For Mum, Dad, Robert and Charles

First published in paperback in Great Britain 2015

by Egmont UK Limited

The Yellow Building, 1 Nicholas Road, London W11 4AN

Text copyright © 2015 Katy Birchall

The moral rights of the author have been asserted

First e-book edition 2015

ISBN 978 1 4052 7817 1

Ebook ISBN 978 1 7803 1700 7

www.egmont.co.uk

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Stay safe online. Any website addresses listed in this book are correct at the time of going to print. However, Egmont is not responsible for content hosted by third parties.

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Contents

Cover

Title Page

Dedication and Copyright

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

23

24

25

Acknowledgements

Q & A with The It Girl author, Katy Birchall

Back series promotional page

About the Author

I set Josie Graham on fire.

And, OK, yes it was bad but it was an accident and not entirely my fault. Everyone thinks I did it on purpose. They think Mrs Ginnwell is a hero.

If you ask me, Mrs Ginnwell made the whole thing worse. A little bit of water would have sorted everything out just fine. It was only the ends of her hair and a fire extinguisher was a very dramatic plan of action. I mean, Josie was already having a pretty bad day considering I’d just set her on fire and everything, and the next thing she knew she was covered head to toe in that white foamy stuff that always looks like it might be fun to play in but probably isn’t. (I think Josie looked more in shock – and a little bit itchy – than like she was having fun.)

I was kind of in shock myself. I’d never set fire to anyone before so the whole incident came as a bit of a surprise. The closest I’ve been to any kind of arson was when I was little and I put my dad’s wallet on the log fire to see what would happen. I mean, who leaves their wallet laying around in the same room as a toddler? Not my father any more that’s for sure. But I still think he looks at me a little bit suspiciously on cold nights.

Oh, and there was that time I almost burnt down Dad’s study. But those two times are IT.

And you know what? This is partly Josie Graham’s fault too. Because really, she should not have been (a) leaning on her hand so close to a Bunsen burner and (b) wearing so much hairspray to school.

I’m just jealous because I don’t have the time, let alone the skills, for hairspray. Once Dad has eventually wrestled the duvet cover away from me, I have about ten minutes tops to get ready.

My dad would never buy me hairspray anyway. He’s so old fashioned, especially when it comes to his fourteen-year-old daughter. I remember one time in a pharmacy I asked him if he would buy me eyeliner. He burst out laughing and made me go fetch some Lemsip. I think this is VERY hypocritical as some of the women my dad has dated have worn a LOT of dark eyeliner. How would he feel if, when he introduced them, I laughed in their face and gave them a mug of hot lemon paracetamol instead?

Hmm . . . I might consider this for the really annoying ones that get brought home.

A wobbling Mrs Ginnwell definitely wasn’t laughing as she marched me into Miss Duke’s office mumbling something incoherent about fire in the classroom and pyromaniac tendencies.

‘Sorry, Mrs Ginnwell, I didn’t quite understand that. What did you say?’ Miss Duke asked, rising from her desk with a look of concern.

Miss Duke really suits her office. Which sounds strange when I say it out loud but it just goes with her overall vibe. She’s new to the school too. We were both new in September, although obviously she’s a bit more senior being headmistress and everything. I just came into Year 10. Everything considered, I think she has managed to set the better impression out of the two of us so far. This is not great considering she gives out detentions and makes people pick up rubbish from behind the bike shed.

So even though she’s only been in that office for a term and I’m not entirely sure what it looked like before she arrived, it matches her. For example, it’s all very neat. Miss Duke is very formal and smartly dressed. She looks more like those businesswomen who are always on their hands-free mobiles in train stations barking things like, ‘That’s just damn well not good enough, Jeffrey,’ than a headmistress at a co-ed school.

I like the way she can pull off a trouser suit though. I think if ever I was going to work in an office I would like to wear a trouser suit and look authoritative like Miss Duke does. And her dark hair is always so neatly pinned and her make-up never smudged. She is very intimidating.

Even more so when you’ve just set your classmate’s hair on fire.

‘Chemistry class . . . Anna . . . Anna set . . . hair . . . Josie Graham on fire!’ Mrs Ginnwell finally spluttered.

Mrs Ginnwell is neither authoritative nor intimidating. She kind of reminds me of a parrot. But not a cool one that would chill with a pirate. An overzealous one that swoops around your head, squawking and whacking you unexpectedly in the face with its wings.

‘Is Josie all right?’ Miss Duke asked in alarm.

Mrs Ginnwell nodded, her curled strawberry blonde hair frizzing around her sweaty forehead. ‘Fine. Although her hair is quite singed and covered in foam.’

‘I see,’ Miss Duke replied and I swear I saw her smirk for a second. If she did it was gone in an instant when she caught my eye. ‘And no one else was hurt in this incident?’

‘No.’ Mrs Ginwell shook her head.

‘Well in that case, Anna, you can have a seat and, Jenny, why don’t you pop into the teachers’ lounge and ask someone to cover your lesson for a bit while you get a cup of tea.’

Mrs Ginnwell nodded and slowly released her grip on me. She gave me a very pointed look, as if when let loose I would pull out a flamethrower from my locker and burn the school to the ground. Which is a completely ridiculous thought for her to entertain because last term I did an excellent essay on penguins. No one who puts that much effort and emotional maturity into a Year 10 essay about penguins would be spending their free time plotting to destroy their school.

I sat down slowly into the leather chair opposite Miss Duke, who was settling into her chair behind the desk. The heavy wooden door closed loudly as Mrs Ginnwell escaped, still glaring at me, and there was a moment of silence as Miss Duke straightened the forms she had been filling in before we interrupted her afternoon.

‘So, why don’t you explain to me exactly what happened?’

I took a deep breath and told her how we had been in our Chemistry lesson and Josie and I had been partnered together, which, by the way, neither of us were too happy about. I didn’t tell Miss Duke that part though.

I assumed she would know that it had been an unhappy arrangement. Josie is one of the most popular girls in our year. She’s best friends with Queen Bee, Sophie Parker, and they’re always hanging out with the popular boys in our year like Brendan Dakers and James Tyndale. Josie spends her weekends partying and comes to school wearing a full face of make-up and her hair sprayed perfectly into place.

I spend my weekends reading comics, watching CSI with my dad and complaining about my life to my yellow Labrador, called Dog, who is the only creature on this planet who listens to me. And I can only get him to listen if I’m holding a bit of bacon.

So I skipped out the part of the story where Josie looked miserably at Brendan, who she was clearly hoping to be partnered with, and then came to sit next to me with a big sigh and no greeting. She didn’t even look at me when I went, ‘Howdy, partner,’ in a courageous attempt to lighten the atmosphere.

I really don’t know why that was the greeting I went with.

She couldn’t be bothered to do the experiment so I just got on with it. Now, technically, Mrs Ginnwell had not explained the Bunsen burner part of the experiment yet as everyone was putting on their lab coats and goggles. But some people were taking their time and Josie, leaning on her hand, kept glancing at Brendan, laughing at whatever he was saying to her and flicking her hair dramatically.

I guess this is where it kind of becomes my fault. I should have waited until we were told to start up the Bunsen burners but I went ahead and turned ours on.

There are a few very important things to remember here:

1. I did not realise it was on the highest flame setting.

2. I did not realise that, just as I turned it on, Josie would flick her hairspray-laden locks in the direction that she did.

3. I did not realise that her hair was quite so flammable.

4. I did not realise that she would run around screaming rather than stay still so that throwing water at her became increasingly difficult and my aim isn’t that good anyway so I actually ended up just soaking myself.

5. I did not expect Mrs Ginnwell to use so much foam that Josie resembled a poodle.

6. It should also be remembered that I have never been in any real trouble at school before this incident.

7. Apart from that time when I was six and Ben Metton ate my Hula Hoops so I locked him in the stationary cupboard.

8. The whole fire incident is in fact very upsetting for me too as I didn’t mean to do it, I feel awful and now no one will want to stay friends with me, just like at my last school.

