Dress to Impress Read online

  “Present,” said Frankie Wilson with a smirk. “And may I thank the lovely laydee two tables down for such a warm welcome.”

  I blushed like a tomato, while everyone in the room – especially Summer and her mates – laughed themselves sick. Lovely laydee? What a creep!

  “Urrrrrgh,” I growled at Mel and Lucy as Frankie Wilson capered around the back of the classroom, taking bows like some kind of clown while the whole room cheered. He had his blond hair gelled into spikes, and was wearing his school tie undone nearly to his belt. What was he playing at? I caught Summer’s expression. She was totally drinking it in. Then I realised Summer’s hair-tossing earlier had all been for Frankie’s benefit. Tragic!

  “What a loser,” said Lucy as we all filed out of the classroom and headed for drama. “And he seemed so…nice at the footie.”

  “Lads always act like idiots in school, I guess,” I said. It was pretty generous of me, given that my pride was still hurting.

  “Especially when they’re new,” Mel agreed. “They’ve got to be all look-me-tough-guy, you know?”

  I slung my arm around Lucy. “You OK?” I asked.

  “I guess,” Lucy mumbled. “It was just a shock, that’s all.”

  “Talking of shocks,” I said, keen to move on from Frankie Wilson, “what’s going on with Ben and Jasmine Harris?”

  Mel gasped as I told them what I’d seen in the park after the footie. Lucy on the other hand didn’t look very surprised.

  “Jasmine was round ours most of half-term,” she said. “It was really weird having her in the house. I was going to tell you at the footie, but then we met Frankie and…I kind of forgot.”

  “You really do like him, don’t you?” I said.

  “I did,” Lucy said sadly. “But I don’t any more. Who could fancy an idiot like that?”

  “Summer Collins,” I said. “Did you see all that hair-flicking back there?”

  “That’s what all that was about!” Mel said, acting all amazed. “There I was thinking maybe she was just swatting a bunch of flies around her head!”

  Lucy gave a glimmer of a smile. Even though we were doing our best to cheer her up, I could guess how she was feeling. Stupid, and annoyed, and disappointed. I thought about Ben and sighed. It looked like love just wasn’t going our way.

  Three

  We were going round to Lucy’s for tea after school. I’d had this whole outfit planned for Ben’s benefit: my newly beaded T-shirt plus my favourite leggings and these cute little banana shoes that fold in half so you can carry them around in a teeny handbag. The whole ensemble folds down into practically nothing, and I’d been going to tuck them into my bag before school that morning. But you guessed it: in my bus panic, they got left behind.

  “Don’t worry about it, Coleen,” said Lucy, unlocking her front door as I stood and fretted with Mel out on the pavement. “Ben won’t notice you anyway. He’s bringing Jasmine back later on.”

  Like that was going to make me feel any better.

  “No way!” I wailed.

  “It must be really funny seeing Ben all loved up,” Mel giggled.

  Lucy made a face. “Gross, more like. His mates are really mad at him because he’s not seen them all half-term. He’s gone all Jasmine this, Jasmine that. I can’t get a word of sense out of him.”

  “Can we change the subject?” I asked.

  We went upstairs to Lucy’s room, and Lu put on some really soulful music. It made me feel even worse. I was as jumpy as a kangaroo on a trampoline. My ears were on elastic for the front door. When we heard Ben’s voice, I couldn’t resist creeping out and peeping over the banister down into the hall. I so wish I hadn’t. Ben and Jasmine were giggling about something, their heads all close together.

  “Stop torturing yourself, Col,” said Mel over my shoulder. “Come back in with us. Lu wants some advice on what she should do about Frankie Wilson.”

  “I thought she didn’t like Frankie any more,” I said in surprise.

  Mel rolled her eyes. “Who ever said lurve was logical?”

  When you’re suffering from a broken heart, talking about someone else’s broken heart always helps. I followed Mel back into Lucy’s room, where Lu was sitting on the edge of the bed looking all miserable.

  “Weren’t you going to forget about Frankie Wilson?” I said, plopping down beside her.

  “I know,” Lucy sighed. “But I can’t. He was great at the footie, into the same music as me and everything. I’ve never met a boy I get on with so well. It felt like we had a real connection. I think maybe he’s just showing off in class so no one picks on him. Don’t you think?”

