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night in my new school, the scars came alive.
    It was late – around midnight, but my body felt as though it was midday. My mind was alert and my eyes didn’t want to close. There was too much to think about.
    What a big, strange day it had been!
    The rest of my classes had been agreeable. Some were even informative and interesting. I had kept quiet and attentive and I believed I had made a good impression on my teachers. I even answered a question or two! School, it seemed, was not so odd and difficult after all. At lunch time, Charlotte and her friends had some sort of rehearsal, so I sat by myself in the sun and watched my schoolmates congregate and cluster and move about like a flock of grey pigeons. I enjoyed watching them, knowing I was one of them too. I liked feeling as though I was part of something. Like I belonged.
    The evening had gone quite well also. I sat with Charlotte and her friends at dinner and even made some conversation. I complimented the food (and kept my mouth closed when the others ranted about how ‘greasy’ and fattening it was). I remarked that it was a pretty night outside (and stared at my plate as the others complained about the cold). Though they disagreed with my opinions, the other girls didn’t seem angry at me. In fact, Claudia even squeezed my hand at one point and said, ‘You’re doing well, Tessa.’
    That made me feel happy. Accepted.
    When the conversation turned to fashions and ‘celebrities’, the voices of the girls muted somewhat. I did not understand why ‘leggings as trousers – cool or not?’ was an interesting topic, and I was also ignorant as to why the other girls seemed interested in talking about the romances and scandals of people they didn’t even know. I checked that I would not be missed from the conversation and, once I had concluded that they were too enthralled in a discussion on the physique of a renowned male musician (they called him a ‘pop star’), I retreated inside my head.
    And in there was Cat. I wondered if she had sat at this same table, having similar conversations. I wondered how many of the girls here knew her. I wondered if I should ask them, or if they might be sensitive about her disappearance. I imagined her, cold and alone, in the wilderness.
    I never imagined her dead, though I knew it was logically possible. Perhaps it was only hope for you, Connolly. Perhaps I just wanted Cat to be alive but … I don’t know how to describe it. It was almost intuition. I sensed that she was out there. Odd and mad and witching as it may seem, I somehow knew. And I also knew it was up to me to find her. It was like the dreams I had been having since I awoke – the ones that seemed so real and yet so implausible; it was as though my subconscious knew things my consciousness did not. I could not explain it, but I could not argue with it either. The feeling was so strong. Cat was alive .
    ‘Tessa?’ A sharp voice punctured my contemplation. My eyes snapped towards Inga, whose own eyes were boring into me. ‘I asked you a question,’ she said.
    ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I think I am quite tired. What was your question?’
    Inga rolled her eyes. ‘I just wanted to know if you have a boyfriend?’
    ‘A boyfriend?’ I asked. The term was unfamiliar to me. Was Inga asking if I had any male companions? Was she implying I had been improper?
    ‘Yes, you know,’ she said slowly, as though I was dimwitted. ‘A boyfriend?’
    ‘You don’t have to answer that, Tessa,’ said Claudia, gently. She turned to Inga. ‘That’s private,’ she said.
    ‘Aww, but I thought we were friends,’ Inga said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. I really did not like Inga. ‘All right,’ she said. ‘I’ll share first. I have a boyfriend. His name is Jakob. He’s completely hot and he kisses like a demon.’
    Ah, so Inga was not simply talking about male companions. She was talking about … gentlemen callers. About suitors.
    ‘I … I don’t really know