The Number One Rule for Girls. Rachel McIntyre

      The next day, I sat next to Badger in form. I still hadn’t quite figured him out. Like, was he a bit Curious Incident or plain old-school geek? He was wearing a Lion King T-shirt, which might have been an ironic statement, and playing the trumpet was pretty cool. But he did smell a tiny bit of wee (or possibly rice cakes) so it was hard to be sure.

      Not that it mattered. Takes all sorts to make a world as Nana Green always said.

      Badger smiled and I opened my mouth, but before a word could come out, Toby ‘stranger danger’ Smith strutted in and sent my mind AWOL.

      Shame on me for having the heart of a weak and feeble muppet, but I’d had a ‘ho hum’ moment when my inbox told me ‘no new messages’. Only a fleeting one though, before I pulled my emotional socks up and refused to give in to disappointment.

      Did you learn nothing from Matt the Rat, Daisy Green? No reply, no big deal. Remember: think positive.

      Or at least that was the theory. I spent breakfast and the bus journey so-what-ing myself up to the max . . . and then he walked in and my heart skipped a beat. Curse you, traitorous internal organ.

      Brittany was veeery attentive as Toby and his movie-star aura strolled across the room. Until he sat in the chair next to me, that is, then she glowered like I’d just thrown up in her handbag. Ha ha and booooya, Bratzilla!

      All eight foot whatever of Toby was radiating this Look at me, look at meeee magnetic pull on my eyeballs, and if the tattered remnants of my heart didn’t still belong to Matt, I would definitely have been tempted.

      Jeez, he was so gorgeous it was unreal, like a Greek god in a hoodie. He winked (endearingly) and a daft grin blossomed on my face.

      Toby: ‘Morning, Daisy. Did you sleep well?’

      (Subtext: Bet you were up all night checking your emails.)

      Me: ‘I slept like a baby, thanks.’

      (Subtext: Don’t flatter yourself, matey.)

      He smirked.

      (Subtext: Touché)

      So things were looking up. Until Phil flip-flopped in anyway.

      ‘Okaaaay,’ he said. ‘Today we’re going to spend some time learning more about each other and, consequently, more about ourselves.’

      Daft grin gone. Oh please, Lord, no more beanbags.

      ‘And for this one I need you all to get in pairs, so if you could sort that now, please.’

      Toby and Badger spoke simultaneously. ‘Daisy –’

       Awkward.

      ‘Sorry, mate. Maybe next time,’ Toby said, and much as I was starting to like him, it instantly triggered the underdog sirens in my head.

      ‘Actually,’ I shifted my bag slightly along the desk, ‘I’m going to work with Badger.’

      Smiling, Toby said, ‘No problem,’ to me then called out, ‘Hey, Brittany? You in a pair?’

      ‘I could be,’ she said, licking her lips.

      ‘Come here then.’ He screeched his chair along to create a space while she almost gave herself whiplash in her haste to comply.

      God, she was so obvious. And Toby too. Clearly, he was one of those very good-looking lads who thought he could click his fingers and girls’ pants would fall to the floor.

      Well not this girl.

      And definitely not these pants.

      Badger had his friendly Labrador grin on when I turned back round. Bless him.

      ‘Rice cake?’ He pulled a Star Wars lunch box out of his rucksack.

      ‘Not for me, thanks,’ I said, smiling and taking a worksheet from Phil.

      ‘Okaaay, you guys,’ he said as he perched on the desk. ‘Excitement and personal growth await each and every one of us. Join me as we venture forth, united in our incredible voyage of self-discovery. Together, we will sail on the seas of wonder and land on the shores of empowerment. Destination: the very core of our inner selves and some truly astonishing revelations.’ Flip-flops a gogo, he gazed around the room. Then he coughed. ‘Now, does anyone need to borrow a pencil?’

      Blah.

      After that build-up, I wanted my mind well and truly blown. But no. Some utterly lame-o activities to uncover our learning styles commenced. Trees died for THIS? I thought.

      Badger started trawling through the tedious questionnaire, frowning and scribbling notes, while I discreetly eavesdropped on the flirty banter (flanter?) drifting over from my left. Now that was what you’d call revealing.

      Toby and Brittany filled in the worksheet, laughing and joking, heads bowed closely together . . . EXCEPT (and this was definitely not my imagination) as she threw herself into fangirling hyperdrive, he was glancing sideways at me and Badger, as if keeping tabs on what I was doing. Which naturally, because I was a professional Icicle Knickers, was 100 per cent NOT horizontally eyeballing him back.

      Questionnaires completed, we had a class feedback sesh (during which it transpired we each learned best by reading, listening and doing. Wowsers.) and it was the end of the lesson.

      Badger had music, I was hanging about till maths and Brittany presumably had plans to continue flirting her lady lumps off, judging by the way she was panting over Toby. When we got to the door, Toby paused to let her out first and she brushed past with a girly tee-hee-hee. Then he turned to look directly at me and raised one eyebrow.

      Now, I don’t speak eyebrow, but if I had to take a punt I’d guess it meant, What is she like?

      I was still processing this as he followed Brittany out.

      Got home from college to find Mum on the phone with Mrs Boyle, being told some un-be-flaming-lievable news: Beth had only gone and moved in with Shaney!

      From my listening post on the stairs, I learned Beth had had an apocalyptic row with her warden (sorry, dad) after he insisted on picking her up from school and locking her in her cell (sorry, room). But Beth climbed out of the window when they were watching telly. (Not that impressive: she lives in a bungalow.)

      In the morning, when he realised she’d gone, Mr B had driven straight to the police station demanding Shaney’s arrest for molesting his daughter, but because Beth is over sixteen they told him it was a ‘domestic matter’. Meaning technically she could have shacked up at the Playboy mansion if she’d fancied it. (Erk.)

      With no help from the law, Mr Boyle set off to The Rat and Drainpipe to ‘teach that cradle-snatching scrote a lesson he’ll never forget’. Which, considering Shaney was Bob the Bodybuilder and Mr B put the wet in lettuce, was unlikely. But Shaney wasn’t working there any more.

      Bloody hell though, what was she thinking? Love might be blind, but apparently in Beth’s case it was also deaf and very, very dumb.

      I checked my emails on the off chance, but there was nothing else interesting on the college system. My home inbox, however, had a new message from Matt. Just seeing his name was like a smack in the face.

      I never told anyone this, but in a moment of utter spinelessness one sad night about a week after he left, I sent Matt a long, long email.

      In it I said how I regretted that stupid ultimatum and that I missed him to the point of physical pain. How I couldn’t face going back to St Mary’s without him. How, right up till the moment he got on the plane, I never believed he’d go through with it.

      I virtually scraped my heart out and splattered it across the screen begging him to come back to England.

      And he said no.

      Of