Love Bomb Read Online Free Page A

arrows.
    ‘I think sir wants us to write the names of Muppets in the boxes,’ I say.
    ‘Definitely,’ says Toby, and he starts writing. I glanceover his shoulder and help him out when he runs out of names. In box eight he writes ‘Vanilla Chinchilla’.
    ‘That’s not a Muppet,’ I say.
    ‘Vanilla Chinchilla is the name of a legendary band,’ he says, his face lighting up, ‘ my band!’ On the back of the worksheet he draws his band’s logo for me and explains the Vanilla Chinchilla ‘sound’. I watch as his beautiful hands move across the paper.
    ‘Who’s in the band?’
    ‘Well, like, no one except me,’ he admits. ‘But I’m auditioning for a drummer and bassist this afternoon. And I’m looking for a singer.’
    ‘I can sing,’ I say. The words just fly out of my mouth.
    ‘Yeah?’ He looks at me and nods his head. ‘You should totally audition, B-Cakes. Vanilla Chinchilla are gonna be sick.’ OK, so ‘sick’ is a funny word to use, but B-Cakes … I have a nickname. Toby has given me my very own nickname! He rummages about in his bag. ‘Here.’ He passes me a rubbery key ring. ‘Have a bit ofVanilla Chinchilla merchandise. That’s going to be worth something one day.’ He nods seriously.
    ‘Cute,’ I say. ‘It’s a mouse.’
    ‘No. A chinchilla.’
    ‘Eating an ice cream.’
    ‘A vanilla ice cream.’
    ‘Got it,’ I say. I clip the key ring to my bag. ‘So, how come you moved schools?’ I think I’m getting the hang of this talking-to-a-gorgeous-boy thing.
    ‘Because,’ he says, resting his face on his hand and gazing at me, ‘I did some bad stuff.’
    ‘Like putting a piglet in your teacher’s car?’ I ask, deciding to run some of my own ‘bad stuff’ past him. ‘Or taking your PE class back to your house for toasties during cross-country? Or henna-tattooing the new Year Sevens?’
    ‘Just stuff,’ he says, smiling. ‘Would you like to see an example?’
    I shrug. ‘Sure.’
    ‘Look around you, B-Cakes,’ he says, indicating all the students sitting in the classroom. ‘Who do you hate?’
    I study the backs of heads spread before me. I don’t hate anyone. Towards the front are Kat and Bea, their faces turned away from me. Suddenly, Kat dissolves in laughter and I wonder what Bea said. Then my eyes fall on Sam Oakley, who is sitting near them. I don’t really like Sam. ‘That boy with the black hair,’ I say, pointing. ‘He says “Rah!” in little kids’ faces and laughs at my duck rucksack … it’s got a big beak.’
    ‘I’m gonna destroy him,’ says Toby, picking up the scalpel. I’m quite relieved when he bends over the fish and gently presses the fish’s white eye out of its socket. What he’s doing is pretty gross, but such is the power of his handsomeness that all I really notice is how great his forearms look with his sleeves rolled up.
    Next, he walks to the front of the room, scanning the benches as he goes. After picking up a textbook from Mr Brooks’s desk, he returns to his seat, pausing for afraction of a second in front of Sam. No one sees what he does next, except me. In one swift movement, he drops the eye into Sam’s open water bottle. I don’t know what to think. It’s such a revolting thing to do, but he did it for me. Toby walks back to his seat, smiling a bad smile. When he sees the shocked look on my face, he laughs.
    ‘Put down your pens,’ calls Mr Brooks. ‘Betty, can you give me your answer to question one?’
    I look down at our worksheet. ‘Fozzy Bear,’ I say. Sir is not amused, and reaches for a ‘Bad News’ sticker to put in my planner. Amazingly, I’m saved by Sam Oakley, who suddenly leaps to his feet and sprays a fountain of water over Mr Brooks and his stickers. The lab erupts into laughter and I think of all the times Sam Oakley has laughed at other people, just to make them feel small.
    ‘Nice bad stuff,’ I whisper to Toby.

    I catch up with the girls at the end of the lesson and we walk out of