I write a few stiff lines in my notebook and then cross them out. They’re so bad I would rather cut off my hands than have anyone read them. I am not in the headspace for creative writing.

‘I don’t get it,’ Petra says to Audrey. They’re directly to my right, ignoring me and looking at the felt mushrooms. Audrey is lying on her tummy, already scribbling furiously. ‘What are we supposed to be writing about?’

Audrey waves her away. ‘Express yourself, P, I don’t know.’

‘Excuse me, Chloe?’

Bridie and Sunita crouch next to me.

‘I want to write about your photo,’ Bridie whispers, ‘but I was wondering, what does it mean?’

I answer truthfully. ‘I’m not one hundred per cent sure.’

‘Is it meant to be scary?’

I let out a breath. How am I going to explain the book covers and Devil Creek and the other things and how it didn’t turn out precisely as I wanted it to?

‘I want to write about it too.’ Sunita has her pen poised over her notebook, ready to take notes. ‘Is it about Yin?’

‘Not really.’ But that’s not totally true either. It isn’t about Yin directly, but it does have something to do with her. Sort of.

‘I think it’s a story where two schoolgirls get murdered,’ Sunita says. ‘So the title Someone’s Watching means that there’s a guy we can’t see and he’s about to attack them with a knife.’

‘I guess?’ I don’t want to reject her idea, especially as this is the first proper conversation we’ve ever had.

‘Sunny, that’s completely wrong. Look, she’s already bleeding, so he’s already attacked them.’

Sunita writes in her notebook. ‘Shhh, babe, I’m feeling it.’

I notice Mr Purdy looking at us, so I keep my voice low. ‘If you look closely you can see the red’s actually feathers. It was more about the colour.’

‘I’ll have to look at it again.’ Bridie seems disappointed by my response. I rack my brains for something Ms Nouri might say.

‘It’s not my meaning that matters anymore. The point is what happens when you look at my photo. It’s yours now. You get to make your own meaning.’

Sunita stops writing for one moment. ‘That is literally the one of the deepest things I have ever heard, Chloe.’

‘Thanks,’ I say, and they retreat.

Next to me, Audrey is on her third page of notebook, filling the space up with lines and lines of words, but Petra is getting more and more restless. By the amount of deep huffs coming from her direction, I’m guessing she likes creative writing about as much as I do.

Eventually she puts up her hand.

‘Mr Purdy, I don’t get it. What themes are we supposed to be writing about?’