Not Pretty Enough (8 page)

CHAPTER 15

I have to do something to prove to him that I am truly
sorry. I only have two days before the summer holidays to do so. I can’t let
him leave for six weeks hating me. Okay, maybe hating is a bit strong. I don’t
think he hates me. I think he is completely indifferent to me. I don’t think he
could care less about me. I’m not sure which of the two is better.

So I’m going to bake him some
cakes.

I don’t know if it’s a good idea
or not, but it’s making a gesture, and that’s the important part.

Now, I’m no master baker. In
fact, I’m not much of a baker at all. But baking cakes can’t be that hard, can
it? Debs found a recipe for me. You just throw all the ingredients into a bowl,
mix it, put it in cake cases and shove it in the oven.

Just because I don’t do well in
cookery class at school doesn’t mean I can’t do it at home. Personally I think it’s
all the pressure the teachers put us under. They make me nervous. It’s probably
their fault for every kid who gets bad marks.

I’m going to bake cakes, ice
them like those proper cupcakes you get in America, put them in a pretty little
Red Riding Hood style basket, go to school and give them to Lloyd as an
apologetic gesture.

Sorry I stabbed you in the foot.
Here are some cupcakes. They’re probably not that burnt. Please fall in love
with me.

Unbelievably something I do
actually goes right. I can bake cakes.

Although it’s a good thing I had
plenty of extra ingredients because the first batch came out looking like lumps
of charcoal, but the second batch were fine. Good, even. Obviously I had to eat
three to test them out.

The icing comes out good too. It’s
white, but I didn’t have any food colouring. I’ve had more than enough
experience with food colouring to last a lifetime. I just hope Lloyd doesn’t
think white cupcakes are too girly.

I know it’s not exactly the sort
of thing most girls do, but I wanted to give Lloyd some sort of apology, and I
can’t afford to buy anything fancy, and I’m not artistic enough to make
anything.

Debs and I find Lloyd and Darren
in their usual spot under the archway the next morning. I have my basket over
my arm but I’m about as far from Little Red Riding Hood as you can get. In
fact, with the zits that have exploded on my face and the way my hair has
frizzed in the July heat, I look more like the big bad wolf today.

“Going to see grandmother?”
Darren quips when we walk up.

Have I ever mentioned how much I
dislike Darren? It’s not that he’s overtly horrible, it’s just that he’s
completely indifferent. Like Lloyd, but less hot.

Lloyd goes to pick up his bag
and leave when he sees me, which is very unlike Lloyd because this old archway
is
his
territory.

“Wait,” I call, running up the
steps and almost tripping over my own feet.

Almost
.
That’s an improvement.

“I hope you know that I can
barely walk today because of you,” Lloyd says to me.

“What? It was just a scratch.”

“It hurts.”

“Oh, don’t be such a baby.”

Lloyd looks quite surprised.
Nowhere near as surprised as I am. Did I really just say that to Lloyd Layton?
That’s the sort of thing I would say to Ewan or Debs, certainly not to Lloyd
Layton.

Debs snickers behind me.

I glance at his feet. He’s
wearing trainers that are clearly brand new. I wish I had money like that. If I
got a javelin through my trainers, my mother would either patch the hole up
with sticky tape or buy me a pair of three quid plastic plimsolls from Primark.

“I’m sorry about the javelin. It
was an accident.”

“I know.” He nods. “I know that
you didn’t intend to stab me in the foot with a javelin, but it doesn’t mean I
can’t be mad at you. Do you realise that I had to miss out on doing the
obstacle course, the long jump
and
the discus
yesterday?”

“Lucky you,” Debs mumbles.

“I’m sorry,” I say. I cannot
understand how anybody can be upset about not having to do those things, but
boys are weird creatures indeed.

“Anyway, I brought you something
to say sorry.” I hand the basket to him. “Cupcakes.”

“Oh wow,” Darren says. “That is
so gay.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, no one says
that anymore,” I snap at him.

“These look good,” Lloyd says.
“You’re not trying to poison me, are you?”

“No,” I say. Although, it’s becoming
painfully obvious that some kind of poison might be the only way for me to ever
get close to Lloyd Layton.

“You made these just for me?”
Lloyd asks.

I nod enthusiastically. “I just
wanted you to know that I am really sorry about yesterday. I was really
worried.”

“It’s okay,” he says finally.

He takes a cupcake out of the
basket and offers one to Darren as well.

They both take a bite.

I briefly consider running away
in case they’re horrible or something.

“These are good,” Lloyd says at
last.

“They are,” Darren confirms. “I
can’t believe you made these. I remember that time we sat across from you two
in cookery and the whole lesson ended in a call to 999.”

Thanks
for bringing that up, you twit
.

“I’m a quick learner,” I mutter.

“Seriously, thanks Chessie,”
Lloyd says. “But will you do me a favour?”

