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standing around waiting for him to get onto level ten of some stupid computer game; half an hour climbing through a tiny toilet window, tearing my brand new dress to sneak into the cinema without paying, to see the last five minutes of the most mind- numbingly, unfunny comedy ever made. And the whole evening punctuated by Masher perfecting his fish impression.’
    â€˜Fish impression?’
    â€˜Don’t even go there,’ sighs Alesha theatrically.
    â€˜He’s more immature than my baby brother,’ tuts Leah.
    The dinner hall is heaving. It’s as if the whole school has crammed in and is jostling for space and air. The din is overwhelming. The room smells of rain-soaked hair, hot grease and stale PE kits, but Alesha, Jodie and Leah don’t seem to notice as they stride straight through the double doors. I hesitate.
    â€˜What’s up, Becky?’ asks Leah, turning round.
    â€˜Nothing.’ I shrug, peeking in at the chaos. All those bodies, I think. All those germs.
    â€˜Hurry up, Becks, the chips’ll all be gone,’ says Jodie as she rushes off, making a beeline for the food counter. ‘They only do them on Mondays now,’ she calls back at me, ‘and they always run out.’
    â€˜I’m not really that hungry.’
    â€˜Don’t be daft,’ says Leah, taking my arm and whisking me inside the hall. ‘It’s double maths with MacNamara this afternoon. You’ve got to have something to keep your strength up.’
    I can’t tell you what I put on my tray, let alone what I actually eat, if anything. All I can think about is getting straight out of this crowded hall as soon as possible.
    Two Year Seven boys approach carrying trays loaded with food, hunting for spare seats. There aren’t many, just the odd one dotted here and there. They stop just behind me. Grinning in triumph, the spottier one dives onto the single empty seat beside me, leaving his friend standing.
    â€˜You finished?’ the lesser-spotted boy mumbles, poking me in the back with a grubby, nail-bitten finger.
    As I turn around ready to answer, I see his face suddenly contort. He draws his head back, closes his eyes then, before I can get out of the firing line, he sneezes all over me then drags his sleeve across his face.
    I freeze in horror for a split second then leap up, spilling my drink over the table before rushing out of the hall.
    â€˜Ta very much,’ I hear him call after me as the pair dissolve into laughter.
    I hurry down the crowded corridor, shove open the double doors and charge into the playground. It’s stopped raining now, but apart from a small bunch of boys chasing a ball around, it’s deserted. I make it over to the oak tree, sucking in huge gulps of air. Hurriedly, I pull a fresh anti- bacterial wipe from my pocket and start furiously scouring and scrubbing at my face.

20
    â€˜Becky . . . Shall I get someone? One of the teachers maybe?’
    I look up to see Leah. My thumping heart is gradually slowing and my breathing is returning to a relatively normal pace. I screw up the wipe into a ball and throw it in a nearby bin.
    â€˜No, don’t, please. I’ll be all right in a moment.’
    â€˜What’s wrong? Is it your heart?’ she asks, unable to hide the concern in her face.
    Automatically I reach my hand over my chest and feel the rhythmical pounding through my clothes.
    â€˜My heart’s fine.’
    â€˜Come on, let’s go indoors.’
    Once inside, we sit down in the empty cloakroom, huddling among the damp coats.
    â€˜What’s going on, Becky?’ she asks solemnly.
    Leah’s my oldest and closest friend. We met at playschool aged three, when she rescued me from Harry Benson who was rubbing sand in my hair. She chucked her lump ofplaydough at him and we’ve been friends ever since. She’s one of those girls who knows what to do, whatever happens, probably because she’s always looking