And she looked unblinkingly at me.

At least she wasn’t winking.

As she went out, I shouted, “Oh yeah, Beaky. Wait till you hear my rap.”

Actually, I didn’t shout that because I didn’t want my head pecked off. But Vaisey thought I was brilliant. She said, “I think this is gonna be great, Lullah. Nobody’s ever going to forget this performance.”

When the other Tree Sisters went to singing practice, I went to sit in a lavatory by myself just for a little break from having Northern grit. But I couldn’t even get in the loo because there was a notice from Bob on it.

Listen up, dudes.

Appliance out of action.

Bad scene with a vole.

On it.

Bob

(The Iron Pies’ next gig’s in Follyfoot. Be there. Or not be there.)

By Wednesday the Tree Sisters were all getting very bad boy-withdrawal. No one has heard anything from the Woolfe boys since the gig. They haven’t appeared at our Special Tree.

I’m a bit worried that Charlie has said horrid things about me to the other lads. I don’t think he would because he’s so nice. But he was very mad.

At lunchtime, I found Jo snogging a mirror in the loos.

I said, “Now you’re being extra weird.”

Jo said, “Am I? Am I? Well, you snog me then.”

I said, “What are you talking about?”

She looked at me. “If you were a Samaritan and I was starving, would you pass by on the other side of the road?”

“Er, no . . . but you’re not starving and . . .”

She said, “It’s the same thing. Snogging is as essential as food. I’ve got snogging withdrawal. It’s like I had a big fat snog meal on Saturday, and then I’ve not even had a snog snack since. So why is it so very hard for you to snog me in my hour of need?”

I couldn’t say anything. I could only look at her in amazement.

She stormed out. “Right, if you won’t help me, it’ll have to be teddy.”

Who’s Teddy?

When I got in to college on Thursday, Vaisey was on the front doorstep hopping and bobbling around in a frenzy of curls. “Look, Lullah, look!” And she held out a piece of paper. “It’s a note from Jack. He left it under our Special Tree.”

I felt a bit apprehensive. “Did he, erm, say anything about Charlie, or, or me or anything?”

Vaisey’s note was mostly drawings of fingering positions on guitar frets. She kissed the letter. “Isn’t it romantic?”

Then Jo burst through the door with her teddy. She said, “Have you met my new boyfriend? He’s called Little Ted.”

This is turning into a theatrical lunatic asylum. It’s horrid having Charlie not liking me. I don’t think I can bear it. If only he would talk to me.

And it’s all because of Cain. Who couldn’t care less about me—he just likes making trouble for people. He said those things about the kissing just to humiliate me. In a way I suppose he must hate me as well. And Dr. Lightowler certainly one thousand percent and a half hates me.