I read the list in geography class. Monsieur Gestin was talking to us about Budapest, where we’d lived once, for a while, though I don’t remember much about it now. Only the river, and the snow, and the old quarter that looks so like Montmartre to me somehow, with its winding streets and its steep stairways and the old castle on the little hill. The list was written on half a sheet of exercise-book paper in Suze’s neat, pudgy hand. There were tips on grooming (hair straight, nails filed, legs shaved, always carry deodorant); dress (no socks with skirts, wear pink, but not orange); culture (chick-lit good, boy-books bad); films and music (recent hits only); what to watch on television, websites (as if I had a computer anyway), how to spend my free time and what type of mobile phone to carry.

I thought at first it was another joke; but after school, when I met her queuing for the bus, I realized she was serious. ‘You have to make an effort,’ she said. ‘Otherwise people will say you’re weird.’

‘I’m not weird,’ I said. ‘I’m just—’

‘Different.’

‘What’s so bad about being different?’

‘Well, Annie, if you want to have friends . . .’

‘Real friends shouldn’t care about that kind of thing.’

Suze went red. She often does when she’s annoyed, and it makes her face clash with her hair. ‘Well, I do,’ she hissed, and her eyes went to the front of the queue.

There’s a code in queuing for the bus, you know, just as there’s a code when you’re going into class, or picking teams in games. Suze and I stand about halfway. In front of us there’s the A-list: the girls who play basketball for the school; the older ones who wear lipstick, who roll their skirts up at the waistband and smoke Gitanes outside the school gates. And then there are the boys: the best-looking ones; the team members; the ones who wear their collars turned up and their hair gelled.

And there’s the new boy: Jean-Loup Rimbault. Suzanne has a crush on him. Chantal really likes him too – though he never seems to notice either of them much, and never joins in any of their games. I began to see what was going on in Suze’s mind.