  She looked at me hopefully. I had a sudden memory of how Frankie had brought Lucy out of her shell at the footie. That was the real Frankie, I felt sure of it.

  “We’ll give him another chance tomorrow,” I said at last. “Mention the football and see what he says.”

  “Tea’s on the table!” Mrs Hanratty shouted from down in the kitchen.

  I hunted around Lucy’s dressing table until I found what I needed.

  “Sunglasses?” Mel said in surprise as I slipped the sunnies on my nose.

  “I just want something over my eyes so I don’t have to look at Ben and Jasmine,” I explained.

  Mel and Lucy both burst out laughing.

  “What are you like, Coleen?” Lucy said.

  “Right now,” I said, peering carefully around, “practically blind. These are the darkest sunnies in the world, Lu. Give us a hand down the stairs, will you?”

  I’m pleased to say that the sunglasses worked – kind of. Squirting maple syrup on my chips instead of ketchup was a bit of a disaster, but it was a small price to pay.

  “My brother thinks you are really weird, Coleen,” Lucy informed me on the bus the next day.

  I wasn’t sure how I felt about this: pleased that Ben had noticed me, or worried that I’d looked downright daft? Glancing down the bus, I saw Ben and Jasmine sitting with their arms draped around each other in the usual Year Ten seats. Sitting opposite them, Ali Grover and Dave Sheekey, Ben’s two mates, were looking well cheesed off. Ali was staring at the roof and Dave had his eyes firmly shut. It looked like I wasn’t the only one who didn’t approve of Ben’s new girlfriend.

  Lucy was all jittery as we walked down the school corridor to our form room. There was no sign of Frankie Wilson just yet. We settled down at our desks and waited.

  “Have you noticed something?” Mel asked me. She nodded her chin in the direction of Summer Collins’ table.

  Summer had done her normally straight blond hair all in ringlets. They were pushed back off her face with a sparkly black hairband, and were falling down her back like a curly waterfall.

  “She must’ve got up at six this morning to do that,” I said. Even though I couldn’t stand Summer, you had to admire her dedication.

  “Ten out of ten for effort,” Mel agreed.

  I glanced at Lucy, who was staring at her desk. Did she realise that Summer was totally after Frankie?

  Mr Andrews came in with the register in his arms, balanced on top of a load of papers. He was about to set the teetering pile down on his desk when Frankie Wilson skidded into the classroom. His hair was gelled up more fiercely than ever. I watched Frankie stop, grin at Lucy – and then deliberately shove into Mr Andrews’ back.

  “Sorry sir,” Frankie said cheerily as Mr Andrews’ papers flew up into the air like enormous bits of confetti. “Didn’t spot you there.”

  “Did you see that?” Mel gasped, starting to her feet.

  I gawped down the classroom at Frankie. I couldn’t believe what he’d just done. It seemed totally out of character. Plus now, the cheeky devil wasn’t making any effort to help Mr Andrews pick everything up. Instead, he’d perched himself on the edge of Summer’s desk and was whispering something in her ear, making Summer and her mates all giggle. All my faith in ‘the real’ Frankie Wilson went pop. Mr Andrews was pretty boring, but what Frankie had done to
him was plain nasty.

  “There is no way we give him a second chance after that,” I announced when the bell went.

  “He smiled at me,” Lucy said, looking confused. “Then he went and talked to Summer. What was that all about?”

  “Boys,” Mel said. “More trouble than they’re worth.”

  Frankie suddenly loomed up in our path like some kind of monster from Scooby-Doo. “Whoo!” he shouted. “Cheer up, girls. It might never happen!”

  “It just did,” I said through gritted teeth as he zoomed off down the corridor. Summer, Hannah and Shona all followed, like hungry seagulls following a fishing boat. Pathetic!

  We managed to avoid Frankie for the rest of the week. But avoiding his voice was a totally different matter. Everywhere we went, we could hear him gabbing on. He was full of his little brother Billy’s footballing talents, what a big house they had, how his dad had just bought a new car…blah, blah, blah – he just went on and on. It was amazing how much he had to say, and how loudly he said it. By the end of the week, the whole of Year Eight was in love with Frankie Wilson, it seemed – apart from us. As far as we were concerned, it was a relief to reach the weekend and escape.

