When I first met Nat she was seven and Bridge and I were five and she was really protective of us. She used to look out for us at primary school, but that all changed when she hit grade six and cut her hair short and started wearing eyeliner. For the past two years she’s only said mean things to us. Which is why I’m more than a bit suspicious of her sudden mood change.

‘Docs,’ she says finally. ‘Make an impression. You won’t have sport on your first day.’

‘Okay,’ says Bridge.

Nat moves into the room and reaches down to my pile to grab the patterned leggings. ‘No leggings,’ she says to me. ‘They’re daggy. You’ll get rolled.’

I laugh, knowing she’s just winding us up.

She shrugs and I see a hint of her meanness return. Then she changes expression and sits down on the bed. ‘So, you two aren’t in the same class? Bummer.’

‘What do you mean?’ I look at her and then at Bridge to see what she makes of this. But Bridge is suddenly busy concentrating on pairing up the socks from her pile.

‘Yeah. We logged on this morning. Don’t know what class you’re in, but Bridge is in 7C.’

‘How do you know I’m not?’ My voice sounds louder and my fingers are tingling.

‘Read the class list,’ says Nat.

‘Bridge?’ I look at my friend, willing her to stop sock-pairing and give me an answer. She finally looks up and I can see by her expression that Nat’s right.

‘I’m in homeroom with Ellie,’ she says quietly. ‘I was going to tell you.’

‘What?’

‘I know. It sucks,’ says Bridge.

‘Whatever. You’ll make new friends anyway,’ says Nat, fighting her way back through the minefield of clothes to the door. My heart is pounding and I jump up, needing to move.

‘You’re with Ellie?’

Bridge nods. ‘Yeah. Maybe you could move classes.’

As Nat leaves the room, she calls out, ‘Nobody moves classes unless they’re pathetic. Suck it up.’

‘Shut up, Nat,’ yells Bridge, kicking at the door to slam it shut after her sister. So much for Nat changing.

I’m still on my feet but I don’t know where to go. I scratch my neck and then my eyebrow itches and then my arm. My skin feels like it wants to wriggle off my body.

‘Show me,’ I say, looking around for Bridge’s laptop.

Bridge moves to the bed and grabs it. She starts typing and I can’t keep still. Everything in me wants to run.

‘Look. See …’

I lean down to look at the screen and see a list of names. I scan down and reach the Ts. Timmins isn’t there.

‘Can you log into yours?’ she asks.