fortunes, are we?â he asked. âAny luck for me?â
Wendy reached over and pinched Gilda. It was her sign that she thought a boy was cute. Gilda took another look at the boy and saw that his ears stuck out a little, his nose was a bit crooked, and his skin was very paleâalmost translucent. His blue-gray eyes were a striking contrast to the floppy, eye-grazing layers of his black hair. He had dimples when he smiled. She pinched Wendy back much harder.
âOw!â
Professor Heslop approached the group. âExcuse me. This is a serious international competition,â she whispered. âI donât know how you do things in America and China, but here in England, we show respect for the performers onstage by keeping quiet during a competition.â
âIâm English, actually,â said the boy. âAnd I know for a fact that we show as little respect for performers as possible in this countr y.â
Professor Heslop wasnât amused. âQuiet please, the lot of you; or I will have to ask you to wait outside in the rain. I have to go check on the front entrance now, and I expect you all to behave yourselves.â
The group fell silent until Professor Heslop was out of earshot.
âIn America, we just throw greasy McDonaldâs hamburgers at the stage throughout the whole performance,â Gilda whispered. âItâs our way of showing appreciation. How do you do things in China, Wendy?â
âWe throw chopsticks and raw fish.â
âShh!â whispered Ming Fong loudly. âBe quiet! I donât want to wait outside in the rain.â Ming Fong put her headphones back on.
âBit of a Bossy Britches, isnât she?â said the boy.
âTell me about it. Ming Fong drives us crazy.â
âNo.â The boy pointed a thumb at the door through which Professor Heslop had just exited. âI meant Heslop.â
âOh, yeah. A real gorey granny.â
âYou mean âgranny gore.â All crotchety and grumpy.â
âI prefer âgorey granny.ââ
He looked bemused. âYou donât often hear an American trying to talk like a Scouser.â
âIâm not trying to âtalk like a Scouser.â This is how I always talk.â Grateful that she had studied her Handbook of English Slang so carefully, Gilda remembered that Scouser referred to the slang used in the city of Liverpool where all the great âoldiesâ songs by the Beatles originated.
âIâm from those parts. Well, Iâm actually from a little toilet of a village up north called Crawling.â
âSounds charming.â
âOh, it is. Nobodyâs heard of it. Soâwhat are you playing?â
Gilda wished that she was actually competing in the competition so she could talk to this boy about her music. âIâm playing the Rach Three,â she whispered.
His eyes grew wide. He actually looked scared. âSeriously?â
âJust kidding, unfortunately. Iâm actually Wendyâs page-turner and manager. And my name is Gilda.â
âNice to meet you, Gilda. Iâm Julian.â
Gilda shook his hand, reflecting that most of the boys she knew at school never offered to shake hands with a girl. His hand felt warm and noticeably well-developed, as if his hands were older than the rest of his body.
âSo, Wendy has her own manager?â
âThatâs right.â
âSounds like sheâs got it sorted.â
âSheâs extremely sorted.â Gilda noticed Julian eyeing Wendy with interest and felt a possessive urge to redirect his attention before Wendy jumped into the conversation. âWendyâs had some problems adjusting to a foreign country, though,â Gilda added.
âCanât blame her,â said Julian. âItâs bloody gloomy this week.â
âPlus, she overslept this morning, so sheâs in a really gormless mood.â
âShe