  “I don’t think I’ll come to the footie this week,” Lucy said apologetically as we headed to the bus stop on Friday after school. “Do you mind, Coleen?”

  “Course not,” I said. “The match is over the other side of Hartley on Sunday, anyway.”

  “Are you still going?” Mel asked me.

  I nodded. “We always go to Em’s matches. But if Frankie Wilson’s there, I swear I’ll turn my back and ignore him.”

  “That might be easier said than done,” Mel said as Frankie Wilson raced past blowing a very loud, very wet raspberry.

  “Try me,” I said in a voice that would curdle custard.

  Another cold Sunday, another football match. I’d listened to Mum this time, and was wearing my old puffa jacket and a pair of trainers. The only thing I had done was take off the buttons and sew them back on with silver thread. You’ve got to have a bit of bling on a freezing cold touchline, right?

  “There’s that Wilson lad,” said Mum, nodding down the touchline to where I could see Frankie and his dad huddled together with Billy.

  “I noticed,” I muttered.

  Mum looked surprised at my tone of voice. “What’s up with you?” she asked. “I thought you and your friends liked him.”

  “A lot can happen in a week,” I said, stamping my feet on the muddy grass.

  Dad wasn’t refereeing today, but it hadn’t stopped him getting into his tracksuit. I could see the outline of his whistle tucked into his top pocket as he jogged up and down the touchline, watching Em like a hawk as she moved around the pitch.

  “Hiya.”

  I nearly jumped out of my skin. Frankie Wilson had sneaked up without me noticing and was now standing next to me.

  “Hi,” I grunted, determined not to talk to him any more than I could help.

  “No mates today?” he asked, glancing down the touchline.

  I couldn’t help the sarcasm from creeping into my voice. “Funnily enough, no.”

  Frankie didn’t seem to notice. If anything, he looked disappointed. After a minute, he felt around in his coat pocket. “I brought this for Lucy,” he said, holding out a CD to me. “It’s my favourite CD from my dad’s collection. I thought maybe she’d like to download it and…”

  I must’ve had a face like a bulldog chewing a wasp because he tailed off when he clocked my expression. “Sorry,” he mumbled, tucking the CD back into his pocket. “Whatever. Tell her I said hi, yeah?” And he turned around abruptly and headed back up the touchline to his dad.

  Weird, I thought to myself. Why all Mister Too Cool For School one day, and nice as anything the next?

  To be honest, I felt the teeniest bit guilty. He’d brought that CD especially for Lucy, after all. I could kind of understand the clowning around in class – I mean, if it was friends that Frankie Wilson wanted, he’d made more in a week than me in my whole first term at Hartley High. But if he liked Lucy, why was he playing up to Summer at school? I didn’t understand it, but then I can’t say I understand lads much.

  Hartley Juniors lost their match, so there was no reason to hang around chatting. I got Dad to drop me in town on the way home. Mel and Lucy were waiting for me at our usual weekend meeting place in the market square.

  “Unbelievable,” I said, shaking my head.

  “What?” Mel said, all agog. “Was Frankie there?”

  “Yes,” I said. “All nice as pie again. And get this. He even brought a CD for Lucy!”

  “He did what?” Lucy repeated.

  “You heard,” I grinned. It was hard not to smile when you saw the look on Lucy’s face.

  “What CD was it?” Lucy asked eagerly.

  I waggled my eyebrows at her. “‘My favourite CD from my dad’s collection’,” I quoted, putting two fingers down my throat and gagging.

  “And he brought it for me?” Lucy gasped. “So have you got it?”

  “Sorry, Lucy,” I said. “I kind of – gave him a few evils. He took it back.”

  Lucy started to say something when Mel held up her hands. “No, no, no!” she warned. “We are not going down the ‘Frankie Wilson is misunderstood’ route again, you hear? You did the right thing, Coleen.”

  Lucy was blushing. “Maybe I will come to next week’s footie after all,” she said. “If Frankie’s too shy to talk to me at school, we’ll just save it for the touchline.”

