Strawberry Crush

Except she obviously couldn’t remember what sort of car he drove. I could remember. It was a Fiat! I’m quite good at recognising different makes of car. Dad and I sometimes look at car sites together on the internet, picking out ones Dad would like to drive. Dad usually goes for the big posh ones like BMW and Mercedes. I prefer the little ones cos I think they look more cosy. Like little Easter eggs on wheels. Maya’s mum and dad don’t actually have a car so she doesn’t really know anything about them. I bet all she could remember about Jake’s Fiat was that it was small and blue.

I’d obviously embarrassed her, but it didn’t stop her peering.

“Know what?” I said.

“What?”

“You’re being really obvious!”

She frowned, nibbling at a thumbnail. “What’s that s’pposed to mean?”

“You’re making it look like we’re desperate! If you’re not careful some nutter’ll pull up and tell us to get in.”

That scared her a bit. “We wouldn’t have to do it!”

“They might try and make us.”

“So we’d run!”

“I’d run,” I said. “You’d probably trip over and fall flat on your face.”

And this time Jake wouldn’t be there to pick her up.

She bit her lip.

“It’s what happens,” I said, “when people get crushes they can’t control.”

She didn’t try denying that she’d got a crush. Just as well cos I wouldn’t have believed her. I could recognise the signs when I saw them. It wasn’t the first crush she’d had. Not by a long chalk, as Dad would say. Back in Year Six she’d fallen in love with our class teacher, Mrs O’Malley. She’d trotted about after her like a little lost puppy, all beaming and trustful. It had gone on for weeks. Then last summer she’d got this massive crush on a boy called Anil, who worked at the minimart. The minimart was owned by his mum and dad, and Anil used to help out sometimes after school. Maya insisted that we call in there every single afternoon on the way home. It was like the highlight of her day – the moment she lived for. If Anil was there she was in heaven; on days when he wasn’t she was cast into the deepest depths of despair.

Needless to say we always had to buy something, like a tube of Smarties or a KitKat or something. We couldn’t just stand there gawping, though left to herself – that is, without me to hold her hand – it’s what she probably would have done. She was never brave enough to actually say anything. She just felt this desperate need to be near him for a few minutes. It seemed to satisfy her, which was just as well since Anil showed absolutely no interest in her whatsoever. Hardly surprising. He must have been at least sixteen, maybe even older, and with Maya being so tiny he probably thought she was still just a little kid at primary school.

I don’t know how long her obsession would have lasted, but at the start of the summer holidays new people took over the shop and Anil and his mum and dad disappeared and things went back to normal. It surprised me a bit cos I’d really thought Maya would be all broken up and weepy, but luckily Uncle Kev chose that moment to have one of his bright ideas: he and Maya and Auntie Megs were all going to go and live in a cottage on the Isle of Skye for a month. They were going to be entirely self-sufficient, like gas and electricity and stuff had never been invented, and then he was going to write a book about it. Another book.

Well, the book never got written and by the time they came home Maya had more or less forgotten about Anil, but it had been really tiresome while it lasted. I was just hoping this thing she was obviously getting about Jake wouldn’t develop into a full-blown crush. I wasn’t sure I could take it all over again!

She was still obsessively checking out every blue car that drove past. Big ones, small ones; just so long as they were blue. I hadn’t realised there were so many of them. Blue must be a really popular colour! (I would have red if it was me.)

“That was a Toyota,” I said as another one flashed past. “Toyota’s no good.”

From behind me came an indignant squawk: “Who says?”

I spun round. Oh, horrible! Linzi Baxter had snuck up behind us. I’d forgotten she got the bus.

“Ours is a Toyota,” she said.

I said, “Yes, well, we’re looking for a Fiat.”

“Why?” said Linzi.

“Cos it’s what Jake Harper drives.” I couldn’t resist adding, “He gave us a lift home yesterday.”

“Really?” Her eyes narrowed. She didn’t like that! I could almost hear the jealous thoughts whizzing round her brain: how come he’s giving lifts to these total nobodies?

In the distance, at the top of the hill, I could see a bus coming towards us. As it drew near Maya suddenly clutched at me.

“Mattie, Mattie! Is that a Fiat?”

This time, she was right. It was a Fiat, and Jake was at the wheel. Maya was already dancing about on tiptoe, waving her arms in the air.

I made a grab at her. “Maya! Stop it!”

“But it’s Jake!”

“I know, but this is a bus lane; he can’t pull up here.”

If I hadn’t got hold of her she’d have gone running off down the road, windmilling her arms in the hope of attracting his attention. I practically had to drag her on to the bus. Linzi followed as I pushed a reluctant Maya in front of me up the stairs. The minute we reached the top deck she raced to the nearest window to watch as Jake drove past. Linzi, to my enormous joy, plonked herself down next to me on the back seat.

“What’s she up to?” she said.

“Oh!” I waved a hand. “I dunno. She thought he might give us a lift again.”

Linzi regarded Maya in silence for a few seconds. Maya was standing with her nose pressed against the glass. She looked like a child wistfully gazing into a toyshop. Linzi shook her head.

“Pathetic,” she said.

I bristled at that. It’s hardly Maya’s fault if she has a mum who is permanently anxious and a dad who is always rushing off in all directions, leaving them to cope without him. It would be enough, I should think, to make anyone pathetic.

“I don’t know how you put up with her,” said Linzi.

“She’s my cousin,” I said.

Lots of my friends wonder how I manage – on the whole! – to be patient with Maya; but they are my friends. Friends have the right to ask that sort of question. Plus they understand when I tell them about Mum and Auntie Megs being twins and me feeling the need to look out for Maya. Linzi Baxter was not my friend and I had no intention of explaining myself to her.

“Why did he give you a lift, anyway?” she said.

The cheek of it! What business was it of hers? I was still trying to think of a suitably crushing response when Maya suddenly decided to join in the conversation. She sank down into the seat in front of us and draped herself over the back, her eyes shining.

“He rescued me,” she said. “I came off my bike, and he rescued me! He was soooo sweet. He picked me up and drove us home and then he carried me into the house cos I couldn’t walk. If Jake hadn’t been there I don’t know what we’d have done. We might have had to call an ambulance! Mightn’t we?”

I shrugged. I did wish Maya hadn’t felt the need to tell everything to Linzi. She obviously wasn’t impressed. She is not the sort of girl to be impressed. She gave Maya this long unblinking stare then said, “Yeah. Right.”

Even then Maya didn’t get the message. Eagerly she said, “Lots of boys wouldn’t have bothered. I don’t know why Jake did! Just cos he’s a really nice young man, my mum says.”

“You don’t think p’raps he fancies you?” said Linzi.

She was being sarcastic. That anyone as cool as Jake Harper could possibly fancy a Year Eight nobody, especially one as small and skinny as Maya, obviously struck her as absurd. I guess it did me, too. To be honest, I hadn’t even considered it. It was only Auntie Megs being his mum’s cleaning lady that had made him stop. Cos he knew who Maya was, that was all. Nothing to do with him fancying her.

“Omigod,” said Linzi, as Maya’s face turned a bright happy scarlet, “she actually thinks he does!”