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Authors: Jaimie Admans

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BOOK: Not Pretty Enough
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CHAPTER 17

 

I don’t intend to go back to Lloyd’s house. Really I don’t.
But my mum is in work the next morning, and as I’m getting dressed I count out
how much money I have left over from yesterday, and it turns out to be more
than enough for bus fares back to Cardiff. I wonder whether I should call Debs
and ask her to come with me, but I don’t think she’d really want to go to
Cardiff for the sole purpose of stalking Lloyd Layton. I know my mum will kill
me if she ever finds out I was in Cardiff on my own, but she’s working until
six tonight, and I’ll be back long before then.

It’s not that I intend to stalk
him or anything. I certainly don’t intend to go back to his street and stand
outside his house. But when I get to Cardiff I grab a doughnut and a hot
chocolate from McDonalds, and then I go and sit on the benches near Sainsbury’s
and hope that Lloyd Layton comes in for some more shopping. After all, I’ve
rationalised that I could just go up and speak to him. It’s not
that
unlikely that we would both be shopping on the
same day.

But after I’ve sat there for
about an hour, I’m getting kind of bored. I keep looking down the side street
that we went down yesterday, but I don’t see any sign of Lloyd. Then I think
that maybe he shops early on a Thursday and could already be in the shopping
centre, so I have to keep looking both ways, and after a little while I think I
might be on the verge of whiplash.

I can’t sit around on benches
any longer. I have to do what I came here to do.

If I win Lloyd Layton’s heart,
then I’ll get to be his girlfriend and visit him all the time and then I’ll be
able to shop in Cardiff anytime I want to because he only lives ten minutes
outside the city.

The only problem is that I don’t
actually know what I came here to do, but I do know where Lloyd Layton lives,
and before I’ve even really thought about it, my feet are walking in that
direction.

I would never have the courage
to go up and knock on his door, that would just be outright weird, and it’s not
that I intend to hide behind the tree and spy on him, but really, what other
option do I have?

The workmen are still digging up
the street – from the smell of things, I’d say they were doing something to the
drainage systems – and their truck is parked quite near my tree, which gives me
even more coverage from sight.

I can’t see much of Lloyd’s
house from here, just the driveway and huge front garden, and I have a view of
the door so I can see if he comes out of it. Then I figure maybe I could follow
him to wherever he goes, and ‘accidentally’ run into him there, which would
make him think that we’re interested in the same things. Unless he goes to
Sainsbury’s again, because who really has an active interest in buying bread
and milk?

“Hey, are you all right, love?”
There’s a bloke in a neon yellow jacket approaching me. “You’ve been standing
there for ages,” he says in a thick Welsh accent.

“Oh, I’m just waiting for
someone,” I say politely. I try to look nonchalant, flip my hair back and lean against
the tree, like I have every right in the world to be there and he shouldn’t be
interrupting me.

“Isn’t the noise bothering you?”

“Not a bit,” I lie. I put my
hand over one ear, pretending to have an earphone in and shout a little louder.
“I have my MP3 player on.”

“Oh, right. Well, you let me
know if there’s anything I can help you with, love.”

Thankfully he walks away and
leaves me in peace. I kinda wish I did have my MP3 player with me, because the
noise is ridiculous. As soon as I think it’s stopped for a blissful minute,
they just move the machine and start drilling a different area. I think my ears
will be ringing for days. But you have to suffer for true love, right?

I’m a bit worried about my cover
though. If that workman noticed me then it’s possible that Lloyd might notice
me too. Obviously I’m not as inconspicuous as I thought. I dressed for the part
this morning too. Head to toe black, which probably wasn’t the best plan for an
August day because it’s getting pretty hot out here.

I have to adopt a disguise, and
although I don’t like stealing things, it’s just so tempting. I’m not really
stealing it anyway, I’m just borrowing it.

I creep closer to the
roadworker’s truck, grab a white hard hat from the back of it, and quickly
shove it on my head. I pull a neon yellow jacket from the bed of the truck and
throw it over my arm. Then I run back behind my tree and hide.

I pull the sunglasses I brought
with me out of my bag and slip them on, then I work all my hair up underneath
the hat and slip the sleeveless plastic jacket on.

