'I know how,' said Miranda. 'Come on.'
We marched through the school gates into the playground.
'My God, it's t h a t girl with the tits!' someone shouted.
'The t a r t on Paul's phone!'
'Paul's girl.'
'I'm not Paul's girl. Paul's a wanker,' said Miranda. 'I'm Carl's girl. Hey, Carl.'
She left me and went right up to him. Then she p u t her a r m s round his neck, snuggling up close, and kissed him on t h e lips in front of everyone. It was a long slow kiss, stunning everyone into silence.
'But he's gay' someone muttered.
'Gay or straight, he's a better kisser t h a n any of you lot,' Miranda said. 'Silly little boys. Come on, Carl.'
She gently took his bandaged hand. They 305
started walking. I thought they would walk straight past me, but Carl put his other h a n d out for me.
'Who's that girl?' someone said.
'She's Sylvie. She's my girl too,' said Carl, holding my h a n d as well.
We walked on, the t h r e e of us, out of the school gates. There w a s a s t u n n e d silence behind us.
'There you are!' said Miranda triumphantly.
'Was t h a t not brilliant!'
'Not brilliant,' said Carl. 'But t h a n k you, Miranda. Thank you, Sylvie.'
We were still holding hands.
'What do we do now?' I said. 'Walk off into the sunset?'
We walked back to Carl's house. J u l e s was waiting white-faced in t h e kitchen.
'Oh! Hello, Sylvie a n d Miranda,' she said. She paused. 'Hello, Carl. Good day?'
'Could have been better,' said Carl. He paused too. 'It caused a bit of a stir having t h e two girls come to meet me.'
'I'll bet,' said Jules, glancing at M i r a n d a in my pyjama-vest. 'Coffee, girls? And I've m a d e chocolate caramel shortbreads.'
They were Carl's favourites, usually kept for high days and holidays. The four of us s a t round the table drinking coffee and eating shortbread.
Miranda s t a r t e d showing off, b u t J u l e s h a d some inkling of w h a t she'd done for Carl a n d indulged h e r now.
We h e a r d t h e front door slam a n d t h e n J a k e 307
bounded into the kitchen. He did a classic double take when he saw us sitting there. A triple t a k e for Miranda's chest. He gave me a little grin and then t u r n e d to Carl.
'Watcha, squirt,' he said. 'What's your secret, eh? How come you get two girls stalking you like crazy and I haven't got any?'
'My n a t u r a l charm?' said Carl.
'Yeah, right.' J a k e paused too. 'Good day?' he said.
'You're all starting to sound like spies in a J a m e s Bond film,' said Carl. 'I take it Good day is code for Did the little shits beat you up now they know you're gay?'
'Dad says you can't know you're gay at your age, squirt. Same-sex crushes are part of normal adolescent development, blah blah blah.'
'Yeah, whatever,' said Carl.
'Quite,' said Jake. 'Still, did they beat you up?
Because if you tell me which ones I'll be round to sort t h e m out.'
'You're too late, mate. I've sorted them out,'
said Miranda.
'In h e r own inimitable way,' I said.
'Phew!' said Jake. 'Fancy sorting me out some time, Miranda?'
'I t h i n k maybe I'm going to s t a r t getting more choosy,' said Miranda. 'You guys don't seem able to cope with my physical charms. I'm not sure I like being called the Girl with the Tits. Maybe I'll bind them up and w e a r a modesty tent for a few years.'
308
'Spoilsport,' said Jake.
He aimed a mock punch at Carl's shoulder.
'Glad you've got your girl army, kiddo. J u s t pass them my way when you're done with them.' He sat down and started munching.
'I said, I'm afraid I'm no longer available,' said Miranda. 'I'm intending to lead the life of a nun.'
'OK, OK, I get the picture, Sister Miranda,' said Jake. 'But you're not the only girl, you know.'
He paused. He looked at me significantly.
I sighed, thinking he was sending me up.
'Yeah, right, ha ha,' I said sourly.
Jules nudged me. 'He's seriously got this big crush on you, Sylvie,' she whispered.
I blinked, astonished. Miranda raised her eyebrows. Jules smiled at me encouragingly. Carl looked hopeful.
Oh God. I could see t h e m thinking this was the perfect solution. I could have J a k e as a boyfriend and Carl as a best friend, a neat and cosy a r r a n g e m e n t with the two boys next door.
But it wasn't as simple as t h a t . I didn't love Jake. I loved Carl.
J a k e was looking at me, very red in t h e face, t h o u g h he w a s t r y i n g to act cool, d r u m m i n g his fingers in a syncopated r h y t h m on t h e table. He shook his head, tossing his wild fringe out of his eyes. I didn't w a n t to h u r t him.
'Oh gosh,' I said in a little-girly voice. 'Stop teasing me, Jake! And anyway, even if you were serious, you're like, so much older t h a n me, 309
practically grown up. Mum would never let me go out with you.'
I don't know whether I convinced him but he laughed shakily. ' Y e a h , I'd be seriously cradle-snatching hanging out with you, Little Titch.'
J u l e s sighed and poured herself another cup of tea. Miranda started talking about all the older guys she'd been out with, seventeen – and eighteen-year-olds, even some guy in his twenties. I couldn't tell if she was making it all up or not but it didn't really matter. Her voice went on and on, while we nodded and gasped and laughed, her captive audience.
