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Violet does, effortlessly, weightlessly. Isaac looks me up and down with curiosity, maybe a little contempt. I probably look like a prize twat. A hint of a scowl creeps on to my face, my brow furrowing of its own accord. I’m never good at hiding emotion. Silent-type Isaac seems good at masking every emotion except disapproval when he sees me. But I can’t let it get to me.
    Finn gets up, rising to my eye level, then sits on the table with his feet on the bench and a hand on Georgia’s shoulder.
    “Georgia here is turning seventeen in mere months,” he says, “and she’s throwing a huge party to celebrate.” I’m being asked to a party. By Finn Masterson. “Only thing is, she’s struggling with the theme, layout and all the interior decoration and I thought, being completely void of artistic talent myself—”
    “Except with hairstyles,” Isaac says, deadpan. Finn ignores him.
    “And excuses,” Slinky says. “ ‘Sorry, I’m late Mr Wilkinson’ ” – he mimics Finn’s tone perfectly – “ ‘the queue in Starbucks was ma-
hoo
-ssive.’ ”
    “And yesterday, with Martinez,” Violet adds, batting her lashes. “ ‘You mean we have to come to school
every
day?’ ” The band of beautifuls all cracks up.
    “I can’t believe you said that,” Georgia says. I don’t know whether to laugh or not. Joining in might be some sort of cool-crowd encroachment. So, I just stand on the periphery like a lemon. Do I risk a giggle?
Stop over-thinking. Just do it.
I let out a burst of laughter… To my utter, dire and crippling embarrassment, it’s
after
they’ve all
stopped laughing
; a lone, stark sound that seems to echo off the walls and slap me in the face. It draws all their beautiful, popular eyes onto me. Self-loathing ensues.
    “Awkward,” Violet says, throwing Finn a look that asks,
Why are you talking to this socially inept freak?
    My hands start to shake. My face is hot as the sun’s core and probably redder than the surface of Mars. Acne craters add texture.
Fucking hell. What’s wrong with me? Ugh.
    Note to self. The following behaviours are socially unacceptable:
    1. mentalist stalker drawings
    2. laughing when everyone has moved on with their lives
    3. drowning kittens
    4. wearing double denim.
    “So anyway,” Finn continues, picking up where he left off. I can hardly look him in the eye. “I thought perhaps you could turn your exceptionally talented drawing arm to the cause and doodle a few possibilities for a theme in that sketchbook of yours.”
    Not an invitation. A commission. I guess it’s better than nothing.
    “Yeah, maybe… OK, um, sure,” I say, and turn to Georgia. “Do you want to” – I think about asking Georgia to come over to mine to talk about it, but what if she takes one look at my non-Lotto-funded house and decides I’m sort of, I don’t know, poor and scummy? Not good enough? No, it must be neutral ground – “come to my form room after school and we can look at some options? A2.”
    “Great, thanks. You’re a lifesaver,” Georgia says.
    Back at the table with Sienna and Lauren, I face the firing squad.
    “What about going to the market?” Sienna asks.
    “I couldn’t say no, could I?” I say apologetically. “Look, it’ll only take half an hour, probably less. I’ll meet you there.”
    “You could have suggested another day,” Sienna says, with a hint of moodiness.
    “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking. Brain-melt. Those guys are pretty intimidating.”
    “It’s OK, we’ll wait,” Lauren says. “I’ve got Geography to do for Wong anyway, and that abstract for Paluk. We can go to the library.”
    Who knew making friends could be so complicated?
Choose a side, and stay there, Carla.

CHAPTER 8
    Before meeting Georgia, I run to the toilets. The white tiles shout with graffiti and the mirror is milky where it’s not been cleaned properly. I wipe it with tissue and take a good look at myself.
    I’ve never bothered much with my hair. I brush it and