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right there. Right beside my table.
    “Hi, I’m Eve.” She slid into the seat next to me. My heart thumped. We were so close. If I moved my hand by a few centimetres it would touch hers.
    “Luke,” I said.
    Eve was staring at my alien-head flowers.
    “Just doodling,” I said, scrunching the paper up in my hand.
    She smiled at me. It was like someone shining a torch directly in my eyes. I had to look away.
    “I remember you,” she said. “You’re Chloe’s brother.”
    Yesss! Suddenly brimful with confidence, I looked back at her.
    “I . . . er . . . I’m sorry about your dad.” Eve blushed.
    “It doesn’t matter.” Shit. “I mean . . . it’s OK. Not him dy . . . I mean . . .” I tailed off.
    Eve smiled again. “I like your music collage idea,” she said. “Ms Patel said you wanted to know about the different materials you could use . . .”
    “Mmmn,” I said, nodding vaguely. “Mmmn.” My eyes travelled slowly down her jumper, then back up to her mouth. I watched her lips, transfixed by the effortlessly sexy way they pouted and curled as she spoke.
    “. . . so paper’s good, but messy. Maybe bottle tops would work – though they’re hard to stick down. Or how about silver foil? That would get across the metallic quality of music, don’t you think?”
    It took me a couple of seconds to realise Eve had stopped talking and was now looking at me. I also realised, a heartbeat too late, that I was still staring at her mouth like some sex-crazed lunatic.
    “Sorry if that was boring.”
    “No, it wasn’t,” I said, too quickly. “It was really helpful.”
    Crap, crap, crap. She thinks I’m being rude again.
    Eve stood up. I stared at the tabletop, praying for inspiration. Something, anything to keep her here a minute longer.
    “How about wood?” I said desperately. “Sorry if I went weird on you back there, but something you said made me think. The quality of music thing. I mean, metal’s good – but so’s wood, isn’t it? After all, loads of instruments are made of wood.”
    I prayed Ms Patel wasn’t about to appear at my shoulder and ask me which ones. At that point I don’t think I could have named a single musical instrument, let alone worked out which ones were wooden.
    Eve nodded. “I like it,” she said. “Hey, why don’t you use wooden buttons. That’ll add to the whole effect by being disc-shaped. You know, like CDs?”
    “That’s brilliant,” I said. “Thanks.”
    Eve looked pleased with herself. She walked back over to her table.
    “OK, time to pack up,” Ms Patel called.
    I checked my watch. Where had the last half-hour gone?
    My heart was racing as I replaced my pencils in the pencil box. Ms Patel cornered me before I could get back across the room. I explained the wooden-button collage idea as quickly as I could. I wanted to have time to say goodbye to Eve before she left.
    “Great, but you’ll have to bring in your own buttons next week,” Ms Patel said. “We don’t have any wooden ones.”
    “Fine.” In the distance I could see Eve disappearing out the door. I almost skidded across the art-room floor to grab my bag, then raced onto the corridor. She was on her own, thank God, just at the top of the stairs.
    “Eve,” I called.
    She looked up and smiled.
    “See you next week,” I said. My eyes lingered on her face. I wasn’t even thinking about making her notice me or trying to look at her in any special way.
    Then it happened. Without warning, this jolt – like an electric shock – shot between us. It was massive. Overpowering. Like . . . like in that instant we were inside each other’s head and the rest of the world had disappeared. A second later it was gone.
    I stared at her, knowing absolutely that she had felt it too.
    Her face reddened. She looked away, clutching the stair rail.
    “Next week,” she said. Then she scurried off down the stairs.
    I leaned against the wall, too turned on – too completely overwhelmed – to move. Then Ms