Free Paris Crush by Melody James

squeeze down the aisle together. I grab the seat behind Savannah and he slides in next to me. Treacle’s firmly planted beside Jeff a few rows back. When she spots
me next to Rupert, she gives the thumbs up.
    ‘Ooh, Gem!’ Savannah kneels on her seat and hooks her chin over her headrest. ‘You’ve bagged Rupert!’
    Rupert looks pleased. I send her death rays. She ducks as Bethany drags her hefty handbag past. Wearing more make-up than clothes, the Year Ten princess is hanging onto LJ’s hood like a
desperate poodle.
    They push their way to the back and I watch the rest of the Year Tens board. A flash of perfect blonde hair catches my eye. Cindy’s weaving her way up the coach. She takes a row near ours,
on the opposite side of the aisle, and puts her Louis Vuitton on the seat next to her. Then she starts repelling boarders with the ferocity of a pirate.
    ‘Sorry, seat taken.’ She flaps Will away. ‘I’m saving it for someone.’ Her icy glare is on fast-freeze.
    ‘Saving it for Sam, I suppose.’ Will sniffs and heads away up the aisle.
    Sam’s breezing along the aisle towards her. I wait for Cindy to signal him in like an air traffic controller. But her gaze doesn’t reach him. I strain to see who she’s staring
at, my eyes widening with surprise. In the dim overhead lights of the coach, I catch a glimpse of a face that looks familiar, yet strange.
    Barbara?
    Her frizzed hair has been smoothed into gentle waves and frames her face, like hands cupping a kitten. Her eyes are smoky, her lashes dark and thick beneath perfectly shaped eyebrows. A hint of
colour shapes her mouth into a perfect kiss. Wowed, I force my mouth shut. She’s had the makeover to end all makeovers. Who knew she was so pretty?
    ‘Barbie!’ Cindy whips her Vuitton out of the way and pats the seat excitedly. ‘I thought you were going to miss the coach.’
    ‘Sorry, Cindy.’ Barbara flumps into the seat beside her. ‘I needed the loo.’ She touches her face with a perfectly manicured finger. ‘Have I smudged
anything?’
    Cindy looks her over with an expert eye. ‘No, still perfect.’
    Sam lets out a whistle as he passes. ‘Looking good, Barbara,’ he says with genuine admiration as he slots himself into the seat behind Rupert and me.
    Barbara turns traffic-light red, so Cindy accepts the compliment for her. ‘She’s decided it’s time to unleash her inner goddess.’
    I recognize Jessica’s advice and feel a burst of happiness.
Where’s David? He’s got to see this magical transformation.
I scan the advancing stream of students and spot
him following Phil along the aisle.
    I watch, breathless. Will he be as impressed as Sam? Barbara’s watching him too, her smoky eyes hopeful, but he doesn’t even look her way. Instead, he slides into a seat beside Phil,
his eyes fixed on his smartphone. Barbara drops her gaze into her lap.
    Cindy squeezes her hand. ‘I can’t wait until the Parisian sunshine hits you,’ she tells Barbara cheerfully. ‘You’re going to look even more amazing.’
    Parisian sunshine.
The words hit me in a rush. I can’t wait to get there. Already I’m imagining blue sky back-dropping the Eiffel Tower.
    ‘I can’t believe we’ll be in Paris in six hours.’ I beam at Rupert. ‘Did you say you’d been before?’
    ‘Yeah.’ Rupert’s smile droops. ‘I only remember it raining.’
    ‘I hope it’s sunny for us.’
    ‘If not . . .’ His familiar grin returns. ‘ . . . We could always get a
parapluie
for two-ee.’
    The coach engine rumbles into life.
    ‘Is everyone in their seats?’ Madame Papillon’s standing at the front of the coach counting heads. Mr Chapman and Miss Davis have settled down behind the driver while everyone
fidgets themselves comfortable.
    With a jolt, the coach starts to move and Madame Papillon collapses into a seat.
    We’re off!
    ‘What do you get when you toss a hand grenade into a kitchen in France?’ Rupert asks randomly.
    I’m gazing out of the