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“Yes, Gordon dear, I know. But at least my voice isn’t breaking.”
“That’s a passing phase,” said Gordon. “It will go away.”
“It would be nice if you went away,” said Lesley.
“I suppose you two want to talk again,” said Gordon. He was always hard to shake off. “I can understand that. After all, you’ve only had your heads together for five hours today. See you at the cinema later?”
“No,” said Lesley.
“I can’t anyway, come to think of it,” said Gordon, as he followed us through the front hall like a shadow. “I have to write that stupid essay about signet rings. Did I ever tell you I can’t stand Mr. Whitman?”
“Yes, but only a hundred times so far,” said Lesley.
I saw the limousine waiting outside the school gate even before we came out of the building. My heart began beating a little faster. I still felt terribly embarrassed about yesterday evening.
“Wow! Look at that car, will you?” Gordon whistled softly through his teeth. “Maybe the rumors are true and Madonna’s daughter really is at this school—incognito, of course.”
“Of course,” said Lesley, blinking at the bright sunlight. “That’s why they send a limousine to fetch her. So no one will notice that she’s incognito.”
Several of the students were gaping at the limousine. Cynthia and her friend Sarah were standing on the steps as well, eyes popping out of their heads. But not at the sight of the limousine—at something farther to the right of it.
“And I thought that twit wouldn’t have anything to do with boys,” said Sarah. “Not even hot guys like that.”
“Could be he’s her cousin,” said Cynthia. “Or her brother.”
My hand was clutching Lesley’s arm tightly. Sure enough, there stood Gideon in our school yard, very casual in jeans and a T-shirt. And he was talking to Charlotte.
Lesley identified him at once. “And I thought he had long hair,” she said accusingly.
“He does,” I said.
“Shoulder-length,” said Lesley. “That’s different. Very cool.”
“He’s gay. Bet you anything he’s gay,” said Gordon, leaning one arm on my shoulder so that he could see past Cynthia and me better.
“Oh, my God, he’s touching her!” said Cynthia. “He’s taking her hand!”
Charlotte’s smile was visible all the way to where we were standing. She didn’t often smile (apart from her infuriating know-it-all expression), but when she did, the look on her face was enchanting. She was even showing a dimple. Gideon was bound to notice it, and I was sure he was thinking that she was anything but an ordinary girl.
“He’s stroking her cheek!”
Oh, my God. He was, really. The pang I felt was something I couldn’t ignore. “And now he’s kissing her!”
We all held our breath. It really did look as if Gideon was going to kiss Charlotte.
“But only on the cheek,” said Cynthia, relieved. “So he’s her cousin, after all. Gwenny, please say he’s her cousin.”
“No,” I said. “They’re not related.”
“And he isn’t gay either,” said Lesley.
“Want to bet? I mean, look at that signet ring he’s wearing.”
Charlotte smiled radiantly at Gideon again and walked away with a spring in her step. Obviously her bad mood had gone away.
Gideon turned to us. I realized what a sight we were—four girls and Gordon, gaping and giggling on the steps outside school.
I know lots of girls like you.
