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“No, thank you,” I sigh tiredly, grabbing the crossword I left yesterday under the coffee table and studying that instead.
“Maybe we can shave it for later?”
“Sure,” I say in a bored voice, writing EWER in four across: boat or vessel.
“It’s so nice to see you finally manning up.”
I nod and scribble ERINACEOUS in six down: pertaining to a hedgehog. “Uh-huh.”
The door opens with a BANG.
“We’ll really have to— OOMPH.”
I glance up just in time to see a tornado of long black hair, blue coat and grey bag as Nat rips across the cafe with Toby and India close behind her.
And sits directly in Alexa’s lap.
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ature is truly incredible.
When a red fire ant is threatened, pheromones are automatically released and every other member of its ant community will come rushing to the rescue.
Team JINTH must have a similar power.
The door is still swinging: that’s how fast my entire battalion of friends has come charging in, swords drawn.
Metaphorically, obviously.
It’s not 1675, and coffee shops are no longer the illegal hub of political uprisings.
“Awwwww,” Nat says with a bright smile, lifting her feet to make herself as heavy as possible, “Alexa Roberts. You kept my seat warm for me. How sweet.”
“It’s warm?” India throws herself casually into the seat next to them and kicks off her purple suede boots. “Weird. I always assumed she’d be cold-blooded.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Toby objects, perching on the coffee table wearing a T-shirt with a tardis drawn on it that says TRUST ME, I’M THE DOCTOR. “All mammals have warm blood. Are we JINTHA now? Because we’re going to need new baseball caps.”
“What the … how the …” Alexa is worming her way out from beneath Nat and struggling to her feet, face purple, smirk completely gone. “GET THE HELL OFF ME, FREAK. You can’t just go around sitting on people!”
“Oops,” Nat shrugs with wide eyes. “The seat usually has my name on it. Or maybe you changed your name by deed poll because you’re so desperate to be me.”
“And Harriet didn’t look like she was loving your company,” India points out, propping her toes on the coffee table while her bright purple hair gleams under the fairy-lights. “It seemed like a good point to interrupt.”
In fairness, I’d have probably been more entertained if I had a single clue what Alexa was talking about.
“This place is pathetically hipster anyway,” Alexa snaps furiously, brushing her jeans down with a disgusted look on her face. “It’s a destination for jokes like you to pretend you have real lives outside of academia. You can so have it.”
HA. Told you it’s super-cool in here.
Alexa sneers at me and I stare calmly back. Captain America has a shield made of vibranium, and it’s completely indestructible. Hulk can smash it, Thor can hammer it, and nothing happens.
It feels like I finally have one too.
Smiling serenely, I lift my chin and give her my most regal expression. She absorbs it for a few seconds, clearly deeply impressed by my incredible majesty.
Then she bursts out laughing again.
“Geek,” she says, shaking her head. “Laters, Manners. I must dash. This place is yours: I wouldn’t want it anyway.”
And – with a final flick of her hand – Alexa walks away.
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ome battles in life you win, and some you lose.
I think it’s obvious which one that was.
“Well,” I grin broadly, triumphantly putting my crossword down on the table. “We definitely won that one, huh, guys.”
Then I hold up my hand to high-five them all.
There’s a silence.
“Uh, Harriet,” India says, rubbing her top lip. “What are you drinking?”
Oh my God, why does everyone keep asking me that? “It’s coffee,” I say a little too defensively. “With caffeine molecules in it.”
Then I look to Nat for support, but her head is down, her shiny dark hair has fallen across her face and her shoulders are shaking.
“Did you know, Harriet,” Toby says, putting a finger on his top lip, “that in Mayan times the cocoa bean was used as currency because it was more valuable than gold?”
I blink and look back at Nat. She’s holding a finger up to her top lip now too.
OK: this is amazing.
We’ve obviously got some kind of gang gesture, even better than a high-five. My pals have become so utterly in-sync and synergised, we don’t even need to talk about it first. That’s how in tune we are with each other.
I beam and put my finger on my top lip too.
It seems a little inappropriate – especially in light of the Second World War – but who am I to question our clique motives?
This is what I love so much about us.
We work seamlessly together: like a prickle of porcupines, or a dray of squirrels, a journey of giraffes or a band of mongoo—
“Hey, genius,” Jasper says, suddenly appearing from the kitchen with a tray full of clean mugs, “you’ve got chocolate all over your face.”
Then he puts the tray down on the counter and disappears again.
I blink at the space Jasper was just standing in.
There’s a mushroom called the Omphalotus olearius that gives off a glow so bright it’s possible to read a book at night by its light. My cheeks are suddenly so luminous, I could power an entire nocturnal library.
