Free Fanmail by Mia Castle Page B

smile. Was he flirting with me AGAIN? Telling me all that “home is where the heart is” rubbish?
    I decided to ignore the sub-text. ‘That was Aggie’s dad’s house,’ I said gently, in case he turned violent because of the drugs. ‘You don’t live there, Jason. Where’s …’ I enunciated carefully. ‘… Jazzy’s house?’
    ‘Ummm.’
    ‘He can come to my house, just like he suggested,’ said Aggie hopefully.
    Maybe he could. Maybe that would upset Dean so much that he’d forget he’d just proposed to Mother Dearest …
    ‘Don’t you live there, Cat?’ said Jason suddenly. ‘I want to go where you’re going.’
    ‘Right, like that’s going to happen!’ This was unbelievable. Of all the teenage girls in the world, he wanted to go home with the only one who wasn’t interested.
    ‘Then I can come to Tre vellyan School with you,’ he said.
    Suddenly, with a godly glowing through the clouds and the sound of angels going ‘Aaaaaaahhhh’, it all became crystal clear.
    School. Dolores. Freddie. Me. Jazzy D. Double dating with the Double Ds.
    Me, cool and popular and not Titanic for the first time in history.
    It was perfect.
    And that was how the Divine Jazzy D came to be camped out in our shed, on the blow-up mattress with my sleeping bag from madrigal camp.
    It was only when I was closing the door on him with strict instructions that he was not to appear NAKED in our kitchen in the morning, at least not until Mum had gone to Dean’s, that something occurred to me. I stuck my head back around the door.
    ‘Hey, I know we went to infant school together and all that, but how did you know which school I go to now?’
    He smiled at me dopily, looking ever so slightly and annoyingly cute. ‘From your pencil case. Cat Andrews, Year 11, Trevellyan School, something street …’
    ‘Oh, right.’ That made sense. I did have all my school stuff properly labelled , and he must have found my bag in Dean’s hall before he sprang his nakedness on us.
    Funny, though, because when Mum came home and returned my abandoned bags to me, my pencil case wasn’t there.

Chapter 8: Fantastic Day (Haircut 100)
     
    Let me just tell you, btw, that Jazzy Divine is an arrogant prat. Not someone I would normally want to keep caged up in the shed all weekend so I could take him to school on the Monday (not that, you know, I normally want to do that to anybody). If I had actually known him at primary school he would have been the last person I’d have talked to, if I had actually spoken to anyone anyway.
           He’s quite hard to talk to, in any case, because he sings all the time. All. The. Time. I know I sing a lot when choir practice is looming or when we’re giving a performance, but being with Jazzy was like being in a musical, with every simple thing being turned into lyrics. I do not like being crooned at about my cereal. Or my uniform. Or my hair wings. Or anything.
    He didn’t seem to have any plans for the weekend, which was unusual for a pop star, I thought. But then DV did have a film just out, so maybe they were on a break or something. Jason didn’t particularly want to discuss it – just slept a lot in the shed and woke up occasionally to eat. It was a bit like having a pet dog, really, only one I had to keep from singing every few minutes. Luckily Mum was so loved up all weekend that she spent most of it at Dean’s place (and I so did not want to think about THAT so it was good to have a distraction at home).
    Before 8am on Saturday, Dolores called for a complete breakdown of how I ended up with Jazzy D in the car and where we’d dropped him and could we go and stalk him, like, right now. Then I heard her mum calling in the background and Dolores let out a groan.
    ‘I’ve got to go to work,’ she whined. ‘ It’s totally unfair! They’ve got a phone ban there.’
    Dolores has a weekend job in the specialist bra shop for the bigger-boobed. The manageress took one look at her and hired her