Strawberry Crush. Jean Ure

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      Eight o’clock next morning found us at the bus stop, glumly waiting for a bus to appear. Well, I was glum. I hate waiting for buses! I suppose I am quite an impatient sort of person.

      “This is all because of you,” I grumbled to Maya. “If you hadn’t made all that fuss …”

      Maya gazed at me, sorrowfully. “I couldn’t help it! You heard what Jake said … it was a really bad fall.”

      “Not that bad,” I said. “You didn’t have to be such a drama queen.”

      “I wasn’t! It hurt. It still does. Look!” She held out her hand, palm up, to show me. “I might have needed stitches. It could have got infected.”

      I said, “Oh, please! And why do you keep peering at cars like that?”

      She started, guiltily. “I’m not!”

      “Yes, you are. You’re hoping Jake’ll come by, aren’t you?”

      Except she obviously couldn’t remember what sort of car he drove. I could remember. It was a Fiat! I’m quite good at recognising different makes of car. Dad and I sometimes look at car sites together on the internet, picking out ones Dad would like to drive. Dad usually goes for the big posh ones like BMW and Mercedes. I prefer the little ones cos I think they look more cosy. Like little Easter eggs on wheels. Maya’s mum and dad don’t actually have a car so she doesn’t really know anything about them. I bet all she could remember about Jake’s Fiat was that it was small and blue.

      I’d obviously embarrassed her, but it didn’t stop her peering.

      “Know what?” I said.

      “What?”

      “You’re being really obvious!”

      She frowned, nibbling at a thumbnail. “What’s that s’pposed to mean?”

      “You’re making it look like we’re desperate! If you’re not careful some nutter’ll pull up and tell us to get in.”

      That scared her a bit. “We wouldn’t have to do it!”

      “They might try and make us.”

      “So we’d run!”

      “I’d run,” I said. “You’d probably trip over and fall flat on your face.”

      And this time Jake wouldn’t be there to pick her up.

      She bit her lip.

      “It’s what happens,” I said, “when people get crushes they can’t control.”

      She didn’t try denying that she’d got a crush. Just as well cos I wouldn’t have believed her. I could recognise the signs when I saw them. It wasn’t the first crush she’d had. Not by a long chalk, as Dad would say. Back in Year Six she’d fallen in love with our class teacher, Mrs O’Malley. She’d trotted about after her like a little lost puppy, all beaming and trustful. It had gone on for weeks. Then last summer she’d got this massive crush on a boy called Anil, who worked at the minimart. The minimart was owned by his mum and dad, and Anil used to help out sometimes after school. Maya insisted that we call in there every single afternoon on the way home. It was like the highlight of her day – the moment she lived for. If Anil was there she was in heaven; on days when he wasn’t she was cast into the deepest depths of despair.

      Needless to say we always had to buy something, like a tube of Smarties or a KitKat or something. We couldn’t just stand there gawping, though left to herself – that is, without me to hold her hand – it’s what she probably would have done. She was never brave enough to actually say anything. She just felt this desperate need to be near him for a few minutes. It seemed to satisfy her, which was just as well since Anil showed absolutely no interest in her whatsoever. Hardly surprising. He must have been at least sixteen, maybe even older, and with Maya being so tiny he probably thought she was still just a little kid at primary school.

      I don’t know how long her obsession would have lasted, but at the start of the summer holidays new people took over the shop and Anil and his mum and dad disappeared and things went back to normal. It surprised me a bit cos I’d really thought Maya would be all broken up and weepy, but luckily Uncle Kev chose that moment to have one of his bright ideas: he and Maya and Auntie Megs were all going to go and live in a cottage on the Isle of Skye for a month. They were going to be entirely self-sufficient, like gas and electricity and stuff had never been invented, and then he was going to write a book about it. Another book.

      Well, the book never got written and by the time they came home Maya had more or less forgotten about Anil, but it had been really tiresome while it lasted. I was just hoping this thing she was obviously getting about Jake wouldn’t develop into a full-blown crush. I wasn’t sure I could take it all over again!

      She was still obsessively checking out every blue car that drove past. Big ones, small ones; just so long as they were blue. I hadn’t realised there were so many of them. Blue must be a really popular colour! (I would have red if it was me.)

      “That was a Toyota,” I said as another one flashed past. “Toyota’s no good.”

      From behind me came an indignant squawk: “Who says?”

      I spun round. Oh, horrible! Linzi Baxter had snuck up behind us. I’d forgotten she got the bus.

      “Ours is a Toyota,” she said.

      I said, “Yes, well, we’re looking for a Fiat.”

      “Why?” said Linzi.

      “Cos it’s what Jake Harper drives.” I couldn’t resist adding, “He gave us a lift home yesterday.”

      “Really?” Her eyes narrowed. She didn’t like that! I could almost hear the jealous thoughts whizzing round her brain: how come he’s giving lifts to these total nobodies?

      In the distance, at the top of the hill, I could see a bus coming towards us. As it drew near Maya suddenly clutched at me.

      “Mattie, Mattie! Is that a Fiat?”

      This time, she was right. It was a Fiat, and Jake was at the wheel. Maya was already dancing about on tiptoe, waving her arms in the air.

      I made a grab at her. “Maya! Stop it!”

      “But it’s Jake!”

      “I know, but this is a bus lane; he can’t pull up here.”

      If I hadn’t got hold of her she’d have gone running off down the road, windmilling her arms in the hope of attracting СКАЧАТЬ