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on this list has made me wonder how I even have two friends.

      ‘Brendan, Josie’s hair went up in flames,’ Sophie stropped.

      ‘Relax,’ Brendan said, looking up from his phone briefly. ‘It was funny.’

      And with that, he went back to playing on his phone. The room silently watched Sophie’s reaction. Her cheeks flushed with anger and she gave me one last dramatic huff before pulling her shoulders back and stalking to her desk.

      Someone snorted from the back of the classroom. It sounded like Connor. To my great relief Sophie didn’t appear to have heard and flung herself in her chair, pulling out her fluffy purple pencil case just as Mr Avery strolled in with his tea and asked us to turn to page fifty-six.

      I was so caught up in replaying Brendan Dakers sticking up for me – sort of – over and over in my head that I didn’t even hear the bell go. It was only when I noticed people actually walking out of the classroom that I realised it was time for the next class and started to pack up my things in a hurry.

      Brendan finding Josie being set on fire funny still didn’t mean that Sophie had decided to let it go with me. As I got up, I accidentally nudged Sophie who had been walking towards the door.

      ‘Urgh!’ she exhaled in exasperation, probably at the idea of me touching her, and looked at me in disgust as I hurriedly got out of her way.

      Then she shook her head, swished back her perfect hair and practically skipped towards Brendan who, unlike me, clearly had been forgiven for the classroom stand-off and was waiting for her by the door.

      I finished packing up my stuff and began to make my way out too.

      ‘Chin up, Miss Huntley,’ Mr Avery said cheerily as he took time out from wiping the board to look at me with sympathy. ‘You’ll make friends here eventually. Sometimes it takes a while to find your feet. I remember having no friends whatsoever for a good few terms at my secondary school.’

      ‘Oh, well,’ I stopped by the door, ‘thanks but I do have some friends here.’

      ‘Do you?’ he said, looking surprised. ‘Splendid!’

      Then he got back to wiping the board.

      Sometimes I really wish I was a hermit. Not only do they not have to deal with people in general but they’re also usually very wise. I can only aspire to that state of being.

      The school dance stresses me out. And it’s NOT because I won’t have a date.

      It is actually because school dances highlight the dictation of a dominating society on a youthful generation to locate a suitable partner of similar social standing with whom to spend the evening, not based on intellectual or personality compatibility, but on visual attraction alone. School dances are a staple of the dominant ideology in which we live, serving only the interest of a certain elite platform of students to exert their superiority and their peer influence, thus maintaining the existing state of the school’s social context.

      OK, FINE, it’s because I’ll never find a date.

      Ever since term started everyone has been talking about this Beatus dance, which takes place at the end of the spring term. It’s for Years 9 to 11 and apparently is kind of like a smaller version of the sixth form ball.

      ‘What on earth is the Betty dance?’ I’d asked Jess one afternoon when I overheard for the third time that day someone in the toilets talking about who was going to be elected for the committee.

      ‘It’s the Beatus dance, you mongoose,’ Jess laughed.

      ‘It means blessed or fortunate in Medieval Latin, Anna,’ Danny explained gently, giving Jess a shove. This was typical Danny behaviour, always on hand to remind Jess when to be a little more patient.

      I once told him that I thought he was probably one of the nicest people I had ever met. ‘And your hair complements that.’ I smiled.

      ‘Huh?’ He automatically ran a hand through his thick blond curls that really are quite spectacular.

      ‘I think when it comes to you, Danny,’ I’d said matter-of-factly, ‘your hair reflects your kindness and comforting nature.’

      That didn’t actually go down too well. It turns out boys don’t really strive to be kind and comforting. Danny, Jess had informed me after he’d left grumpily, gets tired of always being ‘the nice one’ who girls want to be friends with.

      The very next day after the curls comment I made sure to say, immediately as he walked in, ‘Danny! You look very rugged today. I think it’s the way you’re carrying your rucksack on one shoulder.’ I ignored the muffled snigger of Jess next to me and continued with the confidence boost. ‘Seriously, something very manly going on there.’

      He looked surprised – but I’ve noticed he’s carried his rucksack on one shoulder ever since.

      ‘It used to be called the spring term dance for lower years,’ Danny had continued.

      Meanwhile Jess smiled at me and muttered, ‘Betty dance. Honestly!’ under her breath.

      ‘Our last headmistress picked the name because, as she continually reminded us, the lower years were very lucky to have a dance at all when most schools just have a sixth form prom.’

      ‘She had to give it a Latin name to try to make it sound boring and educational.’ Jess grinned.

      ‘Sounds fun to me.’

      ‘Not really.’ Jess shrugged. ‘It’s really just an excuse for people like Sophie Parker to show off.’

      ‘Oh come on,’ Danny laughed. ‘You had a good time last year.’

      ‘The highlight was when you fell over on the dance floor.’

      ‘I did not fall over,’ Danny protested, going bright red. ‘I was doing the worm.’

      ‘Do you go with a . . . date?’ I asked timidly, pretending not to really care.

      ‘Most people do. Danny and I just went together.’ Jess sighed. ‘Although I pretended I didn’t know him when he fell over.’

      ‘I told you, I was doing the worm!’

      ‘It didn’t look like the worm. It looked like you fell over and had hurt your hip or something.’

      I had worried about the dance all over the school holidays. If Jess and Danny were going to go together again, who would I go with? They weren’t going to want a tag-along.

      Now that I’ve set a girl on fire I don’t think my chances of getting a date are much improved.

      I did consider putting a bow tie on Dog and going down the comedy route but then I decided that I should play it safe and if I was going to bring anyone they should probably be human.

      Sophie Parker and Josie Graham are representing our year on the Beatus committee of course. This means that they have to give up some of their lunch breaks to stand behind a table and sell raffle tickets to try to raise money for the dance budget. The prize is a two-week internship in the Easter holidays with Brendan’s mum who is a photographer.

      ‘Your dad should have offered an internship,’ Jess commented, as we watched Sophie and Josie giggle with some other pretty girls in the year who were buying plenty of tickets each. ‘Everyone would have bought tickets then, not just the school’s princess contingent.’

      I snorted. ‘Sadly you exaggerate. I hardly think anyone at this school is interested in tanks.’

      ‘Whatever – he interviews celebrities all the time.’

      ‘I guess.’ I shrugged.

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