Chapter 11
Story
“I’m so excited.”
“Me too.”
“Who do you want to kiss?”
“A twin, of course.”
“Which one?”
“I don’t care.”
My neck is sore from going back and forth between Annabel and Mary, watching them each apply almost an entire tube of lip gloss. Mary’s lips must be so sticky by now that whomever she ends up snogging today will have a hard time unsticking themselves.
I’ve also applied gloss, but one swipe only. Okay, maybe two.
“I thought you wanted to kiss Sam Pelling.”
Annabel scrunches her face, and her eyes meet mine in the mirror’s reflection.
She’s so pretty. Her hair used to be darker, but now has blond bits around the front, which she swears are still from the sun last summer, though Mary said she dyed it.
Not like mine, which is dark brown. No matter how many times I beg my mum, she won’t let me change it. It’s so dull.
“No. I changed my mind.”
“Why?”
“Because we see Sam Pelling every day at school, and he’s kind of boring. And we only get to see the twins during half term and the holidays. Until next year, that is.” Her eyebrows wiggle at me.
My fist clenches around the lip balm in my hand, enough that the top shoots off and squirts across the room. Shit. Grabbing a jumper I left on my bedroom floor last night, I rub at the pink glitter, praying it doesn’t stain, then slump back.
Hendricks and Miles, along with Jack, Lucas, and a few other boys in our class, left Valentine Prep to attend Wellington for their senior school.
They only come back now for a weekend during each half term plus the holidays.
At the end of this year, Annabel will also go to Wellington, like her sister did, but Mary and I will stay in Valentine Nook and go to the senior school here. We’re all splitting up.
I’m sad about it, but what makes me sadder is that since last summer, Annabel has decided she likes the twins. Both of them. And even though I’ve never ever said to her I like Hendricks, she knows. So does Mary. In September, she’ll see them every day. And I won’t.
I stare at the drawer in my desk where I’ve hidden all the letters Hendricks has written me since he’s been away.
Wellington makes all their pupils write one a week, and I know he alternates between writing to his mum and writing to me.
Only my mum knows that Hendricks and I write to each other because she’s the one who collects the mail.
I don’t know why I keep it a secret since we text all the time and he’s on my Snapchat.
But our letters are different. Even though we don’t share anything exciting, it feels like something only we share.
I update him on how school is boring and that Mrs. Benson is now the deputy head and so bossy.
I told him I can run up the hill at Honeysuckle Lane in thirteen minutes.
He didn’t believe me, so we’re doing it together when he next comes home.
I’ve told him about the new cows my dad bought, and how Lando came over to see them the other day.
My dad said he’s been doing a good job since he took over the village.
If I have time, or the week’s been particularly boring, I write him a short story.
Then I always sign off with “Love, your best friend, Story.”
Hendricks always signs off as “Hendricks.”
I haven’t seen him since Christmas, but his last letter arrived yesterday saying he was excited to be coming home.
His mum just got a new litter of puppies so he’s going to invite me over to name them, and I can’t wait.
But what really has my belly doing flip-flops is his text this morning asking if I’ll be at the kissing booth.
It’s the Valentine’s Day Fair, and all Annabel, Mary, and I have been talking about for the past month.
Plus the rest of the girls in school. I told Hendricks about it, and he told Miles, who told all the boys.
Someone put it in the ideas box for the fair, though no one will admit who it was.
And it was printed, so we couldn’t even tell from the handwriting.
The girls in the year above us designed it to look like a lemonade stand in the shape of a heart where you’d kiss a boy you liked, but after a couple of parents complained, it was scrapped.
Instead of kissing, it was decided we’d link the booth with the local pet shelter to encourage pet adoption.
Everyone except Annabel loved that idea even more.
Each pupil in our class is taking a turn to look after the booth and introduce visitors to the dogs where they can have a picture, and hopefully adopt a needy dog or donate money.
Officially, it’s an adoption drive, but unofficially, Annabel’s using it to organize her own event, which involves the alley behind The One True Love.
“Have you been practicing on your hand like I showed you?”
“Yeah, but it’s weird.” Mary nods, pulling a face at the same time. “I don’t know why I need to bother.”
“You don’t know what’s going to happen later, do you?
” Annabel waggles her eyebrows again, and I wish she’d stop it.
She’s been annoying me a lot recently. Ever since she got boobs, she’s acting like she’s better than Mary and me.
