Love-shy by Lili Wilkinson Page B

nothing.
    The only time I’d ever seen her do anything out of the ordinary was at Aylee Kim’s birthday party in January, where she drank too much Tia Maria and was sick in the pool. Nick wouldn’t be too keen to hear that . Hardly the proper behaviour for the ideal nymph-like fairy creature that he thought she was.
    I wanted to help Nick, I really did. But I wasn’t sure helping him hook up with his dream girl was going to work. He was too smart for her, too sensitive, too romantic. She’d break his heart in five minutes, and he was so fragile he’d never be able to put all the pieces together again.
    I looked back at him. The expression on his face nearly broke my heart. Such yearning and longing and loneliness, painted there for all to see. Then he started and looked straight at me, and his usual mask of detached cool resumed its position.
    This was going to be trickier than I’d thought.
    Nick’s shoulders tensed slightly, and I looked around. A blonde girl was approaching him, blushing furiously. It was like watching a nature documentary. She glanced back at her friends, who shot her encouraging grins, then turned to Nick, gazing at him longingly.
    Nick had seen her, I knew he had. How would he respond? Would he talk to her? Could he? I saw him start in a casual sort of way, and reach into his back pocket. He pulled out a mobile phone and pressed it to his ear. I couldn’t hear him, as he was too far away, but it looked as if he’d just answered a call.
    I thought he didn’t like talking on the phone?
    Actually, I thought he didn’t even have a phone?
    Nick laughed into the phone and stood up, jumping off the bench in one easy movement. The blonde girl froze, unsure how to proceed. Was she going to wait until he finished his call? Or was she planning on interrupting him and hoping her orange skin and perky breasts would convince him to hang up?
    Totally absorbed in his phone conversation, Nick walked straight past the girl, seemingly without noticing her.
    Smooth, very smooth. I wondered if that was what he did every time, or whether he had different subterfuge tactics. I’d find out.

    22:00
There’s this girl who’s watching me. That’s not new, girls are always watching me. They watch and they smile and they toss their hair. But they don’t actually want me. But this girl, this new girl. She’s different. She’s sneaky . She’s not watching me like I’m a new dress she wants to try on. Or a piece of meat she wants to sink her teeth into. When this girl watches me it’s like she’s looking right into me. I don’t like it. It’s as if she knows . She doesn’t want me , she wants to unpick me. Take me apart and see how I work, like an alarm clock. She wants to know what makes me tick. And I don’t want her to know. She can’t know. But it kind of feels like she already does.
Why is she watching me?
What does she want?
WHY?

    I wasn’t at all sure how to approach Nick. I didn’t want to scare him off – so no Dictaphone app – but I also needed to be firm and direct from the outset. Maybe just doing it would be the best tactic. Like ripping off a bandaid. I decided to wait until lunch on Tuesday, so we’d have time to talk. I popped into my Debating meeting to let everyone know I’d have to skip this week, then headed into the courtyard to where Nick sat on his bench, watching Amy Butler.
    He was there, looking bored, as if we were all far, far beneath him and not worthy of his interest or attention. I snuck up from behind so he couldn’t bolt.
    â€˜Nick.’
    The muscles in his shoulders tensed. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.
    â€˜Hello?’ he said. I’d never heard his voice before. It was higher than I’d expected, but quite melodic. There was a faint tremor behind his carefully affected drawl.
    â€˜Wow,’ I said. ‘I guess I’d