At this point I started crying.

Miss Duke, who had been staring at me in shock, passed me a tissue. ‘Well, it sounds to me like it was an accident –’ she began.

‘Of course it was an accident!’ I wailed, interrupting her. ‘I would never do that on purpose!’

There was a knock on the door and I turned in my seat to see the school nurse slowly pop her head round. Miss Duke beckoned her in and she came forwards happily. ‘I wanted to let you know, Miss Duke, and you, Anna, that Josie is perfectly fine. Her hair is singed at the end and she’ll have to have a haircut but apart from that she is right as rain.’

‘She must hate me,’ I said glumly, staring at the damp, crumpled tissue in my hand.

‘I’m sure she doesn’t. She’ll get over it,’ the nurse said jovially. ‘Her hair was so long and straggly anyway, a cut will probably improve things.’

‘Er, thank you, Tricia,’ Miss Duke said pointedly. The nurse gave a cheerful shrug and left.

‘There you go, that’s something,’ Miss Duke announced. ‘It was clearly an accident but one that could have had nasty consequences. We’ve been lucky, Anna.’

I nodded gravely.

‘I hope that from now on you won’t begin any kind of experiment without instruction.’

‘I’m never going to do another experiment again.’

‘I hope you will. Chemistry is a fascinating subject and I imagine you’ve learnt an important lesson with regards to safety.’ She looked at me sternly. ‘Right, well, while we’ve established this wasn’t intentional, I’m going to have to give you detention lasting the remainder of this term so that you can reflect on the importance of caution. It starts tomorrow. And since it is the end of the day in about ten minutes, you can return to your classroom, gather your things and go home.’

‘I’d rather not go back, to be honest.’

‘You don’t need anything?’

‘It’s just my pencil case and books. People have probably thrown them in the dump by now.’

‘I’m sure that’s not true.’ Miss Duke gave a thin smile. ‘They all know it was an accident and no harm done. By tomorrow they’ll have forgotten the whole thing.’

It’s worrying how clueless adults are sometimes.

When my dad gets concerned his eyebrows become very distracting.

I mean, he was really concerned about the situation. He made me sit down and everything. Dad and I rarely have conversations where we sit each other down. We both become very awkward.

The only other times that he’s had to ‘sit me down to talk’ about something was when I signed him up to a dating website because I didn’t like his girlfriend at the time and he got all these suspicious emails that made her cry, and when I threw a pork pie at his head because he gave my Marvel comic book encyclopedia to a second hand bookshop and I happened to be holding a pork pie when he told me.

Dog later ate the pork pie, which had been cleaned up and put on a plate, because neither Dad nor I were keeping an eye on him during our ‘sitting down and talking’ moment. This just made the whole situation worse because (a) Dad had apparently been looking forward to eating that pork pie and (b) Dog decided to rub his pork-pie victory in Dad’s face by vomiting it back up over Dad’s trainers.

I don’t know why Dad was so cross. The only reason he owns trainers is so that he can leave them by the door in the hope that women might think he works out.

Anyway, both those times that he ‘sat me down’ his eyebrows were uncontrollable and I knew, as soon as he asked me to sit to discuss the fire incident and his eyebrows immediately sprung into irrepressible motion, that he was having one of those moments when he wonders whether there is actually something genuinely wrong with me.

Like I don’t question that every single day.

And honestly, I really was trying to concentrate on what he was saying but his eyebrows were jumping around all over the place. It really is fascinating how they have such agility.

Sadly, he has not passed this impressive talent down to me.

‘Are you even listening?’

‘Of course!’ I lied, unlocking my facial muscles from their state of concentration on this intricate eyebrow dance. I patted Dog absent-mindedly as he lay next to me, clearly hoping for a treat after this act of loyalty in the face of a Dad Inquisition.

Dad’s eyebrows furrowed. ‘Anastasia,’ he prompted, leaning forwards and clasping his hands together in what I guessed was an attempt at giving an air of understanding.

‘Nicholas.’ Two of us could play the I’m So Serious I’m Going to Use Your Full Name game.

Dad took a deep breath.

‘I appreciate that moving schools is an upheaval, especially for a teenager. I’m not mad at you – I know it was an accident. But if there’s anything you want to, I don’t know, discuss ?’

‘Like what?’

‘I don’t know. Teenage things?’

Oh lord. I bet he wanted feelings. This was ambitious. I wasn’t going to talk about that with my dad. It was embarrassing enough telling my two new and only friends, Jess and Danny, about each of the latest ways I had managed to embarrass myself and, by association, them too. I’d be lucky if I managed to hold on to those two for much longer the way things were going. Either way, there definitely wasn’t any sharing happening with my dad.

‘What teenage things?’

‘I don’t know!’ His eyebrows leapt frenziedly towards the ceiling. ‘Learning to be responsible?’

‘Don’t bother. I wouldn’t listen anyway.’

He narrowed his eyes. ‘Are you taking this seriously?’

‘Yes I am taking this seriously. I set someone’s hair on fire; it was dangerous and embarrassing. I will not be touching a Bunsen burner ever again without supervision. The whole school is going to hate me. I’m going to be a bigger loser than I was before. I hate my life.’

‘Well that’s what I mean,’ he said gently. Seriously, I do one tiny thing like set someone on fire and suddenly my dad feels the need to subject me to weird parental counselling. ‘It’s just . . . at the last school . . . you weren’t . . .’ He trailed off.

‘Miss Popular?’

‘That’s not what I was going to say,’ Dad said, slumping back into the armchair where he usually sits on a Sunday afternoon with his Irish whiskey. ‘You weren’t . . . settled. I just want to make sure that you’re more confident with this new place.’

I had to start a new school when we moved to London last year after Dad became a lot more in demand as a freelance journalist and he needed to be where everything was happening. Weirdly this happened after he wrote a really boring book about tanks used in the war or something which actually sold quite well. The book is dedicated to me but I’ve never read it, which really bugs him. If you ask me I should be the insulted one – yeah Dad, it’s every girl’s dream to have a book about TANKS dedicated to them.

Incredibly, somehow the serious tank book led to serious articles on famous people – and they all seem to live in London or come here a lot. But it means he is at home a lot more than he used to be which is good, although he does sometimes go to a celebrity party or whatever. Celebrities like Dad now because he writes big glossy features about them in trendy magazines rather than reporting on their sweat patches in a tiny column of a tabloid.

I think he felt pretty guilty about making me move but I didn’t mind. I didn’t really have any friends at my old school and even though I was a bit nervous about Dog settling down in London at first, he quickly made friends with a Pomeranian called Hamish down the road.

‘Thanks, Dad. I appreciate your concern. But really? You can stop worrying.’

He sighed, it being clear that I wasn’t going to divulge any of the teenage angst he was looking for. ‘Fine. Well, be more careful in future Chemistry lessons?’

‘If they let me enter a science lab again in my lifetime, yes I’ll be more careful. No Bunsen burners.’

‘I’m not going to ground you. It’s not like you ever really go out anyway.’

‘Great, good chat, Dad, thanks.’

He gave a last concerned eyebrow rise and then finally pulled himself up from his chair and left the room. I relaxed and traitorous Dog immediately followed him just in case he was going in the direction of the kitchen.

Sadly for Dog, Dad went to his bedroom to get ready for his big date. Recently Dad has been seeing someone new who he still hasn’t introduced me to. Not that I’m insulted.

Usually he’s never with them long enough for me to meet them. I just pick up the phone every now and then and hear a different woman go, ‘Oh hi, sweetheart, is Nick there please?’ and he makes a wild ‘say I’m not at home’ gesture in the background as I explain that he’s actually gone to Slovenia to find himself. I like to mix it up and throw in some pretty inspired reasons for his disappearance, such as he’s modelling his new line of swimming trunks in Beirut, or he’s in Peru training to be a Sherpa.

This can be risky however because if Dad overhears he throws things at me.

