Skitter of hooded glances, little smirks. Good answer.

Joanne said, ‘Because she’s sooo totally harmless.’

‘Such a good girl,’ Orla breathed.

‘So pure.’

‘So shy.’

‘I bet she acted like she was totally terrified of you, right?’ Joanne dipping her head, doing fake-simpery doe-eyes up at me. ‘Rebecca’d never do anything bold. She’s probably never even had a sip of booze in her life. Never even OMG looked at a guy.’

Gemma laughed, low.

I said, ‘That’s not true, no?’ My heart was starting a slow hard pound, jungle drums, carrying a message.

‘Well, I don’t know if she’s ever had booze – I mean, who cares. But she’s looked at a guy, all right.’

Orla sniggered. ‘You should’ve seen the way she looked at him. It was pathetic.’

I said, ‘Chris Harper.’

Slowly, Joanne started to smile. She said, ‘Ding. You win the prize.’

Orla said, ‘Rebecca was gooey for Chris.’

I said, ‘And you think in the end they got together?’

Joanne’s lip curled. ‘OMG, excuse me while I barf? No way. She was on a total loser there. Chris could’ve had anyone he wanted; he wasn’t going to go near some boring stick insect. They could’ve been stuck on a desert island and he’d’ve literally found a better-looking coconut to shag.’

I said, ‘So that means she wasn’t the one meeting him. Right? Or . . . ?’

The looks strobing again. ‘Well,’ Joanne said. ‘Not for looove. And not for you-know-what, either. She probably wouldn’t even know how.’

‘For what, then?’

Titters. Orla sucking in her bottom lip. They weren’t going to say it unless I did first.

That meteor, howling closer. All I had to do was get in the right place, hold out my hands.

That morning. Smell of chalk and grass; me tying myself in knots like a balloon animal, trying to make myself into whatever eight different girls and Conway wanted – lot of good that had done me. Joanne, lip pulled up: I guess you think they’re all such angels, they’d never do drugs. I mean, God, Rebecca, she’s just so innocent . . .

I said, ‘Drugs.’

A change. I felt them tense up, waiting while I fumbled my way into place.

‘Rebecca was on drugs.’

A hysterical giggle burst out of Orla. Joanne smiled at me, teacher at a good boy. Ordered, ‘Tell him.’

After a moment Gemma sat up. Folded her legs under her, picked bits of grass off her tights. She said, ‘You’re not recording this or anything, are you?’

‘No.’

‘Good, because this is totally off the record. Like, if you ever tell anyone I said any of this, I’m going to say it’s all bullshit and you made it up to get back in Detective Dildo’s good books.’