Free Millie and the Night Heron by Catherine Bateson Page A

lot.
When other people tease him you defend him.
You blush when people use your name and his name in the same sentence.
You worry about your clothes and hair more.
You try to get interested in the stuff he’s interested in.
If he’s popular, you act stuck-up.
    I did everything, even the last thing. I did act kind of stuck-up around him. Not mega stuck-up, not I’m-too-posh-for-you-to-clean-my-shoes stuck up, just I’ve-got-better-things-to-talk-about-than-your-game-of-soccer-but-if-you-ask-me-twice-I’ll-answer kind of stuck-up.
    I had a crush onand I felt like all the things that were on Helen’s ‘How You Feel When You’ve Got a Mega Crush Six-Point Indicator’:

    Airy fairy
Bad, really bad
Good, really good – particularly when he looks at you
Scared – that he doesn’t like you
Scared – that he likes someone else
Scared – that he likes you
    I had my first crush and I had it badly. Maybe it was like those diseases that if you don’t get them when you’re a kid you get them three times as badly when you’re an adult. I was a late developer when it came to crushes and it was like killer chicken-pox.

CHAPTER
NINE

    When I got home from the sleep-over, Mum seemed weird. Usually if I’ve been away she’s all questions, questions, questions. This time she opened the front door and looked almost surprised it was me.
    â€˜Oh, hi Millie,’ she said, ‘you’re home early.’
    â€˜No, I’m not,’ I said, dropping my bag so I could hug her. ‘It’s about five past six, actually.’
    â€˜Of course, so it is.’ She hugged me quickly. ‘Have a good time?’
    â€˜It was brilliant. Really great. We stayed up until late last night, watching videos and talking. Helen’s mother’s cool, too. She’s a low-maintenance mother. You know, here’s the popcorn, girls, don’t burn it.And Helen’s bedroom is fantastic. She’s got all these posters everywhere—not just movie star posters, although she’s got some of those, but animals, too. It’s great.’
    â€˜Good. I’m pleased you had such a good time,’ Mum said. ‘I think we’ll have noodles for dinner, take-away noodles. Is that okay?’
    I followed her into the kitchen.
    â€˜I haven’t quite finished cleaning up in here,’ she said. ‘Millie, why don’t you unpack your bag and sort out your washing.’ And she almost shooed me out of the kitchen, but not before I’d noticed the mess.
    â€˜What were you doing?’ I asked, peering over her shoulder. There was a pile of stuff on the sink—saucepans, wine glasses, plates. ‘Mum, it looks as though you’ve had a party!’
    â€˜No party,’ she said, trying to block my view. ‘Not a party, really. Just dinner, that’s all. Come on, Millie, I need that washing.’ Mum looked flustered and quite pink.
    â€˜How many people came over?’
    â€˜Oh, you know, just a couple of people from the exhibition committee. That’s all. It was pretty impromptu, really.’
    â€˜What does that mean?’
    â€˜When something happens on the spur of the moment. Come on, Millie, washing!’
    â€˜I need a drink first,’ I said and pushed past her into the kitchen.
    On the kitchen sink there were:

    - Mum’s good heavy casserole dish from France
    - two wine glasses
    - two of the best plates
    - two of the lettuce-leaf plates Sheri gave us one Christmas
    - two coffee mugs
    - two tea cups, the cobalt blue ones Patrick gave us one Christmas
    - two bowls with leftover porridge sticking to the sides
    - two ordinary glasses
    - one porridge saucepan
    - one bowl with leftover salad sticking to the sides
    - one milk jug
    - the orange juicer.

    â€˜How many people?’ I asked pointedly.
    â€˜One,’ Mum said, sighing, ‘just one.’
    â€˜And they stayed over?’
    â€˜Would you