I nod.

“Put them in a bag or something
and take the basket away. I’m not carrying that thing around all day or people
will be taking the piss out of me.”

I nod. I just happen to have
brought a bag with me because I thought that boys and baskets might not mix.

“Okay, well,” I say, taking the
basket back. “We’d better go or we’ll be late for class. I just wanted to say
sorry again. Um, see you around, I guess.”

“Yeah,” Lloyd smiles at me. “If
I don’t see you, have a great holiday.”

“Thanks,” I say. “You too.”

Wow. Could that have gone any
better?

What a perfect high note to end
the term on.

CHAPTER 16

August.

It’s summer and I’ve given up on my chances with Lloyd Layton.
He doesn’t live around here so I’m not going to see him for six weeks. I don’t
want to waste the whole summer holiday obsessing over him. Maybe in September
when we get back to school I can work on him again, but for now, I’ve given up.
Instead, I’m determined that Debs and I are going to enjoy the summer holidays.
It’s already August, and so far we’ve done very little shopping and very much
tanning. Partly because we’ve discovered that the little park in our village is
a breeding ground for hot boys. Not that I’m interested or anything, but it’s
nice to have something to look at while we’re out sunbathing. I didn’t even
know cute boys existed in this village. Its only inhabitants during term time
are the over eighty or under five crowd, but now the summer has come, there are
cute boys here. We’ve figured out that they must all be visiting their
grandparents.

But I’ve had enough of tanning.
I want to shop and I have some money saved up. Fifty quid, to be exact. Thirty
of it is saved up pocket money, and twenty is a summer bonus from my mother for
hosing down the outside of the house and painting the shed.

I phone Debs one evening in
early August.

“Want to come shopping in
Cardiff with me tomorrow?” I ask.

“If money grew on trees like in
Animal Crossing
,” she says.

“I’ve got fifty,” I tell her.
“And I think I can persuade my mum to let me have next week’s pocket money in
advance, you can borrow some off me if you like, and I’ll buy us lunch.”

“Hmm… I don’t know, Chessie.
It’s Wednesday tomorrow. That guy with the blue hair always shows up at the
park on Wednesdays.”

“I hear there’s a new range out
at Topshop…”

“Okay, I’m in,” she says
immediately. Debs is so transparent sometimes.

“Great.” I grin even though she
can’t see me. “I’ll meet you at the bus stop at nine in the morning.”

“Okay. I’ll see if I can get
some money out of my parents too.”

I love shopping in Cardiff. We
don’t do it very often because it’s no fun to shop if you don’t have any money,
and neither Debs nor I ever have any money, so we usually just go into the
nearest little town that’s only a bus ride away and buy a couple of magazines.
But when I have money burning a hole in my purse, there’s no better place to
spend it than Cardiff. I always complain about living in our village because it’s
so quiet and dull, but it would be so exciting to live in a city where stuff
always happens.

Debs is practically bouncing
when I meet her at the bus stop that morning.

“Do you know how long it’s been
since we did this?” she squeals.

“Um…”

“December. Can you believe we
haven’t been on a proper shopping trip since December?”

“I know,” I say. “School
holidays are good for something after all.”

“You’re not
still
hung up on the Lloyd Layton thing, are you?”

“No,” I say. “Just because I’ve completely
ruined my chances with the love of my life and now he’ll never speak to me
again, not that he ever would in the first place, and I won’t see him again for
over a month. What makes you think that?”

“Aren’t you a bit young for him
to be the love of your life?”

I shrug. “I had a crush on the
paper boy when I was younger and he was nothing compared to Lloyd. Lloyd is the
love of my life so far.”

“I just think there are better
guys out there than someone you’ve been trying to impress for six months when
he hasn’t so much as given you a second look.”

“Thanks. I feel so much better
now.”

We have an absolutely brilliant
morning in Cardiff. I think I should persuade my mum to buy shares in H&M.
I bet we’d get shareholders discount then.

But the best thing of all
happens when we’re in the little Sainsbury’s supermarket on the corner (because
what trip to Cardiff is complete without a tub of ice cream to share while
waiting for the bus home?)

Of all the places that he could possibly
pop up, the most unlikely one has to be at the till in the little Sainsbury’s
in the middle of Cardiff. But there he is.

He’s wearing a dark blue
baseball cap, jeans, and a fitted navy t-shirt. I creep closer to spy on him
while Debs picks out our ice cream. At first I can’t figure out what’s so weird
about the whole thing. I mean, Lloyd Layton is in Cardiff, in Sainsbury’s,
buying a loaf of bread and a pint of milk. What’s so weird about that?

Then it hits me.
He’s buying bread and milk
. That can only mean one
thing. He must live here. Cardiff isn’t the sort of city you come to just to do
your grocery shopping, not unless you live here. Nobody in their right mind
would come into the centre of Cardiff to buy bread and milk. They’d go to their
local shop. Unless this
is
their local shop.

