‘She should come and pluck a few birds,’ says Luke. ‘Sometimes their insides haven’t been cleaned out properly and they dribble blood and guts all down your hands.’

Rob gives him a look. ‘I wouldn’t,’ he says to me, ‘unless you really have to.’

‘I can do that,’ I say. ‘I already know someone who works there anyway.’

‘The spacky,’ says Luke.

‘Shane.’ Before I can stop myself, I add, ‘And he’s not really a spacky.’

‘How come he was in the Sin Bin, then?’

I think of the precision of Shane’s fingers in my hair. The way he knows all the words to every song he plays me on his cassette player. The way he knows exactly what to buy me. Or rather, steal for me. He was in the Sin Bin because the normal teachers couldn’t handle him, is what I think.

‘I can pluck a turkey.’

‘And the blood?’ asks Luke.

Rob rolls his eyes.

‘Blood’s fine,’ I say. ‘I can handle blood.’

That night after school, I’m the only girl in the turkey shed.

The corrugated iron door screeches as I pull it open with both hands. It scrapes my fingernails and sends a cringe right down my back. Inside, dead birds hang in two rows. Next to each bird, there’s a boy, plucking. White feathers fall all around like spiky, blinding snow. In the background, there’s a constant turkey racket from the birds who so far haven’t had their throats cut. It’s a weird gurgling noise that comes in waves, like Buggery’s stomach at the end of the day. And the place stinks like an old sanitary pad.

My skin flicks up its hairs in the cold air. I’m wearing my denim mini with red wool tights, red hoop earrings and red fingerless gloves.

I walk in and see Shane first. He’s standing with one hand round a pink turkey neck. His other hand goes in and out, in and out, in a blizzard of feathers. He’s doing it faster than I’ve ever seen him do anything. In front of him there’s a basket which looks like it should be full of washing. But instead it’s full of bald headless birds, all collapsed on top of one another.

No one’s talking to Shane. There’s more space around him and his bird than any of the other boys.

He turns to look at me. His big bottom lip hangs as he watches me walk over to Rob. He opens his mouth wider, as if he might say something.

Don’t look at him again, I think. Don’t look at him.