Moo had said jumped back at him like a zombie in a horror movie. It kept coming back. And back.
Sam was surprised that there was no knock on the bathroom door. No pleas from his big sister to let him in. No yells from his mum to come and set the table. To make things more confusing, he was surprised to find he was a bit disappointed by it.
His first shave might go completely unnoticed. It almost felt like everyone had forgotten his birthday.
Sam smoothed the foam. He lifted his nose, stretching the skin underneath. His hand was wobbly. Slow and steady, he told himself. Itâs not a race.
His dad shaved every morning. Every morning. How weird to think that would be the same for him, soon. Once, his dad had grown a beard. Samâs mum hated it. She had complained that he looked like a cave man. Sheâd vowed that 99% of females thought that beards were gross.
Sam wondered if Meredith hated beards.
He stroked the razor with small vertical movements. How strange to think that something that had taken all these years to grow, to appear, could disappear so quickly.
Sam washed the remnants of foam and short hairs and water down the plughole. He watched the foam swirling anti-clockwise. Was it true that on the other side of the world it swirled in the opposite direction?
And was his mum right, were her statistics correct? Did 99% of females hate facial hair? Sam didnât even know what one female thought.
About facial hair.
About him.
Back in his room, towel tied around his waist, Sam switched on his laptop. Broadband gave him a Google screen. He typed in his question, unsure of whether heâd get any decent hits. How do you know if you like somebody?
Because where was the thrill coming from, the thrill inside the humiliation, if he didnât like Moo? But then, how could he be sure? He wondered whether he was doing a pale imitation of Jack. It was a no-brainer that Jack liked Jordan. More than as a friend. But Sam couldnât exactly ask him how he knew. Everything came naturally for Jack, which was pretty amazing when you thought about what Jackâd had to deal with. Jack was just one of those people who coped.
There was a surprising number of hits. At least some other sad suckers had asked the question before him.
Sam double clicked on a site. Perfect Match . It was written in a flowing, twirly font and decorated with hearts and arrows. It looked kind of lame, but it did seem to offer a comprehensive list of symptoms. As though liking someone might be like having some kind of disease. THE FLU MIGHT MANIFEST IN A COUGH, OR EXCESS PRODUCTION OF PHLEGM . Liking someone might produce its own checklist.
Is He/She the one ?
74% report getting clumsy or tonguetied around the one
Sam instantly aligned himself with the 74%. But then again, when he thought about it more, he actually got tongue-tied a lot of the time. It wasnât confined to talking with Meredith. In fact, he was often worse with other girls. Cecilia could make him go completely mute, and he definitely didnât like her like that. Sam moved on.
68% report thinking about the one constantly
Hmmm. What was constantly? A few times a day? Every second? Yeah, she did seem to jump into his mind. Quite a lot, actually, but maybe not constantly. Really, the site wasnât very clear. Sam scrolled down.
85% report that they hold eye contact for up to ten seconds longer with the one than with other people
Sam breathed out a sigh. The whole thing was like a giant riddle, waiting to be solved.
He tried to use the mouse to scroll down. The computer froze. It did that sometimes, for no apparent reason. But now was particularly not a good time. Samâs sister Lauren was stomping down the hallway towards his room.
âSaaam,â she called as she came closer. âMum wants to know if Jackâs coming for dinner on Monday? Sheâs going shopping and needs to know whether to get a leg of lamb or an entire beast.â
Suddenly,