The Budding Roses

Operation Get Luke

Saturday 20th April

Guess who's looking good tonight? Moi, of course. What with my newly chopped layers, just like Rachel from Friends; such bouncy, shaggy hair, why I could touch it forever, swish, swoosh, melting like chocolate in my hands. Plus the trendiest of dresses, oriental in design, with a loop hoop collar, splits up both sides, and black of course, what else would it be?

'Oh Simone,' I waited as Mother considered her condemnation, 'You look...wonderful.'

'Really?'

'Yes, really. Why you look like a film star. My daughter; a film star.'

It's going to be the most smoking hot, happening night ever. Everyone, and I mean EVERYONE, is going to be there, and that includes people from the year above. And yes, we all know what that means; it means that Luke Hemmings might be there! Tonight might really be the night that it actually happens. Oh dear Lord please make it happen, just one kiss, that's all I'm asking for. Who knew that Eleanor Baxter was secretly so cool and able to acquire a guest list of mega star quality?

Later

Will I ever learn? Once more I find myself swallowed up within the eye of a whirlpool; a torrent of disaster drags me under.

The party got off to an insipid start, but did I really believe that Eleanor Baxter could become cool so easily, I mean she still wears home knits for God's sake!

Everyone was just sitting around, not knowing what to do, except hide their bottles of Bud under the table, trying not to get caught drinking. Oh and the music, such hideously embarrassing music, squelching its way out of the stereo just like at a school disco. Poor Eleanor, she really was trying her hardest to get everyone motivated, but really honey, when people say no, it means that they DO NOT want to do the Macarena.

Worst of all, how had I found myself sandwiched between the wall and a way too enthusiastic Liam? Oh, because Natasha was enamoured with Harry, again, practically sitting on his knee, again, and leaving me with no one else to talk to, again. Oh my life, why does she have to do this now, right when I've formulated the most cunningly devious of plans, to use Harry as a trap to make Luke jealous.

'So have you decided what A Levels you're going to take next year?' Liam enquired in a manner indicating that we were now the best of friends. Please dear Lord don't let him ask me out again, for I fear that my waning energy supplies might lead to me to doing something really stupid, like agreeing, just to rid myself of the bother of having to say no again.

To save myself from this grimmest of fates, I was about to tell him that I needed to go attend to my grossly irritated bowel or something, when he started wittering on about how lucky I am to have parents who give me the freedom to choose to do whatever I want, when he has no choice but to study science. I'm lucky? Clearly he's never met Mother, yet still an odd feeling of sympathy engulfed me. Stop with this, he's so bloody clever at everything, he can do whatever he wants with his life; become a doctor, a pilot, a lawyer, anything. Whatever he chooses to do he'll no doubt end up a millionaire and that's hardly a worry to moan about. Not that even the prospect of eternal wealth is enough to tempt me.

My fleeting compassion dissipated however. I tried listening to whatever he was saying, I really did, but it was all I could do to fixate on who had just walked through the door. I'd had this dream, okay in that version it was hot and there was a swimming pool and somehow I was conveniently wearing my favourite Little Miss Naughty bikini, when suddenly, wow, one of Luke's arms was wrapped about my waist, the other clawing at my steam tousled hair. 'Simone, right?' he smiled, 'I was hoping you'd be here.'