He’s been seeing this girlfriend for a few months now though. He’s really been quite disgusting about the whole thing. Combing his hair, wearing aftershave and dancing – dancing – as he goes around the house. Honestly, I had to ring Mum and tell her how embarrassed I was.

She was in India at the time so it was a bit crackly but I think I managed to convey my disgust. Mum is a travel journalist which means she’s away a lot but I don’t mind. Sometimes she takes me with her to these amazing places and then when she’s in England and hasn’t seen me in a while she comes to stay with us too.

Mum and Dad were never married – or even together for very long. They met when they were both junior reporters and in Dad’s words ‘Rebecca was totally in love’ with him and in Mum’s words she was ‘either very drunk, honey, or suffering from some kind of tropical disease that causes hallucinations’. Either way, I was the outcome, and luckily they’re really good friends which makes things a lot easier.

When I was younger I kept hoping they would get back together, like in The Parent Trap or whatever, but now I see that it’s actually a lot better this way. Mum says they could never be together because Dad is too opinionated and the way he sneezes creeps her out. Dad says they could never be together because Mum never washes up and once mocked John Wayne’s hat. I reckon it’s actually because they’re best friends, but hey, you’ve got to let adults believe what they want to believe.

‘It sounds like he’s in love, darling,’ Mum laughed down the phone as I explained Dad’s recent antics. ‘Be nice to him.’ I’m not sure what other advice she gave me because as she spoke there was a lot of background noise at her end and I think I could hear someone trying to sell cabbages for twenty rupees a kilogram. India seems like a very noisy place.

As Dad rummaged around in his bedroom he decided to start lecturing me from upstairs. ‘I don’t want any problems this evening. You’re to stay home and behave,’ he instructed.

I found this comment unjustified considering I am very well behaved the majority of the time. I am hardly a troublemaker and I don’t get invited to any parties so I don’t really know what he was getting so anxious about.

The most recent time that I guess I wasn’t the model of good behaviour was when he had a house-warming party for our new place in London and all these people invaded, sauntering in with their wafts of expensive perfume and bottles of Chardonnay. I had to take their coats and walk around for the evening with trays of nibbles, listening to them tell Dad how adorable I was as they ignored me and picked up mini bruschettas from the tray.

Anyway there was this actor there who I overheard saying that he couldn’t understand why Nick had that dog over there that looked like he would slobber all over the place and probably, by the look of the boy, wasn’t even a good pedigree. I accidentally let Dog chew his hat.

Dad didn’t make me sit down that time and have a talk about respecting my elders or anything, but he talked to me for about five billion hours the next day on the difference between fighter aircrafts and bomber aircrafts in the war.

I’m not sure if that was intended to be a punishment but it sure felt like one.

‘I’m just going to sit and watch movies with Dog. Have a little trust, Father.’

‘Not vampire movies?’ He snorted with laughter at his own ‘joke’.

This is not only unfunny but also grossly unfair considering he was the one who last week recommended the stupid people-slaying child-vampire movie to his fourteen-year-old daughter, alone in the house with only a Labrador for company.

It’s not as if Dog could protect me. He’s afraid of salad spoons for crying out loud. Whenever we get out the big wooden salad spoon he goes round in circles manically and barks his head off in fear. What would he do if a vampire strolled into the building? I’d had to disturb Dad on his date and make him come home and check there were no vampires around.

‘When do I get to meet this girlfriend of yours?’ I asked, ignoring the vampire movie comment and trying to change the subject.

‘Soon enough,’ he said breezily, coming back into the room. ‘She’s dying to meet you.’

‘I bet.’

Dad did a last mirror-check in the hall. ‘Not bad for an old man, eh? I reckon I could pass for early thirties.’

‘Don’t get ahead of yourself, Gramps. Anyone who talks about Eric Clapton with as much passion as you do could never be a day under forty.’

‘That’s enough from you.’ He stood over me. ‘Are you going to be all right? No fires, yes?’

‘No fires. No vampires.’

‘Call me if you need me.’ He gave my hair a ruffle and then he shot me a long, hard look as though he was trying to read my face.

‘Anna . . .’ He hesitated. ‘You do . . . you do like it here in London don’t you?’

‘Yes?’

‘And you . . . well . . . never mind. Have a nice evening. Bye, Dog.’

As the door shut, I got a very distinct feeling that my father wasn’t telling me something.

From: jess.delby@zingmail.co.uk

To: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

Subject: Are you a pyromaniac?!

So I tried looking for you after school but someone said you’d gone home early. And I’ve been trying to call and you’re not picking up your home phone or mobile, which I assume means you and Dog are watching something?

What happened today?? Is it true that you set the science block on fire??

Write back asap.

J x

From: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

To: jess.delby@zingmail.co.uk

Subject: Re: Are you a pyromaniac?!

Dad’s out on a date so Dog and I are passing the time by YouTube-ing scenes from The Lion King. The reason I can’t pick up the phone is because I attempted to lift Dog up as though he was Simba on Pride Rock during that ‘Circle of Life’ song. Anyway, I couldn’t do it and he fell back on to me, landing on my arm which now really hurts and I think I twisted my ankle so I’m staying put on the sofa.

I think he’s put on a few pounds.

No, I didn’t set the science block on fire. I set Josie Graham’s hair on fire.

Love, me xxx

From: jess.delby@zingmail.co.uk

To: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

Subject: ARE YOU INSANE?!

Why would you set fire to Ms Deputy Queen Bee’s hair? You do realise that her mum once met Kate Moss? The school is really going to hate you, you know.

Is this because no one has asked you to the dance yet? Like some kind of protest thing against all the girls who have been asked? It’s not until the end of term - you’ve still got ages for someone to ask you.

J x

PS Why would you even think it was a good idea to try to lift a fully grown Labrador? Stop trying to act out movies, you weirdo.

From: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

To: jess.delby@zingmail.co.uk

Subject: Re: ARE YOU INSANE?!

No, I am not insane. I just need to check that hairspray-laden girls aren’t anywhere near Bunsen burners when I turn them on in the future.

The school definitely hates me. Josie looked like she was going to strangle me or something. I feared for my life. It was like that time I peed myself a little bit when the really scary IT teacher at my last school yelled at me for taking paper out of the printer.

Do you think she’ll tell Sophie? Do you think Sophie will hate me?

That would really be bad news because the other day I could have sworn that Sophie laughed at one of my jokes she overheard me telling Danny in the corridor. I thought that maybe she might not think I was such a loser after all.

And, excuse me, but I don’t even care that no one’s asked me to the dance. I don’t need a date. Last time I went to a dance I didn’t have a date and I was totally fine. I just danced with a balloon. It made everyone laugh but in a ‘she’s really funny’ way not in a ‘laughing at me’ way.

Love, me xxx

From: jess.delby@zingmail.co.uk

To: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

Subject: Um . . . I’m sorry . . . what?

That email was disturbing on so many levels.

You peed yourself? Dude, how old were you when this happened?

What do you mean you danced with a balloon?

You’re making me nervous with all these weird stories from your past.

J x

From: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

To: jess.delby@zingmail.co.uk

Subject: Re: Um . . . I’m sorry . . . what?

It was two years ago. But only a little pee. It wasn’t like I wet myself. She just came out of nowhere and it gave me a fright.

Dancing with a balloon is a reasonable and funny thing to do. It’s what Oscar Wilde would have done. It’s a scathing comment on our society of dependent and irrational figures who consider themselves incomplete without a significant other.

Love, me xxx

From: jess.delby@zingmail.co.uk

To: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

Subject: It is confirmed, you actually are insane

Maybe don’t ever tell anyone else about that pee story.

Ditto the balloon one.

J x

From: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

To: jess.delby@zingmail.co.uk

Subject: Quick question

Do you still want to be friends with me now that I’ve set Josie Graham’s hair on fire? I completely understand if you don’t.

Same for Danny. If I were you guys I wouldn’t want to be friends with me.

