beat him; he played to win, just as she did. Before JC, she had played chess on the computer; she much preferred having a real person to play with.
Recently, on days when Mum was working or when Lauren had her ballet or speech and drama lessons, JC had started picking her up from school. The first time he’d come for her, after Mum had told her teacher to look out for him, everyone had stared at him. With his golden-brown hair, his sunglasses and his black jeans and hoodie top, and his odd shoes – he had a thing about wearing different coloured Converse trainers on each foot – he looked way cooler than any of the other dads who came to the gate. Lauren had met him a few times and said he looked like he could be famous, like he played in a cool rock band.
As a proper dad, JC would be totally cool. One of the things she liked about him was that he didn’t do that boring thing grown-ups usually did – talk to her as if she was an idiot and then lose interest when she was in the middle of telling him something. He always listened properly. She liked it when he stayed for what Mum called a JC sleepover, because he made them nice breakfasts in the morning. Porridge was her favourite, with golden syrup. She’d never had it before; no way could Mum, who was the worst cook in the world, be trusted to make it.
That was why Madison had offered to make a birthday cake for JC, because Mum couldn’t make one to save her life. She had made it early this morning at Lauren’s, with only a bit of help from Heather. It was the piping that had been the difficult bit, that and writing Happy Birthday JC on the cake. She hoped he liked it. Mum had said that they would give him his presents this afternoon and then surprise him with the cake. It would have been nicer to celebrate his birthday yesterday, on the actual day, but he had taken Mum to meet his family last night. Madison had asked if she could go as well and JC had said, ‘Yeah, why not?’ but Mum had said there was plenty of time for all that.
‘All what?’ Madison had asked.
‘Never you mind, missy.’
In the car coming back from Lauren’s earlier, Madison had asked if they’d enjoyed themselves last night. Mum had looked at Jensen and said, ‘It was a blast. Hey, you’ll never guess what I saw in Mr and Mrs Channing’s garden: a peacock. A real peacock. Imagine that. And you know what, it just wanders round the village wherever it wants to go, doing whatever it wants to do.’
‘Can I come with you the next time you go?’ Madison had asked. ‘Can I see the peacock?’
‘We’ll see, hon. We’ll see. So what did you and Lauren get up to?’
She hadn’t said anything about Lauren moving away; she had wanted to put it in her diary first. Her diary was sort of like a friend to her – it was where she shared anything important. Good things. Bad things. Losing Lauren would be a very, very bad thing.
The blank page of her diary stared back at her. This was the first time she hadn’t been able to put into words how she felt about something. And that made her feel so upset she suddenly wanted to cry. She took off her glasses and squeezed her eyes shut to try and stop the tears coming, but it didn’t work and the first tear rolled down her cheek, followed quickly by another. She slumped over the desk and cried and cried.
A knock at the door made her jump. ‘Yes,’ she said, sitting bolt upright and wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands.
JC came in. ‘Your mum’s just gone to the shop for some milk and I wondered if you wanted to have a game of . . . Are you OK?’
She nodded, sniffed and fumbled to get her glasses back on.
He stared at her and came right into the room. ‘Are you sure?’
She swallowed and nodded again, wishing he’d go away, but at the same time wanting him to stay. She didn’t want to be alone. She saw his gaze flicker towards her diary still open on the desk. She quickly shut it, even though there was nothing to see.
He
Recently, on days when Mum was working or when Lauren had her ballet or speech and drama lessons, JC had started picking her up from school. The first time he’d come for her, after Mum had told her teacher to look out for him, everyone had stared at him. With his golden-brown hair, his sunglasses and his black jeans and hoodie top, and his odd shoes – he had a thing about wearing different coloured Converse trainers on each foot – he looked way cooler than any of the other dads who came to the gate. Lauren had met him a few times and said he looked like he could be famous, like he played in a cool rock band.
As a proper dad, JC would be totally cool. One of the things she liked about him was that he didn’t do that boring thing grown-ups usually did – talk to her as if she was an idiot and then lose interest when she was in the middle of telling him something. He always listened properly. She liked it when he stayed for what Mum called a JC sleepover, because he made them nice breakfasts in the morning. Porridge was her favourite, with golden syrup. She’d never had it before; no way could Mum, who was the worst cook in the world, be trusted to make it.
That was why Madison had offered to make a birthday cake for JC, because Mum couldn’t make one to save her life. She had made it early this morning at Lauren’s, with only a bit of help from Heather. It was the piping that had been the difficult bit, that and writing Happy Birthday JC on the cake. She hoped he liked it. Mum had said that they would give him his presents this afternoon and then surprise him with the cake. It would have been nicer to celebrate his birthday yesterday, on the actual day, but he had taken Mum to meet his family last night. Madison had asked if she could go as well and JC had said, ‘Yeah, why not?’ but Mum had said there was plenty of time for all that.
‘All what?’ Madison had asked.
‘Never you mind, missy.’
In the car coming back from Lauren’s earlier, Madison had asked if they’d enjoyed themselves last night. Mum had looked at Jensen and said, ‘It was a blast. Hey, you’ll never guess what I saw in Mr and Mrs Channing’s garden: a peacock. A real peacock. Imagine that. And you know what, it just wanders round the village wherever it wants to go, doing whatever it wants to do.’
‘Can I come with you the next time you go?’ Madison had asked. ‘Can I see the peacock?’
‘We’ll see, hon. We’ll see. So what did you and Lauren get up to?’
She hadn’t said anything about Lauren moving away; she had wanted to put it in her diary first. Her diary was sort of like a friend to her – it was where she shared anything important. Good things. Bad things. Losing Lauren would be a very, very bad thing.
The blank page of her diary stared back at her. This was the first time she hadn’t been able to put into words how she felt about something. And that made her feel so upset she suddenly wanted to cry. She took off her glasses and squeezed her eyes shut to try and stop the tears coming, but it didn’t work and the first tear rolled down her cheek, followed quickly by another. She slumped over the desk and cried and cried.
A knock at the door made her jump. ‘Yes,’ she said, sitting bolt upright and wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands.
JC came in. ‘Your mum’s just gone to the shop for some milk and I wondered if you wanted to have a game of . . . Are you OK?’
She nodded, sniffed and fumbled to get her glasses back on.
He stared at her and came right into the room. ‘Are you sure?’
She swallowed and nodded again, wishing he’d go away, but at the same time wanting him to stay. She didn’t want to be alone. She saw his gaze flicker towards her diary still open on the desk. She quickly shut it, even though there was nothing to see.
He
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