The next Saturday was the first Saturday in Mareh. Mum always likes us to clean the house on the first Saturday in Mareh. She calls it spring cleaning. She was cleaning downstairs, and I was cleaning upstairs. I wanted to be upstairs because I could see the shop from my bedroom window. Downstairs there are always cars in the street outside and you can't see out very well.

I really wanted to see Jim again, and I looked out of the window often while I was cleaning. Once he came outside to put some fruit and flowers onto the cable, but he didn't look across the road.

The snowball fight was a week ago now. A week is a long time if you're in love. It was sunny and the snow was gone now. I was sorry about that.

'Haven't you finished this room, Sam?' Mum stood in front of me, signing. She couldn't understand why I was still cleaning my room. I'm usually quite quick ac cleaning. When I'm not looking out of windows and remembering snowballs.

'Sorry,' I answered, and she smiled.

'That's OK. Actually, can you go to the shop to get a bottle of window cleaner for me? I forgot to buy some.'

I couldn't believe it! She was sending me to the shop! 'Do you feel OK, Sam?' Mum asked me. 'You look hot.''

'Yes,' I answered. 'I feel fine.' But I knew my face was red.

'Are you sure?' she said. I'll go to the shop if you want.'

'No!' I signed. I'll go.' And I quickly went downstairs and left the house.

Jim was busy when I went into the shop. He was standing near the bottles of wine with a man. He was helping the man to decide which wine to buy. The man was quite short. Jim smiled at me over his head.

I smiled at him, and then I went over to the bottles of cleaner. Mum always buys the same window cleaner, but I stood in front of the different bottles as if I didn't know which one was best. I wanted the short man to choose his wine quickly and leave. I wanted Jim to myself.

At last the man left, carrying two bottles of wine, one-red, one white. I took my window cleaner over to Jim to pay for it. When I got there he was writing something on a piece of paper. Then he gave it to me. The writing was large and black. It was like an artist's writing. I read the words: 'I know more about snowballs than wine.'

I laughed.

'Did you enjoy our snowball fight? He wrote next.

I took the pen from him. 'Yes, I wrote, I did. Very much.' After he'd read my words, he looked at me. Then he started writing again.

'Is Ron your boyfriend?' I read.