Holly Smale - All That Glitters

Toby looks, if possible, even more out of place. The front of his brown T-shirt says COME TO THE NERD SIDE – WE HAVE PI and he’s wearing trousers with an electronic computer keyboard across the lap, though he isn’t actually plugged into a computer. At the moment anyway.

“So what are you doing?” I say, sitting down on the edge of his desk and reaching curiously for the piece of paper.

Toby moves it away. “It’s my project for the Science Fair.”

“Oooh.” The Fair isn’t for another three months, but maybe I need to get started on mine too. “What’s yours on? Can I see?”

“I’m afraid not,” Toby says, shifting the paper into his satchel. “Showing you would jeopardise its top-secret status by definition of it no longer being a secret of any kind.”

“That’s very true.” I frown. “So if it’s science why are you in the art room?”

There’s a tiny pause while Toby stuffs a sushi-sandwich in his mouth, and then says:

“It’s quiet and private and away from … people.”

“Cool.” I look at the sunshine streaming through the windows. “I might do my project on the effect of music on animal behaviour using Hugo and Victor as voluntary subjects, or maybe study the Oort cloud because the edge of it is 4.6 trillion miles from the sun so I can investigate the composition of the—”

“I have a question for you,” a voice interrupts from behind me. “Maybe you can add this to your investigation while you’re at it.”

I spin round in surprise.

Somebody is sitting in the corner near the door, almost totally hidden behind an enormous sculpture of an angel made out of plaster, clay and wire. I had no idea there was anyone else in here: that’s how quiet they are and how big the sculpture is.

And how little my genuine interest in the art room has been, obviously.

“Umm,” I say, blinking a few times. I do love a good question, after all. “Sure. Hit me with it.”

“Do you ever,” the voice says, “and I mean ever , think about anyone other than yourself?”

And I don’t even know who they are yet.

But I asked them to hit me with it, and it feels like they just did.

pparently, there are over 6,000 languages in the world and by the turn of this century half of these are expected to die out. Judging by my speechlessness at this precise moment, my brain thinks English is one of them.

“S-sorry?” I finally manage.

Then I take a few steps forward until I can see a boy behind the sculpture.

He’s pale and tall, with mousey hair, thick dark eyebrows and a round face, and – for some reason I can’t fathom – he looks slightly magical. It’s only as I get a few metres away that I realise he has two slightly different coloured irises: one pale blue, the other light brown.

Otherwise known as heterochromia iridis and entirely a result of melanin levels in the eyes rather than enchantment or a Harry Potter spell .

Sadly. I checked.

“Seriously,” the boy growls, grabbing some clay and sticking it into the angel’s leg, “I’ve never known anyone so obnoxiously wrapped up in themselves. It’s quite amazing.”

His magical quality takes another enormous step down.

“Sorry? We haven’t even met, have we? I don’t think I’ve ever even seen you before in my entire life.”

The boy looks at me steadily for a few seconds.

“I’m in your form. I was in the team next to you this morning. For a full hour.”

I get a little closer, and – now I’m not distracted by the thought that he might be a wizard – I can see that, yup: he’s the new boy in the yellow T-shirt who was late this morning, except now he’s disguised by blue overalls.

In fact, I think when we went back to the form room at the end of team-building to do the register he was sitting at the desk directly in front of me as well.

OK . The defence isn’t looking good right now. Annabel would tell me to start plea-bargaining immediately.

Instead, I automatically go on the counterattack.

“Well,” I say, desperately sticking my nose in the air and crossing my arms, “you didn’t say hello to me either.”

“Yes, I did,” he retorts bluntly. “Twice. You were too busy telling India about the essay you wrote for your English exam. Four months ago.”

I flush. It was all about masculinity and gender in Othello and I thought it might be a good way of making peace with her. I don’t think it worked.

“But—”

“And now this poor guy just wants peace and quiet to work on his project, and you follow him in here, ignore his pretty obvious hints and gab away about yourself again.”

Follow him ? Excuse me ?

“Actually Toby’s my stalker,” I snap indignantly. “ Not the other way round.” I pause slightly while I consider how that sounds. “OK, that’s not exactly what I …”

The guy with the heterochromia snorts.

“Yeah, my mistake,” he says, grabbing a piece of wire and bending it into a C shape. “You’re lovely. I can see why you fit into glamorous New York with all the bananas.”

My mouth flaps in silence a few times – he wasn’t even there when I said that; I knew people were talking about me and my bananas – and then I turn desperately to Toby. Why isn’t he protecting my honour?

Because he hasn’t heard a single word, that’s why.

His head is bent over the piece of paper again, his earphones are back in, and he’s lost in Toby-land: scribbling away frantically, humming the theme tune from Star Wars under his breath.

I rush over and pull out an earphone.

“Hello again, Harriet!” he says, quickly folding his arms across the desk. “Maybe I could encourage you to wear a bell round your neck so people know you’re coming? Our cat’s got one. It’s very handy.”

“Toby.” My cheeks are getting hotter and hotter. “Tell this … this boy … ”

“Jasper. For the third time today, my name is Jasper.”

I’m not sure how, but this is getting steadily worse. “Please tell Jasper I’m actually quite nice if you get to know me!”

Toby turns to Jasper with reproach in his eyes.

“Harriet Manners,” he says with total sincerity, “is the sweetest girl in the entire universe. She is a sterling example of what great niceness the human race is capable of. Should we ever need an ambassador for outer space, I will be voting for her to represent us.”

A little grateful knot of embarrassment forms in the base of my throat, and I turn to Jasper triumphantly.

“S—” I start, but before I can get to the “ee” Toby continues:

“Sometimes she is so kind she even lets me sit on her doorstep when it’s raining and she’s too busy to let me in.”

Oh my God . That just made it a billion times worse.

But if I let him in every time I’d never be on my own again.

“Right,” Jasper says flatly, picking up another piece of wire. “Sorry. She sounds utterly charming and not at all like a stuck-up princess.”

I can feel myself starting to get angry.

“Toby,” I say, turning back to him. “You don’t really mind me being here, do you? I’m not in the way, am I?”

Then I look triumphantly at Jasper with my ha face at the ready.

“Actually,” Toby says, “you are a bit in the way, Harriet. It would be useful if you could go away today. I really need to focus on my project. And maybe tomorrow too, actually.”

“But—”

“And Thursday.”