It’s certainly possible. It’s
not that far from school, a bit of a nightmare by bus, but a car journey here
wouldn’t take very long, and Lloyd does get a taxi to school every day.

“Chessie, what are you doing?”
Debs asks.

“Look,” I whisper. “He’s buying
bread and milk.”

“Whoop de doo. Can we go? We
haven’t been in Topshop yet.”

“No, wait,” I say. “Don’t you
see? He must live here.”

“He must? How’d you figure that
one out?”

“Why would he come into the
centre of Cardiff to pick up bread and milk?”

Debs shrugs. “Maybe he asked his
driver to stop off on their way home?”

Oh. Yeah, that could be a
possibility.

But I like to think that I have
some sort of extra sensory perception type thing when it comes to Lloyd Layton.

“Go and say hello to him.” Debs
prods me in the ribs. “Go on, and then we can get on with our shopping.”

“Noooo,” I hiss. “I’ll look like
a deranged stalker.”

“Oh, for the—”

“Quick, he’s leaving,” I
interrupt as Lloyd takes his change from the cashier.

“Just go up and say hi, Chessie.
What’s the worst that could happen?”

“He runs screaming from the
store and calls the police?”

“So ignore him then. You’ll see
him in September anyway. And that bloke in a suit is looking at us funny.”

“I think he’s the manager, and
we’re hiding behind his display of Pot Noodles. Of course he’s looking at us
funny.”

Debs sighs.

“Just go and pay for the ice
cream,” I say. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Finally.”

She thinks I’m going to talk to
Lloyd, but I’m not. I’m going to follow him. I just want to see if my hunch is
correct. It’s not like I’m going to stalk him or anything. I just want to know
if he does live around here. If he heads towards a car park then I’ll know that
Debs is correct and he’s just got his limousine to stop on the way home. But I
think he must live here. No one would come into the centre of Cardiff for the
sole purpose of buying a loaf of bread. Not even Lloyd Layton.

I slip out of the shop and keep
my eyes on Lloyd. Luckily it’s not hard to keep sight of him in the crowd due
to his height. It makes him really easy to harmlessly follow out of curiosity.
Although even I have to admit that following Lloyd Layton through Cardiff is
not the way I planned to spend my summer holidays. It is quite fun though. I
feel like a ninja. I just hope that he doesn’t look round. Lloyd heads down a
side street, that if I remember correctly from Googling maps this morning,
leads to the outskirts of the city.

The
perfect spot for rich people’s houses
, my brain whispers to me.

I think I’m definitely on the
right track with thinking he lives here. How coincidental is that? We just
happen to be in Cardiff – somewhere we rarely go – on exactly the same day that
he just happens to be popping out for bread and milk. That just has to mean something,
right?

I think I believe in fate, and I
think that Debs and I were in Sainsbury’s at exactly the right time today for a
reason.

So I could follow Lloyd Layton
home and find out where he lives. It just proves to me that I shouldn’t give up
on Lloyd yet. Even though in the past couple of weeks I have, among other
mortifying things, stabbed him in the foot with a javelin, made him sit on an
ants nest and got him stung by a bee.

If nothing else, there’s always
next term.

I wish it was raining today so I
had an umbrella to hide behind. Umbrellas are excellent tools for hiding. Not
that I’m an expert at stalking or anything, I just know that I could hide quite
successfully behind an umbrella, but on a day like today, when the sun is
beating down, it would make me look more conspicuous.

Lloyd is a very fast walker. I
have to admit I’m panting a bit given the heat and the pace. But I never
expected him to dawdle, given how fast a runner he is, and how much he loves
sports.

I’m not very good with directions,
and Cardiff is one place I never fail to get lost in, that’s why I Googled a
map of the place this morning, but I think we’re on the outskirts of the city
by now. It’s not exactly countryside, but the gardens of the houses we pass are
bigger than normal, and it’s very quiet here.

We turn down another side street
and hit roadworks. Yikes, that is noisy. They’re drilling and digging and there
are yellow machines and red cones everywhere. At least there’s a tree, which I
stop behind, because Lloyd turns and casts an unimpressed glance at the
roadworkers, and if he turns just an inch more, he’ll catch sight of me. Thank
God for this tree.

I stay behind my tree and watch
as he walks a little further down the road, and then turns into a driveway that
has two posh-looking cars parked in it. This must be it. This must be where he
lives.

When he reaches the front door,
he takes a key out of his pocket and lets himself in.

I
knew
.

I just knew I was right.

I make my way back to Debs in
town, retracing my steps carefully and trying to memorize the way. I should
have left a trail of Skittles. Not that I ever intend to come back here or
anything. I mean, really, I don’t. But if Lloyd Layton ever forgets where he
lives, he’ll thank me for being able to tell him.

I think.