Looking for a Hero (5 page)

‘And what if we fail?’ I asked.

Leela grinned. ‘Aha. So a flicker of interest then, eh?’

‘Oh, let’s go for it,’ said Brook. ‘It will be a laugh. And I’ve already got a few contenders in mind.’

‘Who?’ I asked.

‘A boy who lives on our street. Liam Wiseman. Doesn’t go to our school. And Mark Mitchell from the Sixth Form.’

Leela nodded. ‘Yeah. Mark’s nice but you can only have one.’

‘So there are rules now are there, Miss Bossy Boots?’ asked Zahrah.

‘Not really but he wouldn’t be a proper boyfriend if you were seeing someone else, would he?’ Leela replied.

‘I guess,’ said Zahrah.

‘What about you, Leela?’ I asked. ‘Got anyone in mind?’

Leela looked coy but was saved from replying as the bell for the end of break shrilled behind us, and pupils began to swarm up and down the corridors heading for their next class. Ours was double English and we were having a treat. We were doing Shakespeare’s
Romeo and Juliet
as part of our coursework and our teacher Mr Pacey had arranged for us to see the film version of the play directed by Baz Luhrmann and starring Leonardo Di Caprio.

‘It’s soooo romantic,’ sighed Brook when the movie got to the part where Romeo gatecrashes Juliet’s family party and they see each other for the first time and zing ping go their heartstrings.

‘It is at first,’ whispered Zahrah. ‘And then . . .’ She acted out someone having their throat cut.

‘Shhh at the back,’ said Mr Pacey.

As I sat and watched the star-crossed lovers go through their series of mix-ups and miscommunications on the screen, part of my mind started to drift away.
There’s no getting away from it,
I thought.
Love is a tragedy and I am a tragic heroine.
I started imagining a series of paintings I could do for my art project. Mr Bailey, our teacher, had asked us to paint a series of self-portraits and I thought it would be good to do some like the Pre-Raphaelite painters who were big on tragic heroines. Millais, Burne-Jones, Rossetti – they had all painted beautiful women with a distant look of sadness in their eyes, as if they had been let down big time by love. One of the most famous was of Ophelia. Millais’s painting shows her lying in the river covered in flowers after she drowned because Hamlet had driven her mental.
Is that how I’m going to end up?
I wondered.
Floating in the Thames with a poetry book in my hand, flowers in my hair and a tattoo with Joe’s name engraved on my arm so everyone can see who has done me wrong.
I could see the painting in my mind’s eye. People would come from far and wide, look at it, feel sadness and ask, Who was that poor girl? I sat back in my chair, assumed a tragic heroine’s pose (wistful expression that hints of sorrows untold, a slight weariness around the shoulders and limp wrists) and watched the film. I felt a bond with all the women through the ages who had been let down by love. Zahrah passed along some mints at one point and I wondered if she had noticed my pose, but she didn’t comment. Clearly it was lost on her.

As the film continued, I found myself starting to get cross. Romeo was acting like a total love rat, in love with some girl called Rosaline at the beginning of the play and then changing his mind in a flash as soon as he meets Juliet.
What happened to Rosaline?
I thought.
That’s what I’d Iike to know. Poor girl. Romeo is clearly nothing more than another stupid boy with a phobia about commitment who can’t make up his mind who or what he wants. Like Joe.
I started wondering why I am attracted to boys like Joe who make me feel uncomfortable or don’t want to commit.
Love is a funny thing,
I thought. Then I remembered that I wasn’t in love with Joe any more. And then I felt even crosser. With him and myself. Blimey.
No wonder those tragic heroines look so miserable,
I thought.
Love is rubbish.

I made myself focus back on the movie. The scene where Romeo spends the night in Juliet’s room. Quite sweet actually but then he’s off. Gone with the larks or was it the nightingales? Whichever.

