Forbidden

By the end of the day Francie is pestering me about Nico DiMarco again. She seems to think I’m depressed and that having a boyfriend – especially one of the hottest guys in school – will help snap me out of my funk. Perhaps she’s right. Perhaps I need a distraction. And what better way to show Lochan that what happened the other day was just an accident, a bit of fun? If I have a boyfriend then he’ll realize that none of that stuff meant anything. And Nico is very cute. His hair is the same colour as Lochan’s. His eyes are kind of greenish too. Although Francie is way off beam when she claims they are in the same league. No way. Lochan is ferociously bright, emotionally intelligent, the kindest, most selfless person I know. Lochan has a soul. Nico might be the same age but he is just a boy in comparison – a spoiled little rich boy, expelled from his posh private school for smoking weed, a pretty face with an arrogant swagger, a charm as carefully crafted as his clothes and hairstyle. But yes, I suppose the idea of dating him, kissing him even, isn’t totally repellent.

After the last bell, as we are crossing the playground towards the gates, I see him heading towards us. He’s been waiting, that much is clear. Francie gives a half-strangled squawk and elbows me in the ribs so hard I am momentarily winded, before swerving away. Nico is coming straight for me. As if drawn towards each other by an invisible cord, we walk and walk. He has removed his tie even though it’s enough to earn him a detention this side of the school exit.

‘Maya, hi!’ His smile broadens. He’s very smooth, very confident: he’s been doing this for years. He stops close to me, too close, and I have to take a step back. ‘How’re you doing? I haven’t had a chance to speak to you for ages!’

He is acting like a long-lost friend, despite the fact that we have barely exchanged more than a few words until now. I force myself to meet his gaze and smile. I was wrong: his eyes are nothing like Lochan’s – the green is muddied with brown. His hair is brown too. I don’t know why I ever saw any similarities.

‘Are you in a hurry,’ he asks, ‘or d’you have time for a drink at Smileys?’

Jesus, he doesn’t waste any time. ‘I have to pick up my little brother and sister,’ I answer truthfully.

‘Listen, I’m go

Does he think he’s going to impress me with his command of Latin?

‘I’ve always considered you a good friend, but you know what? I think it could be even stronger than that, you know. All I’m saying is – perhaps we could get to know each other a little better, you know?’

If he says you know one more time, I swear I’m going to scream.

‘I’d be really honoured if you’d let me take you out to di

I pretend to consider it for a moment. His smile doesn’t falter. I’m impressed. ‘OK, I suppose . . .’

His smile broadens. ‘That’s great. Really great. How would Friday suit you?’

‘Friday’s fine.’

‘Cool. What kind of food do you like? Japanese, Thai, Mexican, Lebanese?’

‘Pizza’s good for me.’

His eyes light up. ‘I know this great restaurant – serves the best Italian food round here. I’ll drive by to pick you up at, say, seven?’

I am about to protest that it would be easier to meet him there when it dawns on me that having him come to the house might be no bad thing.

‘All right. Seven o’clock on Friday.’ I smile again. My cheeks are begi

He cocks his head and raises his eyebrows. ‘You’ll have to give me your address!’

He produces a pen while I rummage through my pockets and find a crumpled receipt. I write down my address and number and hand it back to him. As I do so, he holds onto my fingers for a moment and flashes another of his high-wattage smiles. ‘I look forward to it.’

I’m begi

Francie leaps out from behind the phone box at the end of the street. ‘Oh my God, oh my God, tell me everything!’

I wince and bring my hand up to my ear. ‘Aargh, Jesus – try and give me a heart attack, why don’t you?’

‘You’re blushing! Oh my God, you said yes, didn’t you?’

I briefly recount the conversation. Francie grabs me by the shoulders, shakes me brutally and starts to shriek. A woman looks round in alarm.

‘Calm down,’ I laugh. ‘Francie, he’s a complete twat!’

‘So? Tell me you don’t fancy him!’

‘OK, maybe I find him slightly attractive—’

‘I knew it! You were complaining just the other week you’d never kissed a guy! As of Friday, you’ll be able to cross that off your list.’

‘Maybe . . . Listen, I’ve got to run. I’m late for Tiffin and Willa.’

Francie grins at me as I begin to move off. ‘You’re go

I have to confess that the prospect of a date with Nico does make me feel fractionally better. Fractionally less abnormal, at least, and that’s quite something. That evening, as I sit at the kitchen table helping Tiffin and Willa with their homework, my mind keeps flicking back to the flirtatious exchange, the way he smiled at me. It’s not a lot – not nearly enough to fill the gaping void inside me – but it’s something. It’s always nice being fancied. It’s always nice being wanted. Even if it’s by the wrong person.

I’d let it slip to Tiffin and Willa. I was ten minutes late picking them up, and when Tiffin demanded to know why, in my stupidity, still a little dazed, I told him that I was talking to a boy from school. I thought this would be the end of it, but I’d forgotten Tiffin is almost nine. ‘Maya’s got a boyfriend, a boyfriend, a boyfriend!’ he sang all the way home.

Willa looked worried. ‘Does that mean you’re going to go away and get married?’

‘No, of course not,’ I laughed, trying to reassure her. ‘It just means I’ve got a friend who’s a boy and maybe I’ll go and see him once in a while.’

‘Like Mum and Dave?’

‘No! Nothing like Mum and Dave. I’ll probably only ever go out with him once or twice. And if I do go out with him more than that, it’ll still be hardly ever. And of course it will only be when Lochie’s at home to look after you.’

‘Maya’s got a boyfriend!’ Tiffin a

‘Great. I hope the two of you will have lots of babies and be very happy together.’

By di

‘Four sevens?’ Lochan picks up Tiffin’s fork and spears two ru

‘Come on. Four sevens. You’ve got to be quicker than that.’

‘I’m thinking!’