‘Em, Gemma actually saw them? Totally wrapped around each other? So unless you want to try and convince me that Gemma’s actually blind—’

Then Joanne sees something in Julia’s face.

Joanne could taste one drop of power in an ocean. She eases back. ‘Oh. My. God,’ she says, drawing it out long and sweet and sticky, letting it drip all over Julia. ‘You actually didn’t know?’

Julia has her face back to blank, but she knows it’s too late. Coming from any of the other Daleks, this would have been just yak yak noise, it would never even have occurred to her to believe it. But Gemma; back in first year, when they were just kids, Julia and Gemma used to be friends.

A wide smirk is creeping over Joanne’s face. ‘Oopsie,’ she says. ‘Embarrassing.’ Orla sniggers.

Julia looks at Gemma. Gemma says, ‘Last night. I snuck out.’ Little smile that hints things. The other Daleks giggle. ‘I was heading down the path to the back wall, and the two of them were in that creepy place with the big trees where you guys hang out. I almost had a heart attack, I thought it was nuns or ghosts or something, but then I saw who it was. And they weren’t there to talk about the weather, either; they were all over each other. I’d say if I’d watched for another few minutes . . .’

A scattering of snickers, falling like small grimy rain.

Gemma has perfect eyesight, and no one in school has hair like Selena’s. On the other hand – Julia grabs for the other hand – Gemma lies like a rug. Julia scans her for bullshit, scans and scans. She can’t tell. She can barely see Gemma, the solid dry-witted kid she used to share crisps and pens with, never mind read her.

Julia’s heart is running crazy. She says coolly, ‘Whatever you and your little stud were smoking, can I have some too?’

Gemma shrugs. ‘Whatever. I was there. You weren’t.’

Joanne says, ‘Sort it out.’ Now that she knows she’s in charge, all the twisted bits of her have gone back where they belong; she’s smoothed to angelic, except for that curled lip. ‘We only bothered to warn you this once because we’re being nice. We’re not going to do it again.’

She whisks around – she doesn’t actually snap her fingers at the rest of the Daleks, but somehow it looks like she does – and struts off, out of the tennis courts and up the path towards the school. The others scuttle to keep up.

Julia turns the tap back on and moves her hand up and down between the water and her mouth, in case they look back, but she can’t drink. Her heartbeat is jamming her throat. Her T-shirt sticks to her skin like some clammy sucker-footed thing, dragging. The sky presses down on her head.