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says.
    ‘Let alone Mr
and Mrs,’ Dave adds bleakly.
     
     
    *
     
     
    Jassy and Dave’s
talk should have warned me to at least try and bring my daydreams
under more control.
    But, truth is, I
don’t want to.
    At last, I’m
with Iain.
    Okay, okay; so I
know I’m not really with him.
    But it feels like I am.
    It’s the nearest
I’m ever going to get to being with him.
    I can’t give
that up.
    I still love
him.
    I’m an
idiot.
    But when I’m
dreaming of him, I’m a happy idiot.
     
     
    *
     
     
    Iain’s
shocked.
    I can see it in
his face.
    The way he’s
embarrassed.
    He’s embarrassed
for me .
    The way I’m
acting.
    Coming on to him
like…like, well, I don’t know how to describe it!
    This just isn’t me !
    Why am I acting
like this?
    Why can’t I
control the way I’m acting?
    Even in my
dreams, shouldn’t I be able to say, No, that’s enough!
    Calm down
Steph!
    Don’t do
this!
     
     
    *

Chapter 14
     
    Once I’ve
finished my primer, I have to make copies of it to ensure it’s
circulated.
    Normally, of
course, that would mean running off a few extra copies on the
computer printer. Or making a few by scanning it in.
    Nothing’s that
simple at Heartache High, where technology has yet to find its way
here.
    There’s a
printing room, where all the type has to be set by hand. That means
each individual letter has to be fixed into a block. All back to
front too, so that when it prints, it’s the right way
round.
    Then I have to
mix the ink, making sure it’s the right consistency; not so thin
that it runs, not so thick that it makes the type block stick to
the paper.
    Using a large
roller, I apply the ink to the block of type.
    Or rather, that
should be blocks of type, as I’ve had to make one up for
each page.
    The machine I
use to press the blocks against the paper is like something out of
a western movie. It has this huge lever I have to throw all my
weight against to bring the block down hard enough on the paper to
create a clean image.
    After I’ve got
half way through printing the pages, my arms ache. My back feels
like it’s never, ever going to be straight again.
    When I see the
primer printed out, I realise I’ve made countless mistakes in the
way I’ve set out the type.
    I move things
around, put new letters in, remove ones that are in the wrong
place.
    I have to do
this six times before everything’s as it should be.
    ‘Hey, that was
pretty quick,’ the guy in charge of the printing room
says.
    I almost tear
his head off when he says this, mistakenly thinking that he’s being
sarcastic.
    Thankfully, he
notices that I’m so cranky because I’m worn out.
    He promises me
that he’ll round up some other students to help me print off the
five hundred copies I’ll need for the first circulation.
    They’ll also
help with binding it.
    If I’d known
creating this primer was going to be so torturous, I would never
have started it.
    When I circulate
the first copies to the classes I’ve been attending, however,
everyone’s impressed.
    ‘This is great
Steph,’ Billy says. ‘Who knows, if I’d had this to read earlier,
maybe I wouldn’t be here.’
    I
smile.
    I feel such a
fraud.
     
     
    *
     
     
    ‘I love you
Steph.’
    How long have I
wanted to hear Iain say that?
    Now, when he
finally says it, it hurts.
    It hurts because
it isn’t me he loves.
    It’s this other girl in my dreams, who isn’t me at all.
    Look, I know
this is really crazy, getting upset about it in this
way.
    He’s only said
it, after all, in my dreams, right?
    He hasn’t really said it to me.
    But, as I’ve
said, they no longer feel like dreams.
    They feel
real.
    See, these
aren’t like the dreams I used to have, where it’s bit like watching
myself in a TV show; you know, where I’m watching myself and Iain
as if I’m somebody creepy nearby making a video of it
all.
    I’m seeing Iain
through my eyes , as if I’m really there.
    When we touch,
when we kiss; it’s as if I’m right there, inside