Playing With My Heartstrings (26 page)

This truthful comment grabbed my fluttering attention. "Why?" I asked, scooping a dollop of apple sauce on top of the pork.

Luke grinned like a mischievous five year old. "Charlotte refuses to eat roast dinners - and as I'm always asking my mum for an extra amount of cash to fund my collection of Xbox games, I'm usually the one who is forced to clean up after her!"

I giggled in response, looking like a total moron in front of a demure Cassie, who was unable to figure out the cause behind my outburst of laughter.

"What's so funny?" she wondered.

"It was about Luke's little sister," I replied.

Cassie's ears pricked up like Tinker, as though she'd just caught wind of a Justin Bieber sighting at Claire's Accessories. "How old is she?" she asked, eagerly.

Luke sniggered, placing a hand to cover his gravy-stained lips. "Although she's only six, she'd love to make a new friend like you."

Cassie's face fell. "Ha ha, very funny," she replied, sarcastically. "I don't hang out with six year olds, for the record."

"Don't blame you," Luke said. "You wouldn't stand five minutes with her in the same room at dinner time." He mocked a shiver slivering up his spine. "All of my nightmares are based around Charli; who would've believed that a fifteen year old teenager would wake up in a cold sweat, terrified of having a sprout hit in his face?"

A loud snort escaped my nose, as I snickered uncontrollably.

"Sadie!" Mum barked, nearly causing me to jump out of my chair.

I stared down at my half-eaten plate, biting my lip to prevent more laughter bursting out. "Sorry, Mum," I said, "but Luke told me a really funny story."

Luke still had his childlike grin plastered on his lips, which wooed Mum over within no time, and she returned to her discussion with Dad, exaggerating over her 'professional' baking skills. Cakes were always the hot topic inside the bustling Thompson household.

"I like your family," Luke murmured, leaning his head over to mine so only I could hear him. "They are..."

"Eccentric?" I offered, placing a spoonful of vivid green cabbage into my stretched-open mouth, which was probably able to glow in the dark.

"No, not exactly," Luke admitted. He pressed one of his fingers onto his temple, pondering over his thoughts. "Your family are... homely. Just the way a family should be."

Spiriting pride appeared in the form of a massive, delighted smile, which made both of my cheeks ache momentarily. "Thanks," I gushed, an elated warmth quickly warming my whole body. Or was it the mouth-burning roast potatoes?

Underneath the table, Luke and I found each other's hands, both nicely warm like a freshly baked loaf of bread, happily entwined for a moment until Dad remarked that the last half of the football would be on air in ten minutes.

"Hurry up!" he exclaimed, heartily.

There would be more time for holding hands later, I happily thought.

************

Alongside dreading the near-end of the summer because of an increased lack of time I'd be able to spend with Luke (and the fact he attended another school several towns away, which added the pile of problems), my legs shook terribly as I wondered how I would be able to face my school friends, who, unlike myself, hadn't made the effort to pick up their phones or iPads to respond to my many messages over the six week period. Were they truly my friends or foes?

My one-and-only BFF, Tara, offered me a slice of wise, good-natured advice when I turned up at her house a few days ago, misery washing over me like an downpour of gloomy afternoon rain.

"What the heck can I say without turning them against me?" I whined, pouring my troubles over a steaming cup of seriously strong black coffee.

Tara lounged on a taupe-shaded leather sofa, deliberating over my demanding dilemma, taking tiny sips of her Pepsi every so often.

"Sadie, I can't see why your friends ought to turn against you when you clearly are not in the wrong," Tara said, propping herself against the million floral pillows cluttered on the soft sofa. "Tell them the truth about how you feel and take it from there."

"But what if they no longer want to be my friends?" I questioned. "I hang out with nobody else at school."

Tara winked, like she was aware of a secret that I hadn't been let in on.

"What was that for?" I wrinkled my nose, suspicion gathering in my mind.

"Why do you ask, Sadie?" Tara put on a horrified expression, as though I'd put on her favourite Parisian red pumps and walked through a muddy field. "A wink is perfectly innocent."

I rolled my eyes. "Tara, I'm not stupid," I said. "Tell me what you know - otherwise I'll tickle it out of you!"

Terrified at the possible prospect of being tickled on her dreaded area - her size 9 feet - the truth streamed out of Tara's mouth in a frantic rush. "OK, OK, I'm going to your school!"

