CHAPTER 12
Sarah and the Secret

Alex made his last trip to the library on Sunday afternoon. He was lucky that this was International Library Week, and the one Sunday all year the library was open. His mum was deliriously happy at the thought of all the research he was doing for his English assignment. Sam eyed him dubiously on his way out. She knew something was up, but she didn’t have the contacts to find out what it was. Or maybe she did. There were a few kids at Beeton whose older brothers and sisters went to St Joey’s. She made a mental note to make a few phone calls and glean some information on one Alex Jackson.

Alex filled out a card to use the Internet and sat down at the computer. He started to pick up the pace. Had Becky written back? Would she say what had happened to her dad’s business? Would he find out if she’d say yes to him? He opened Juliette’s email and his heart beat like a Green Day song. There in the inbox was one new message from BeckyT.

He opened it nervously. Just before he started reading, a pair of hands slipped gently across his eyes. “Guess who?” said a muffled voice. It was a girl, but that’s all Alex could tell. He started to panic big–time. It couldn’t be her, could it?

He turned around. It was Sarah Sceney. Better than Becky, but only just. If Sarah got a glimpse of the screen he’d be dead meat. She was too much of a brain not to ask questions if she saw Becky’s name.

“Whaccha doing?” she asked.

Trying not to make it too obvious, Alex gently shifted his chair so he was blocking Sarah’s view of the screen. “A bit of research,” he said vaguely.

She leant left, casually looking towards the screen. Alex leant right, keeping his body between her and the computer.

“Do you have a crush on Becky Tonella?” Sarah asked suddenly.

Alex was shocked. He hoped Becky’s name coming up was a coincidence. “Why do you ask?” he said, as coolly as his shaky voice would let him. His left foot began tapping on the floor without him even realising it.

“You keep looking at her in class, for one thing. Well, do you?”

Alex wasn’t sure how to answer. “That’s ... none of your beeswax.”

Sarah stared at him, her arms shifting from across her chest to her sides, hands on hips. Her gaze started to harden in what looked to Alex like ... anger. Alex realised he had never seen her mad. She always had that sickening smile on her face. “Do you know how long I’ve liked you, Alex Jackson?” she snapped.

She didn’t look like she was expecting an answer so Alex shrugged.

“Five years. I know your sister’s name is Sam. I know you own a Union Standard skateboard, and now I know you like Becky Tonella, the girl you’ve known for THREE WHOLE WEEKS.”

Four, thought Alex, but who’s counting?

The librarian gave him, Alex, a killer glare. What did I do?

“You’re the most selfish boy I’ve ever met,” said Sarah, building up a full head of steam. “I’ve done so many nice things for you and you don’t even care. I even let you beat me in that science test in Year 6. You’ve led me on for five years, and now you dump me for the first girl who comes along with a decent pair of legs. All my friends tell me I’m too good for you, and now I know why!”

Alex didn’t want a scene, and he still had the email from Becky sitting 30 centimetres behind his back to worry about, but he couldn’t take this any more. He had led her on? What the hell?

“For one thing I can’t DUMP you, ’cause we’re not going out.” The librarian was glaring again. “For five years you have embarrassed me in front of everybody. You said you loved me in front of a full school assembly. You wrote ‘Sarah loves Jack’ on the screen saver of every school computer. In Year 5 you rang me at home every night for a month.”

“Yeah, until your mum told me I wasn’t allowed to ring you anymore.”

That surprised Alex. His mum had never told him that.

Alex sighed. This was useless. “You’re a nice girl, Sarah. You’re real smart, too. I wish I did like you. You’d probably even help me understand algebra.”

She forced a smile.

“It’s not your fault, it’s mine,” Alex continued. “But I can’t help it if I don’t like you the same as you like me. I wish I did, but I don’t.”

Her head dropped and she was quiet for a few seconds, but to Alex it seemed like minutes. “You just want me to stop bugging you,” she said.

Alex saw the tears in the corners of her eyes, and he didn’t feel like hurting her anymore. “To tell you the truth, I kind of like you bugging me. Why do you think I haven’t yelled at you the last five years? It’s just that ...”

“I gotta get a life?”

“You gotta find someone who likes you as much as you like him. Not a loser skateboarder about to get beaten up by Billy Johnstone.”

“You’re no loser, Alex Jackson,” she said as she walked away.

“Are you all right, Sarah?” the librarian called to her on her way out.

Alex should have known Sarah Sceney would be on a first name basis with the librarian. He risked a glance at the tall lady with small, wire–rimmed glasses sitting on her nose, and she was squinting right at him. If looks could kill, her icy glare would have sent him six feet under.

In case anyone else he knew suddenly appeared, Alex printed out the email. But by the time he collected it from the tray and stuffed it into his pocket. He felt like a married man in a singles’ bar. Becky was complaining about men being twofaced liars and he was proving her right. If Sarah Sceney knew what he was doing, she would have taken her last comment back. He was a loser.

On his way home Alex stopped outside the train station to pull a few grinds along the metal benches, and afterwards took out the bulge of paper that was sitting in his pocket. He sat on a bench and thought about things for a long time — his fight with Sarah, the skateboarding demonstration, Becky’s email. Alex was about to throw the unread letter in the bin when his fingers began unfolding the pages like they had a will of their own. He read the two pages quickly, then wondered if he could give himself amnesia or somehow unread the letter by turning the pages upside down and reading it backwards. What Becky wrote in that email was meant for a girl named Juliette, and not him. It was none of his beeswax.