That's A Date

Safety Goggles

I don't like Chemistry, it's too loud and smelly. And I don't really like the thought of mucking about with the dangerous chemicals and stuff. But until next year, when we can choose our options, I still have to do it. So I dawdle on my way to the lab and get there slightly late, and there is only space left on the bench near the door. The teacher shoots me a slight frown and glances at the empty chair next to me, but goes on handing out the worksheets with today's experiment on it. I do a quick headcount of the class, surprised I'm not the last to arrive, and feel my stomach tighten slightly when I realise who's still missing – who will have to take the last available space, next to me. And be my working partner today.

Avril is a cheerful, outgoing girl with perfect features, perfect hair, perfect legs and popular friends. Because she's very sporty, she doesn't worry about her schoolwork as much as girls like me who have less going for them. She's not someone I've ever had much to do with, outside my own head. I normally just stare at her covertly through my hair across the classroom, and while there's plenty going on inside me at those moments, I keep it all to myself. Today she arrives late because she's presumably been at some sort of squad practice over lunch – she turns up still in her very short netball skirt and tight top, which are in strange contrast to the oversized lab coat she pulls off the back of the empty stool next to me. "Hey, Liv," she whispers, nudging my elbow conspiratorially as she slides into her seat. She settles her safety glasses on the top of her head, the transparent plastic arms disappearing into her long, straight, perfect hair. "What's up?"

I open my mouth to reply but don't know what to say. Recently, Avril has been quite friendly, even talking to me several times when she didn't necessarily have to, and I have been finding it hard to adjust. Pretty and popular girls normally tease me (which I can ignore) or ignore me (which suits me fine), so I can't help wondering why Avril seems to want to just be nice, even as I'm secretly delighted every time. I'm also worried that she's noticed me staring at her in class, and although she never reacts, I've felt her staring back once or twice. I think she's worked out what I feel about her, so even as I like her paying me more attention, I now live in dread that she's going to challenge me about it one of these days. Not that any of this is helping me to stop crushing on her (which I would dearly love to be able to do, because I'm not sure I will be able to hide it much longer even if she hasn't noticed, and then I'm certain she'll want to steer clear and that would be worse than the torture of her being nice to me). Being accidentally forced to sit next to her now (and more importantly work with her) is just going to make everything much worse: she's a got a whole double period now in which to say something, and I can't escape. Finally I shrug and get my voice back. "I was late too." I wonder why I say that, of all things – it's utterly irrelevant.

"Yeah?" She grins at me. "You and me are the naughty girls at the back today, then." She nudges my arm again as the teacher approaches.

"Nice of you to join us, ladies," remarks our Chemistry mistress sarcastically, handing me the worksheet and glancing between us. "You two should make an interesting work partnership, anyway. Good luck." She points at me. "Chop chop, then. Get your safety goggles on, Olivia."

"Cheeky bitch," Avril whispers, once the teacher's moved off back to the front. She twists on her stool, as if about to get up, and leans closer. I feel her bare knee touch my leg, near the hem of my school skirt, and although she twitches it away it somehow doesn't actually seem to move anywhere and I can still feel it through my tights. "I think we'll be great together, Liv." She reaches up into her hair and with a deft flick of her wrist drops the safety glasses properly onto her face, whereas I am still fumbling to get mine on over my normal spectacles.

"Here, let me." She reaches over and holds my hair back with one hand, gently adjusting the goggles for me with the other. She smiles, and tucks a couple of curly strands back where they've strayed out from my hair grip.