She felt them as soon as she walked through the school gates. The eyes. In school, you were nothing if you didn’t have eyes on you. You weren’t really alive unless people saw you. Your new shoes, the streaks in your hair. That you’d lost two pounds on the 5:2 diet, throwing away the sandwiches your mum packed like you were five. She’d been seen before, of course – not too smart for her own good, pretty, rich-ish. Dating the rugby captain. It had been nice, to walk down the corridors and see people nod to her. Even sixth formers. Morning, Cassie. Hey Cass.

This was not like that.

Cassie’s mum used to say how lucky she was. How it was being unpopular at her northern school, too bright and awkward and nerdy for anyone to like her, not willing to smoke behind the bike sheds or go too far with boys. How she realised much later it was a blessing, to be invisible at that age. But Cassie had always ignored that part, and understood instead how lucky she was to be seen. But today something was wrong. She heard the whispers almost at the edge of her hearing as she walked in. Not loud enough for words but still: something. A tiny gust of a laugh, or was it just the wind? She tried to smile at Sarah, off the hockey team, and Sarah turned away, fiddling with her phone. She was a long way off. Maybe she hadn’t seen. But suddenly Cassie was finding it very hard to walk across the school yard. It had felt just last week like her catwalk, like she couldn’t wait to cross it so people could see how she’d done her hair and make-up, how she made the navy school uniform look like couture. Now her legs felt heavy and she stared at the ground, at the crushed remains of a packet of crisps someone had trampled on. She only knew she had to get inside, quick, away from the eyes.

Inside, the hall seemed impossibly loud and echoing. Voices bouncing off the high glass windows. Even teachers seemed to frown at her. Another laugh skittering at the edge. Cassie knew these kids but suddenly she didn’t. Their faces had changed, shut down. She saw Amira, her straight black hair shiny and swinging. She bumbled towards her. What was going on? She wanted to look down to check her skirt wasn’t tucked into her pants or she hadn’t started her period and bled right through, but to look down would make it real and worse, much much worse. You had to keep your head up high. Everyone knew that. Amira would tell her. She almost ran. ‘Hey, what . . .’

Amira’s gaze clicked up to her, down to her phone. Up to her. ‘I thought you wouldn’t come in.’