Although she half expected Grace to try to convince her it was, the girl’s shoulders drooped, and she collapsed into a chair. Taking Grace’s cue, Daisy perched on the edge of the chair next to her, hands tucked between her knees as she looked on solicitously, hoping that whatever Grace was going to say, Daisy would somehow be able to help.

“I’m homesick. That’s all. My course is tough, I miss my boyfriend, and yet all I do when he calls is shout at him. I’m tired. So tired. All I want is to sleep, and all I end up doing is staying out.” Grace looked at her then, properly, as if she was seeing Daisy as someone she could trust. “I just feel so lost, you know?”

What Grace needed wasn’t night after night out. What she needed was a family.

“This is a weird question,” Daisy said, “but do you like yoga?”

8
DESPERATE MEASURES

So many weeks of sleepless nights and a relentless schedule of lectures was starting to take its toll.

“Susan! Wake up!” Kully hissed.

“Not asleep,” Susan groaned. She wished she was. She’d fallen forward, head pressed on the warm glass over the hot-breakfast section in the dining hall. “I am the waking dead.”

“Wake a little further. You’re holding up the breakfast queue.”

Reluctantly, Susan slid her cheek along the glass.

Last night Susan had stayed up hate-watching every Richard Curtis film she could illegally stream onto her laptop. It had been the only way to distract her from the merry-go-round of anxieties arising from Esther’s new infatuation with this weirdo Goth Girl added to the standard simmering rage regarding McGraw. She’d had to drag herself out of the nadir she’d reached when she found herself contemplating a “Buy It Now” option for About Time, after which point she’d stared at her ceiling until the birds had started singing and she’d eventually fallen into a fitful doze that proved less restful than the things she’d been doing while awake.

“Carbs . . . sugar . . .” Susan muttered, slathering butter and jam onto her toast, once they sat down.

Kully gave Susan’s breakfast a dismissive sniff as he sliced an apple over a bow of muesli. “You need vitamins and protein.”

“I NEED SLEEP.”

Susan’s snarl echoed around a suddenly silent canteen before everyone returned to their own conversations.

“So sleep, then.” Kully shrugged. “Snatch a power nap in a bathroom stall between lectures.”

“A nap will disrupt my diurnal rhythm.”

“You diurnal rhythm is about as consistent as the Internet connection in F-block.” Kully eyed Susan’s hands, which were now smeared in grease and sugar, such was the accuracy of her jam application. “Are you sure you’re going to be OK to lead today’s Anatomy practical?”