Then J a k e slouched off to do his homework.
He ruffled my beautifully styled hair and made silly kiss-kiss noises at me, t u r n i n g it all into a joke. He went to ruffle Miranda's too, but she caught his wrist and twisted it.
'Don't try t h a t game on me, matie. No one messes with me.' She yawned and stretched. 'I suppose I'd better be sloping off home. Oh God, it's miles away. Maybe I'll get a taxi.'
Til drive you,' said Jules, getting her car keys out of h e r bag.
'You'll have to change back into your school uniform, Miranda,' I said.
'Can't be bothered. I'll come to school like this tomorrow, eh? That'll wind t h e m up.'
'You're the biggest wind-up merchant I've ever met,' said Jules. 'But you're a great friend to my Carl and that's all t h a t m a t t e r s to me.
Come on, sweetheart.'
310
'OK, OK. Thanks, Jules.' She looked at Carl and me. 'You guys are coming for t h e ride, yeah?'
'Sorry, Miranda, we've got things to do,' said Carl.
She moaned, but Jules led her away firmly.
Carl and I were left alone in the kitchen together.
'Things to do?' I said softly.
'I w a n t you to come to the Glass H u t with me,'
said Carl. 'I can't face it by myself.'
'OK,' I said, though my h e a r t started racing. I took hold of his h a n d without thinking and he winced.
'Sorry! Are your hands still very sore?'
'It's my own fault. Sylvie, do you t h i n k I've smashed everything?'
'Pretty much,' I said.
'Maybe – maybe I can't stand to look j u s t yet.'
'No, let's go now. We'll have one quick look, j u s t to check.'
'OK. W h a t are your shoes like? You be careful, you mustn't cut your feet. And put on Dad's gardening gloves, OK? J u s t in case you touch anything.'
We walked slowly down the garden. We came almost to a standstill as we approached the hut.
'I w a n t to hold your hand, but look at us, we're like bloody boxers,' said Carl, tapping his big bandage against my leather gardening glove.
'Deep breath,' I said.
I reached forward and gently edged t h e door of the Glass H u t open. I sniffed t h e familiar 311
e a r t h y smell, wondering j u s t for a split second if it h a d all been som
e mad and terrible dream. I'd have given the whole world for Carl's collection still to be there, carefully lined up and colour co-ordinated. But my foot crunched on broken glass as I stepped inside. I switched on the light.
We stood together, breathing heavily.
The Glass Boy was still shattered, only one foot intact. All the little glass animals were horribly maimed. The vases were smashed too, great shards of colour creating crazy stained glass on the shelf. But the paperweights were mostly OK. I picked up Miranda's Remember Me.
' T h a n k goodness.' I t u r n e d it round and round, holding it up to the light. 'It's not even got t h e tiniest scratch. How lucky, it's your most valuable piece.'
'It's not the most valuable,' said Carl. His voice was thick. I knew he was trying not to cry again.
'You mean the poor Glass Boy' I said, looking at t h e little glass foot, five small perfect toes, a graceful arch, a slimly t u r n e d heel and then an ugly jagged edge of ankle.
'No, I mean my special champagne flute,' said Carl. He nodded over at t h e shelf of glasses.
They were nearly all broken, snapped off at the stem, b u t my champagne flute birthday present seemed untouched.
'There!' I said. 'I'm so glad!'
I could see there was a little chip in t h e glass 312
at the top. I'm sure Carl could see it too, but we both pretended it was still perfect.
'You still have a collection,' I said. 'Small and select.'
'True.'
'And you can carry on collecting.'
'Maybe,' said Carl. 'Or maybe – I don't know . . .' He started very cautiously pushing bits of coloured glass around with his bandaged hand.
'Careful!'
'Yeah, yeah, I'm being careful. Look, you pick up t h a t blue piece, and t h a t one, and t h a t darker bit. Look, if we p u t one piece here, the other t h e r e . . .' He nudged t h e m into place.
'There!'
I looked. I didn't see w h a t he was getting at.
'I don't t h i n k you can mend it,' I said gently.
'No, no, I'm not mending, I'm making. Pick me out some more blue bits.'
I didn't get it until Carl made me p u t a tiny chip of yellow against the top blue piece – and then I saw.
'It's a bird! A bluebird with a little beak!'
'Maybe I'll s t a r t glass applique? It might work, mightn't it?'
'You'd be brilliant at it. And maybe later on you could learn real stained-glass making, when you're at a r t school.'
And you'll come to art school too.'
A n d we'll rework all t h e Glass world Chronicles and get them published a n d make a 313
fortune,' I said, picking up t h e big book.
Little splinters of glass fell from it but it was safe too.
'And King Carlo and Queen Sylviana will always live together and love each other,' said Carl.
'Of course,' I swallowed. 'Even if we don't.'
'I'll always love you, Sylvie,' said Carl.
He took a step until we stood together, the Chronicles clasped between us. He leaned his head forward and gently, softly, sweetly, kissed me on t h e lips.
It wasn't the kiss I'd been hoping for. But it was t h e next best thing.
Document Outline
Front Cover
Frontmatter Title
By the Same Author
Title Page
Epub Copyright Page
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Jacqueline Wilson, Kiss
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