Free Signs of Love - Love Match by Melody James Page B

Star-ling. You may need to dress to impress.
    The weekend will bring . . .
    I bite my lip, thinking hard. The DVDs piled next to the telly catch my eye.
    . . . a titanic opportunity. Make the most of it, Leo, and you’ll start next week, not just as a lion, but as a lion king.
    I stop feeling like the secretary and start feeling like Jessica. I grin. Writing these horoscopes might actually be fun.
    Libra
    Your star-sign may be the Scales, but your life is not as well-balanced as it might seem. Star-ling, don’t despair.
    Outside an ambulance shrieks past, making my heart race.
    A shock is in store, but take deep breaths and stay focused on the job at hand. You work as hard as you play, my sweet, so when the scales start to tip in your favour, they’ll tip big time.
    I glance at the cluster of dirty mugs on the coffee table. Meanwhile, a mess you should have cleared up ages ago will come back to haunt you, but handle it right and you can turn the mess into a triumph .
    I push a cushion behind my head and snuggle deeper into the sofa.
    Rest at the weekend.
    I search the room for more inspiration. Watch TV. Read a book. Think of it as the calm before the storm – but don’t worry; you have the heart of a Libran, not a librarian. You’re going to enjoy the storm!
    Virgo
    The only person I know who is a Virgo is Susan Noakes, the quietest girl in our class.
    You’re the most timid of all my Star-lings, Virgo, but this week you’re going to turn shy into shine . . .
    I glance at the CD rack.
    Take inspiration from your musical heroes and step up to the microphone of life.

    I write for an hour until I’ve just got one horoscope left.
    Pisces
    I roll my pen thoughtfully in my fingers and catch sight of my fingernails, bitten and bare. Jessica Jupiter would be ashamed. I vow to stop biting them. I’ve vowed to stop biting them four million times before, but this time I mean it.
    This is going to be quite a week for you, my fishy friend.
    What can I write? I look around for more inspiration. Jessica’s used just about every piece of furniture and ornament in the room. She’s run out of words. There’s only hash symbols and asterisks left in her head. I suck on my pen.
    It may start duller than a wet Sunday.
    I catch sight of one of my dad’s CD cases next to the stereo.
    You may feel as inspired as a seventy-year-old rock star but just wait . . .
    I see a photo of my cousin, Jen.
    . . . an unexpected visit from a relative . . .
    Mum’s light-up globe is sitting on the bookcase.
    . . . from overseas will bring . . .
    What?
    An armchair?
    A bowl of potpourri?
    Dad’s plate? I stare at it blankly. The cheddar crumbs have dried up and turned transparent.
    . . . cheese .
    An unexpected visit from a relative from overseas will bring cheese? Jessica must be delirious from overwork, but it’ll have to do.
    I shut my jotter, deciding to type up the horoscopes after a healthy dose of TV. But as I reach for the remote, the phone rings. I leap up and answer it before it wakes Ben.
    ‘Gemma?’
    ‘Treacle? Aren’t you supposed to be at the gig?’
    I can practically hear Treacle smiling. ‘I got ready and found bus money and then thought, what fun will it be without Gem?’
    ‘But what about Savannah?’
    ‘She’s coming too. We’re your best friends, Gem, we can’t leave you home alone on a Saturday night – we would be failing in our BFF duties.’
    I grin madly, even though I know that only a six-year-old is supposed to be ridiculously pleased that her best friends can’t have fun without her.
    Treacle carries on. ‘So Savannah’s picking up some pizza and I’m bringing the new Jack Black movie. Are you up for it?’
    ‘Totally!’ I squeal.
    I hang up after about a million byes, then go and throw a bag of popcorn in the microwave. After all, with pizza, you always need dessert.

 
    The last bell rings, signalling the end of Monday’s lessons. I wait for the OK from Mr Chapman then stuff my geography book in my