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have been a bit odd not to talk. What we mostlytalked about was school, and stuff we’d seen on telly, and whether we were going to a gig that was happening at the Landsdowne Centre; and then as we pulled into Hayes End I couldn’t resist it, I said, “What’s happened to your friend? The one you usually come in with?” And he smiled, like he was used to people being more interested in his friend than they were in him, and told me that Matt had gone off on this field trip to Snowdonia.
    “So you won’t be seeing him for a while.”
    Fortunately we were getting off the train at the time, so he wouldn’t have noticed my cheeks going bright red to match my hair. I was like, “Oh, I just wondered,” making it sound really casual, like I’d only asked in order to make conversation. I don’t think he was fooled,though, cos he smiled again and said, “Yeah, sure.” Very belittling! But I don’t honestly think, at the time, that I was aware. I was too cock-a-hoop. I’d done it! I’d talked! I’d found out his name!

    Definitely
an over-the-moon day.
    I’m thinking of making these days official. Over-the-moon day, under-the-moon day. Up day, down day. Pits day, dump day. Things-are-looking-up day. I could have little symbols for them, like smileys for the up ones and saddos for the down.
    Yeah, well, it’s just an idea. It could save a whole lot of time. Instead of writing all those reams in my diary I could just put, like, over-the-moon! Or down-in-the-dumps. Then at the end of the year I could add them all up and see how often I’d been UP and how often I’d been DOWN. That would tell me what kind of year it had been.
    I think most probably, on the whole, I tend to be more of an UP kind of person. I would say that I was more up than down during those next two weeks. I couldn’t wait till Matt returned from his field trip and I could see him again, but meanwhile I was prepared to make do with Simon. I tried my best to be early every morning so’s not to miss him. I even took to setting my alarm clock half an hour in advance, then springing outof bed, snatching an apple and a glass of milk, and galloping
on foot
to the station, rather than relying on Dad. That way, at least I could be sure of being there on time. When Simon showed up it was a big SMILEY day. We’d stand together on the train and I’d ask him questions about Matt, like, “Where does he live?” (Ranthorne Avenue) “What’s his best subject?” (Sport!) “How long have you known him?” (For ever.)

    Occasionally, however, Simon wasn’t there, and then it was a DOWN DAY. A total waste. There just didn’t seem any point in a daywhen I couldn’t talk about Matt. I could talk about him to Hattie, of course – which I did, with a vengeance! – but it wasn’t the same, because Hattie didn’t know him. When I talked about him with Simon I felt as if we were  … connected. Almost like I’d been talking to Matt himself. I tried explaining this to Hattie, who shook her head, not unsympathetically, and said, “You’ve got it real bad, girl!”
    And oh, I had. I had!

    I was counting the days till Matt came back from his field trip. Actually crossing them off on the calendar. I had a big red arrow pointing to the day when I would see him again. Mum caught sight of it and asked me what it was for. I said, “Oh! Just something.”
    “Something nice,” said Mum, “by the looks of things.”
    She was trying really hard! But I wasn’t going to tell. Not that Mum would have laughed: she has always been very good like that. She has always taken me seriously, it’s Dad who teases. But Hattie was the only one I couldtalk to about Matt, and the feelings he inspired in me. I dreamt about him every night! I even had my own private soap opera
(Scarlett ’n’ Matt)
which I played through in my head while I was supposedly watching telly or eating dinner. I kept adding newer and more exciting episodes. Sometimes it got quite hairy!

    One time I was