Love, me xxx

From: jess.delby@zingmail.co.uk

To: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

Subject: Re: Quick question

Are you kidding? If we didn’t have you as a friend, who would we laugh at?

We need you, if only for entertainment value.

J x

From: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

To: jess.delby@zingmail.co.uk

Subject: Re: Quick question

Who did you laugh at before I came into your lives?

Love, me xxx

From: jess.delby@zingmail.co.uk

To: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

Subject: Re: Quick question

The weirdo who used to live next door to Danny and sang songs from musicals while wearing a chicken suit.

I think the chicken suit was something to do with his job. Can’t be sure.

Anyway, when he moved house last summer, Danny and I were gutted. But then you totally filled that gap when you arrived in September.

J x

From: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

To: jess.delby@zingmail.co.uk

Subject: Now I’m really depressed

Wait. I replaced a guy in a chicken suit who sang songs from the West End?

THAT’S WHO I REPLACED IN YOUR LIFE?

I should have set myself on fire today.

Love, me xxx

From: jess.delby@zingmail.co.uk

To: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

Subject: Re: Now I’m really depressed

You know, if you really wanted to fill the gap left by the chicken-suit man, you could sing songs from musicals in lunch breaks.

My personal favourite is Fame because I’m fun and amazing. Danny’s is My Fair Lady because he’s basically an old man and apparently it’s based on some play that no one cares about.

Just a tip if you really want to win us over.

J x

From: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

To: jess.delby@zingmail.co.uk

Subject: HA

My stage career started and ended when I was forced to be a shepherd in a nativity play. I walked on to the stage, saw everyone staring, burst into tears and ran straight back off. Into a tree.

Why, I have to ask, was there even a tree involved in the production? Last time I checked, there were no trees in stables at Bethlehem. Our drama teacher was clearly an idiot.

Also I can’t sing. Not one note. Sorry to be a disappointment in comparison to chicken-suit man. So as much as I want to stay your friend for the rest of time, I can guarantee you - never going to happen.

I am, however, naturally gifted at setting people on fire.

Maybe my career lies in some kind of flame-inspired capacity. Ooo! Maybe I’ll be really good at welding metal with blowtorches or something! THEN I COULD MAKE A SUIT JUST LIKE IRON MAN!

That would be so cool. I need to speak to our DT department. I’m guessing they’ll have access to blowtorches? They need to take advantage of my skill set now while I’m young and malleable.

Love, me xxx

From: jess.delby@zingmail.co.uk

To: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

Subject: Re: HA

What’s Iron Man? Is it one of those Marvin comic book characters that you’re obsessed with? Like that stretchy person?

J x

From: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

To: jess.delby@zingmail.co.uk

Subject: Re: HA

OK, firstly it’s Marvel, not Marvin.

Secondly, please do not refer to Mr Fantastic as ‘that stretchy person’.

And lastly, yes, Iron Man is a comic book character. Tony Stark develops an iron suit with repulsor beams and flight ability so he can take on bad guys.

Everyone would want to be my friend if I had one of those!

Love, me xxx

From: jess.delby@zingmail.co.uk

To: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

Subject: Re: HA

Now, you see, it’s times like this when I genuinely worry that you’re being serious.

J x

From: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

To: jess.delby@zingmail.co.uk

Subject: Trust me

I am being serious.

I’ve just sent Dog on a mission to find Dad’s tool kit. He might have something in there I can experiment with.

Love, me xxx

From: jess.delby@zingmail.co.uk

To: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

Subject: You’ve lost it

You can’t send dogs on missions. They can’t understand what you’re saying. They’re DOGS.

Judging by today I think it might actually be best if you avoid any tools that produce flames.

What are you up to tonight, anyway? Let me guess . . . you’ve finished your homework already (geek) and you’re going to watch some film that was made before we were born (nerd). Am I correct?

J x

From: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

To: jess.delby@zingmail.co.uk

Subject: You’re right

Pretty much. Dog came back with a lampshade instead of a tool kit. No idea where that came from. Anyway we are now watching this movie Dad is always going on about by that famous guy called Hitchcock. Bit of a slow start but Dad’s recommendations are usually good. This one’s meant to be a classic.

Love, me xxx

From: jess.delby@zingmail.co.uk

To: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

Subject: IMPORTANT

What film have you put on, Anna? I mean it - this is important!

From: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

To: jess.delby@zingmail.co.uk

Subject: Re: IMPORTANT

Chill out - it’s called Psycho. Gotta go, it’s starting.

Love, me xxx

From: jess.delby@zingmail.co.uk

To: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

Subject: ABORT MISSION. MAYDAY. ABORT MISSION!

Anna - you do not want to watch that movie! I know what you’re like with scary movies! It’s a horror film!!! TURN IT OFF NOW.

You’ve turned it off, right?

From: jess.delby@zingmail.co.uk

To: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

Subject: (no subject)

Anna? ANNA? Did you get my last email???

That’s it. I’m coming over. Don’t build any forts this time.

J x

Hi, you have reached Nick Huntley’s phone. Please leave your name, number and any message and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible. Thank you.

* B E E P *

‘Hi, Dad! Yeah, it’s me. I know you’re out and about but I thought I’d ring and say hi! And also tell you that I’ve decided to watch that Psycho film you’re always talking about. You know the one by that director Hitchcock you’re always giving long and boring speeches about. It was in the DVD player already and Dog has settled right down so I know he approves. I hope this is entertaining. Enjoy your evening. OK, bye.’

Hi, you have reached Nick Huntley’s phone. Please leave your name, number and any message and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible. Thank you.

* B E E P *

‘DAD! Dad, it’s me. Dad, something awful has happened! Dad, she got stabbed. IN THE SHOWER. I can’t BELIEVE that you let me watch something like that, that you actually ENCOURAGED me to watch that film. WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU? I hope you know what this means. I WILL NEVER SHOWER AGAIN.’

Hi, you have reached Nick Huntley’s phone. Please leave your name, number and any message and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible. Thank you.

* B E E P *

‘Hey, Dad, so I was thinking. Maybe you could come home soon? Just quickly, you wouldn’t have to miss anything. You could just come home, check the house for murderers and then go back on out. Think about it. OK, bye. OH MY GOD. THE DOORBELL JUST RANG. DAD, DAD, YOU HAVE TO COME HOME.’

Hi, you have reached Nick Huntley’s phone. Please leave your name, number and any message and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible. Thank you.

* B E E P *

‘Um, Mr Huntley? Uh yeah, hi, this is Jess. You know, Anna’s friend from school. Just to let you know that you can ignore all those messages she left you. I came over and found her in the cupboard hiding behind the Henry Hoover, holding your golf club. She’s a bit better now though so you don’t need to worry. Lucky I know where your spare key is, hey! Anyway, hope you enjoy your evening. Uh yeah, bye.’

Jess was waiting by my locker when I came into school the next day.

‘Morning, sunshine. How are you feeling?’

‘Um,’ I replied, trying to ignore the glares of everyone passing us. ‘Not brilliant.’

‘I thought you might say that, which is why I bought you some of these.’ She reached into her bag and pulled out some Milk Bottles.

‘Thanks, but I’m not sure even Milk Bottles can help this time.’

‘Look, don’t worry about these guys,’ she said, gesturing to a group of Year 9s who giggled as they walked past. It looked like the whole school knew. ‘It will all blow over.’

‘I don’t think it will somehow. I’m destined to be the girl who set Josie Graham on fire for the rest of my school career.’

‘Don’t be silly. It was an accident, everyone knows that.’ Jess shrugged.

‘Really?’

‘Of course. Danny said he overheard Brendan Dakers saying it was an accident.’

‘What?’ I said in utter shock. ‘Brendan Dakers said that? Are you sure?’

‘Yes. Try not to swoon too much. It’ll probably work in your favour, considering for some unknown reason people in this school tend to hang on his every word.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Apparently he also said it was hilarious to watch.’

‘Something tells me that Josie won’t have found it so funny.’ The first bell rang and I sighed. ‘I wish I didn’t have to go to class.’