There. At first glance I look
like I belong here.

I look like a roadworker. I’m
sure Lloyd Layton won’t recognise me if he happens to come out of his house
today, which is seeming increasingly unlikely as it’s already way past
lunchtime, and I can only really stand here for a couple more hours before I
have to go home to make it back before my mother does. If he does happen to
look over this way, he’ll just see the yellow clothing disguise and not give it
a second thought. Then I can dump the yellow disguise, follow him wherever he
happens to be going, and magically turn up there. Lloyd Layton will not only
think we have the same interests, but he won’t forget about me over the summer
holidays.

Isn’t it ironic how workmen wear
bright yellow clothes so that drivers notice them and don’t run them over, and
I’m wearing them so I won’t be noticed?

Or ran over, with a bit of luck.

I really want to see Lloyd
today. I don’t want to do all this again another day. I think there is a line you
cross when stalking a boy, and spending one day outside his house is fine, but
coming back for a second day is crossing the boy-surveillance line.

The noise from the concrete
cutter is driving me mad. It’s so loud that I think my brain hurts. I really wish
I was here on a day when the road wasn’t being dug up, but then again, if it
wasn’t for them I wouldn’t have my perfect disguise.

I take a notebook from my bag
and hold it in my hand. It is just part of the disguise. I figure that the
workmen will know I’m not one of them, so I keep my notebook and pen in my
hand, and if one of them notices me and thinks it strange that a girl wearing
neon yellow clothes is hanging out behind a tree, I can just say that I’ve been
sent from head office to observe them. I can say I’m an inspector and hopefully
they won’t make a big deal out of it or realise I pinched these clothes from
their truck.

I’m just starting to get quite
pleased with myself for thinking of everything when it becomes obvious that I
didn’t. The one thing I didn’t think of is that Lloyd Layton might not be in
his house. He might have gone out for a mid-afternoon jog and be coming in from
the other direction.

He’s seen me before I see him.

“Chessie?”

Oh, God. It’s over. He knows
it’s me. I’m crap at doing accents so I can’t even pretend to be someone else.

“Chessie, is that you? From
school, right?”

I have no idea what to do. I
wish this was like a magic tree and if you leaned against it, it would just
suck you in and you’d never be seen or heard from again.

I turn to face Lloyd, put on my
brightest smile and pretend to act shocked.

“Lloyd? Lloyd Layton? What are
you doing here?” I ask him before he has a chance to ask me. I act as if he is
on my territory and I have every right to be here.

“I live here,” he says. “What
abo—”

“Really? Where?” I interrupt.

“Over there.” He points to what
I already know is his house. “What are you—”

“It’s such a surprise to see you
here,” I say enthusiastically. “How’s your holiday been?”

“Fine, thank you.”

I’m trying not to let him get a
word in edgeways, but I can’t think of what to say next. I briefly consider
that it is probably not a good thing to run out of things to say to the boy you
hope to marry one day, but I don’t have time to dwell on it because Lloyd
finally gets his question in.

“So, I thought you lived miles
away. What are you doing here?”

There really is no answer to
that, is there? I think about the question for a moment, turning it over in my
head.
What are you doing here
?

“We’re moving,” I lie with a
sudden burst of inspiration. “Thinking of it, anyway. I’m just checking out
some places.”

He nods slowly, like he doesn’t
believe me.

“So, what’s with the, er, gear?”

Oh God, the yellow clothes. I’d
completely forgotten I was still wearing them. But, let’s face it, it’s quite
possible for me to forget my own name when Lloyd Layton is around.

“I’m doing, um… I’m with my, er…
uncle!” I say suddenly. “I’m with my uncle.” I wave my hand casually towards
the group of workmen.

“Oh, really? Which one?”

“He’s the, er, one in the yellow
jacket.”

“They’re all in yellow jackets.”

I look over like this is a shock
to me.

“He’s the one down the manhole,”
I say. “He’s, um, clearing out some pipes down there. Won’t be up for hours.”

“Oh, right. Is he local? Maybe I
know him?”

“No,” I say. “He’s from, um,
Birmingham. You wouldn’t know him.”

“Birmingham, huh? What’s he
doing down here?”

