‘Argh,’ squeals Bridge, leaning forward so she can reach across Ellie and grab my knee.

‘Yep,’ I say, knowing just what she means. We’re here, in this theatre, with 130 other kids all about to start high school. It definitely deserves an ‘argh’.

I cross my legs, then a minute later uncross them, then cross them back again.

‘Stretch your feet,’ whispers Ellie.

I look down and she’s pointing and flexing her toes. I start doing the same and, after a bit, my leg muscles loosen and the edginess fades.

‘Better?’

‘Yeah.’

‘I always do it before I run,’ she says, smiling.

Bridge pulls a face when she sees our feet in action. She might feel nervous, too, but it’ll all be in her head, not in her legs like it is for Ellie and me. I realise the crowd has started to hush and I look up to see the principal walking to the front of the stage. She has a microphone, but her voice booms so she doesn’t really need it.

‘Welcome to your new home,’ she says. ‘It’s great to see so many eager faces. I’m not going to keep you long this morning. As we call your class number, your homeroom teacher will give a wave and you can come down and line up with them. Today you’ll be given your lockers, but probably not until this afternoon, so please keep your bags with you until then.’

I drop my head down, imagining how I’ll get through the morning dragging my backpack around. There are three flights of stairs in this building alone, with my different classes all being held on different levels. I start to sag.

I’m so caught up in thoughts of dread that I don’t hear the principal call the first two classes. As Ellie squeezes my knee and Bridge blows me a kiss, I realise they’re leaving me to make their way down to the front to their teacher.

I watch them. Ellie takes the steps in giant strides and Bridge grins at everyone she passes. They huddle together near the teacher as the rest of their class joins them. I see the short girl in the neon sneakers line up along the back next to them and I slump in my seat.