‘Yeah, we’ll see.’ She’s silent. Then, ‘How’s the scriptwriting club?’
I sigh. ‘Don’t ask. Lowell and Florence got into a fight over the script. Now Lowell’s stormed out. Mr Acevedo’s majorly stressed because we’re so late with the script.’
‘I wouldn’t have thought it would be that much work – isn’t it only a reinterpretation?’
‘Me either,’ I admit. Naïve of me. Because it’s not so easy to make something completely new out of old material, especially a classic.
‘How far have you got?’ asks Tori.
‘Tybalt’s just killed Mercutio,’ I say. ‘So about halfway. But I’m afraid we’re going to have to start again. Lowell just took over the whole thing and wouldn’t listen to any criticism at all. Nobody’s happy with how it is just now.’
‘Hm.’ Tori leans on the worktop with both hands. ‘How long do you have?’
‘The text was meant to be ready by January. Mr Acevedo gave us an extra month, but he needs the script by February so the rehearsals can start.’
‘Oh.’ Tori looks at me.
Yes,oh.February. The week after next.
‘Mr Acevedo knows we won’t make it. He said we could write large chunks of it during rehearsals. That that might even be a good thing because it’ll make the script more authentic and help it fit the cast. He wants to spend the first few weeks focusing on method acting and improvisation anyway to get everyone to relax.’
‘I see,’ says Tori. She looks at me and smiles. ‘You can do it.’
‘We’ll have to.’
My hands knead the dough and ‘No Control’ comes on in the background, a song that I’m embarrassed to like – and it’s so true too. I feel like I’m losing control. Tori doesn’t have to know that, but that’s how I feel.
‘What’s up with Olive?’ I ask eventually.
Bad move. I realize at once when Tori stiffens up a bit.
‘Why should anything be up with her?’ she asks.
I shrug. I just wondered how she was, same as I always did. ‘Have you two talked?’
Tori shakes her head. I don’t know why, but her face softens as she studies the floor at her feet. She knows she doesn’t have to act like she doesn’t care if she’s fallen out with her best girlfriend. Because she does. Like I would if I had a beef with Henry. Which luckily I don’t, but since last autumn things have been weird between Olive and Tori. Between Olive and all of us, to be honest.
‘No.’ Tori tries to sound indifferent, but her eyes remain sad. I want to give her a hug. ‘She keeps avoiding me, don’t know why. I mean, what am I meant to do?’
‘It’s not your fault,’ I say. ‘And Olive knows that.’
‘But why’s she acting like this, then?’
I keep quiet. Although I’ve had an inkling what the problem might be for some time. Olive’s jealous, same as me. But not ofValentine Ward – she’s jealous of Emma, who Tori’s been firm friends with since the start of the school year. Which doesn’t mean that Tori has ditched Olive. But maybe it doesn’t feel like that to her. And then Emma got together with Henry, who left Olive’s friend Grace for her, which definitely won’t have helped. But maybe all that is only part of the problem, because I’m worried about how much pressure she’s putting on herself just now. I happen to know that she’s struggling in both politics and maths, and I remember only too well what it’s like when you’re worried about your grades. But unlike her, I wasn’t too proud to let Henry coach me through my maths GCSE last summer. I’ll never be a maths whizz, but at least I scraped through and don’t have to resit this year. I wouldn’t have the guts to advise her to do the same, though. Olive Henderson is the undisputed champion of the world at pushing away anyone who has the nerve to be worried for her.
‘You two should talk,’ I repeat, all the same. ‘I’m sure this situation is upsetting Olive just as much as it is you.’
‘But maybe she doesn’t care.’
‘Youcare, though,’ I insist. ‘And that’s why you have to talk to her.’
‘I’ve missed this,’ says Tori, out of the blue.
I look up. My first instinct is to ask her what she means, but I know perfectly well.
This. This kind of conversation, which I can’t have with anybody else.
I’m about to answer when her phone buzzes.
