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someone else. A wave of anger and humiliation flooded through me as Chloe scuttled out of the room. Ryan closed the door and looked round at me triumphantly. “See?” he said.
    I was across the room in two strides. I grabbed him by the collar and shoved him against the wall.
    “Don’t ever mess with my sister again.”
    Ryan’s eyes widened. “Hey, man, you asked me to show you. But, fine, I won’t go near her ever again. OK?”
    I let go of his collar. My hands were shaking.
    Ryan took a step away from me and smoothed down his clothes. “Anyway,” he said. “The thing is, did you get how it works? The important part is holding that last second or two. If the look’s too short they won’t see it. Too long and you’ll look creepy.”
    “Was any of that true, Ry?” Numbers said. “Bout your stepdad?”
    Ryan grinned. “Well, the last one left two years ago and I haven’t seen him since, so he might as well be dead.” He glanced at me. “No offence, man.”
    I looked away. It didn’t matter to me what Ryan said.
    “ ’S genius,” Tones grunted, mournfully. “Sheer chuffin’ genius.”
    They left soon after. Ryan said two Steps was enough for one day.
    I told him I thought his whole plan sucked, then I went upstairs and practised the “look” in the mirror for the rest of the night.

 
6
Collage materials
    Picture this, a sky full of thunder.
Picture this, my telephone number.
One and one is what I’m telling you.
Oh yeah.
    ‘Picture This’
Blondie
    “Chloe, where should I get my hair cut?”
    We were walking home from school the next day. Chloe looked at me suspiciously. “I thought you always went to that barber’s in the high street. Where Dad used to go.”
    I shrugged. “Yeah. But it’s full of old men and kids. I’m ready for something that’ll make me look more . . . er . . . more . . .”
    “More like a babe-magnet?” Chloe grinned. “Dream on.”
    I stopped. “If you’re going to—”
    “Hey, I’m just messing with ya,” Chloe said. “Try Leather Stripes on the high street. Or Felloretti’s.”
    “They sound like a strip joint and an ice-cream parlour,” I said suspiciously.
    Chloe laughed. “They’re good places for blokes’ hair. Most of Ben’s year get their hair cut there.”
    “Right. Thanks.” Good. I love the way Ben comes up as a reference point for absolutely frigging everything.
    Chloe teased me a bit more about why I wanted my hair cut. But she promised to cover for me with Mum as I was grounded and therefore supposed to go straight home from school.
    I left her at the corner of the high street then went in search of Leather Stripes. It looked promising. Dark leather seats and wooden floors. And plenty of men inside getting their hair cut.
    Half an hour later I emerged, transformed. The girl who’d done my hair had cut it quite flat on top with a short, spiky fringe. It looked good. I’d even got up the nerve to practise Ryan’s ‘look’ on the hairstylist, though I’m not sure it worked very well. She offered me a glass of water and asked if I was feeling all right.
    Finding out what Eve was interested in had turned out to be much easier than I’d expected. I already knew she was doing Art GCSE from things Chloe had said. And when I checked on the noticeboard her name was listed under the Year Ten and Eleven after-school Art Club, which met between four and five-thirty every Thursday. I signed up straight away.
    Wednesday dragged by, then Thursday sped past like a bullet. Before I knew it, I was standing outside the art room at four p.m., pushing open the door, wondering if Eve was already there.
    She wasn’t. The room was almost empty: just a couple of girls in the corner going through a pile of drawings and the teacher – Ms Patel – a dumpy woman with long black hair down to her waist.
    The art room was large and airy. It covered a quarter of the top floor of the school and had a long window running all the way down one side. There was a