  “Shy?” I gasped, thinking of him clowning around in class. “I don’t think shy is the right word, somehow. But there’s definitely something odd going on. Still,” I shrugged, “if you want to come to football, Lucy, that’s fine by me.”

  By Monday morning, I was feeling totally confused about Frankie. Everything was as clear as mud to me as we climbed off the bus and headed in to school.

  “Maybe Frankie’s brought the CD to school,” Lucy said hopefully as we reached our classroom door.

  “Some hope,” Mel snorted. She didn’t buy the whole Frankie being a nice guy thing either, even though Lucy had spent the entire bus trip trying to persuade us.

  We pushed through our classroom doors. Frankie was already in his seat. I was all prepared to smile forgivingly at him for Lucy’s sake when I clocked who he was sitting with – and whose hand he was holding.

  “Hi Coleen,” Summer Collins simpered. “Nice weekend?”

  Four

  “Maybe there’s a totally simple explanation,” I said hopefully the following Saturday.

  “There is,” Mel said at once. “Frankie Wilson’s a two-timing twerp.”

  “We’ve had this argument about a million times,” Lucy said wearily. “Frankie’s going out with Summer, end of story. You saw them together this week, Coleen. Holding hands in the playground and everything.”

  “But he still smiled at you in the dinner queue yesterday, Lucy,” I pointed out, feeling confused.

  “Exactly,” Mel said with a fierce nod. “A two-timing turnip.”

  Me and Lucy both had to giggle at that one.

  We were round at Lucy’s again, trying to decide whether we were going to the footie this weekend or not. Even though Em’s my little sister and everything, there are times when you have to stand by your mates.

  “If you don’t want to go today, I won’t go either,” I declared.

  “But Coleen, what about your sister?” Lucy wailed.

  “Em’ll be so busy scoring goals she won’t even notice,” I fibbed.

  Between you and me, my little sister takes the whole family-on-the-touchline thing pretty seriously. Something to do with luck – and the chocolate bars Mum always has in her handbag at the end of a match. But the chocs would still be there with or without me, and mates are mates, right?

  “If we want to support Em, then Frankie Wilson’s got no right stopping us,” Mel announced, folding her arms.

  “When d
id you become such a fan of Hartley Juniors, Mel?” I asked in surprise. “You only came the once.”

  “It’s the principle,” Mel said stoutly.

  Don’t get Mel started on principles. She’ll stick to them till she’s blue in the face, and you along with her.

  “I think we should go,” Lucy said.

  I was gobsmacked. “Really? But what if Frankie’s there with Summer?”

  “No problem,” Lucy said firmly. “Just because Frankie’s got a girlfriend, doesn’t mean we can’t be mates, does it?”

  “Good on you, girl,” said Mel, clapping Lucy on the back and making her cough.

  “We so need perfect outfits for this,” I declared, now the decision was made. “The kind of look that says ‘don’t mess with me’, but doesn’t try too hard, you know?”

  “Whatever you say, Coleen,” Lucy said, shaking her head at me.

  I bent over my bag and rummaged through handfuls of scarves, belts and jewellery. I had been hoping that Lucy would come around to the idea of the footie, as I hate disappointing my kid sister. So I’d put together an emergency supply of accessories to make any outfit look cool, even Lucy’s safer-than-safe jeans and T-shirts.

  “Plenty to choose from here,” I said, tipping out the lot.

  Everything made a lovely clattering noise as it fell among the teddies and lacy cushions that decorate Lucy’s bed.

  “Great earrings,” Mel said, pouncing on a pair of turquoise wooden hoops and holding them up to her ears.

  I squinted at Mel’s outfit. She was wearing brown jeans today, with a funky belt and a skinny-rib white polo neck.

  “Try that,” I said, pointing at a heavy wooden necklace that I’d found in my nan’s jewellery box when I was nine. I’d liked it so much that Nan had given it to me.

  “Cool,” Mel murmured, taking the wooden necklace and slipping it round her neck. It hung all chunky and fabulous, just like I’d pictured it.

  Lucy was staring doubtfully at this cute little beanie hat I’d brought along especially for her. “It’s a bit…” she began.