LITMIR.BIZ

       swear on my Oxford English Dictionary, I have never moved so fast in my entire life.

      By the time I’ve slid through the closing door of the gym hall, my breathing is so strained I sound like our vacuum cleaner when Annabel’s cleaning the sofa. Sweat is dripping down my neck and the only thing I have to mop it up with is the edge of my school jumper now hanging in three ripped pieces around my neck, like a piece of modern art. Or something Wilbur would wear.

      I’m barely two steps into the room when Toby’s fluffy head spins around. I can only assume he spotted me out of the back of it with what he calls his ‘Harrietenna’.

      “Toby,” Miss Johnson says in a warning voice, and Toby immediately stops waving and starts blowing me kisses and blinking instead.

      I nod hello at him, hurry past and put my little plastic bag of stationery carefully on the right-hand side of my desk. Then I sit down and close my eyes.

      Only a minute left to gather my thoughts, summon The Knowledge of the Stickers and Zen my environment. Just a few precious moments to allow the stress hormones to dissipate, to regulate my breathing, stop working out what time it is in Australia and to get my mind back on physics.

      Midnight. It’s midnight in Sydney right now.

      Somebody snorts.

      Focus, Harriet. There are two types of electron: negative and positive. Like charges repel. Opposite charges attract.

      Somebody snorts again, and there’s a faint giggle from a few seats away.

       When insulating materials are rubbed together, electrons are knocked off one atom and on to the other.

      There’s another laugh, and suddenly I’m vaguely aware of eyes burrowing into my forehead.

      Not just Toby’s, I know what they feel like.

      Cautiously, I open mine and glance around the room. There are a hundred and fifty-two other students in the hall, and every single one of them is staring at me.

      I have absolutely no idea why. It’s not as if nobody here has seen sweat before. Or a ripped jumper. Or a single sock and scratched face. That’s how a large chunk of my year end lunch break.

      I look at Toby and see he’s inexplicably patting his cheeks. When I search the room for Nat and see her – a long way away – she’s trying to mouth something at me.

      “Go,” she’s saying, subtly pointing at me. “Go.”

      I love Nat. She’s my favourite person in the entire world (followed by my dad and Annabel). But I’m not going anywhere. I’ve only just got here.

      “Go,” she mouths again, and then she rolls her eyes and smacks her head with her hand.

      Now that gesture I’m familiar with.

      “Everybody face this way,” Miss Johnson shouts furiously, and three hundred and two eyes suddenly snap away from my face. “Toby Pilgrim, that includes you,” Miss Johnson yells, and the final two revert to the front. “You have thirty seconds before your exam begins.”

      The only person not focusing on our imminent exam is Alexa, who is sitting diagonally directly behind me. She’s got a standard smug expression on her face and she’s rolling something between her fingers. Before I can work out what’s going on, she subtly leans down and rolls a little paper ball forward so it’s positioned directly under my desk.

      “Twenty seconds.”

      I stare at the ball in confusion, then in a flash I know: Alexa’s trying to sabotage my exam. She’s trying to plant revision notes on me. Yet another round of her ultimate plan – Ruin Harriet’s Life.

      Oh my God. If I pick it up and get caught, I’m going to be thrown out of this exam. If I don’t pick up it up and it gets found under my desk afterwards, I’ll get disqualified for cheating. What do I do?

      “Ten seconds.”

      Pick it up or don’t pick it up? Don’t pick it up or pick it up?

      “Five seconds.”

      I bend down swiftly and grab it. If I can destroy the evidence before the exam starts, I’m not cheating. I’m just … disposing of rubbish responsibly.

      But, like Pandora, I need to know what’s in the box. I need to know what’s intended to destroy me. So I tuck the note under the desk and quietly open it:

       GEEK, YOU’RE FACE IS BRIGHT GOLD.

      Oh, I think.

       Oh.

      “Please turn your papers over,” Miss Johnson announces as I shrink into my seat with my hands over my face. “You may now start.”