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that collected her was, but I’m in total apology mode so I don’t ask.
    ‘I am sooo sorry. If it makes it better, standing in the queue with you was the most fun I had all night.’
    ‘The Kiefers?’ she asks. I’m relieved. At least she’s still talking to me.
    ‘Never showed. And Diplobrat’s friends are hard work.’
    ‘I think I’m moving back in with Abigail. I feel too bad leaving her alone,’ Tara says.
    ‘Our friendship probably wasn’t gonna survive living together anyway. I belong in small doses.’
    It’s supposed to be a joke to make her feel better but I’ve got a horrible feeling Tara agrees.

CHAPTER 8
    Another night, another broken curfew, only this one is totally worth it: Harbour Day – more awesome bands than I thought could possibly fit into ten hours at one venue unless I hadn’t personally experienced it. And finally I get to witness the majesty of The Kiefers. They totally killed their set. Amazing.
    Lucas walks me back to the boarding house. It’s way, way past curfew, but that’s what a ground-floor room and an easily opened window are for.
    ‘Genius! Pure, unadulterated, let me die now because I am never going to be this happy ever again, geniosity.’ I’m on a total high.
    ‘I saw them last year in the States, I think they played better then.’ Lucas attempts the downer, but I’m not having it.
    ‘That is so pretentious. You can’t tell me magic didn’t just happen here tonight.’
    He shrugs. ‘They weren’t bad.’
    What? Emotional blackmail is required to bend him to my point of view.
    ‘I’m not kissing you until you admit that was the most amazing music ever played on the entire planet.’
    He gives in. ‘The entire universe.’
    I smile and we start kissing. It’s the perfect end to a totally mind-blowing day. As we kiss everything else fades into the distance – the sound of cars passing, a car pulling up, doors being slammed, footsteps – they’re all a million miles away until there’s a flash of light. Someone’s taken a photo of us.
    I open my eyes and it’s like I’ve woken up in an alternate reality. Miss Raine is standing there with a girl and a suitcase. The girl’s just taken a picture of us with her phone. Where did they come from? I am so busted.
    ‘Please don’t let us disturb you, Katrina,’ Miss Raine says.
    Lucas is dismissed and Miss Raine marches me into the boarding house. The girl who took the photo is following, dragging her suitcase.
    ‘This is well outside curfew,’ Miss Raine gets into her lecture as she storms along towards my room. ‘And don’t think it didn’t escape my attention that you skipped afternoon classes today.’
    ‘It was just jazz. Thought you’d approve.’
    ‘The day is getting close when you’ll discover that the joke is increasingly on you, Katrina.’
    Outside my room, Miss Raine looks at the other girl, wipes a bit of the thunder off her face and says, ‘This is Petra Hoffmann, on exchange from the Berlin Ballet School. She is your new roommate.’
    Petra smiles weakly. I recognise that ‘just got off the plane’ jet-lag smile.
    Miss Raine turns to Petra. ‘Ignore everything Katrina tells you. Welcome to the National Academy,’ she says and leaves us to get acquainted.
    Petra and I stand looking at each other.
    ‘Standard issue. Teachers are the same in Germany,’ she says.
    I’m liking the first impression, but she still needs to pass the challenge of the nest that is my room. I swing the door open. ‘Petra Hoffmann, welcome to Chateau Karamokov.’
    I’m not the tidiest of people. I collect things, pictures, clothes, mess. Somewhere under a pile of clothes is Petra’s bed.
    ‘Just push those clothes off,’ I tell her.
    She looks round the room and doesn’t run screaming back to the airport. That’s a good sign. After parking her suitcase, she notices my collection of feet photos and isn’t put off by the sight of all the dancers’ blisters and bunions. She even inspects the