"The roses are dead,
The violets are too,
Don't mention romance,
You'll make me spew."
Francesca Burton knows all there is to know about love and romance. She knows that love is for the naïve and romance is for the delusional. Her parents taught her...
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We said we weren't going to tell anyone else about this whole dating app debacle and I really, really (really) didn't want to. But have you ever tried to organise a surprise, public publicity stunt when you don't want anyone to know that you're the ones who organised it? Turns out you need help.
Luckily, my best friend is the romance-loving, spotlight-loving Captain of 'Noted' – St Mark's Grammar's competitive Acapella group. Enter stage left... Cassie Malloy.
"You're sure the whole group is down for this?" Trav asked Cass last night, fidgety hands leaving track marks through his blond hair. His excitement had been palpable and annoyingly contagious.
"Relax," Cass told him. The faint heat rash blooming across her chest was the only sign she wasn't as chill about joining forces with the cool crowd as she might otherwise have seemed. "I told you, they're in."
What Cass didn't tell Trav, was that she maybe/probably/definitely told her Acapella friends a little white lie to get them on board. Something about a real company looking to make a grassroots, homemade Ad?
Yes, I am now the fake co-CEO of a fake matchmaking service that is lying to its non-existent contractors. I have so many reasons to be proud of myself this week.
Unfortunately, a surprise Acapella performance isn't much use as a marketing gimmick without someone to film it. Enter stage right... Chomper Chomsky. Turns out Matt Chomsky is a wannabe filmmaker with his own fancy equipment – who knew?
Of course, where Trav and Chomper go, Cecily Ryan is never far behind.
So, then we were five. The weirdest quintet ever.
Right now, we are two. Trav and me. Early Saturday afternoon. Sitting on the swing chair on his front veranda waiting for the troops to return from their secret mission. Neither of us is saying anything as we swing slowly back and forth. I can't quite work out if the silence is comfortable or not.
We've spent most of the past 24 hours together. It hasn't been entirely horrible. The boy can be vaguely charming when he puts his mind to it.
Recess and lunch time yesterday were all about trying to come up with a plan; roping in Cass, Cecily and Chomper and swearing them to secrecy.
Last night and this morning have been spent with Gemma and her friends Gordo and Marissa – ironing out bugs (I say that like I have any clue what I am talking about) and designing the app interface. It's been... interesting.
Gordo is huge. Big in height and girth and beard and dark, shaggy hair. Big in booming voice and frequent, spontaneous chuckle. His fashion sense... also big. Blue, fuzzy pants that could be the bottom half of a Cookie Monster costume; a pale brown, too-tight tee-shirt boldly declaring that 'No one F*cks with The Big Guy'; scuffed cowboy boots that have definitely seen better days.
And then there's Marissa. Under height and underweight and more than a little intimidating. A tiny, passive-aggressive, bird of a human. Dressed all in black; a facial expression that permanently screams 'bored'; looks at Trav and me like she'd quite like to squish us under the heel of her combat boots. Calls us 'The Children', which – considering I know for a fact that she's only 21 – is both insulting and annoying.
