The Magpie Effect - The Magpie Chronicles Book 1 (#Wattys2015)

Chapter 4

"At least you have a swanky surname," I grumbled. "Burr, sounds like... I don't know, purr. Purring is good."

"Why, what's yours?"

"Sweetman."

Jet looked contemplative. "Ah, that's a... well, sweet name, I guess."

I smiled at him, my eyes tracing over the straight bridge of his nose, the thickness of his hair. I realized, with a sense of awe that started in my stomach and fluttered its way up, that I suddenly felt completely relaxed. I was talking to a boy and he was talking back and I hadn't managed to make myself look like a psycho crazy-cat-lady in the making... not yet, anyway.

I'd almost even forgotten about the preceding events. The invasive flash of the camera, the jeering girls, Mona with her hypnotic eyes and seductive smile. It all fell away from me, until that moment, when it came rushing back like a release of icy water, engulfing me in a frenzied panic.

I lapsed into silence, and Jet with me. He seemed to sense the shift in atmosphere and directed his gaze out of the window. I felt the sting of shame across my cheeks. None of this was his fault. He didn't even know about the photograph - and hopefully never would. I'd been doing so well, I didn't want to go and make a train wreck out of things now.

"Nice car," I said, in my best attempt to remedy the situation.

"Oh, yeah, she's a beauty." He kept his gaze fixed firmly on the road.

"She?"

"Sure, her name's Gloria. Trusty little vessel," he said, his face beaming with pride. He reached up and boxed the stuffed monkey with the back of his hand.

"She's, um, very nice," I said. Automobiles weren't exactly one of my strong points. I wasn't even sure if people still called them automobiles or not.

Jet grinned, as though he'd built the entire car himself. "Thanks."

I gestured at the guitar that was draped across the back seat. "Do you play?" I asked.

Jet glanced over his shoulder, his cheeks suddenly tinging with red as they landed on the instrument. "What? Oh, yeah, I play. It's sort of my thing. Do you?"

"I can play Seven Nation Army. Does that count?"

Jet laughed. "It's something, I guess. I wanted to start looking for some gigs around here, actually. Know of anywhere?"

"Well, it's hardly a stadium," I said, an idea strutting into my mind, "but the place I work is always looking for acts."

Jet cast me a sideways glance as the countryside began to turn into houses, snatches of civilisation between stretches of green. "Really? Where's that?"

"It's a place in town," I said. "It's called The Old Curiosity. Bev's always looking for new bands and stuff."

"She is?"

"Yeah, we've got this indie band playing tomorrow night called The Joy Detergents," I said. I felt chagrin tainting my cheeks, as though I'd named the band myself. "I could put a word in for you? I'm sure Bev would appreciate somebody who can actually play an instrument properly for a change."

"You'd do that?" Jet looked at me in wonder. Perhaps the inhabitants of Magpie's Nest hadn't made him feel too welcome so far, and this act of kindness came as a surprise to him.

"Sure, why not?"

"That'd be great, thanks," he grinned, and then his face dropped as we approached a round-about in the road. "Oh... would you mind helping me a little? I'm still not used to the roads here. You people love round-abouts."