Brook, Leela and even Zahrah looked spellbound by the film. I watched them for a few moments. I couldn’t imagine any of them drowning themselves over a stupid boy.
Nor me,
I thought.
Times have changed since Romeo and Jules’s day. We don’t have to let boys play the tune, with us just dancing along and letting them lead until they break our hearts. No. Ours is the age of girl power. I don’t want to be sad or a tragic heroine. I want to be like Aunt Sarah. Her husband, who was the great love of her life, left her and did she lose her mind or wither away and become a shadow of her former self? No. She became a businesswoman, earned a ton of dosh and showed him she didn’t need him. Although sometimes I see a hint of sadness in her eyes, she doesn’t wallow in it. No. She kicks butt. She’s a butt-kicking heroine. I want to be like her, but ... I don’t want to give up on love either. Not yet and especially not because of Joe Donahue. I want to meet a boy who doesn’t do my head in. A boy who is kind and sensitive and, most of all, likes me – adores me. And what’s more . . . I am going to find him.

While up on the screen, Romeo drank the potion and ranted on about it having touched Juliet’s lips, I thought,
Oh grow up, you stupid prat, for heaven’s sake, you’ve only known Juliet five minutes.
I leaned over and poked Leela. ‘Lee,’ I whispered.

‘What?’

‘The challenge. I’m in.’ Then I made a fist. ‘Girl power.’

Leela gave me a strange look but did the fist back. ‘Um.Yeah. OK. Girl power.’

I settled back to watch the end of the movie and felt determined that I would find a boy. A nice boy. A gorgissimus boy. No compromises. An equal. Maybe even The One.
So look out London boys,
I thought.
Here I come. And Joe stupoid Donahue. You, my friend, are history.

We fell into a fun routine – after school every night, we’d take it in turns to pick a location then go boy spotting. By the end of week one, we’d hung out in all the local cafés that were popular with schools in our area, we’d mooched about outside two boys’ schools as well as outside the local cinema. On Friday, Leela dragged us along to a bonfire party in the local park, but it was pouring with rain so the fireworks got cancelled and the bonfire was a big wet mass of wood. Leela wanted to stay because there did seem to be a lot of boys around but, after we got drenched in a torrential downpour, Zahrah called a halt to the venture.

‘We look like a bunch of sad stalkers,’ she said as we adjourned with dripping wet hair and coats to Starbucks to dry off.

‘Seek and ye shall find,’ said Brook.

‘Er ... I think you might find that is a quote by Jesus and he’s talking about finding the kingdom of heaven, not boys,’ said Zahrah with a frown. She knew her Bible well on account of her family being devout Christians.

‘Whatever,’ said Brook, leading us to our favourite place by the window. ‘The principle applies whatever you’re looking for. Like, you’re not going to meet anyone if you stay at home and don’t get out, right?’

‘Not unless you have a bunch of older brothers who all have gorgeous friends,’ said Leela.

‘Ranjiv is cute,’ said Brook, looking wistfully at Leela.

‘Don’t even go there,’ she said. ‘He’s taken. Hate to tell you but he’s all loved up at the moment. Girl called Chloe. Don’t know what she sees in him myself.’

‘Oh I do,’ I said, and then blushed as Zahrah, Leela and Brook all turned to stare at me. ‘He’s very handsome, Leela. All your family are gorgeous like Bollywood actors.’ I’d met Leela’s mum and dad a couple of times when I’d been over to their house. Her mum was stunning. Leela told me that when she was younger she had been a contestant in a Miss India competition and the judges wanted to put her through for the Miss World contest, but she decided to go and train as a pharmacist instead.

‘Try living with them,’ said Leela.

Brook sighed. ‘The tragedy of my life is that Ranjiv only sees me as Leela’s silly little friend.’

‘Maybe that’s because you go stupid whenever he’s around,’ retorted Leela.

Brook gave her a look of disdain.‘I do not do stupid,’ she said. ‘I am way too cool for that. I just go, um . . . quiet.’

‘Stupid,’ said Leela with a wicked grin.

‘I go stupid with some boys,’ I confessed. ‘Like I can be myself with the ones I don’t care about but, if I fancy someone, I start talking hogwash and blushing and I’ve even been known to knock things over.’

‘I thought you only had eyes for Joe Donahue, India,’ said Zahrah.

‘That was then and it never meant that I couldn’t appreciate a cute boy like Ranjiv – although it was Erin who really fancied him. Sorry Brook – but I wouldn’t worry about us because I reckon Ireland is a bit far away, and he’s not really my type.’

‘So what is your type?’ asked Leela.

‘Not sure yet. I’ll think about it and get back to you.’

