked out to make my cupcakes. It’s not enough to save the giant panda, I am pretty sure. Looking around the table, I notice half a dozen discarded panda leaflets lying on the ground, and my spirits dip still further.

Saving the world with cake may actually be harder than I thought.

I glare at Lawrie Marshall as he stomps away along the corridor. I don’t think he has a chip on his shoulder so much as a whole plateful of the things, drenched in vinegar.

Your perfect day would be spent
…

a)
visiting a busy vintage market

b)
with your favourite canine companion on a long walk in the countryside

c)
curled up on the sofa watching black-and-white movies with your boyfriend

d)
window-shopping with your BFF

e)
sipping frappuccinos in a hip city cafe

Your ideal boy is …

a)
arty and sensitive

b)
boy? No thanks!

c)
a good listener … and a little bit quirky

d)
polite and clever

e)
good looking and popular – what other kind of boy is there?

Who’s the first person you would tell about your new crush?

a)
your sister – she knows everything about you

b)
your pet cat … animals are great listeners

c)
your BFF

d)
your mum – she always has the best advice

e)
no one. It’s best not to trust anyone with a secret

Your favourite subject is …

a)
history

b)
science

c)
creative writing

d)
French

e)
drama

Your school books are …

a)
covered in paisley-print fabric

b)
a bit muddy

c)
filled with doodles

d)
neat, tidy and full of good grades

e)
rarely handed in on time

When you grow up you want to be …

a)
an interior designer

b)
a vet

c)
a writer

d)
a prima ballerina

e)
famous

People always compliment your …

a)
individuality. If anyone can pull it off you can!

b)
caring nature – every creature deserves a bit of love

c)
wild imagination … although it can get you into trouble sometimes

d)
determination. Practice makes perfect

e)
strong personality. You never let anyone stand in your way

Mostly As …
Skye

Cool and eclectic, friends love your relaxed boho style and passion for all things quirky.

Mostly Bs …
Coco

A real mother earth, but with your feet firmly on the ground, you’re happiest in the great outdoors – accompabied by a whole menagerie of animal companions.

Mostly Cs …
Cherry

‘Daydreamer’ is your middle name … Forever thinking up crazy stories and buzzing with new ideas, you always have an exciting table to tell – you’re allowed a bit of artistic licence, right?

Mostly Ds …
Summer

Passionate and fun, you’re determined to make your dreams come true … and your family and friends are behind you every step of the way.

Mostly Es …
Honey

Popular, intimidating, lonely … everyone has a different idea about the ‘real your’. Try opening up a bit more and you’ll realize that friends are there to help you along the way.