‘He likes you’, Clare mouths, as a hand reaches over the back of my coach seat and pulls my ponytail for the tenth time.
‘No, he doesn’t’, I whisper back. Though, secretly, I hope he does.
Richie Simmons. The best looking boy in Year 10. Floppy dark hair, piercing blue eyes and a battered leather jacket (‘Used to be my dad’s. Wore it to Glastonbury in ’71’). He plays the drums, and is so much more mature than any of the other boys in our year. Of course I fancy Richie Simmons. But then, so do the rest of the girls in Year 10.
‘Got any chuddy?’ Richie’s face appears between the coach seats, like Jack Nicholson in The Shining.
‘God, Richie. You’re always on the scrounge’, says Clare, in mock indignation.
‘Here, I’ve got some,’ I say, fishing a Wrigley’s Juicy Fruit from the depths of my school bag.
‘Ah, you’re an angel, Susie.’ Richie takes the stick of gum from me. Clare gives me ‘a look’, and I feel the colour rising in my cheeks. Continue reading “❤4EVA❤ – by Rachel Hogg”