Leela and Brook went off to get the drinks while Zahrah and I settled down on the sofas.

‘So Leela,’ said Brook when they came back with the drinks, and also Mikey who is in our year at school, ‘where exactly are we supposed to meet these perfect boys? So far, it’s been hopeless. A dead loss.’

‘Perfect boys? Talking about me again. What’s all this?’ asked Mikey. He was a new friend of mine who lived near Aunt Sarah’s house and we often walked to and from school together. He kept saying that he wanted to be more than a mate one day, but I’d told him that it was never going to happen. I didn’t fancy him. It wasn’t that he wasn’t cute; he was. With his dark floppy hair and big brown eyes, he was very sweet but just not right for me – too young-looking. I like hanging out with him though – he is a laugh.

Leela quickly filled him in on the quest.

‘Interesting,’ he said. ‘Well of course I would offer myself but then I am taken at the moment.’ He had been dating Amy in our French class since just before half-term.

‘Shame,’ said Zahrah and we laughed because Zahrah and Mikey would have made a totally unlikely couple. She would have made mincemeat of him.

‘So where are we going to meet new boys, Leela?’ I asked.

‘Early days still,’ she replied. ‘But I think we should try a new tactic’.

Zahrah groaned.

‘No, wait, let’s hear her out,’ said Brook. ‘I feel a plan is coming upon our small but perfectly formed friend.’

‘Oi. Less of the small. I’m five foot, if you don’t mind. And yes, I do have a plan. Tomorrow afternoon, Portobello Road. There are always loads of boys from all over London and even some from Europe.’

‘That’s true,’ said Brook. ‘Good idea, Leela.’

‘Has she hypnotised you or something?’ Zahrah asked.

Brook shook her head. ‘No.’ And then she made her face go completely deadpan and spoke in a robotic way. ‘Although I will obey. I will obey’ She relaxed her face. ‘At least she comes up with ideas.’

‘Yeah but there’s a slight flaw in the plan, like it’s not much good if you fall in love with a German or Italian boy. Longdistance love never works,’ said Zahrah.

‘And how are we going to get to meet them?’ I asked. ‘This hanging about looking cool and interesting hasn’t exactly worked for us. We’ve seen a few decent boys but they’ve just walked straight past. We need some excuse to talk to them.’

‘Exactly’ said Brook. ‘India’s right, we need some reason to talk to them and boys don’t always like it if you make the first move.’

‘Oh. Mikey. You’re a boy —’ Leela started.

Mikey lifted his right arm and pumped his muscle. ‘So you’d noticed,’ he said in a silly deep voice.

‘Only just,’ said Zahrah. Mikey playfully punched her.

‘What should we do?’ Leela continued.

Mikey thought for a few moments then grinned. ‘I know. What you need is an opening, so why not pretend that you’re doing research for a project about what boys want from girls. You could say that you’re doing it for the school magazine. You could even submit it to the school magazine – I bet everyone would want to read the results, wouldn’t they?’

‘Mikey my man, you are awesome,’ said Brook ‘That is a brilliant idea.’

Mikey looked very pleased with himself.

‘So who’s in?’ Leela asked. ‘Tomorrow, turn up looking sharp with a notepad and paper.’

‘I’m in,’ I said. ‘Sounds like a laugh.’

‘Me too,’ said Brook.

‘And me too, I guess. Someone has to come along to make sure that you don’t get arrested,’ said Zahrah.

‘Excellent,’ said Leela.

‘Now, questions,’ said Mikey. ‘You each need to think up three or four so you look professional.’

‘Yes, good idea,’ said Leela.‘OK girls. Have a think then email what you come up with to me when you get home and I’ll print them out ready for tomorrow.’

Brook saluted. ‘Yes, sir.’

Mikey got up to go. ‘I have to go in a minute but . . .’

‘OK. Bye and thanks for your great idea,’ said Leela.

‘Anytime,’ said Mikey, ‘but . . .’ He shifted about on his feet for a few seconds and looked awkward.

‘Spill,’ said Zahrah.‘What is it you want?’

Mikey coughed. ‘Urn. Advice.’

‘Sure,’ said Zahrah. ‘What is it you want to know?’

Mikey sat down again, leaned towards us and said in a whisper. ‘I ... I want to know how to be a good kisser.’