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“And, last question, what’s so special about Jeremy Archer?” She looks between us, waiting for the answer.
Sammy and I look at each other and burst into giggles. “He’s probably the most popular guy in our year,” I say.
“But he’s also the most elusive. He’s got this whole moody, untouchable vibe going on. It’s hot.”
“Sammy!” I scold. My mum’s cool, but there’s something called oversharing.
“Okay. Got it.” She stands. “I’m going to get a start on dinner. I’ll shout when it’s ready, and you can spill more of the tea on Jeremy Archer.” She shoos us out of the studio.
We go upstairs to my bedroom, and Sammy flumps on the double bed as I start streaming a playlist.
“Are you all set for your holiday?” she asks.
“Sort of. We’re leaving in a few weeks. What about you?”
“The week you get back, so we’ll have to make the most of the next few weeks. You have to call and message when I’m away. Two weeks with my little brother is going to drive me mad.” She rolls over on the bed in a melodramatic flare.
“You’re going to Greece, and it will be amazing. I’ll probably get two weeks of rain.”
Mum and I go to Cornwall every year in the summer. It’s our tradition. We stay in the same small village — you can’t even call it a town — and hang out on the beach, go for walks, sit in, and read. She gets her inspiration down there and spends time scribbling in her sketchbooks or planning new designs.
“You love being away with your mum. You eat out, hang out, and try to tan. The weather doesn’t matter. But the holidays will almost be over by the time I’m back.”
“There’ll still be time for a shopping trip or two before I go,” I offer. I don’t tell her that I also want to try and get a job for the summer — weekends, hopefully — and start to save some money. And if all goes well, I can maybe keep it when I go back to school.
“Dinner was lovely, thanks, Becca.”
“You know you’re welcome anytime, Sammy.”
“Is there…” I look eagerly at Mum. We always have ice cream after pasta and garlic bread. It’s our ultimate indulgence night when we don’t care about the carbs or calories.
“Chocolate chip fudge sundae in the freezer. Is that good enough?”
“Perfect. You’re the best.”
“I know. But I appreciate the reminder.”
“I’ll get the bowls. Sammy, you can choose the film.”
We all sit on the sofa with huge dollops of gooey ice cream.
“To the next year and having Jeremy Archer as your science partner,” Sammy announces, raising her spoon, laden with chocolate goodness. We all toast and giggle before zoning out in front of the television. It’s a horror film with a rubbish ending and is weird rather than scary. Sammy likes that kind of stuff.
I’d much rather choose something with action or a love story. But the ending has to be good. So many films could be so much better if they ended ten minutes sooner rather than drifting to nothingness.
Mum said I should write my own if I’m so enraged by what I watch. But I’m not sure if that’s the job for me. I’d always imagined I’d choose something with science, but I had time to decide.
With my teeth still humming from all the sugar and sweetness, Sammy and I go up to bed. My mum is a night owl — she’ll be awake until midnight at the earliest. It didn’t matter when she went to bed, she was still up in the morning like any regular person. I craved her ability to wake up and jump out of bed. I’d give anything for another ten minutes in the morning, especially when the weather was cold or wet.
Sammy and I talk for the rest of the night about anything and everything, but mostly, I think about Jeremy.
How did he get my number?
Who gave it to him? I’d usually guess Sammy — she was my best friend, aside from my mum — but she was as surprised as I was that he had it.
I wished we still had a few days left of school, but we’d already broken up before our exams. We now had to wait for the results before hopefully returning next term. It would have been nice going to school with the knowledge that Jeremy actually knew my name and had my number. Maybe he’d use them.
Instead, I was at home, dreaming up scenarios about how he’d look my way, talk to me in class, or stop me to talk. But I had weeks to test those theories.
