My Favourite Part

64(a): fish and chip friday

A ketchup packet zips through the air, dangerously close to the edge of my nose as it flies by.

"Sorry, Angie," Gordon shouts from the other end of the lunch table, screwing his lips into a grin. "Barbie asked for the ketchup."

Babe catches the whizzing condiment with a baseball mitt-like clasp.

"I said slide me the ketchup, knobhead, not lob it across the table."

She eyes Gordon as she tears the packet open with her teeth, but I can tell she's warming up to him because she didn't bite his head of when he called her 'Barbie'.

Our ordinary lunch spot, the long laminate table at the front of the dining hall, has a few extra today – Scott, Jimi, Gordon and Ray – and, as it turns out, they're quite the guests.

"Wait wait," Cara says, tucking her hair behind both of her ears as she interrupts Jimi's story. "So, John is going out with Beth, Carrie and Heather at the same time? And they have no idea?

Across the table, Jimi nods with his hands locked atop his head and a smug smile on his face, as though it's his own personal accomplishment.

"No idea. He just tells them he's not allowed to date during the school term 'cause his parents want him to focus on earning a scholarship, so they've gotta keep things on the low, and..." Rather self-satisfied, he mimics a zip of his lips.

Babe leans back and her chair, unimpressed.

"And just how do you know we won't tell all three of them that you just told us the truth?"

Jimi sits forward.

"Because Caz wouldn't risk exposing me and losing her direct access to the boys' gossip..."

Cara rolls her eyes but doesn't disagree. Probably because he's not wrong.

"Angie I trust..." He continues.

I bat my eyelashes sweetly, outwardly thanking him for the compliment, and inwardly making a note to text Heather, Beth and Carrie.

"And you, dear Barbara, are just a little bit in love with me," Jimi shrugs with an air of arrogance as he pops a ketchup-drenched chip into his mouth. "Even though you won't admit it."

Jimi's only roused by the middle finger Babe flips him, winking in response.

"Mm," Caz hums, "but does John know Heather's dad is a nightclub bouncer?"

Glancing to the seat to my left, I smile when I see Scott gnawing his lip in concentration as he follows the table's back-and-forth. Since that day in the library, he's been around more and more – sticking around after we have the same class; walking to the gates with us when we're early to school.

It was awkward at first, of course. 'Girl talk' had to be revised and made fit for teenage boy ears, but now the girls don't seem to mind. Having Scott and the rest around means lunch is always a laugh, whether I'm beating Jimi in an arm wrestle, or Gordon's pushing Babe's buttons in a game of Truth or Dare. Plus, it gives us direct access to locker talk. Scott seems to enjoy his fair share of the gossip too, as much as he claims otherwise.

Jimi waves a dismissive hand.

"So...?" He scoffs.

Chiming in with a facetious smirk as I take a sip of water, I tease,

"So, if he ever gets caught by Heather's dad, John had better hope he's stronger than you are..."

The boys erupt into their 'ooh's and 'oh shit's, and I'm feeling particularly pleased when Ray leans across the table for a strong fist bump. He doesn't speak as much or as loudly as the others, but he's got this quiet confidence that makes his presence a friendly comfort.