WHAT?! I-I t-thought that Tara was enduring another ghastly term at her snobby, rich-as-caviar boarding school - what had provoked a change of opinion? Oh, her mother. "How did you persuade your mum to listen to your pleas?" I asked.

Tara shrugged, shaking her head. "Mum didn't explain her reasons, though I suspect that it was related to the other mums at the school." She chuckled, in the manner of an evil witch. "Dressing full-out in Louis Vuitton and Celine at the beginning and end of the school week was becoming too stressful for her - as if she could wear any of the clothes at her bakery!"

I joined in with Tara's beyond-thrilled euphoria, relieved that I was finally going to be reunited with my first and true best friend for the new school year, and jumped into a bear-like hug, wishing to break into a dance in order to display my happy emotions.

"School is going to be so much better with you," I exclaimed, leaping into motion on the sofa. "As long as I have you as a friend, I'm happy."

"Glad to have placed that perfect smile of yours back on your face," Tara grinned, pretending to bow majestically.

"Can you be my fairy godmother?"

Tara howled, reminding me of a hysterical hyena, albeit much nicer and without an burning appetite. "Yes, yes, Sadie, I'll be your fairy godmother as long as you spill more beans on Luke."

"I've got a picture on my phone, if that's any better?"

Clapping her hands as though she'd just woken up to a pile load of presents on Christmas Day, Tara squealed loudly as I shuffled through my many (selfies, to my utter shame) pictures on my phone, eventually finding the one I'd taken of Luke and I together in my bedroom a few days before.

Happy days.

**********

"Hey, Luke, look at those stars - don't they look stunning?" I said, gazing happily at the fabulous display of stars shining in the otherwise black sky, twinkling like glittering diamonds.

"Yeah, they sure do," Luke agreed, grasping my hand in his.

Both of us were lazily lying down on an old red checked picnic blanket out in my garden, beside an easy-to-set-up tent that Cassie and I discovered whilst searching for some old DVDs to watch one afternoon; Dad had mowed the razor-short lawn earlier during the afternoon, pulling out the nettles which would have otherwise stung my bare legs. Ouch.

"This time, our camping experience will be a lot easier," I noted, gesturing towards the darkened outline of my home. "If needs be, we can take the tent into the living room; I doubt Cassie will be staying up late tonight, watching old episodes of The Simpsons, until she starts drawling on the sofa."

"Nah, I prefer it outside."

I leant up, a cold gust of wind making my teeth chatter loudly, so I picked up my black cardigan and put it on top of my Garfield-themed pyjamas. The fashion police wouldn't arrest me for that mistake, if they were out on patrol at that time of night.

"Here, I've got a surprise for you," Luke said, stretching his arms like a newly awaken cat, and crawled over to his backpack, unveiling a box hiding inside.

"What's that?" I asked, puzzled.

"Open it."

Luke handed over the box to my awaiting hands - all of the sudden, I felt as young and innocent as a gleeful child - and I took the lid off, squealing with delight at the wonderful contents lying inside.

"Luke, they are perfect!" I exclaimed, holding the denim-coloured pair, and touching the soft material. All my life I had been waiting for this special moment to come and, without a hint, it had arrived in a fantastic form.

"I knew that you had wanted a pair for a long time," Luke admitted, smiling sheepishly. "I asked your mum for your size, so I didn't buy the wrong ones."

Of course Mum would mesmerize my shoe size; she was the one who was obliged to cleaning my black bowed pumps whenever I trod in sticky bubble gum at school.

"Thank you, Luke!" I howled, catching him off-guard by embracing him in a half-kiss, half-hug. "Finally I'm part of the club."

Luke half-smirked, unsure whether to remain graceful or burst into hysterical chuckles. "They're only a pair of shoes, Sadie."

"Yeah, but a pair of Converse are more special to me than anything, Luke."

"Anything?" Luke raised his eyebrows.

"Obviously, you are at the top of the list, though the Converse are pretty high up, too," I corrected, grinning madly.

At last. All of the pieces had come together: I was fully complete.

About the Author

Chloe Brewster is a book-loving teenager, who resides in England.
Playing With My Heartstrings
is her first published book and nothing brings her greater pleasure than writing – alongside reading – stories. She counts her excessive viewing of fabulously romantic French films and bucket loads of humorous books amongst her inspirations.