Love-Struck by Rachael Wing

texting a bit—
    â€œBut don’t text her too much,” I had warned him. “Because half the attraction in bad boys is that they are aloof.”
    â€œA-what?”
    â€œAloof. Y’know, like, mysterious.”
    â€œOoh, right.”
    I hadn’t seen his texts, but I hoped to God they weren’t over-the-top vague or “aloof”, or else she might just have thought that he was an astonishingly dim person and backed off like he had the plague.
    So on Friday night after school I’d got home, chucked on a face pack and The Faeries’ first album ( Ill Met By Moonlight ), ran myself a bath and opened my wardrobe – and felt like Mother Hubbard. Seriously, talk about bare cupboards?
    â€œMum!” I shouted, biting my nails. “Mum, could I go through your wardrobe?”
    She popped her head around my door.
    â€œOh sorry, I didn’t realize you were upstairs—”
    â€œHolly Marie Hockers!” she exclaimed. “Your room is—”
    â€œMum!”
    I rolled my eyes. She was looking around my total box of a room, and it was completely covered in clothes. Not kidding, I’m talking all of my clothes – everywhere . You couldn’t see my carpet, you couldn’t see my tiny single bed, you couldn’t see my bedside table; the only thing you could see was the walls, but really you couldn’t even see them because they were covered in pictures of The Faeries. OK, my room was a bit of a tip. So what?! Didn’t she know this was possibly the most important night of my life, and so this was so blatantly not the time!
    I took a deep breath, put down the cute netted skirt I had been holding, and pressed my hands together dramatically.
    â€œDo you remember what tonight is?”
    It was like the final question on University Challenge . Mum never remembers anything that I’ve got going on, and so when I ask her a question like that she always squints and thinks really hard like her whole future depends on it. Usually I think it’s funny and bless her rubbish little memory, but this wasn’t a laughing matter.
    Finally, she took a stab in the dark.
    â€œYou’re … going out?”
    I nodded with wide eyes.
    â€œYou’re going out … to a gig?”
    I nodded faster.
    â€œYou’re going out … to a gig … with…” Then her mouth dropped and she squealed. “Ooooh, I remember, you’re going out with Jonah !”
    And the winner is…!
    â€œYeah!” I squealed back, the excitement filling me up – but then I looked back at my room filled with clothes, none of which I could wear, and the dread deflated my bubble. “But I have nothing to wear! Nothing, nothing, nothing!”
    Mum pushed the door open (with a struggle) and came and sat on my bed.
    â€œHol, you’ve got more clothes than me, Liz and your dad put together. How can you have nothing to wear?”
    I pouted.
    â€œI know I have clothes, I just need something different! I have to look good tonight. But not just good, like – super good. Amazing! So drop dead gorgeous that I sparkle and shine like some Christmas fairy and light up the floor. But maybe not so festive, because if I turn up looking like a Christmas tree I’m pretty sure I’ll get jumped, or laughed at, or—”
    â€œStop! Take a deep breath, you’re rambling.”
    I took a few deep breaths whilst she continued.
    â€œWhat were you thinking about wearing?”
    I looked around my room.
    â€œI don’t know… A skirt, ’cause it will be hot inside? Or some tight jeans? Or … oh, I don’t know!”
    I collapsed into my pile of clothes, panicking.
    â€œRight!” Mum declared, picking up the clothes off my bed. “You’re going to go get in your bath, take off that face mask because you look like Frankenstein’s bride –” I touched my face and looked in the mirror. I did