‘Don’t call it the Suicide Woods.’ Georgia Lenah had thick-rimmed glasses on a round face, with bright coral lipstick between dimpled cheeks – she might not have been as stunning as Madison or Cierra, but more boys asked her out on dates than any of the other members of the Fab Four. Her Aboriginal heritage gave her a perspective that Jasmine felt was very healthy for the twins: Jasmine and Georgia both tried to act as a counterbalance to the Mason girls’ privileged view of the world.

‘Why not? We’ll be walking right by the Hanging Tree,’ said Madison, turning her camera on Georgia. ‘We could call it the Hungry Woods instead.’

‘Don’t, Madison,’ called Cierra with a shudder. ‘Not today?’

‘You’re scared of the Hungry Man?’ said Madison, camera now on her sister. ‘Up in the hills, he hides and kills, down in the caves, he hides and waits . . .’

‘Stop it!’ Cierra squealed, and Madison chuckled.

Jasmine could already imagine Madison’s video for the day. It’d start with the four of them on the back seat, then footage from the hike, and then some snatches from the campfire. Jasmine was grateful she’d bought a new jacket for this camping trip, because it’d look good on camera: Madison had helped her choose it. It was handy, having an internet-famous friend, someone who was good with angles, make-up and clothes.

The bus made another stop and one of the Year 12 girls – Yani Hugh, the pastor’s daughter – stepped up into the bus.

Madison made a noise, pursing her red lips.

Jasmine’s smile became fixed. Oh, here we go . . .

Yani walked down the aisle, her skirt flicking, short hair stiff with product, and sat with her Year 12 friends near the middle of the bus. Those girls once thought they’d had a right to the back seat – that was before the Fab Four came along.

‘Hey, does anyone smell carrots?’ called Madison over the chatter.

The bus went quiet. The back of Yani’s neck turned pink.

The bus driver was half-deaf: he never heard these exchanges. Jasmine wished he would.

‘Leave her alone, Madison,’ said Jasmine quietly.

‘Ease up, bitch, I’ll be right back,’ said Madison with a smile, heading down the aisle, moving with the sway of the bus, her phone in her hand.

It was Yani’s fault, Jasmine tried to reassure herself. But that had been months ago. Madison was relentless.

Madison sat down across the aisle from Yani and her friends, brandishing her phone.

Yani sunk lower into her seat as Madison insulted her – her looks, her sex life – drawing chuckles from some of the other students. ‘Mmm . . . yep, I can smell carrots,’ finished Madison nastily. Yani didn’t respond: if Madison had her camera trained on you, anything you said could be used against you online. Plus, Madison had other ammunition.