Over the Moon Read Online Free PDF Page B

implied it.”
    “I did not! He might be an academic genius, for all I know.”
    “But you don’t really think he is … just cos he’s totally gorgeous you think he’s a moron! Now who’s being discriminating?”

    We argued – quite amicably – all through break. Me and Hattie are always having these kind of spats.It’s mostly Hattie who starts them. It has to be said, she’s a very disputatious sort of person; really quite opinionated. But I do enjoy the cut and thrust of intellectual debate.
    The name Hermes didn’t really stick, though it was strange Hattie should have chosen it. (For explanation, see later!) Privately, in my diary, I still referred to him as Peg Leg, while in conversation the Sun God mostly became “you-know-who” – accompanied by a lovesick sigh. Hattie either called him Apollo or sometimes just God, when she wanted to be sarcastic or make fun of me.
    I guess I did get a bit drippy. Very tiresome, as I know from experience. Hattie once got drippy over this beastly boring cricket person that she couldn’t stop going on about. I mean, cricket, for heaven’s sake! Fortunately it was just a phase she was going through; she’s out of it now. But I was still at the stage where I had these mad explosions going off every time I opened my mouth, like a thousand sparklers all fizzing and hissing.
    “I just wish I knew his name,” I wailed.
    Hattie agreed that knowing his name would be an advantage. “Unless, of course, it turns out to be something like Wayne, or Kevin, or— ”
    “It won’t, it won’t!”
Please
let it not be. Not Wayne or Kevin!
    “Marmaduke. Alistair.
George
— ”
    “Shut up!” I said. “You’re making me feel ill!”
    “How about Sebastian? How about— ”
    “Oh, Hattie, do be quiet!” I said. “Listen, guess what? I got a merit mark for history! That’s ten already … if I get selected –
if
I get selected – I could invite you-know-who to be my partner!”
    “Well, yes,” said Hattie, “if you ever get around to talking to him. Or would you just go waltzing up out of the blue and say, ‘Hi! Want to come to Founder’s Day with me?’”
    “I’m going to get to know him,” I said. “Don’t worry! I’m working on it. In any case, there’s ages to go. They don’t do the selection till some time next term.”
    “Omigawd,” said Hattie. “Don’t tell me … another three months of inane burble!”
    Although I’d said that I was “working on it”, the truth was I didn’t have any sort of strategy in mind. I guess I was secretly hoping that just being around, on the platform, every morning at the same time would be enough to get me noticed. I mean, I’d noticed him; he could notice me! This probably sounds extremely conceited, but I knew I was noticeable cos my hair isnot just red, it’s more like flame coloured. And our school uniform is green, which really suits me. Dad always said that if I’d been sent to Hayes High he’d have paid for me to go private rather than see me in their puke-making get-up. It is bright purple!!!
    Still, you can’t always rely on boys taking note of things like clothes. The fact was, I needed a plan. Some way of drawing attention to myself. Maybe I could … stage a fainting fit right in front of him?
    No! That was stupid. I’d learnt enough about boys to know that he wouldn’t find it in the least romantic. Boys don’t like girls who flake out on them, and anyway, I wasn’t the type. I despise people who faint!
    Tanya fainted once, during assembly. She had to be carted away to the side of the hall and sat on a chair with her head between her knees.
Not
very becoming!
    OK. No fainting. So maybe I could  … tread on his foot and apologise? Abjectly, and with great charm. “Oh, my goodness, I am
so
sorry!”
    He probably wouldn’t even feel it. Or if he did, he’d just think what a clumsy idiot I was. I didn’t want him thinking I was clumsy!
    How about if I actually went up to him and