Love and Other Drama-Ramas! (4 page)

I stare at her. “Hello? Seth’s no slacker in the looks department.”

“Sorry, I know. But you don’t understand the pressure.” She gives another breathy sigh.

OK, now my skin is starting to prickle with irritation. Before I have a chance to say anything, though, she continues, “Do you think the boys would prefer pizza or burgers?”

“What do
you
want to eat, Mills?”

“I’m easy. I’ll let the boys decide.”

“Amelia Starr,” I say sternly, “our great-great-grandmothers did not chain themselves to railings or burn their bras so that you could be such a girlie marshmallow.
You
make a decision. Pizza or burgers?”

She hesitates, her eyes big and startled like a deer caught in headlights. “Um . . . um . . . pizza,” she stammers. “No . . . no . . . burgers.”

“I’ll accept your first answer. Pizza it is.”

“But what if Bailey—”

I cut her off. “Then he’ll have to put up with it.”

“Who’ll have to put up with it?” Seth asks, appearing beside us. Bailey is nowhere to be seen.

“Nothing,” Mills says quickly.

“Fancy a pizza?” I ask him.

He smiles and nods easily. “Sure. Bailey was just saying he’d kill for a pepperoni special.”

I smile at Mills smugly, but she’s distracted. “Where’s Bailey?” she asks Seth, looking panicked. “He hasn’t gone home, has he?”

“Patience, Grasshopper,” Seth says, giving me a wink. He knows it’s one of my expressions. I stole it from Clover.

A few seconds later, Bailey reappears swinging a small Music City bag on his index finger. He hands it to Mills. “Present,” he says simply.

Mills’s face lights up like a Christmas tree. “For me?” She pulls a CD out of the bag. “The new
Glee
. Thanks, Bailey.” Her face drops. “But you hate
Glee
. You say they murder perfectly good songs.”

He shrugs. “Yeah. But I know you dig that happy-clappy musicals stuff. I’ve checked out your iPod.” He gives her a wide smile. “You can run, Mills, but you can’t hide.”

Mills’s cheeks go scarlet. “I like other stuff too,” she mumbles. “Like the Golden Lions and, um, the Red Hot Chili People.”

Bailey grins and throws his arm over her shoulders. “Now, did I hear someone say pizza? Come on, my little cheerleader,” he tells her in a mock American accent. “You can torture me with some cheesy
Glee
songs on the way.”

A Piece of Rome is hopping, but we manage to get a small table in the corner. Once we’ve ordered, Seth leans in to me. “Sorry I don’t have the moolah to get you anything,” he says.

“That’s OK,” I say, and then noticing that Mills and Bailey are holding hands across the table, I roll my eyes at him.

He smiles. “Rock, paper, scissors, Bailey?” he says, holding out a closed fist.

Bailey looks over at him, his eyes suddenly dark. “What? Now?”

Seth puts his hands up in the air. “Only joking, mate. Just trying to reclaim your digits from Mills the human octopus. You’ll need them to eat.”

Bailey still doesn’t look impressed, but Mills is smiling. “Not funny, Seth,” she says, punching him on the shoulder.

Seth puts his hands around his throat and pretends that a monster is dragging him to the floor.

“Hellupp, hellupp,” he squeals. “I’m being eaten by Mills the human octopus.”

It’s ridiculous but hilarious, and we all start laughing — even, to my relief, Bailey. Everyone is staring at us, but we don’t care. I’m laughing so much, tears are rolling down my cheeks, and Bailey is giving big whoopy belly laughs while Mills is trying to look indignant.

“Stop laughing, Bailey,” Mills says — but even she’s holding her stomach from all the giggling.

Finally Seth stops, and I gulp in deep breaths and try to stop chuckling too.

“You nearly got us all thrown out, man.” Bailey grins.

Seth shrugs. “Can’t help being such a born comedian.”

I groan. “See what I have to put up with? You’re delusional, Seth.”

“But you love me anyway.” He grabs a bread stick, breaks it in half, and sticks the pieces under his top lip. “Marry me, Bella.”

I start laughing again. “Seth, stop! I can’t take any more. My stomach is killing me.”

In the bus on the way home, Mills and I share a seat so the boys can sit together and listen to Bailey’s iPod. (He always carries a spare set of headphones in case Mills wants them — barf!) It’s strangely sweet seeing the boys bobbing their heads in time to the same song.

I nudge Mills with my shoulder. “Enjoy the double date?”

“I wish every day could be like today. And you?”

“Best day ever.” I put my head on her shoulder, and we both sigh blissfully.

“Oy, Bean Machine, what’s up?” Clover appears in the doorway to my bedroom that night. She sits down on my bed and puts her arm around my shoulders.

I shrug it off a tad grumpily. “Nothing.”

“Sounds like something to me. Want to talk about it?”

I shake my head wordlessly.

