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

Chapter 7

"I phoned you last night," Debbie said as we headed to Geography class.

It was late morning, and I'd been walking around in a zombie-like state ever since I'd stepped off the bus. After overhearing that bizarre conversation between two strangers - Ivana and Alistair - sleep had proved to be about as elusive as a yeti and I'd spent the majority of the night refreshing the internet to see if the photograph was taken down after I reported it to the website administrators. Eventually it vanished, but of course five minutes in virtual time was like a whole week in reality. There was no way nobody had seen it.

"Huh?"

"I said, I phoned you last night," Debbie repeated. She'd done me a kindness in not mentioning the photo yet, or that she'd seen it. "Somebody's really spaced out today."

"Sorry. I didn't get much sleep last night." I rubbed at my eyes. They felt as though I'd dipped them in sand. That, coupled with the very obvious attention I was getting from every corner of the corridor, made for a very sour Saffy Sweet. The photograph, it seemed, had indeed found its way onto everyone's computer screens.

Debbie was doing a very good job of pretending everything was normal. I wasn't sure if I appreciated it or if I wanted her to whip out some old Victorian torture instrument and assail upon the enemy on my behalf. "Well, listen up. What I'm about to tell you is both important and exciting. In fact, you might poop yourself."

"Don't worry, I'll clench."

Debbie's eyebrows folded into a scowl. "Ok, you're disgusting. Anyway, are you ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," I said as we slowly trudged down the corridor, allowing the human traffic to carry us like a scholarly river rapid.

"Stuart walked me home last night," she said, her eyes sparkling, "and when we got to my house, he kissed me."

"Stuart?" I stumbled. "Is that the guy from the, uh..."

"Band?" Debbie ventured.

"Yeah, sure. Band."

She nodded proudly, completely oblivious of my derision. "Yup, that's him. He was so lovely, Saffy. Do you know he hasn't had a hair cut in two years?"

"I would never have guessed. Has he not washed it in the same amount of time?"

She ignored me. "And he said I have piano fingers."

"What does that even mean?" I frowned.

Debbie surveyed her fingers and shrugged. "It means I'm probably good at piano, I guess. He's going to let me go backstage at his next show-"

At that, I stumbled. "Backstage? Debbie, the sorts of venues that they play at can barely accommodate a front stage, let alone a backstage."

"Oh, stop being so pessimistic!" She shot me a glare that, I supposed, was supposed to frighten me. It wasn't very effective. Debbie had pencilled-on eyebrows; it just made her look like a Japanese cartoon character at the height of wrath. "You're supposed to be happy for me."

"And I am," I said as we filed into Geography class. We drifted lazily through the tables and scouted out our usual spot near the back. I could feel the whispers following me, a mischievous shadow that was always hovering just beyond my shoulder. "It's just that you barely know him and you've already kissed him. It seems a bit forward to me, that's all."

Debbie's cheeks puffed out. She sat down and reached into her bag, slamming her books onto the table with a little too much force. "I've been speaking to him for over a month! He was a gentleman, Saffy. He walked me home."