And today Nicky had followed me into my bedroom as soon as we’d got home from school.
‘He doesn’t even have my number,’ I said, frowning.
‘Not texts. The songs in the car.’
I flopped onto the bed, resting back on my elbows. ‘What are you talking about?’
I knew exactly what she was talking about. Since Easter, Nicky’s school year had been allowed to stay at home on study leave. Today she’d gone in for a revision session, the first time she’d been in the car with us in ages. It was also, coincidentally, the first time Jonah had played the new CD he’d made by burning tracks from the family computer.
‘Firstly, it’s all your favourite music. No one who’s ever met Jonah would believe he’s a fan of Bruno Mars.’
‘So? Maybe he’s being nice. The last couple of songs were bands I’d never heard of.’
‘That was my secondly!’ Nicky sat down on my desk chair, arms folded, eyes animated. ‘Did you listen to the lyrics?’
‘Not really.’ I shrugged as if bored by the whole conversation. The truth was, I’d listened to every word, and any second now Nicky was going to spot my heart thumping against my school shirt.
‘That emo song about secretly falling for the girl the guy was living with, pretending he didn’t care, or long to touchher dark hair.’
‘What?’ I lay back on the bed so she couldn’t see my expression. ‘That doesn’t mean anything. He’s probably never even listened to the words himself.’
‘“I made her a mix tape to tell her I love her, ’cos I’ll never be able to tell her that I love her”? And that other song was literally about waiting in the garden in the middle of the night for the girl you can’t stop thinking about. You have to admit it’d be a weird coincidence.’
The day before, Jonah had put on a song about a messed-up boy being in love with a ‘nice girl’. The chorus was all about how he needed to stay away because he was ‘too broken to not break her heart’.
I’d wondered, obviously. When I’d glanced in the wing mirror from my position in the back seat and caught his eyes on mine, my breath had frozen in my chest. I had no idea where he’d found these songs, but if even Nicky thought they might be about me, then surely they might be about me?
This was bad.
If only my heart agreed.
‘Ew, no, Nicky!’ I sat up, deciding to go for incredulous. ‘That song was about a gardenparty. And did you hear the last verse of the other one – the man set the house on fire! You’re taking random lines and twisting them into something… sick.’ I shook my head. ‘Do you honestly believe our new foster brother –Bronah– would be sendingme– the girl he barely acknowledges exists, unless forced into uncomfortable conversation by Mum and Dad – secret messages via CD? Jonah would never be interested in me. We have nothing in common outside of randomly ending up living in the same house. If he did like me, do you really think he’d jeopardise his placement here by doing something about it? Even if he was that reckless, sending secret song-lyric messages happens in high-school romcoms about nerdy girls taking their glasses off and suddenly becoming gorgeous. It’s not real life.’
Nicky pursed her lips, considering all this.
‘Okay. Fair points. I just needed to ask in case there was something going on. I get that you and Jonah would be world’s most unlikely couple. But, I dunno, he seems different sometimes, when you’re around.’
I actually scoffed. ‘Different? How?’
‘I don’t know.’ She chewed on her plait. ‘Less withdrawn? As if he relaxes a bit more when you’re there.’
It took everything I had to screw up my nose rather than float away on a cloud of happiness. ‘That feels a bit… Milo.’
Milo lived with us for five weeks when he was six. I’d been eleven, and initially flattered when he chose me as the target of his hero-worship. It had been less fun when he’d started trailing after me everywhere, including creeping into my bedroom in the middle of the night to check I was still alive – his older sister had died from a heart condition, triggering the chain of events that had led to him being taken into care.
‘Jonah is definitely not a Milo,’ Nicky said.
That was true.
‘I’m a very non-threatening person,’ I mused. ‘And a year younger than him. He’s bound to feel comfortable with me compared to the intimidating soon-to-be med-student who’s also edgy and popular.’
‘You think he finds me intimidating?’ She stood up, stretching her lithe arms towards the ceiling. I dared to hope the interrogation was almost over.
‘Most people do.’
‘Okay, time to start calling him “Bronah” to his face. He needs to know I’m as geeky as the rest of you.’
‘Nicky?’ I asked, although she was already halfway out of the door.
