She was looking at Luke Beckford with love-puppy eyes. If she hadn’t been my big sister I’d probably have pointed it out to Keith and we’d have laughed. Instead I sighed, and took out my cheese-and-tomato roll. I hated seeing her like this. Love had reduced Sasha to a wibbling mess. Her mate Fay wasn’t helping, and Luke Beckford, the guy she was swooning on, definitely didn’t see it. I reckoned Luke Beckford probably thought lovesick was another word for normal as far as girls go. The way the Year Tens and Elevens stared at him, you’d have thought he’d be tripping over their tongues in the corridors. If Sasha wasn’t careful she’d end up with no GCSEs and just an NVQ in heartbreak. I sighed again. Sasha had been hoping she’d be going to the Leavers’ Prom with Luke. I knew this because we shared a bedroom and she hadn’t stopped going on about it since the posters had gone up in January. It was March now. She had no chance, the way she was going. Couldn’t she see she had to do something?
