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rangy-looking. Wearing really nice jeans. Loose, but not too baggy or anything. He had dark hair – quite long round his face. He was turning, following Phoebe’s pointing finger, looking up the road. At me.
    Oh, God. He was fit. He was really fit. The way his hair framed his face, falling down round his eyes. His skin was olive and . . . and the lines of his face were all clear and strong.
    Why did he want to talk to me?
    It could still be a wind-up. Maybe Jemima had got some boy to pretend to like me or something. But it was too late to walk away now. The boy was coming towards me, staring intently at my face. Jemima and Phoebe were right behind him. I could feel other girls standing all round, watching us.
    I fixed my gaze on the boy’s top. It was dark blue with a pale-blue neck and sleeves and tiny writing on the chest. He was coming closer. Closer. Here. Now. Right here. Now.
    ‘Are you Rachel Smith?’ His voice was low. Intense.
    I looked up. His eyes were dark brown. Very serious and deeply, deeply gorgeous.
    I nodded. My mouth felt dry.
    ‘Can I talk to you for a minute?’ he said.
    I could feel the girls around me shuffling, hear them whispering to each other. Sniggering. My face was burning. I suddenly felt completely humiliated. It was a wind-up. Tears sprang to my eyes. I’d rather Jemima had tipped my school bag over my head or called me any number of names. I started backing away a little, my eyes now on the boy’s shoes. Trainers. Not flashy, expensive ones. But nice. Cool trainers.
    ‘I have to go,’ I mumbled.
    ‘Please.’ There was an awful urgency in his voice.
    ‘Why’re you interested in her?’ That was Jemima. Really scathing. ‘She’s fat and she’s so stupid she doesn’t even know if she’s a virgin.’
    The crowd of girls surrounding us burst out laughing.
    I swallowed hard, forcing the tears to stay down.
    Then the boy reached out and touched my arm. He didn’t grab me or anything, just pressed his fingers against my sleeve. It was like a million bolts of lightning zinging through me.
    ‘I really need to talk to you,’ he said in the same urgent voice. Though he now sounded massively embarrassed as well. ‘Alone.’
    There was a chorus of sarcastic oohs from the girls standing beside us. I looked up into his face. It was bright red. He looked as awkward as I felt. Which really confused me.
    I couldn’t see how this could be a wind-up. The boy seemed so genuine. And yet it didn’t make sense. I must just be too stupid to work out what was going on.
    I stood there, rigidly, unable to talk or move.
    More giggles.
    Then the boy took a deep breath. He drew himself up in this determined way. ‘I’ve got a message for Rachel from her boyfriend,’ he said, a new, don’t-mess-with-me tone in his voice. ‘I need to give it to her in private.’
    There was something so definite, so insistent about the way he spoke, that I wasn’t surprised when Jemima and the others started shuffling backwards. I stared at the pavement around me, watching all the black school shoes turning and walking away.
    The boy let go of my arm. ‘I’m sorry about that,’ he said, quietly. ‘I don’t know your boyfriend really.’
    I stared at the tiny writing on his top. Just try it .
    Did he seriously think I might have a boyfriend?
    Really?
    ‘I’m Theo.’ He smiled. ‘Is there somewhere we can talk?’

 
11
Theo
    The girl – Rachel – said nothing. Just stared at the ground.
    ‘It’s okay,’ I said, feeling my face get redder. Why had I said that about her boyfriend? It sounded stupid. ‘I’m not . . . I . . . I only want to ask you something. It’s about my dad. He . . . er . . . he died . . . ages ago, but I think he might . . . might have known your dad once.’
    I held my breath.
    Rachel grunted something – I couldn’t make out what. Then she started walking away, still staring at the pavement.
    I followed her down the hill, taking short strides so as not to walk faster than