Growing on me. Goatee. Mo’. Shave it for later. Manning up.
Must dash. Mustdash. Moustache.
Oh my God, Alexa didn’t think my expression was regal and majestic at all.
Unless she assumed I’m Abraham Lincoln.
Still shaking with suppressed giggles, Nat holds a hand-mirror up and sure enough: there’s a thick dark brown line on my upper lip and a large poo-coloured streak on my chin.
Sugar cookies.
“You know,” Toby says loyally as I bury my head in my arms with a humiliated groan, “beards actually make you 63% more likely to win a staring contest. No wonder Alexa left so quickly, Harriet.”
And that does it.
With an explosion of giggles, India and Nat collapse on the sofa and I remember again why I tend to hang out in places away from the public eye.
Maybe I didn’t win that particular battle after all.
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tatistically, we each go through 396 friends in a lifetime and only keep 36 of them.
Maybe I should just keep looking.
I bet the other 392 wouldn’t spend eight whole minutes laughing at my foamy facial hair.
By the time everyone has stopped giggling – and I’m wiped clean with a series of damp cloths – normality has finally resumed.
Nat’s sipping her coconut milk latte; India’s sprawled across the sofa with her second espresso and Toby’s ploughing through a glass of hot milk. Jasper pops over occasionally to contribute another burnt biscuit or sardonic comment.
And I’ve spread my documents across the table.
Tonight is the first ever Team JINTH sleepover and I am the inaugural host. And I don’t want to sound vain, but I have arranged everything.
I’ve organised which games we’ll play and which films we’ll watch and what kind of food we’re going to eat. I’ve written a How-Well-Do-We-Know-Each-Other quiz and a Are We Really Having Fun? questionnaire so we’ll know how to improve next time.
I’ve even drawn a diagram of where on the floor we’ll sleep.
It’s going to be amazing.
“He did what?” Nat splutters into her coffee. “No.”
“He did,” India insists, grinning. “Halfway through the date, he put his leg on the table. Plop. Then he said ‘I’ve been told I have very handsome shins’.”
Nat explodes with laughter.
“The tibia is the second longest bone in the body,” Toby says, nodding. “He may have had a point.”
“So …” Nat sits forward. “What did you do?”
“I told him to get his flaming foot out of my dinner before I ate it and then I said I’d call him.”
“Ooooooh. Cold.”
“Cold call him?” Toby says in confusion. “Like a telesales person? Sometimes they ring us about windows even though we clearly have eight already.”
“When somebody says they’ll call you, it means they won’t call you. Or they’d have been more specific.”
“Yup. It’s dating speak for this is over now please go away and never speak to me again.”
“Aaaaah,” Toby nods. “I’m afraid I’ve never been rejected by a girl so I wouldn’t know.”
Nat blinks at him in silence.
“Anyway,” I say, plopping my Filofax on the table. “Gang. About tonight. The itinerary is looking shipshape, but I just need to run through a few extra components. I’ve got Telling Each Other Secrets down at 9pm, is that OK?”
“Umm,” Nat says, putting her coffee down, “actually, Harriet, about that …”
“Secrets at nine?” Toby says, pulling out a TEAM JINTH SLEEPOVER notepad. “Are you sure? I’ve got it down at 10pm. Just after the Pillow-Fight at 9:35.”
I frown and check my notes. “I’ve pencilled it in wrong. Thanks, Tobes.”
It’s been surprisingly useful having Toby as my second-in-command. It’s just too easy to forget what fun you’re supposed to be having and when.
“Harriet?” Nat says. “Hang on …”
“I’ve also bought the snacks already.” I check the list. “We just need to make sure we stick to salted after 11pm or we’re going to crash by midnight.”
“Seriously?” India says, lifting her eyebrows into dark ticks. “Are you regulating our blood sugar levels?”
“Of course not,” I laugh. “Although I think there is a kit you can buy from pharmacies. Maybe I should swing past on my way back h—”
“Harriet,” Nat says, prodding me. “Listen.”
“Natalie,” I grin. “Don’t worry! I looked up beautifying face masks on the internet and made one out of avocado, lemon and olive oil.”
“That’s not …” Nat rubs a hand over her face. “We have a problem.”
“Personalised bedding,” Toby whispers. “I told you we needed monogrammed pillows.”
Nat crosses her eyes at him.
“I can’t make it tonight, H,” she says slowly. “I’m so sorry. I know you’ve organised … everything, but there’s a textiles exam on Monday and I’m just not ready for it.”
