Free Cassie's Crush by Fiona Foden Page B

too fast,” Marcia puffed. I was fine, though. I was filled with an intense kind of energy that was making me feel as if I could sprint up that hill. We stayed well back, darting from car to car as Ollie marched ahead. “Hey, Ollie!” someone yelled from across the road.
    â€œOh God,” Marcia hissed. “It’s Daniel!” Grabbing our sleeves, Marcia pulled me and Evie behind a parked truck. We peered round it as Ollie crossed the road and started jostling with Daniel. They were laughing and shoving each other (the boys-shoving thing is really weird. It would never occur to me to shove Evie or Marcia). Then the two of them headed further up the hill. “I’ll die if Daniel sees me,” Marcia kept muttering. I couldn’t work out if that was a) because it’d be embarrassing, being spotted creeping after another boy or b) she was having a shyness attack because their dry-cleaner date had actually been far too thrilling to cope with.
    When I’m Ollie’s girlfriend, I’ll behave far more maturely than she does.
    The road had widened out and there were hardly any parked cars to dart behind (the posh houses in this part of town all have their own driveways) so we didn’t know what to do next. As there were only a few skinny trees for cover, we fell further behind and kept in a small, tight huddle. “Subject’s friend turning left,” I murmured. “Subject going up the hill on his own and …” My heart lurched with excitement. “…heading in through a gate and along a path and … my God!”
    â€œWhat?” hissed Marcia.
    â€œHe’s going into that house!”
    â€œWell, he probably lives there,” Evie said with a shrug. We all stopped and watched. There was no place to hide now. Ollie could have turned around and seen us but I was too excited to care. I’d just pretend I lived on Lilac Hill instead of on our scruffy street with Mum’s pink dog van outside. We saw him take a key from his pocket and let himself in. As soon as the door had closed, we wandered past to get a casual look at where he lives.
    It wasn’t what I expected. Most of the houses on Lilac Hill are huge and posh, but this one was the absolute poshest. There were big, grand curtains tied back with fancy bows, and we could see a sparkly chandelier thing through the living-room window. It was sort of old-fashioned posh. The front door was shiny and red, with a big brass knocker, and there were miniature bushes on each side of it, cut into perfect cone shapes.
    â€œHis parents must be loaded,” Marcia exclaimed, and I felt a wave of hopelessness: would someone this rich ever be interested in the daughter of a dog groomer and a jam factory man?
    â€œWhat shall we do now?” Evie asked.
    â€œWe could knock,” Marcia suggested.
    â€œI’m not sure,” I said. “What would we say?”
    â€œWell,” Marcia shrugged, “I could just ask him to come to my party…”
    I was about to agree and muster the courage to march up the path when a shrill voice came from across the street: “Cassie! What’re you doing around here?” It was Mum’s friend Suzie, the one Mum discusses all my private business with.
    â€œJust out for a walk,” I babbled, as if she’d believe that .
    Suzie did one of her low, smoky laughs. “Nice to see young people being healthy instead of lying about in front of the TV all day.”
    I nodded and forced a smile, and Marcia and Evie nearly collapsed with laughter as the three of us hurried back down the hill.

No shampoo in the shower. Beth must have finished it off (her showers take about three and a half years so she can be fresh and fragrant for toilet-stink Henry). I searched the whole bathroom but found nothing. In desperation I used soap, but it went all frothy and matted, like Sam’s dog Billy before his wash, when I tried to rinse it out. Now I