‘Just laugh about it – no one was hurt.’ Jess gave me a friendly nudge. ‘It’s like I said last night.’

‘Speaking of which, Dad wanted me to thank you again for coming over and rescuing me. Who knows how long I would have been in that cupboard for.’

‘No worries. Right, I better head otherwise I’m going to be late and I’ve already been given a warning about my timekeeping.’ Jess swung her bag over her shoulder.

‘Jess, you can’t leave me. Sophie Parker is in this lesson. She’s going to kill me. You don’t get away with setting fire to her best friend lightly.’

‘How could she kill you? She doesn’t have any weapons.’

‘I’m not sure that would stop her.’

‘I think her sister had a black belt. She used to go to school here. She might have taught Sophie how to karate-chop you.’

‘A lot of saliva is building up in my mouth right now.’

‘Calm down. Sophie is not going to kill you. And if she was then she would definitely wait until after school so as not to make it look suspicious.’

‘Brilliant. Thanks for that.’

‘I hope she doesn’t kill you.’

‘You’re a good friend.’

Jess gave me a cheerful wave and walked off into the direction of her lesson.

I stood there wishing I could be more like Jess. She’s beautiful, super cool and confident and never seems to worry about anything. She has long, blonde dip-dyed hair and always paints her nails loads of different colours. She’s good at every sport she plays and captain of the netball team, which made Sophie Parker really mad.

Sophie expected to be captain since she is pretty much in charge of everything else that goes on, being the most popular girl in our year. Apparently her sister was the most popular girl in this school when she was here and was captain of all the sports teams. When Sophie wasn’t appointed captain of the netball team, her parents were very upset about it and came in especially to speak to our sports teacher, while Sophie cried behind them.

Dad has never had this sort of problem with me. I peaked in physical education when I was eight and was forced to join in with a football activity at school. I was distracted by a pigeon, the ball came my way, deflected off my bottom and bounced into the goal. My sporting career has gone downhill ever since.

Anyway, Sophie dragging in her parents didn’t faze our sports teacher who stuck to her guns and told them Jess was captain, fair and square. Upsetting the most popular girl in the year didn’t exactly do much for Jess’s popularity stakes but Jess got over that pretty quickly.

Our friendship was actually born that day, right after Sophie and her parents stormed out of the sports hall having not got their way. Jess was waiting for her best friend, Danny, and I was waiting for Dad to come to get me to pick up Mum from the airport (who came to stay for a week to see the new house and ask me unending questions about my first week at the new school).

We were standing in silence about a metre apart and I noticed she looked pretty down. I guess because Sophie and her sidekick, Josie, had made it clear what they thought about Jess being made captain. I offered her a cookie but she just shook her head in a ‘stop bugging me’ way. I nodded and we stood in silence again.

‘You had a bad day?’ I asked after a few minutes.

‘Yeah,’ she sighed, folding her arms. ‘Pretty bad.’

I was thoughtful for a moment. ‘Want me to do a tap dance for you?’

She blinked at me. ‘What?’

‘To cheer you up. Here.’ I put my bag down and launched into what was not really a tap dance because I’ve never done tap dancing and I wasn’t wearing tap shoes. But it always made my dad laugh when I attempted it in our sitting room so I thought it might go down well.

Jess watched me, baffled. And when Danny came along to walk home with her, I stopped. She didn’t say anything but threw me a big smile over her shoulder as they left. The next day when I arrived at school, preparing for yet another terrifying morning of being the new girl no one was interested in, they both came over to me and asked if I needed showing around the place.

Ever since then Jess and Danny have really taken care of me at school. They showed me the ropes, like where to stand in assembly so you don’t get spat on by over-enthusiastic teachers during the hymns, and how to get the dinner ladies to give you second helpings.

Jess even picks me to be on her team in PE despite knowing I’m completely useless. I did tell her last term that she didn’t have to do that, and I wouldn’t be insulted as I know I’m one of the worst.

‘Whatever, Anna,’ she’d replied breezily. ‘It’s not a pity thing. I like having you on my team. It’s more of a challenge to win that way. And you know I love a challenge. Plus you provide excellent comic relief.’

She can say what she likes, I know she picks me because she doesn’t want me to be last.

Yep, it definitely would have been good right now to be Jess but I wasn’t. I was me. It sucked. I walked into the lesson apprehensively, noticed that the room hushed, and went to sit down in my chair. Immediately a shadow fell over my desk and I blinked up to see Sophie Parker staring down at me with her arms folded, her light grey eyes narrowing at me and her glossy highlighted hair falling neatly around her shoulders.

‘Hannah, isn’t it?’ she said.

‘Um. Anna.’

‘Right. Jess Delby’s best friend.’

Uh oh.

‘So I heard about what happened yesterday, obviously. What you tried to do to my best friend. What is wrong with you? You could have really hurt her.’

‘Don’t exaggerate, Sophie. Josie had her hair singed and that was it,’ a voice piped up from the corner.

Sophie spun round to see who had dared defy her and Connor Lawrence, leaning back in his chair looking very pleased with himself, stared right back at her mischievously through his dark fringe.

Brilliant. I groaned inwardly. Of all people to come to my defence, it had to be someone like Connor Lawrence. He has fewer friends than me. And I only have two. (Three if you count Dog, but Jess and Danny say that I can’t, which personally I find unreasonable.)

‘Er, who even are you?’ My heart sunk as Connor ignored Sophie entirely and carried on. ‘If Josie had any brains, she would have just turned on the tap of the sink right next to where she was sitting and shoved her big head under it.’

There was a nervous titter around the classroom and I felt the tension rising rapidly as Sophie inhaled sharply at the insult to her sidekick. I sat awkwardly, wishing that Connor would just leave it alone.

‘Ugh. Don’t even bother speaking to me. No one asked you your opinion, weirdo!’ Sophie spat angrily before turning to round on me again. ‘Did you set fires at your last school? Is that why you don’t have any friends?’

‘No, no, of course not. It was –’

‘Sit down, Sophie. It was an accident.’

I turned in shock because this time it wasn’t just anyone speaking up. Too cool to even look up from his phone while speaking, it was Brendan Dakers. Brendan Dakers. The most popular and best-looking boy in my class, possibly in the entire school. And captain of the football and rugby teams. He is also really clever and always gets the best grades. Basically, he’s the perfect male specimen. Every time I look at him, my feet go tingly.

I’ve never really spoken to him. He’s way too popular. Of course, Sophie Parker and Josie Graham are always hanging round with him. In fact Sophie and Brendan are sort of an unofficial couple. They aren’t actually together but they should be. Everyone knows it’s going to happen one day. Probably at the dance.

They’re both really beautiful. If they ever reproduced (ew), their children would be another level of human – super-human. Jess disagrees with me on this and says that if they ever had children, they might get Brendan’s looks and Sophie’s personality, which would make them vampires.

I’m not sure of the logic in this but I’m not sure that Jess’s brain works in a logical way.

I don’t know how either Jess or Sophie manage to remain collected in his presence. If Brendan Dakers ever spoke to me I would be so ecstatic I would probably die. Which would be an excellent way to go.

Sadly the chances of Brendan speaking to me are nil for the following reasons:

1. When I first saw him I choked on my own spit.

2. When he once walked past our netball lesson and waved to Sophie, I had a moment of complete deliriousness and thought he was waving at me. When I waved back he looked puzzled. Probably because we had never spoken before and I don’t think he even knew I was in his year at that point. I’m not even sure he realises that now.

3. When I mistakenly waved back at Brendan Dakers in netball, Josie Graham said really loudly to Sophie, ‘That is so mortifying for her!’ and they both burst out laughing. He witnessed this.

4. I set his friend Josie on fire.

Reflecting on this list has made me wonder how I even have two friends.

‘Brendan, Josie’s hair went up in flames,’ Sophie stropped.

‘Relax,’ Brendan said, looking up from his phone briefly. ‘It was funny.’