She smiles gently. She seems quieter today, not her usual Tigger-bouncy self. “OK, then. I have something here that might take your mind off whatever’s bothering you — the latest
Goss
agony-aunt letters. Want a go?” She pulls a purple folder out of her smart black patent-leather bag (another piece swiped from the
Goss
fashion cupboard, no doubt) and taps it with a finger.

I sigh. “Can’t we do it another night? I’m not in the mood for other people’s grumblings right now.”

“Mood-smood. I have deadlines, Beanie, you know that. You can’t weasel out of your agony-aunt duties that easily. But first, tell your old aunt Clover what’s up. Pweetty pweese? A problem shared is a problem halved and all that nonsense.” She nudges me with her shoulder.

I give her a half-smile (it’s all I can manage) and sigh again, so deeply I half expect to blow her across the room like the house of straw in the
Three Little Pigs
. “Oh, it’s just Mills,” I say glumly.

“What happened? Did you guys have a fight?”

I shake my head. “Nothing like that. It’s just that she and Bailey are glued at the hip, and it’s driving me crazy. Honestly, they can’t keep their paws off each other. It’s tragic-o. We had a really nice afternoon. The four of us — me, Mills, Seth, and Bailey — wandered around the shops in Dundrum, had a pizza, and then got the bus back to Dun Laoghaire together. Seth had to get home, so he jumped on a DART, which meant I was left walking with the two of them like a prize lemon. Mills barely said a word to me, and they stopped at every lamppost to have a kiss! It was going to take hours to walk home. In the end I said I was late for babysitting and ran on ahead.”

Clover is staring at me, a smile flickering on her lips. “Not jealous are you, Beanie?”

“No! Don’t get me wrong. I like Bailey and, let’s be frank, he’s heaven on legs to look at. Plus he’s very decent to Mills — got her a CD today and everything. But I’m still not sure about him. There’s something about him that doesn’t quite add up. He never talks about his past and clams up if you ask him about his previous school, and he gets really moody for no reason. Sometimes I think he’s hiding something.”

“Oooh, I do love a boy with a big, dark secret. I wonder what it could be.” Clover grins, then stops when she sees that I’m not smiling. “This is seriously getting to you, isn’t it, Bean Machine?”

“I guess the truth is I feel a bit abandoned,” I admit. “I know it must sound stupid — I mean, I still see her every day in school and everything — but she’s changed in the last few weeks. It’s all Bailey this and Bailey that. She’s obsessed. It’s like my best friend has been abducted and replaced by a boy-crazed alien replica. And she’s crazy about a boy she barely even knows! I’m her best friend. We’ve known each other since we were babies.”

Clover sighs. “Friendship is hard, Bean Machine. Make no mistake. You should try talking to her. Maybe she’s in such a love haze, she can’t see or act straight. It happens — especially to girls like Mills. She does tend to view boys through rose-tinted Romeo-and-Juliet glasses, doesn’t she? And it’s her first proper Irish
garçon, oui
?”

I nod. “Yes, and maybe she doesn’t realize what a ninny she’s being. I guess I’ll try talking to her and hope that the boy-mad lenses fall from her deluded eyes soon. But I am seriously worried about her. I suppose Bailey could just be very private, but I don’t want to see Mills get hurt. I’ve never seen her so crazy about anyone.”

“I guess you have to be her safety net, Beanie: catch her fall if it all goes belly-up. That’s what friends are for.” Clover smiles at me gently. “Now speaking of problems . . .” She opens the plastic folder, pulls out two pieces of paper, and dangles them in front of my face. “I have some rather interesting ones here that will take your mind off things.
Número uno
involves a friendship dilemma, in fact. Let’s start with that one. Because
ze
second —
ooh-la-la!
Très, très
tricky,
mon amie.
Read them out loud, Beanie. I need to beautify my toes,” she says, pulling a bottle of glittery teal nail polish out of her bag. She draws her legs up and opens the bottle. The acrid smell fills the room.

I scowl at her. “Don’t get that on my duvet, Clover. Mum will murder me.”

She rolls her eyes. “Yes, Mills.”

I give a short laugh. It
is
exactly the kind of thing Mills would say, all right.

I clear my throat and start to read:

“Poor Frizzy,” I say, putting the letter down.

Clover looks up from her nails. “What advice would you give her, Beanie?”

“Easy peasy, lemon squeezy,” I say. “First of all those girls — Kylie, Danni, and Cheryl, or whatever their real names are — sound more like frenemies than real friends.”

“Excellent, Beanie. Anything else?”

“Yes. I’d tell her to forget the backstabbing threesome and hang out with Susie more, who sounds kind of sweet. Loyal too. I’d tell her a true friend is worth hanging on to, no matter what.”

“Good thinking, Beanie.” Clover sounds impressed. “Couldn’t do better myself. You’ve rightly nailed that one. Now try the next letter. It’s a bit more complicated.” Her eyes dart away. Is it my imagination or does she seem nervous?