The Art of Being Emily - Katie MacAlister Page 0,82
Cruise or Harvey Nichols. Ruaraidh's sweater was knitted. He said his mum knits him sweaters because he spends so much time outdoors.”
“I knit,” I said. Yes, yes, that wasn't strictly the truth, but I had my fingers crossed, and I fully intend on learning how to knit, so it's almost the truth. Aunt Tim said at dinner how nice Rauraiugh's sweater was, and he said he loves them, so you see that it's vitally important that I learn how to knit. It can't be hard, I mean, it's just twisting a bit a wool around on one of those long shiny knitting things, right?
“You do?”
“Sure. I haven't...uh...done it in a while, but I knit. In fact, I was thinking of knitting the R-man a sweater.”
She got an obstinate look on her face. “So was I, I was thinking about knitting him a sweater, too.”
“Oh, really? Er...how long have you knitted?”
“Since I was seven. I won Honorable Mention two years in a row at the Girl Guides' Textile Fair.”
Crap. Double crap. Just my luck, of all the girls in the Piddlesville area to pick as my best friend, I have to pick the world champion knitter. “Oh. OK. Guess we'll both be knitting for him, then, huh?”
She nodded. “You don't like sheep, either, so that's a fib.”
“I don't fib, I never fib. I do, too, like sheep...they look really pretty on a hill.”
She made a face. “You meant that you like sheep like Ruaraidh likes them, not that you like to eat them. Besides, he's a vegetarian.”
“He is?”
She nodded again.
Rats! How could I have missed that? I was watching him like a hawk all during dinner. Oh well, I'm not known for my über-coolness for nothing. I shrugged and said, “Oh, yes, I knew that, I just didn't know you knew that.”
“You told me you thought Scotland was dreary and cold and smelled funny.”
“Boy, you have a mind like an elephant, don't you?”
She sniffed and looked a bit offended. “Well, you did say that.”
I climbed into bed with my phone and headphones. “Yeah, well, I've changed my mind. I like Scotland, it's got a lot of potential BF-wise. I mean that hottie at the mall in the kilt...”
I fanned myself and she grinned, which made me feel better because I don't like it when Holly is miffed at me.
“He was cute, wasn't he?”
“Sweet,” I said, all knowingish. “V. sweet.”
She chewed on her lip for a few minutes while I got my playlist set up so I could fall asleep listening to Adele. “Emily, I know you're much cooler than me—”
There wasn't much I could say to that. I mean, I am! But Holly is my friend, and you know how I am—I want all my friends to feel just as fabu as they can. “Well, that's true, but you have greatly improved on the coolness scale, so it’s really a close call.”
She looked surprised and pleased at the same time. “It is? I’ve improved?”
“Fifteen points at least,” I said, setting the playlist to random.
“Fifteen?”
“It would have been twenty, but I had to deduct a few points for the flannel jimjams,” I said gently.
She looked down at her jammies. “Oh. Well, anyway, I know I'm not as cool as you are, and I don't have Copper Sunset Splendor hair, just boring old brown hair—”
“Walnut, not brown.”
Her mouth hung open a moment. “Walnut?”
“Walnut sounds better than brown. Go on.”
She blinked a couple of times, then took a deep breath and spoke really fast. “I know I'm not as cool as you or as pretty or anything like that, but I do think I should have a chance with Ruaraidh because I really like him, and I thought maybe you would agree to let me try for him, too.”
I pulled one of the little earphone buds out of my ear. “Are you by any chance suggesting we have a competition?”
She bit her lower lip. “I guess so.”
A contest. Hmm. I looked at her sitting on the daybed. In her flannel jammies, with her hair in braids, she looked about twelve. “Goal?”
Her eyes went all round. “What?”
“What's the goal? A date with Ruaraibgh? Snogging him? Doing it?”
“It?”
I raised one eyebrow and gave her a Look. “It.”
“OH!” She blushed. “I don't...I couldn't...I haven't...and you haven’t either...uh...how about snogging? First one to snog him wins.”
I raised the other eyebrow. “Just snog him?”
She looked worried for a moment, then raised her chin and looked down her nose at me. “No. Proper snogging, with tongues and...and...”