And with that, he went back to playing on his phone. The room silently watched Sophie’s reaction. Her cheeks flushed with anger and she gave me one last dramatic huff before pulling her shoulders back and stalking to her desk.

Someone snorted from the back of the classroom. It sounded like Connor. To my great relief Sophie didn’t appear to have heard and flung herself in her chair, pulling out her fluffy purple pencil case just as Mr Avery strolled in with his tea and asked us to turn to page fifty-six.

I was so caught up in replaying Brendan Dakers sticking up for me – sort of – over and over in my head that I didn’t even hear the bell go. It was only when I noticed people actually walking out of the classroom that I realised it was time for the next class and started to pack up my things in a hurry.

Brendan finding Josie being set on fire funny still didn’t mean that Sophie had decided to let it go with me. As I got up, I accidentally nudged Sophie who had been walking towards the door.

‘Urgh!’ she exhaled in exasperation, probably at the idea of me touching her, and looked at me in disgust as I hurriedly got out of her way.

Then she shook her head, swished back her perfect hair and practically skipped towards Brendan who, unlike me, clearly had been forgiven for the classroom stand-off and was waiting for her by the door.

I finished packing up my stuff and began to make my way out too.

‘Chin up, Miss Huntley,’ Mr Avery said cheerily as he took time out from wiping the board to look at me with sympathy. ‘You’ll make friends here eventually. Sometimes it takes a while to find your feet. I remember having no friends whatsoever for a good few terms at my secondary school.’

‘Oh, well,’ I stopped by the door, ‘thanks but I do have some friends here.’

‘Do you?’ he said, looking surprised. ‘Splendid!’

Then he got back to wiping the board.

Sometimes I really wish I was a hermit. Not only do they not have to deal with people in general but they’re also usually very wise. I can only aspire to that state of being.

The school dance stresses me out. And it’s NOT because I won’t have a date.

It is actually because school dances highlight the dictation of a dominating society on a youthful generation to locate a suitable partner of similar social standing with whom to spend the evening, not based on intellectual or personality compatibility, but on visual attraction alone. School dances are a staple of the dominant ideology in which we live, serving only the interest of a certain elite platform of students to exert their superiority and their peer influence, thus maintaining the existing state of the school’s social context.

OK, FINE, it’s because I’ll never find a date.

Ever since term started everyone has been talking about this Beatus dance, which takes place at the end of the spring term. It’s for Years 9 to 11 and apparently is kind of like a smaller version of the sixth form ball.

‘What on earth is the Betty dance?’ I’d asked Jess one afternoon when I overheard for the third time that day someone in the toilets talking about who was going to be elected for the committee.

‘It’s the Beatus dance, you mongoose,’ Jess laughed.

‘It means blessed or fortunate in Medieval Latin, Anna,’ Danny explained gently, giving Jess a shove. This was typical Danny behaviour, always on hand to remind Jess when to be a little more patient.

I once told him that I thought he was probably one of the nicest people I had ever met. ‘And your hair complements that.’ I smiled.

‘Huh?’ He automatically ran a hand through his thick blond curls that really are quite spectacular.

‘I think when it comes to you, Danny,’ I’d said matter-of-factly, ‘your hair reflects your kindness and comforting nature.’

That didn’t actually go down too well. It turns out boys don’t really strive to be kind and comforting. Danny, Jess had informed me after he’d left grumpily, gets tired of always being ‘the nice one’ who girls want to be friends with.

The very next day after the curls comment I made sure to say, immediately as he walked in, ‘Danny! You look very rugged today. I think it’s the way you’re carrying your rucksack on one shoulder.’ I ignored the muffled snigger of Jess next to me and continued with the confidence boost. ‘Seriously, something very manly going on there.’

He looked surprised – but I’ve noticed he’s carried his rucksack on one shoulder ever since.

‘It used to be called the spring term dance for lower years,’ Danny had continued.

Meanwhile Jess smiled at me and muttered, ‘Betty dance. Honestly!’ under her breath.

‘Our last headmistress picked the name because, as she continually reminded us, the lower years were very lucky to have a dance at all when most schools just have a sixth form prom.’

‘She had to give it a Latin name to try to make it sound boring and educational.’ Jess grinned.

‘Sounds fun to me.’

‘Not really.’ Jess shrugged. ‘It’s really just an excuse for people like Sophie Parker to show off.’

‘Oh come on,’ Danny laughed. ‘You had a good time last year.’

‘The highlight was when you fell over on the dance floor.’

‘I did not fall over,’ Danny protested, going bright red. ‘I was doing the worm.’

‘Do you go with a . . . date?’ I asked timidly, pretending not to really care.

‘Most people do. Danny and I just went together.’ Jess sighed. ‘Although I pretended I didn’t know him when he fell over.’

‘I told you, I was doing the worm!’

‘It didn’t look like the worm. It looked like you fell over and had hurt your hip or something.’

I had worried about the dance all over the school holidays. If Jess and Danny were going to go together again, who would I go with? They weren’t going to want a tag-along.

Now that I’ve set a girl on fire I don’t think my chances of getting a date are much improved.

I did consider putting a bow tie on Dog and going down the comedy route but then I decided that I should play it safe and if I was going to bring anyone they should probably be human.

Sophie Parker and Josie Graham are representing our year on the Beatus committee of course. This means that they have to give up some of their lunch breaks to stand behind a table and sell raffle tickets to try to raise money for the dance budget. The prize is a two-week internship in the Easter holidays with Brendan’s mum who is a photographer.

‘Your dad should have offered an internship,’ Jess commented, as we watched Sophie and Josie giggle with some other pretty girls in the year who were buying plenty of tickets each. ‘Everyone would have bought tickets then, not just the school’s princess contingent.’

I snorted. ‘Sadly you exaggerate. I hardly think anyone at this school is interested in tanks.’

‘Whatever – he interviews celebrities all the time.’

‘I guess.’ I shrugged. ‘Most of the time he just sits at home yelling about writer’s block and standing still with his forehead against the wall. He says it helps him think. He can stand there for about half an hour. Once I stood with him with my forehead against the wall to see what happened. I got no inspiration whatsoever. We both just stood there in silence with our heads touching the wall until I finally got hungry and left him to it. Not sure an intern would be a good idea.’

‘They’re so embarrassing.’ Jess shook her head as Josie took out a pocket mirror and admired herself. ‘I bet Sophie has already bought half the tickets. The idea of getting in there with Brendan’s family will be the only thing she cares about. She couldn’t care less about the internship.’

‘Why don’t you buy a raffle ticket? You’re pretty good at photography.’

Jess burst out laughing. ‘Yeah, on my camera phone. Not sure that counts.’

‘Go on, it’s only one pound a ticket and if you win, I bet you’d get to go on some cool fashion shoots too. You’d be brilliant!’

I wasn’t lying. Jess is good at photography; she has a framed photo on her wall at home that she won a competition with when she was younger. Plus she is artistic too, her mum has shown me some of her paintings.

I made sure that when Jess came over to mine for the first time Dad hid my pottery attempts that he usually displays on the mantelpiece. Not proudly, he always likes to tease me, but because they are excellent conversation starters. I don’t protest this. My Christmas robin is quite literally a blob of clay with a red circle in the middle.

‘Anna,’ Jess sighed. ‘They won’t be looking for someone like me, will they? I’m sure Brendan’s mum will be much happier with someone like Sophie who can hang on to her every word and look the part.’

‘You look the perfect part,’ I said crossly. ‘Come on, if you don’t get one then I’ll buy one for you.’

She finally gave in to my pestering and we made our way over to the table. Sophie saw us approaching and nudged Josie in the ribs, who looked up and immediately scowled. ‘What do you want?’ she spat, folding her arms.

‘I’m so sorry about Chemistry, Josie,’ I squeaked, feeling genuinely bad. ‘If there’s anything I can do –’

‘Personally,’ Jess interrupted chirpily, ‘I think your hair looks much better that length, Josie.’

