Love and Other Drama-Ramas! by Sarah Webb Read Free Book Online Page B

afternoon after Mills blew me off, and I said yes. I was pleased Mills didn’t want to see me tonight actually. It gave me space. Made me realize it was all getting a bit serious. A bit too intense. I really like Mills — she’s amazing — but she’s too . . . Oh, I don’t know . . . It’s hard to explain . . . Anyway, it wouldn’t work, not long term.”
    I stare at him, flabbergasted. “What are you talking about? You two were all over each other on Wednesday. You should have talked to her, not . . .” — I grasp for the words —“not . . . this. And not with Annabelle Hamilton! I think you’re a coward, Bailey Otis. You’re lucky to have a girlfriend like Mills. She’s the most loyal person I know. She’d never treat you like dirt or abandon you. You should be ashamed of yourself.”
    He winces as if he’s been hit, but he doesn’t say anything and something flickers across his face — anguish, fear, pain? Our eyes connect, and in them I see Mum at her lowest: after Dad had moved out and demanded a legal separation. I see someone who is crushed and alone, and it frightens me. He dips his head, his hair closing over his face like a dark curtain.
    I put my hand on his and try one final time. “Bailey, talk to me. Is there something—”
    “Would you look what the cat dragged in . . .” Annabelle says, appearing behind me. I turn around to see a nasty sneer on her face.
    Bailey pulls his hand away from under my palm as if scalded.
    “Admiring our box, Amy?” Annabelle goes on. “It’s far bigger than yours. My dad has, like, amazing connections.” (It’s exactly the same size as our box, but I can’t be bothered arguing with her.) She picks an imaginary piece of fluff off Bailey’s black T-shirt and then leaves her hand resting on his arm, like a territorial guard dog.
    I look at Bailey, and he holds my gaze for a moment, then slides his eyes toward the stage, where a man is changing one of the guitars.
    “Five minutes, ladies and gentlemen,” a voice rings out loudly over the sound system. “Please take your seats.”
    “You heard the man, Amy,” Annabelle says, pointing at the door. “Back to your pigpen. Don’t stay where you’re not wanted.”
    I try to get Bailey to look at me again, but he won’t meet my eyes. I leave to the sound of Annabelle’s tittering, feeling hurt, confused, and disappointed. What on earth has happened to Bailey? It’s baffling.
    When I get back to our own box, Clover’s sitting there alone. “You all right?” she asks.
    I nod. “But Bailey’s not. It’s all off with Mills, according to him, and it looks like he doesn’t even have the guts to tell her himself. Where is she, anyway — in the loo?”
    “No, she’s about to show that Bailey creature what he’s missing. Remember Frizzy and Susie?”
    “The girls from the
Goss
letter?”
    “Yup. Frizzy e-mailed me to say thanks for the advice. We got chatting, and she mentioned that her so-called friends were going to a gig and hadn’t invited her. She said that was it as far as she was concerned: she wasn’t hanging out with them ever again. Guess what gig.”
    I smile. I can see where this is going. “It wouldn’t happen to be the Golden Lions at the Olympia Theatre, would it?”
    “Got it in one, Beanie. So I arranged something special for Frizzy and Susie with Brains — something to give those frenemies a taste of their own medicine. And Mills is going to join them!”
    Suddenly the lights in the auditorium dim, the stage lights come up, and the Golden Lions run on, followed by two girls in matching
Twilight
T-shirts; one is small and blond, and the other is taller with a head of amazing red curly hair. It must be Frizzy! And right behind them is Mills. She looks a mixture of mortified and over the moon: her cheeks are pink, her eyes glistening.
    “Mills!” I shriek down at her.
    She waves up at us, and I blow her a kiss.
    “What are they doing on the stage?” I ask Clover,