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makeup—he always goes for the fresh, natural look. He doesn’t like to spend time with girls who are constantly looking in the mirror and adding a spot more eye shadow, or rushing off to comb their hair after they’ve been in a slight breeze.
    David loves girls who can cook!
    David likes girls to have a mind of their own and he’d never expect a girl to agree with everything he said. And that brings us to the subject of arguments—the kind of friendly little quarrels that everyone has from time to time. David doesn’t mind good-humored arguments like these, but his ideal girl would always be ready to “kiss and make up” as soon as the discussion was over. Sulking and brooding for hours on end is guaranteed to turn David off any girl!
    David’s favorite girlfriends always share his love of music.
    Well, those are some of the qualities David is looking for in his ideal girlfriend. Does she sound like you at all? Could YOU be the future Mrs. Cassidy?

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    O f course, I dreamed about him all the time, but I didn’t tell the others that. You have to keep some things back for yourself. Just like I never told them the truth about my favorite song. When Gillian said “Could It Be Forever” was David’s best record, I said she was absolutely right. So fabulous. So romantic. The way that David kept you dangling and waited a whole stomach-flipping beat before slipping in that final “But.” And his voice just
melted
that word. I swear you can hear him smiling as he sings it. He must have known he had us exactly where he wanted us and he kept us waiting until we screamed and pleaded for him to say it … “But?”
    We tended to chew these things over at lunchtime, which was spent huddled round the big old throbbing radiator in the science-lab corridor. When it was wet, anyway, which was most of the year where we lived. In spring, Gillian’s group moved its center of operations outside under the horse chestnuts at the far end of the playing fields. I was still new to the group, a recent substitute for Karen Jones, who had offended Gillian after Stuart Morris slow danced with her at theChristmas disco. I mean, danced with Karen, not Gillian. Fair play to Karen, Gillian never let on she fancied Stuart before she saw them dancing together, so Karen couldn’t have known, could she? Cried her eyes out when Gillian called her a slut in the carpark.
    Compared to David, boys of our own age seemed like pathetic cretins.
    “Look at him, he’s just a kid, he is,” Sharon would jeer if one of them dared to approach.
    Experts in romance, we had never been kissed. We just knew David was a gentleman who would never try any of that stuff the boys did at the Starlight disco on Saturday nights. Grabbing a feel before they even got you a Pepsi. But Stuart Morris was three years older than we were and in the lower sixth. He was acting captain of the school first XV while Gareth Pugh’s knee was on the mend. Rugby was the local religion, so that made Stuart a god. Without needing to be told, almost as if we were born knowing it, we had grasped a key mathematical proof of the female universe: the more desirable a boy is, the less chance you have of getting him. The less chance you have of getting him, the more desirable he becomes. Therefore, boys who like and want you are not desirable. QED.
    Anyway, Gillian was going with Stuart now and Karen was out and I was in, or almost. I was so desperate to keep in with them I needed to make the right impression without having a clue how.
    “
But
isn’t a very sexy word,” I announced that lunchtime, trying to sound as though
sexy
was a word I used every day, although this was the first time I’d tried it out loud. “But in ‘Could It Be Forever,’ David makes
but
sound sexy.”
    “David’s got a sexy butt!” shrieked Carol, overjoyed. “Sexy butt, sexy butt!”
    Carol was the most advanced of all of us. She had meaty swimmer’s shoulders and a bum that stuck out so far you could