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catch a glimpse of him. I spent a lot of time on Facebook keeping tabs on whoever he was talking to. In short, I was becoming a stalker.
    I composed a love song for Finn.
    I wrote endless bad poetry that sometimes rhymed but mostly didn’t.
    I wrote about my life in a journal that I hid in my bookcase with my old picture books. I figured it was safe there. I wrote about my feelings and my life and my friends — anything that came to me.
    It was like I had a fever.
    It was like being infected with a disease.
    It was like finding another part of myself that I’d never met before.
    I know Poppy was amused by this new me. She asked me once if I wanted her to use her Power to get some extra information on Finn, and for a moment I was tempted. But I was the sensible one. The one who had no time for boys. I thanked her briskly and said no.
    Sometimes I wished I could just go back to being the predictable Sarah Lum that I knew and understood. The practical Sarah, interested in world events and the extra study questions in the back of the Maths textbook.
    But I think I waved her goodbye in Year 12 on that first day back at school. The day I realised I might just have a chance with Finn Cashin.

6
SARAH
    Polly called for the doctor
    to be quick, quick, quick

    YEAR 12 JOURNAL, DAY 1, PART ONE
    10.15 a.m.
    You are the one
    You are mine
    You
    It is the second day of school for Year 12 and I have just found out that Finn Cashin is in my English class. I am so happy I feel sick. He brushes past me as I sit and write a letter to him that I know I will never send. He knocks a book from my desk and reaches down to get it. I cover the loose sheet that I’ve been writing Finn Cashin poetry on and he hands me the book.
    ‘Thanks,’ I say.
    And he gives me a smile like it means something and suddenly I think that maybe I have a chance with him.
    It’s the first time I’ve seen him since the day in The Woods. He shows no sign that he is remembering that day as he looks at me. I want to ask him about the bedroom in his house that I wasn’t supposed to go into, but know I don’t dare. We both know why it’s empty.
    My heart races. A slick of sweat pops up on the palms of my hands. I stop to consider what illness this symptom could indicate. Hypertension is the first thing that comes to mind. I wonder if I have a fever. I know the symptoms of many illnesses because of a game Dad and I used to play with our
Reader’s Digest Family Health Guide Book
when I was little. He would read out a set of symptoms and I would guess the illness. Which sounds really lame, but at the time it was nice having his full attention.
    I want to say so much more than thanks to Finn for picking up my book, but he’s already gone and who am I kidding anyway? I don’t have words for him. How can that be? I can stand in front of 500 people and debate the merits of wind power, or thank a visitor at school assembly, but I can’t tell the one person I lust over about how I feel.

    ‘HEY,’ SAID POPPY, as she plonked down in the seat next to mine.
    I slipped my journal under my textbook. Poppy knew about my obsession with Finn, but still…
    Poppy.
    My gorgeous, crazy, dreamy best friend did not understand. Poppy thought you should tackle love head-on. She was constantly in love — in and out and back again. We made a strange pair, even she could see that, but Poppy chose me on Orientation Day for Year 7s, and who was I to un-choose?
    Remembering that day can still make me cringe.

    YEAR 12 JOURNAL, DAY 1, PART ONE
    9.15 p.m.
    The day I met Poppy it was free dress for Orientation Day, but my parents decided that I should wear my primary school uniform.
    ‘You come from a very good school,’ insisted my father. ‘The teachers should see that. It is never too early to make a good impression.’
    I had matching ribbons in my hair and when we got to the high school auditorium, early of course, my parents marched me up to the front seats near the stage.
    ‘You can