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“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.
Just as I might have expected. Oh, great!
“Gwyneth!” called Gideon. “Finally!”
Cynthia, Sarah, and Gordon collectively held their breath. To be honest, so did I. Only Lesley kept her cool. She gave me a little push. “Hurry up, will you? Your limousine is waiting.”
As I went down the steps, I could feel the others’ eyes on my back. Their mouths were probably open, too. Gordon’s was for sure.
“Hi,” I said when I had reached Gideon. It was all I could manage to say. In the sunlight his eyes were a brighter green than ever.
“Hi.” He was looking at me rather too closely. “Have you grown overnight?”
“No.” I tugged the jacket together over my breasts. “It’s my school uniform that’s shrunk.”
Gideon grinned. Then he looked over my shoulder. “Friends of yours up there? I think one of them’s about to faint.”
Oh, my God. “That’s Cynthia Dale,” I said, without turning around. “She suffers from high estrogen levels. I can introduce you if you’d like.”
Gideon’s smile grew wider. “Maybe I’ll take you up on that some other time. Now, come on. We have a lot still to do today.” He took my arm (a loud squeal could be heard from the steps) and guided me toward the limousine.
“I’m only going to do homework. In the year 1956.”
“There’s been a change of plan.” Gideon opened the car door for me. (A synchronized screech from the steps.) “We’re going to visit your great-great-grandmother. She specially asked for you to come along.” He put his hand on my back to get me into the car. (Another screech from the steps.)
I let myself fall into the back seat. There was a familiar, round face already in the car, waiting for me.
“Hello, Mr. George.”
“Gwyneth, my brave girl, how are you feeling today?” Mr. George was beaming as if in competition with his shiny bald patch.
Gideon sat down beside him.
