Free Signs of Love: Stupid Cupid by Melody James

‘He’s probably got too many tickets and needs to unload some.’
    Savannah raises an eyebrow. ‘Whatever you say, Gem.’ She flicks her hair over her shoulder. ‘You know what this means though?’
    ‘What?’ I try and guess where Savannah’s butterfly mind is fluttering to now.
    ‘We can get ready together !’ she squeals.
    Treacle bobs round the corner, glossy black hair windblown, cheeks rosy from the chilly football field. ‘Get ready for what?’
    Savannah shows Treacle our tickets. ‘We’re both going on Friday night!’
    Treacle slumps against the form-room door. ‘I wish I was going to the gig instead of meeting Jeff’s parents.’
    Savannah starts bouncing again. ‘You could get ready with us !’ she gasps. ‘Then we can give you moral support, and you can help Gemma with her hair.’ She glances
at my curls, wild now the morning straightening has worn off. ‘I don’t think I can manage it alone.’ She gives me a wicked grin.
    Treacle hugs me protectively. ‘Gem’s hair is gorgeous,’ she protests. ‘Her wild, windswept look is cool.’
    Savannah tips her head. ‘Less windswept, more hurricane survivor!’
    ‘Hey!’ I belt her with my bag and she escapes squealing into the classroom.
    ‘Help me!’
    I chase her in, ignoring her pleas for mercy until she cowers behind a desk. Marcus, feet up on a chair, is leafing through a comic at the back of the classroom. ‘Do you need
assistance?’
    Savannah looks up eagerly. ‘Yes!’
    Marcus winks. ‘I was talking to Gemma, not you.’ He sounds relaxed. Like he’s deleted our lunchtime soap-opera moment. Savannah gawps at him while I collapse into relieved
giggles and spare her life.
    We calm down and settle in our usual spot beside the radiator. Treacle clings on to it, breathing in the rising heat.
    Savannah stretches out her long legs. ‘Friday is going to be so great.’
    Treacle looks at her doubtfully. ‘For you, maybe.’
    I bite my lip. Doubt creeps into my mind. What if LJ ignores Sav completely and she’s devastated? Or, even worse, makes a move on her? What if I fail to find anything to report back to
Will? He’ll never take me seriously and I’ll be stuck on the horoscopes for life. I start chewing my thumbnail, suddenly worried. Friday night might turn out to be anything but
great.

‘How are we going to make Sav look terrible?’ Treacle is sitting on my bed, reviewing my brilliant plan to bomb Savannah’s chances with LJ.
    It’s Friday night and the bus leaves in an hour. I look at my watch. Savannah’s fifteen minutes late. If she doesn’t arrive soon, there won’t be time to turn her from
beauty to beast.
    ‘Savannah’s way too pretty,’ Treacle points out. ‘She’d even look great in this !’ She looks down at the caramel cardigan and neat turquoise dogtooth
checked skirt she’s borrowed from her mother.
    Jeff’s parents will think he’s dating a librarian.
    I peer out the window at the empty street. ‘We’ve made you look like Ugly Betty,’ I argue. ‘We can do it with Sav too.’
    My bedroom is awash with discarded clothes. Treacle’s tried on everything I own, but decided in the end caramel and turquoise is the only way to go.
    My outfit was easy to choose. I’m not trying to impress anyone. I’m just after a good story so all I need are trainers for creeping around backstage, a pocket for my phone, and jeans
so I can climb out a window in an emergency.
    I check my watch again. She’s sixteen minutes late now. ‘Hurry up, Sav!’
    ‘Are you sure this is fair?’ Treacle asks me, a worried look on her face.
    ‘It’s the only way I can think of to save her from LJ.’
    ‘Does she need saving?’ Treacle suddenly seems doubtful. ‘She really likes LJ.’
    ‘I know,’ I concede. ‘But the only person LJ really likes is himself. We’re just trying to protect her.’
    ‘Perhaps he’ll be different with Savannah,’ Treacle says. ‘He did give her a ticket.’
    ‘I bet he gave