“Someone will want to take you down the alley,” she adds with a hair flick.
Mary’s wide-eyed, like she’s never heard anything so exciting. “And that’s when you’re kissing a twin? Properly.”
“Yup. I bet they’re so experienced too. I heard they’ve been kissing loads of girls since they got to Wellington.
Valentine Nook is so boring.” It’s like neither of the twins gets to decide for themselves.
She then stands up and turns to me, one hand on her hip.
I’m still sitting on the floor against the bed, so I have to crane to look up at her.
“God, Story, when are you going to admit it?”
“Admit what?”
“That you like Hendricks.”
“Wh . . . what? What? We’re just friends—”
“You’ve liked him since we were little kids. C’mon, we’re not stupid,” she snaps. “Don’t you trust us?”
“Hendricks is my friend,” I repeat. “Of course I like him.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
My shoulders jerk up. I don’t know why I’m so reluctant to tell them.
It just feels like something I need to think about a lot more because I don’t know when it became different.
That liking Hendricks changed from being friends and hanging out on Honeysuckle Lane to wondering how it would feel to kiss him.
And ever since the kissing booth was announced, I’ve been keeping my fingers crossed that today will be the day I find out, because Annabel’s unofficial booth isn’t the worst idea for having your first kiss.
I just wish she’d shut up about it.
“I don’t know if I like him.”
The gloss on her lips catches the light as she purses them. So sticky. “So you don’t care if I kiss him, then?”
Urgh. God. I glance at Mary, who’s trying to look like she doesn’t care about this conversation but is equally as interested in the answer as Annabel.
My jaw clenches so hard I wonder if Mr. Dobbs, my orthodontist, will be able to tell, and through gritted teeth, I say, “If you could limit your kissing to Miles, I would appreciate it.”
Immediately, she drops down, and the pursed lip is replaced by a wide smile as she pulls me into a hug so tight I squeak. “You got it.”
Valentine Nook is as pink and red as I’ve ever seen it before. Hearts hang from the archway, and even more hang from each lamppost, looped across the road. Every window is decorated with cherubs and love hearts, poems and paper chains. It’s so pretty. It’s so busy.
“It’s so pink.” Mary points out the obvious as we pass by Agatha Chase’s and the queue that stretches down the high street. “Do you guys want to go get a potion?”
“No, I’m not waiting in that. We can get one any day of the week,” Annabel says, dodging someone dressed in a giant Cupid’s outfit, handing out love hearts. “Besides, we don’t need a potion.”
I wish I had her confidence. Annabel is the most confident person I know. Even though I’m confident a lot of the time, I’m not when it comes to boys. I make a mental note to come back when the queue is shorter and Annabel’s not with me.
“Do you know when the twins are arriving? I mean, all the boys?”
I shake my head. “No, I guess sometime around lunch?”
“What time is your kissing slot?”
“Eleven. How much money do you think we’ll raise?”
“All day?”
“Yeah. Ten thousand?”
“We’re not raising ten thousand pounds, Annabel.” Mary laughs. “There aren’t enough of us, not to mention it’s mathematically impossible. We’re charging a pound per dog. There aren’t going to be ten thousand kisses, and there aren’t ten thousand dogs.”
“Well, whatever, we’re still raising a good amount.” Annabel pouts, smacking away the love hearts thrust in her face by another passing Cupid.
It’s not just Cupid.
I see someone dressed as an ancient love scholar, on one knee, proposing to a very embarrassed lady. Her boyfriend doesn’t look too happy either. There are giant fluffy hearts pushing their way through the crowd too.
“Story. Stor . . . Wait up.”
It feels like everything happens in slow motion as I whirl around at the sound of my name.
There he is. It’s been six weeks since I last saw Hendricks, and his hair has grown so much.
Curls flop over his forehead, and he’s tall.
Way taller than he was at Christmas. His legs are so long, and he must be a whole head bigger than me now.
He could probably rest his head on mine when he hugs me, but I’m not hugging Hendricks while people are around.
He’s wearing that goofy smile he does sometimes, the one I always tease him about because it’s so lopsided.
I can feel mine stretching so wide that my cheeks hurt, and my chest flutters as my heart pounds harder.
That is, until I realize Annabel and Mary are watching me, so I pull it back, and my cheeks turn red instead.
“Hey.”
He stops right in front of me. “Hey, hey, guys.”