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seven-man – rows right behind me.’
    ‘Er . . .’ said Alex. ‘Seven-man?’
    Matilda sighed and shook her head at our collectivestupidity. ‘Seven follows eight, the leader of the boat, and all the bowside rowers follow seven.’
    ‘Right,’ I said, and rolled my eyes at Alex.
    Mr VD was still talking: ‘. . . Don’t think you can suddenly sign up for rowing now that there are going to be boys,’ he said in his thick, stilted accent. ‘No chance. That is not going to happen. If there is a space in the boat, I will recruit.’
    Jessica Hartley looked even more pleased. From what I’d heard of Hambledon Girls’ rowing squad she must be the only one under ninety kilos in the crew, so things were looking very bright on her getting-lucky horizon.
    ‘Other combined classes will be art’ – my stomach lurched – ‘and Latin.’ Carrie looked stricken. ‘Also the languages: French, Spanish, German, Italian.’
    There was more excited chatter and Mr VD looked displeased. ‘Quiet! Quiet down! Time for classes, please.’
    The whole school filed out amid much noise and racket. Matilda was moaning heatedly to Helen.
    ‘What’s wrong, Tilly?’ asked Tam.
    ‘I don’t want to be bussing around with boys for our training sessions,’ complained Matilda. ‘We’re the best squad on the water this year, thanks to VD, and if there are a load of louts around, Jessica is going to be totally distracted.’
    Helen nodded. There was no disputing that Matilda was right.
    ‘Maybe the rowing boys will be fugly,’ I suggested, over their shoulders.
    Matilda turned and frowned at me. ‘The Hambledon boys are fit.’ I gulped and nodded, but she wasn’t finished. ‘Fit and smelly and disgusting. We’re going to be seeing a lot of phlegm and smelling a lot of bad odours.’
    Sheesh. Let’s hope the same wasn’t true of their artists.



Chapter Eight
Monday afternoon, in the schoolyard
    The sun had finally come out and after a massive school dinner the four of us were sitting in the sun, sleeves rolled up for maximum UV exposure, faces tilted skywards. ‘That chocolate sponge was so good,’ I commented.
    ‘How you fitted three helpings into that little belly of yours is a mystery,’ said Carrie. She rolled her socks down. ‘But it’s a good sign that you got chocolate in some form at school. Could be your terrible luck has changed forever, Lula.’
    ‘Could be,’ said Tam, and rolled her socks down too. ‘Now all you need is Jack to be a real boyfriend instead of just a one-night stand.’
    ‘Be quiet,’ I moaned. ‘All anyone at this school wants to talk about is my boyfriend.’
    We all grinned. The girls knew how pleased I was with myself to have a boyfriend. I elbowed Alex. ‘Tell us about Gavin.’
    ‘Gavin who?’ asked Carrie.
    I glanced at Alex, startled. ‘No way! You haven’t told them?’
    ‘Haven’t told us what?’ asked Tam, starting to look hurt.
    Alex looked flustered. ‘I’ve been waiting for the right moment,’ she said.
    ‘Do you mean Gavin Healey?’ asked Tam. ‘Tasty. How’d you sneak that little relationship under our radar?’
    She raised an eyebrow at Alex and Alex blushed.
    ‘I’ve never seen you so red,’ I said wonderingly.
    ‘Oh, shut up,’ said Alex. ‘He does crime-scene cleanups. His work is fascinating.’
    ‘Gavin Healey,’ said Carrie, ‘is not fascinating. All brawn, zero brain. What were you thinking? Dump him.’
    Alex yelped in outrage.
    ‘Carrie!’ I said, astonished. ‘This is not like you!’
    Carrie sighed heavily. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘Probably it’s just his granddad I don’t like. He came round once to take away our asbestos garage roof, and he gave me the creeps. He’s not a nice man.’
    ‘Gavin is not the same as his granddad,’ asserted Alex. ‘Trust me. Gavin is . . .’ She trailed off.
    ‘Huh,’ said Tam, looking at our friend closely. ‘I bet your mum doesn’t like him. I bet that’s it.’
    Alex went red again and