NO WAY, I scribble quickly,

shoving Fran off.

I draw a thick arrow to my right and turn

so she can see Fran’s other hand

S Q U E E Z E D

in Charlie’s.

And I don’t know why it matters,

but I really don’t want her to think –

‘Oh,’ I say.

Fran has turned her back on us now, lying in the lap of a tall boy with the same frosted tips – like they went halves on the same pack of hair dye. And then they kiss. In the middle of class. Hands wandering, eyes closed.

I wince. ‘Do they do that a lot?’

I sigh.

ALL. THE. TIME.

Since they got together last year,

it’s like my two best friends

became one gross-out monster.

The boy puts his foot up on the desk, kicking mud on to Rowan’s book.

‘Isn’t there a teacher?’ I ask.

I move Charlie’s boot.

DEAD.

The supply teacher couldn’t care less

about phones

or anything else.

She’s marking at the front.

Head down. Ignoring our existence.

I grip the laptop in both hands.

I can hear a gasping sound through my earbuds,

like a steam train gathering speed.

YOU OKAY?

No. No, I’m not okay.

Because of course this was Wesley’s classroom, wasn’t it?

The red paint on the walls. Clots.

My mam used to make sounds like that.

When things got really bad.

I grab a paintbrush.

I watch as Rowan flicks black ink from side to side on the page. Smudging greys and dotting specks of white into the corners. And, through the shadows, I see a frog balanced on a lily pad half submerged in the water. Its eyes peers out, glassy and unseeing, as its fingers clutch to stay afloat.

And it’s good. Really good. But a whole world away from the kraken and mermaid and humpback whales.

‘No colour?’ I croak.

My paintbrush

h o v e r s.

NOT ANY MORE.

‘How come?’

I could tell her.

I could rip myself open and let her see inside …

But I don’t think she’d like what she’d see.

The bell rings.

Fran and Charlie unstick themselves from each other.

‘Wanna go hang?’ the boy says, stuffing a clean notebook into a backpack. ‘You can come round mine if you like – I’ve got that new Apocalypse game everyone’s raving about. I’ll let you play.’

I shake my head.

‘Busy,’ I say.

Fran throws her hands up in the air. ‘But of course you are.’

I shrug. Wave.

And disappear into the crowd squeezing out of the door.

Rowan is no longer streaming.

24

Alice

I wake up with fewer spoons than I usually do. I can tell as soon as I open my eyes and it feels like my bones are made of lead.