We all stared in amazement at this glittering new person in our lives, tingling with the newness of her. Jessica had caused quite a stir in her first week—winning the unofficial Hottest Girl of the Year competition the boys always ran in September. But she seemed uninterested in her celebrity and had latched on to us after I invited her to have lunch on her first day. I felt a swell of pride she’d picked our group, alongside a deep jealousy that I hadn’t made the Hot Girl short list.

“Is Sagittarius compatible with Aries?” Kim asked, without needing to tell us Matt was an Aries.

“Oh yes, they’re very good together. Usually start as friends first.”

“You see!” Amy clapped Kim on the back. “This is why Operation Casual is such a good idea. You two will become friends over our super casual milkshakes today and it will become something beautiful.”

“Do you really think so?”

“Of course. Though,” Amy picked up her phone. “We need to get a move on if we want to shop beforehand. It’s almost twelve.”

“But my fringe...”

“Is perfect. Come on.”

Once we stepped out into the autumnal sunshine, we fell into two pairs. Amy and Kim linked arms up front, while Jessica and I dawdled behind. She was quiet beside me, hiding behind her hair sheet, while I asked her more about being a Capricorn. She paused for a second, her arms around her chest.

“Are you OK?”

“Hmm, yes.”

“Are you sure?”

She hesitated, and let out a small sigh, then granted me eye contact. “It’s just...is what I’m wearing OK?”

“What?”

In my fog of teen self-absorption, I hadn’t noticed that Jessica hadn’t yet taken off her denim jacket. “Well, it’s just... I didn’t know what the ‘casual’ dress code meant. I’m scared I look like a slut.” She sighed, flinging her jacket open to reveal her outfit.

“OK, you look amazing.” This was the first time I witnessed Jessica’s ability to curate a look—any look, on demand, even with no money. She’d paired dark jeans with a red low-cut tunic top, hanging almost like a dress, the sexiness of the red balanced out by the casualness of the denim jacket. A pang of envy throbbed through me. I instantly hated my own outfit, with my stupid baggy jeans trying to be cool, and long sleeves to cover my scars. I wanted to shed my body and step into hers.

“You sure I don’t look slutty?”

“What? No. Where’d you get that from?”

She shook her head. “I... Just. Back in Guildford, just as my Dad fucked off with his new girlfriend, some of the girls weren’t very nice. Not to me, anyway.” She shrugged. “They called me a slut one week and then a geek the next when I turned up at a fancy dress party dressed as Hermione.”