Caramel Hearts by E.R. Murray

my Converse slapping against the tiled floor more noisily than I’d like. I check behind – no one’s following. Yet.
    As I reach the exit, I realize I’ll have to hide the bag. If anyone spots it, I’ll be in big trouble. The alarm will be raised soon enough, and with school not long since over, there’ll be plenty of stragglers around. I don’t know why I had to be so greedy and complicate things. I guess the purse was too enticing. Surely, anyone in my situation would do the same.
    I throw the handbag over my shoulder and position my rucksack on top, but the blue bag keeps slipping down. I have to look like a total loser – putting both rucksack straps on my back – to make sure the handbag is securely wedged. Just as I’m sorted, a shrill cry sounds from the direction of the kitchen. I push open the door and run, full speed, into the schoolyard. As I round the building, I run into something and sprawl to the ground.
    â€œHey, watch where you’re going!” I say, like it’s their fault.
    Then my throat turns dry. It’s Jack. Judging from the way he’s wrestling with his huge sports bag, that’s what I ran into.
    â€œHey! You again!” he says. “We’ll have to stop bumping into each other like this.”
    He chucks his bag to the ground and stoops to help me up, his brown eyes full of concern. But getting me up isn’t easy. I’m laden down with the baking stuff and can’t move much in case the handbag drops out. I can’t believe I’m wearing my rucksack like a tourist and, when I’m finally up and sorted, I’m so embarrassed I can’t think of anything to say. I just stand there, mouth open.
    â€œSeriously, are you OK?” he asks.
    â€œOf course,” I snap.
    I hate the way my voice sounds. Jack’s only being friendly – it’s not his fault Maddy’s jealous or that I’ve got a stolen bag digging into my back.
    â€œAre you heading home? Box Lane, right? That’s not far from me. I was going to hang out with the gang for a while, but I could walk back with you instead. It’s the least I can do after knocking you flying, right?”
    There is something lovely about the way he says “right” at the end of his sentences. I look into his eyes and notice how thick and pretty his lashes are. Then a cough sounds from behind him. As Jack turns and steps aside, there she is: Mad Dog, smiling sweetly. She gives me an angry glare before tossing her hair over her shoulder and tilting her head coyly.
    â€œJack, are you ready?” she asks.
    â€œI’m just gonna go home, if that’s all right with you.”
    The words sound more like a statement than a question.
    â€œBut the guys are gonna get some cider from Ali’s off-licence and head to the park. Macca said we could give some to his dog – get it wasted again. It’ll be a laugh.”
    Maddy’s eyes sparkle beneath her heavy mascara. Probably MAC, not crappy Rimmel like I wear.
    â€œShe can come if you like?” adds Maddy.
    I cross my fingers, hoping he turns her down. I don’t want to be in the firing line, and I have a bag to hide.
    â€œNah. You go ahead. I’m wrecked after footie, and I’ve got homework to do.”
    Maddy saunters over to Jack and gives him a long, suggestive kiss on his cheek. Then she wraps her arms around him and gives him a hard squeeze. He doesn’t exactly join in, but he doesn’t resist either. I glance behind me as though searching for something, so I don’t look like a perv. When I look back, Maddy pulls away and snorts.
    â€œAll work and no play makes Jack a dull boy,” she teases.
    She winks and blows him a kiss. He seems to like it – I can’t help wondering why he can’t see she’s just being a bitch. Maddy swaggers off towards her friends. Behind Jack’s back, she shoots me an evil glare and runs her finger