A Is for Apple by Kate Johnson Page A

shit…”
    “What?”
    “Chalker.”
    “Sophie, he’s your brother, not the Grand High Inquisitor.” Luke laughed, and when Chalker approached, he smiled and said, “Hi, you must be Sophie’s brother.”
    “If you say we look alike I’ll drop his bass amp on you,” I muttered.
    “You must be Sophie’s boyfriend,” Chalker said.
    “So she tells me. I’m Luke.”
    “Charlie. Everyone calls me Chalker.”
    I waited for Luke to ask why, even though he knew the story about Chalker always writing lines on the blackboard, à la Bart Simpson, but he didn’t.
    “What happened to you?” Chalker broke the silence by gesturing to my arm.
    “Oh.” I glanced down at the fierce graze and wondered why Luke hadn’t mentioned it. “I fell over.”
    “Is this like when you tripped over the soap packet in Menorca and sprained your wrist?”
    I glared at him. Luke laughed.
    “Sort of,” I mumbled. “Can we go in?”
    Luke shrugged. “Whatever you want.”
    First time for everything.
    “Oh yeah,” Chalker called after us, “Mum and Dad are coming. Should be here any minute.”
    “Run, hide,” I said to Luke, who sighed.
    “Do you not want me to meet them or something?”
    I looked up at him, so strong and sure and handsome. How could I put this?
    “I’ve only ever brought one boyfriend home before,” I said, “and he cheated on me. And I haven’t seen anyone since. So I’m a little out of practice.”
    “It’s okay, I’ll be nice to them.”
    “It’s not them I’m worried about.”
    SO17 has this rule where we’re supposed to have a couple of units of alcohol a night to keep our resistance levels up in case we need to drink a lot (I find this happening with increasing regularity), but can still drive and work things properly. Obviously while I was away I didn’t want to lapse in this, so I took an entire week’s worth every night in Fuerteventura.
    I was sick of Guinness, didn’t like the memories, so I chickened out and had a Smirnoff Ice instead. It was cold and sweet and good, and it didn’t last long.
    “So what did happen to you?” Luke said, gesturing to the raw graze on my arm, where a couple of stubborn bits of grit still dwelt.
    “Nice of you to ask.”
    “I figured you might want to tell me.”
    Not really wanting to get into it right now, I said, “I fell over.” This isn’t so hard to believe, I have been known to trip over with no obvious cause. And I really did trip over a soap packet in Menorca two years ago. I blame Ella. Who leaves a soap packet on a damp floor in the bathroom when I’ve been drinking?
    “Fell over what? You’ve got half of Manhattan in that graze.”
    “Voice down, Luke, I’m not supposed to have been there.”
    “Tell me what happened.”
    I sighed. He can always tell when I’m lying. “I—” I began, but was cut off by someone crying my name. I looked around and saw Ella and Evie, my two best friends since school, come rushing towards me. Ella was wearing tight jeans and a clingy vest with no bra. Evie had sparkly pink trainers, a top trimmed with marabou, and glitter in her hair.
    I stamped on Luke’s foot before he could say anything.
    “I didn’t know you were going to be here!” Evie said. “I texted you about it but you never replied.”
    “No, well, I was in Fuerteventura with Angel,” I reminded her.
    “Thought you came back on Wednesday,” Ella said.
    Bollocks. “Well—yes, but my phone’s been playing up. You haven’t met Luke, have you?”
    They both stared. “Oh my God, he’s with you?” Evie gasped, and Luke and I both tried unsuccessfully to hide smiles.
    “Yeah. Luke, this is Ella and Evie. My best friends since school. Guys, this is…well, this is Luke.”
    “I haven’t known her since school,” Luke clarified, shaking hands with them. I was glad he hadn’t kissed them. They might have fainted.
    I know I nearly did the first time.
    “You cow,” Ella hissed in delight, “you never told