Dead Romantic Read Free Page B

compact mirror after he’d winked at me whenI’d thrown the ball back to him, my pupils were massive – I had all the signs of being in love. So it was a pretty safe bet that I was.
    I remembered how Digging Girl had wrongly called him de Jagger. Where was she today? I peered through the rain at the students stepping out of buses and parked cars. I wanted to see her more than anyone else in the world.
    â€˜And guess what,’ said Lynx. ‘Splodge Hawkins has asked out Pops!’
    My guts boiled over. They both had boyfriends now? I couldn’t believe it. They started OMGing over a text Poppy had got from Splodge, one of Damian’s mates.
    â€˜I just can’t believe he actually asked,’ Poppy chuckled, over and over – phone in one hand, muffin in the other. At one point she went to take a bite out of the phone. I didn’t know what Poppy saw in Andrew Hawkins. He and Poppy didn’t really fit together. She was all neat and prim and never swore, and he swore a lot and looked like a grubby blonde baby who’d fallen face first into a pizza. But they were both churchy and did orchestra, and lately they’d been Tweeting quite a bit about some band they both liked called Little Maniacs, so I guessed it worked for them.
    â€˜Read it again. Tell me exactly what it says,’ said Lynx, all squealy-voiced.
    Poppy squinted her enormous eyes behind her glasses as she read the text again. ‘ Do u want 2 go 2 Halloween prty wiv me? Luv Splodge and there’s a kiss.’
    â€˜One kiss?’ said Lynx.
    â€˜Yeah, but capital X. And a full stop.’
    â€˜Oh my God, that’s so definitive!’
    My attention wandered the third time Poppy read out the text. I saw this figure, striding across the concrete where the buses pull in – long black coat, hood down, hair covering its forehead. As the figure got closer, I could see it was her. It was Digging Girl! In the daylight, I could see she had the most intense blue eyes, bluer than swimming pool water, and they fixed on mine as I stared. If she had been in one of my romance novels, she’d have been the princess, no question. She was Cheddar Gorgeous. Maybe not with that hair though. It was black and matted and looked like every so often she just grabbed a handful and hacked at it with a knife. She strode straight past us, soaking wet and stinking violently of bleach. I could barely breathe.
    â€˜Camille? Camille? Mills!’
    I don’t know how long Lynx had been saying my name but when I looked, she and Poppy had started walking towards the Humanities block where our Sociology classroom was.
    â€˜Sorry,’ I said, scurrying over.
    â€˜Where did you go?’ she laughed. ‘Death Watch sucking you in, was she?’
    â€˜Who?’ I said, catching up with them.
    â€˜I don’t know her name,’ said Lynx, ‘but she glared at me in the hall on Friday and I full on checked my pulse. I thought she’d struck me down dead. Weirdo.’
    â€˜Isn’t her dad that mad bloke?’ said Poppy.
    â€˜What mad bloke?’ Lynx and I said in synchro, smiling when we’d said it.
    Poppy’s voice dropped to a whisper. ‘That madprofessor who lived up on the hill. Went on a mmmm and mmmmd all those students.’
    â€˜Mmmmd?’ I said. Poppy did this whenever there was a word she couldn’t say. She didn’t like swearing or saying any word which had a harsh meaning. I think it was because her dad was a vicar. They had to say grace before meals and everything. So she mmmmd instead.
    â€˜Yeah, he was a professor at that university in London. He went on a killing spree,’ she whispered. ‘Killed his students.’
    â€˜Oh I know,’ I said.
    â€˜No!’ Lynx gasped.
    â€˜They found . . . things,’ Poppy continued. ‘At his house. The police came out with boxes. Boxes and boxes of bits. Bits of people. Heads and arms and