‘That hardly makes things OK,’ Sophie replied angrily, tilting her head.

‘Yes,’ Josie pouted, taking her cue as ever from Queen Sophie. ‘There’s nothing you can do about it now.’

‘Great, glad that’s all sorted,’ Jess said firmly. ‘Now, I’d like to buy a raffle ticket please.’

Sophie’s mouth dropped open. ‘You. You would like to buy a raffle ticket.’

‘Yes, one please.’

‘But,’ Josie sniggered, looking her up and down, ‘you clearly don’t care about . . . the way things look.’

Jess’s cheeks started to go red.

‘I’m not really sure it’s up your street, Jess,’ Sophie said with a tone of mock regret and then shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t bother buying a ticket. It’s professional photography.’

Jess looked at the ground, embarrassed, and I’m really not quite sure what came over me but suddenly words were coming out of my mouth.

‘Ten tickets please.’

They all stared at me in shock. ‘Yeah, ten.’ I repeated in a squeakier tone than I would have liked. I reached into my purse and held out the money.

Sophie snorted and Josie followed suit but there was now a small queue beginning to form behind me. Josie looked at Sophie for instruction. Sophie pursed her lips and gave a curt nod. Josie snatched the money and shoved the tickets across the table.

I walked away triumphantly, my heart slamming against my chest.

‘Well, what do you know.’ Jess grinned as I passed her the tickets. She gave me a small grateful nudge. ‘Thanks.’

Sitting in French later that afternoon, I couldn’t stop thinking about the Beatus dance. What would happen if they didn’t let me in because I didn’t have a date? Even worse, what would happen if they did let me in but then everyone was dancing in pairs and I was the ONLY one not dancing?! What would happen if everyone started pointing and laughing at me because I was so pathetic?! WHAT WOULD HAPPEN IF I GENUINELY DID HAVE TO BRING DOG AS MY DATE?!

This called for emergency note passing with Jess.

Hey - can I ask you a question?

Anna, you’re passing notes in French? Are you mad?! She’ll catch us! Miss Brockley is very cunning – she does archery in her spare time.

It’s important.

OK, go on then, ask away.

Would you date me?

What?

If you were a boy, would you date me?

This is uncomfortable.

No it’s not. I need to know.

Well I don’t know. Probably not.

WHAT? WHY NOT?

Because of your obsession with your dog. He’s cute and everything but you’re out of control.

Do I talk about Dog lots?

Yes. But maybe not so much around boys so they might not know about the obsession, which is a good thing. You could keep it under wraps until you marry the guy and then, BOOM. Let out the truth about your weirdness.

Oh. OK.

Why does it bother you so much that you don’t have a date? It’s just a dance. Who cares?

It is not just a dance. Everyone is talking about it. And it’s only the beginning of term so it will get worse in the lead-up.

I don’t have a date.

You have Danny. And anyway you CHOOSE not to have a date. I bet every boy in the year would do anything to be your date to the Beatus dance.

You have Danny too. We’ll go as a three.

What about the slow dances?

What ABOUT the slow dances?

We can’t dance as a three!

Why not?

BECAUSE. That would look weird. How would you even do that?

We could all hold hands in a circle and sway.

Like some kind of cult? I don’t think that would go down very well.

We could chant too.

I can tell you’re making fun of me now. I don’t know whether you’ve noticed but I am actually being serious.

Why do you get so worked up about stupid things like this? It’s a DANCE. Only people like Sophie get worked up about stupid things like this.

People like Sophie never get worked up about things like this. They don’t need to. She doesn’t need to ever worry about having a date. I bet she’s going with Brendan Dakers.

Word on the street is that he hasn’t asked her. Anyway, forget about Queen Sophie. Why don’t you take Dog as your date?

Ha! Jess, you really do have the most bizarre brain! As if that would even crop up as an idea!

You considered it, didn’t you?

What?! You’re ridiculous. Of course I did not consider taking Dog as my date to the Beatus dance.

You thought about putting a bow tie on him, didn’t you?

This conversation is neither here nor there. Stop passing me notes please. Miss Brockley is coming this way and I already have detention for a whole term.

I think there are lots of people out there who would date you.

Really? You do?

Lesson number one about making friends and finding a date for the dance: play it cool. Seriously.

Got it. Should I write this down??

I was mocking you.

Oh. You should be clearer about things like that.

I’m going to go away now.

OK! We can chat after class.

You have detention, dummy. Email me when you’re home. Oh and, Anna?

Yes?

The only reason you wouldn’t be able to find a date to the dance is because no one in this school is good enough.

Are you mocking me again?

No.

How can I tell?

By asking me. I just told you I wasn’t mocking you.

That was a very nice thing for you to say! Like seriously nice. Like a true best friend thing to say! You never say nice things!

Don’t be embarrassing.

I’m keeping that note forever.

Don’t do that.

I’m going to stick it in my diary. I don’t have a diary but I’m going to buy one ESPECIALLY so I can stick that note in it. And draw hearts around it.

Stop this.

And then one day I’ll blow it up into a massive poster and frame it.

I would not put any of this past you. Leave me alone now. I’m not passing any more notes.

Fare thee well, Jess! You are a true and wonderful friend who believes in me. I will spread your kindness far and wide. You have brought hope and love to a troubled soul. Bless you and your people.

I strongly dislike you.

ANNA HUNTLEY’S LIFE GOALS

Compiled with personal commentary in day

one of detention

Spring term 2015

1. Be a better person.

I will try to be nicer to people, like Dad even when he’s being really annoying. And I will start doing nice things like talk to strangers on the tube or something. I can ask them about their day and their ambitions in life. Although I will try to do this without coming across like a crazy person, like that woman on bus route 45 who yells hello at everyone who gets on and actually just scares people. But I’m sure she’s just being nice.

2. Go to Africa and hand out rice.

I’ve been lucky in life to have a wonderful family (even if they are annoying a lot of the time) and wonderful friends (even though there are only two of them). Therefore, it is only right that I should give something back to the world. I’m sure they always need people to go to Africa and do good things like hand out rice. Note to self: search for charities online that organise trips to do good things like hand out rice.

‘What are you writing?’

I frowned. I could tell that Connor Lawrence had been trying to see what I was writing ever since I got out my pen. He had strolled in late to detention – who is this carefree?! – and sat down next to me without bothering to take his headphones off.

‘Nice of you to join us, Connor,’ Mr Kenton had sniffed, not looking particularly bothered about it.

‘Nothing,’ I whispered back, trying to cover my notepad.

‘Looks like a list.’

‘It’s not a list.’

‘I can see it’s a list.’

‘Fine. It’s a list.’

‘What is the list of ?’

‘Are you always this nosy?’ I asked, trying not to sound too defensive but at the same time wanting him to leave me alone. This, after all, was the person who’d escalated Sophie’s strop at me about setting Josie alight into a full-on tantrum for the whole class to witness.

‘I’m interested,’ he replied, smugly.

‘It’s nothing important.’

‘What does it say at the top?’

‘It says you’re going to get us in trouble.’

‘Funny.’ We both looked up at Mr Kenton. His head was hanging down and his eyes were closed. A faint snore came from his direction.

Connor grinned. ‘I think we’re safe.’

I gave him an ‘end of discussion’ look and went back to my list.

3. Find a date for the Beatus dance – the ideal would be Brendan Dakers but clearly, at this point, anyone would be an achievement.

There will be more chance of this happening if I achieve point 1. Brendan Dakers isn’t going to be interested in someone who is not kind and thoughtful. Also he will probably be impressed by someone with cool skills (see point 5 below to nail this one) and by someone who is not a disaster and talks about interesting things (for example, their recent trip to Africa to hand out rice to those in need).

4. Meet comic book world GOD, Stan Lee, and inspire a great comic strip about a girl keeping London safe from the threat of evil.

Should this ever happen I will be content for the rest of my days and never complain about one single thing AGAIN. I promise not to say anything embarrassing to the man who created some of the best characters in the world. Note to self: does asking him to make me into a comic book superhero count as embarrassing? Confer with Jess.

