Dress to Impress

Lucy was all jittery as we walked down the school corridor to our form room. There was no sign of Frankie Wilson just yet. We settled down at our desks and waited.

“Have you noticed something?” Mel asked me. She nodded her chin in the direction of Summer Collins’ table.

Summer had done her normally straight blond hair all in ringlets. They were pushed back off her face with a sparkly black hairband, and were falling down her back like a curly waterfall.

“She must’ve got up at six this morning to do that,” I said. Even though I couldn’t stand Summer, you had to admire her dedication.

“Ten out of ten for effort,” Mel agreed.

I glanced at Lucy, who was staring at her desk. Did she realise that Summer was totally after Frankie?

Mr Andrews came in with the register in his arms, balanced on top of a load of papers. He was about to set the teetering pile down on his desk when Frankie Wilson skidded into the classroom. His hair was gelled up more fiercely than ever. I watched Frankie stop, grin at Lucy – and then deliberately shove into Mr Andrews’ back.

“Sorry sir,” Frankie said cheerily as Mr Andrews’ papers flew up into the air like enormous bits of confetti. “Didn’t spot you there.”

“Did you see that?” Mel gasped, starting to her feet.

I gawped down the classroom at Frankie. I couldn’t believe what he’d just done. It seemed totally out of character. Plus now, the cheeky devil wasn’t making any effort to help Mr Andrews pick everything up. Instead, he’d perched himself on the edge of Summer’s desk and was whispering something in her ear, making Summer and her mates all giggle. All my faith in ‘the real’ Frankie Wilson went pop. Mr Andrews was pretty boring, but what Frankie had done to him was plain nasty.

“There is no way we give him a second chance after that,” I announced when the bell went.

“He smiled at me,” Lucy said, looking confused. “Then he went and talked to Summer. What was that all about?”

“Boys,” Mel said. “More trouble than they’re worth.”

Frankie suddenly loomed up in our path like some kind of monster from Scooby-Doo. “Whoo!” he shouted. “Cheer up, girls. It might never happen!”

“It just did,” I said through gritted teeth as he zoomed off down the corridor. Summer, Hannah and Shona all followed, like hungry seagulls following a fishing boat. Pathetic!

We managed to avoid Frankie for the rest of the week. But avoiding his voice was a totally different matter. Everywhere we went, we could hear him gabbing on. He was full of his little brother Billy’s footballing talents, what a big house they had, how his dad had just bought a new car…blah, blah, blah – he just went on and on. It was amazing how much he had to say, and how loudly he said it. By the end of the week, the whole of Year Eight was in love with Frankie Wilson, it seemed – apart from us. As far as we were concerned, it was a relief to reach the weekend and escape.

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