Claire could barely concentrate. It was the last class of the day and the second time she’d been brought up by Mrs Lyther for not listening. She discreetly checked the clock for the hundredth time. Twenty past two. Only ten minutes to go. The Queen Bee initiation ceremony had been postponed to today, Tuesday, because Charlotte had had a thing the day before. No one knew what that thing was although rumours were that she had an older boyfriend who she saw in secret, so her parents didn’t find out. Claire and Anne had been disappointed. But Tuesday, three thirty p.m. was almost in sight.

If Mrs Lyther would just get on with it instead of droning on about kings and queens. Who cares?

Finally, the bell rang, and Claire grabbed Anne’s hand as they rushed out of the history classroom. They turned to each other, their faces mirroring each other’s elation.

‘This is it!’ squeaked Anne. ‘Come on!’

Claire followed her friend down the various corridors to the music and drama department. The ceremony, explained Anne grandly, was to be held in drama room three, the unofficial headquarters of the Queen Bees, mainly because it was used more as a storage room than a classroom. As they approached the room, Claire was already reaching out one hand for the door handle, but Anne pulled her back.

‘Let me,’ she said. As Anne opened the door and peeked into the room, Anne became a headless body and Claire hopped from foot to foot wondering what she was saying.

‘Two minutes and then we can go in,’ reported Anne, pulling back and closing the door. ‘You nervous?’

Claire looked at Anne in surprise. It had never occurred to her to feel nervous – all she felt was excited.

‘Should I be?’ she asked.

‘No, no, of course not,’ reassured her friend, but Claire thought she saw a brief uneasiness cross her face. The two of them waited impatiently, not speaking. A few minutes later, the door opened and a hand, holding a black piece of material, shot out. Anne took it and the door slammed shut.

‘What’s that for?’ asked Claire.

Anne didn’t answer. Instead, she gently turned Claire around and placed the material over her eyes.

‘Anne?’ called Claire, although she knew it was pointless.

She could feel Anne pull the blindfold tighter around the back of her head. Why didn’t she respond? Was Anne not allowed to talk even now? Suddenly, she felt Anne’s little finger reach for her own, intertwining the two pinkies. They hadn’t done that since they were children. Claire heard the door open again and Anne guided her slowly into the room, before shutting it behind her. She sensed Anne’s presence next to her had disappeared and she could hear the giggles of the other girls as Claire instinctively put her hands out, like a sleepwalking mummy.

And then the jabs came.