5. Learn how to do hip hop dancing.

A necessary skill in life. Bound to impress pretty much everyone anywhere. Handy to pull out of the bag in an awkward or sad situation to make things better. Your friend just got dumped? Pull out the running man! Lost your homework the day it’s due in? Wait a second, let me pull out the running man! Hate your life? So does everyone! Pull out the running man!

6. Save someone’s life.

Preferably on land and not in the sea because I hate sea weed and jellyfish.

‘Wait, you know who Stan Lee is?’

I whipped my head up. ‘Hey!’

‘What? It’s not like you’re covering it very well.’ Connor shrugged. ‘Go on, let me have a look.’

‘I didn’t want you to see,’ I complained. ‘How would you like it if I just leaned over and looked at your work?’

‘Feel free.’ He slid his notepad along the desk to the edge. ‘You might actually appreciate it.’

I glanced at the open page and then pulled it closer to gaze down in awe. The notepad was littered with animation sketches. ‘You drew these? They’re good.’

‘Thanks. I’m thinking of doing my own graphic novel some day. I approve of point four. Personally I’ve always thought Batman the best creation of all time.’ He pulled his notebook away from my gaze.

‘Please, Batman? He’s amazing but Marvel have SO many cooler heroes. Look at Spider-Man, for example.’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m not going to take that seriously from someone who has learning to hip hop dance higher on their list than saving someone’s life.’

‘Who said these were in order of importance?’ Before he spotted point 3, I put a protective arm round my notebook and changed the subject. ‘Who would your superhero be?’

‘Sorry?’

‘In your comic?’

‘I’m waiting for inspiration.’ He grinned. ‘But me probably.’

‘How original.’

‘I’d have to come up with a superpower.’ He looked thoughtful. ‘What would yours be?’

‘It would be cool to control things with my mind, like Jean Grey in X-Men,’ I replied. ‘Before she was taken over by the Phoenix Force and became evil, obviously.’

‘Obviously,’ Connor agreed.

‘Also,’ I added, noticing him straighten up to try and peer over my arm that was hiding what I’d written, ‘Controlling things with my mind would mean I could make you STOP LOOKING AT MY LIST!’

Mr Kenton grunted and shifted in his seat. I narrowed my eyes at Connor and continued.

7. Get over fear of pigeons.

Ugh, the flapping. Plus it is becoming increasingly difficult to live in London with this phobia.

8. Invent something useful for mankind.

So that I can be thought of as charitable and helpful at the same time. Like the clever person who invented that spray balsamic vinegar so that it doesn’t spill all over your plate and ruin your salad.

‘What about a pigeon-deflecting helmet?’

‘Excuse me?’

Connor was leaning back in his chair with a biro in his mouth. ‘That covers points seven and eight.’

‘No, it doesn’t. Putting on a deflecting helmet wouldn’t cure my fear of pigeons. It would just keep them away from me.’ I sighed. ‘Don’t assume I didn’t already think about that one.’

9. Have name engraved on a trophy.

Unlikely to be for a sporting event so may have to think outside the box for this one. Do they give out trophies to people who hand out rice in Africa? (Note to self: research this.)

10. Train Dog to high five.

It took him ten months to learn that his name was Dog. This is probably the most ambitious life goal on this list.

When detention finally finished, I stowed my list away safely into my bag and filed out of the classroom with everyone else towards the main school doors, ready for freedom.

‘Hey! Spidey!’ Connor was suddenly at my side. ‘Did you finish your list? When does the world get to witness the hip hop dancing? I’m gripped with anticipation.’

I snorted. ‘Uh. Never? Forget the list, it is PERSONAL.’

‘All right, all right.’ He grinned as he opened the exit door for me and I marched past him. ‘Don’t get your Spidey senses in a twist.’

‘OK,’ I grumbled at him, stomping down the steps. ‘Just because I admire the superior skills of Spider-Man does not mean that –’

‘That you know anything about comics? Don’t sweat it.’

‘Hey!’ I held out my arm to stop him in his tracks as we walked out of the gates. ‘Do not insult my comic knowledge. I could take you on in a Marvel or DC face-off any time.’

‘If you say so.’ He smiled broadly.

‘Good,’ I said huffily and continued through the gates on to the road. ‘See you tomorrow then.’

‘Hey, Anna. Just so you know, about point three on that personal list I definitely didn’t see, I reckon you should have higher standards when it comes to the ideal person to take you on a date.’

My mouth dropped open.

‘But as I say,’ he swung his bag over his shoulder with a mischievous grin, ‘I definitely didn’t see anything. See you tomorrow, Spidey.’

He strolled off down the road and left me standing on my own, my mouth still hanging open.

Note to self: stop writing lists.

From: jess.delby@zingmail.co.uk

To: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

Subject: Come on

Are you home yet? I’m bored.

How was detention? I can’t believe you did something as selfish as set someone on fire. Now you have detention so I have no one to distract me from this French vocab.

Danny is so annoying. He purposefully doesn’t reply to my emails so that I’m forced to do my homework.

J x

From: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

To: jess.delby@zingmail.co.uk

Subject: Re: Come on

Hey, I’m home!

Get this - Dad took Dog to the vet’s today for his annual check-up. Do you know what this so-called vet had to say? That Dog was ‘healthy’.

Can you believe that?! I am tempted to march right up to that vet and give him a piece of my mind!

Have you had supper, by the way?

Love, me xxx

From: jess.delby@zingmail.co.uk

To: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

Subject: Re: Come on

I’m confused. Isn’t being healthy a good thing for a dog?

I did have supper, yes. You are full of interesting questions. We had spaghetti.

Do what you will with this information.

J x

From: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

To: jess.delby@zingmail.co.uk

Subject: Poor Dog

It is fine for a dog to be healthy, Jess, but it is not fine for a stranger to call Dog ‘healthy’. Do you get it now?

I was actually going to ask if you wanted to come over here for supper so you could jump in and save me if Dad tried to lecture me about the importance of bumble bees or something.

So there.

Love, me xxx

From: jess.delby@zingmail.co.uk

To: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

Subject: Re: Poor Dog

No, I do not get it now. Nobody would get it now. You’re not making any sense.

Very kind of you, want me to come over anyway? I could distract your dad with questions about military arms.

J x

From: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

To: jess.delby@zingmail.co.uk

Subject: Re: Poor Dog

He was clearly referring to Dog’s size.

Love, me xxx

From: jess.delby@zingmail.co.uk

To: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

Subject: You’re mad

Again. That is a GOOD thing. That he is HEALTHY.

Am I coming over?

J x

From: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

To: jess.delby@zingmail.co.uk

Subject: Re: You’re mad

Hang on. Better not come over yet.

Dad wants me to log off. He wants to ‘have a talk’ about something ‘very important’. He’s been acting so weird the past few days.

Anyway I’ll be back on in about half an hour and will let you know.

Love, me xxx

From: jess.delby@zingmail.co.uk

To: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

Subject: Leave me why don’t you

Hope everything is OK. Let me know?

J x

From: jess.delby@zingmail.co.uk

To: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

Subject: You there?

Hey, Anna - just wondering what your dad had to say? It’s been a couple of hours so checking everything is OK.

Plus, I’m really bored. Why is there so much vocab in the French language? Surely we don’t need to know this much if we ever go over there, right? We’d only need to know ‘croissant’ and ‘non’ to get by, I’m pretty sure of it.

So why am I learning the French translation of ‘antler’?

When am I going to be in France talking about antlers? Our school is so strange.

J x

From: jess.delby@zingmail.co.uk

To: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

Subject: (no subject)

Me again! It’s been a while now - what’s going on? Is everything all right with your dad?

I’m worried.

J x

From: jess.delby@zingmail.co.uk

To: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

Subject: (no subject)

I haven’t heard from you all night. Something’s happened, hasn’t it?

WHAT IN THE WORLD HAS HAPPENED?

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