“Oh, you know. They get
reassigned sometimes. It was a promotion.”

“A promotion? He’s cleaning out
drainpipes and that’s a promotion? What was he before?”

“A dustbin man?” I lie. Crikey,
what do I say to him? I need to get him off this topic of conversation. “So,
this seems like a nice area?”

“Yes,” he nods distractedly.
“Very quiet. Usually, at least.”

I notice that his attention is not
really on me. It’s on the roadworkers.

“What’s the matter?” I ask.

“Chessie, I think there may be a
problem.”

“Really?” I ask innocently.
“What kind of problem?”

“Well, they’ve just covered the
manhole but no one came out of it. I think they might have shut your uncle in.
Do you think we should check?”

“Oh no,” I say, thinking fast.
“He’s busy. He’ll come up out of another one a few streets away.”

God, how did I get into this
mess?

“That doesn’t seem very likely,
Chessie. What if he gets stuck?”

“He won’t. He does it all the
time.”

“Excuse me!” Lloyd shouts at one
of the workers. Before I can stop him, he is jogging over to them.

Oh my god.

How the hell am I going to get
out of this one?

“Excuse me, sir,” Lloyd is shouting.
“I think you may have left a man down there.”

“I’m sorry, what?” The man with
the Welsh accent who spoke to me earlier looks at him like he’s lost his
marbles.

Oh God. I can either run away or
I can run over with him and try to get out of this.

I dump the hard hat and yellow
jacket on the ground and follow Lloyd.

“Chessie, tell him.” He turns
back to the Welsh bloke. “This girl’s uncle, we think he might still be in the
manhole.”

“I assure you, sir, there is
nobody in the manhole,” the worker says patiently to Lloyd. Another two
beer-bellied men in yellow jackets have joined them now.

“Yes, there is. Chessie, what’s
his name?”

“Um… Earl?”

“Earl. Earl Clemenfield, right?”

I nod.

“Can you account for an Earl
Clemenfield?” Lloyd asks.

“What’s your name, son?” One of
the other men asks.

“Lloyd,” he replies. “But right
now I’m concerned that there is a man trapped down there.”

“Lloyd,” the Welsh guy begins.
“I myself have been down that manhole today. I assure you that there is no
other person in there. It could not possibly be big enough for two people. I’m
the only person who has been in there today. As you can see, I am the
skinniest.” He pats his beer belly.

Another man comes across with a
clipboard. He is running his finger down it.

Oh God, I bet it’s a roster of
some sort. I bet it’s like school registration.

The man is about to say
something. “Lloyd,” he begins. “I assure you there is nobody by the name of—”

“Well, look at that!” I yell,
running over and waving my phone around. “He just phoned. He left without me.
He’s in town now.”

“What?” Lloyd looks at me like
I’ve lost my mind.

“He left,” I say. “He’s waiting
for me in town. You know, I should really get going.”

“He
left
?”
Lloyd asks incredulously. “He just left without telling you?”

I nod. I walk away and beckon
for him to follow me. He glances between me and the workmen but eventually
comes over to me.

“He left you on a strange
street, in a place you don’t know, without telling you?”

“It’s just a practical joke. He
does this sort of thing all the time. Just to tease me, you know?”

“That’s not a very good joke.”

“Oh, he would have come back
soon enough,” I say. “Or phoned. He does that sort of thing. He thinks it’s
funny and I don’t like to tell him otherwise.”

“I didn’t hear your phone ring.”

“It’s on vibrate.”

Lloyd nods slowly. I can tell
he’s trying to work out whether to believe me or not.

“Look.” I make a show of digging
in my bag for my phone. “Don’t you believe me? Do you want to see my last
numbers?” Of course I am completely bluffing, and I just have to hope that he
doesn’t say yes.

“No, it’s fine,” Lloyd says. “It
just seems a weird thing to do.”

I shrug. “That’s Uncle Eddie for
you.”

“I thought his name was Earl.”

“Earl, yes.” I say.
Oops
. “We call him Eddie as a joke. He hates it.”

“What? Why?”

“Er… Because he’s like Cousin
Eddie from the National Lampoon movies.”

BOOK: Not Pretty Enough
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