LITMIR.BIZ

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and it could be dangerous if you wander around on your own.”

      I scowl. “Yes, Toby. I might be at risk from stalkers.”

      Toby looks around us. “I think it’s just me, Harriet. I’ve not run into any others while on the job. Are you excited about the modelling assignment?”

      I stare at him for a few seconds. “How the hell do you know about that?”

      How am I supposed to keep it a secret from Nat and Annabel if I can’t even keep it secret from Toby?

      “Well, I wouldn’t be a very good stalker if I didn’t, would I?” Toby laughs. “I’d have to hang up my stalker gear in shame.” He thinks about it. “Which would be unfortunate because all I’ve really got is this flask and I’m quite attached to it.” He pulls out a red flask and shows it to me. “Soup,” he explains. “In case I get hungry.”

      “Toby, nobody is supposed to know.”

      “So that makes this a secret between the two of us, right?” I glare at him. “Which makes us kindred spirits? And – correct me if I’m wrong – soulmates?”

      “We’re not soulmates, Toby. You can’t just go round stealing secrets and then forcing people into being your soulmate.”

      “OK.” He seems unabashed by the rejection. “But you’re glad I gave that model man your number.”

      For a few seconds all I can do is stutter without any noises coming out. “You gave the modelling agency my number?”

      “You ran off at The Clothes Show so quickly I think you forgot. Good, huh?” Toby grins at me and the yellow bobble bounces up and down cheerfully. “Now the whole world is going to see you the way I already see you. I’ve always been a little bit ahead of the trends.”

      I point to the scraped-up word on my satchel. “And what if they see me the way everyone at school sees me, Toby?”

      Toby considers this for a few moments. “Then I think you’re going to need a bigger bag.” And he hits the drum on his T-shirt. Thud, thud.

      Suddenly I’m not so sure the launderette was a good idea after all. “I’m going home.”

      “OK. Would you like me to follow a few metres behind?” I frown at him, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “By the way,” he adds, “did Nat tell you what she did yesterday? She was amazing, Harriet. Like Boadicea, except without the chariot. Or the horses, or the swords, but still: it was awesome.”

      I stop near the door. “Nat?” I say, totally confused. “What are you talking about?”

      “She heard what happened to you in Mr Bott’s English class and she went crazy. She stormed into the changing rooms while Alexa was getting ready for hockey and did a whole world of yelling.” Toby pauses. “I didn’t see this because they wouldn’t let me in. Apparently that room is only for girls and I am not one of those, Harriet. I assure you. Whatever Alexa might say. I am all man.”

      My blood is running cold, and not just because Toby just said the phrase all man.

      “And you want to know the best bit?” Toby adds, apparently totally unaware that every single muscle in my face is now twitching with guilt and horror. “You want to know what else she did?”

      “What?”

      “Honestly, you won’t believe it when I tell you.”

      I almost snarl at him, I’m so tense. “Tell me,” I pretty much shout across the launderette. “Tell me what she did.”

      “She chopped Alexa’s ponytail off. Right off. At the base. With some scissors. And then she said, ‘Now let’s see how you like everyone laughing at you,’ and stormed off.” Toby laughs. “Apparently Alexa looks a bit like she’s all man too now.”

      Oh my God. I groan and put my hand over my eyes. This is the school equivalent of the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand in Sarajevo in June 1914, which led to Austria-Hungary declaring war on Serbia, which led to Russian mobilisation, which led to Germany declaring war on Russia. Which led to World War One.

      Nat just started a war for me. In defence of me. Because of me.

      And I am not worth it.

      This is about as horrible as it’s possible to feel. I’ve reached new heights of self-shame (or lows, depending on which way up the scale is). “I…I…” I say faintly, holding on to the door handle. “I really have to go home, Toby.”

      And I run out of the door as fast as my legs will carry me.

       run all the way home.

      OK, that’s not true. I don’t run all the way. I just wanted you to think I could if I needed to. Because I probably could. I run most of the way and then I Brownie Walk for the rest of it (walk twenty paces, run twenty paces). But I can’t run fast enough to get me away from what it is I’m running from. Which is me, mainly.

      What am I doing? I’m about to screw over my Best Friend while she defends me, my stepmother while she protects me and possibly – depending on exactly how bad I am at this modelling thing – Wilbur and the entire fashion industry.

      My head feels like it’s starting to rattle with words bouncing around inside it like balls. Every time Moscow, Nick, Baylee or Metamorphosis hit the side, my entire body jolts with excitement. Every time Nat and Annabel make contact, I feel like I’m about to implode with guilt and anxiety. And every time the Alexa ball bounces, I feel like vomiting.

      But it’s too late. I’ve made my choice. So I spend the rest of the evening making an imaginary box in my head. And into this box I put all of the balls. I close the lid. And then I lock it up and temporarily misplace the key.

      I’m going to Russia, I’m going to be transformed and there is nothing anybody can do to stop me.

      First thing on Monday morning, the lies begin.

      Lie No.1

      Nat, I have a bad cold. Really do this time. Not coming to school today or tomorrow probably. Hope you’re OK. See you Wednesday xx

      Lies No.s 2 and 3

      Annabel: “Why are you wearing your Winnie the Pooh jumper, Harriet?”

      Me: “…It’s non-uniform day.”

      Annabel (long silence): “And why haven’t you gone to work already, Richard?”

      Dad: “It’s non-uniform… Hang on. No. Late start today. Going in later. Look: I bought some strawberry jam.”

      Annabel: “Why? I hate strawberry jam.”

      Lie No.4

      Me: “Annabel, do you know where my passport is?”

      Annabel: “Why on earth would you want your passport at 8am on a Monday morning?”

      Me: “…International school project?”

      Annabel: “Why does that sound like a question? Are you asking me or telling me?”

      Lie No.5

      Toby, have gone to Amsterdam for a shoot. H

      By the time Annabel’s frowned at both of us, checked me for a temperature and gone to work, Dad and I are running late for the airport so packing consists of throwing everything I own into a little suitcase, bouncing on top of it to get it to shut and contemplating just trimming round the edges as if it’s some kind of pie.

      I’ve decided if I’m doing this,

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