hand into her bag to switch off the phone. She saw Stacy looking at her accusingly, and glared at her to keep her quiet. The maths lesson dragged on.
At break, she went straight to the toilets. Stacy trailed after her. ‘That was your phone, Kerry, I heard it.’ Kerry looked in the mirror, pretending to be fiddling with her hair. ‘I saw Martin Smith at the bus stop this morning,’ Stacy said, and giggled. She wasn’t really interested in the phone. She wanted to talk about Martin Smith. She had been going on about the Year 12 boy for weeks. Year 12s didn’t look at the girls from Stacy and Kerry’s year, Kerry could have told her that. She stood in the queue in a jitter of impatience as Stacy checked her make-up in the little mirror she carried round with her, fiddled with her hair, talking on all the time. Kerry wanted to scream.
When a cubicle finally came free, she locked herself in and checked the phone. The message icon was flashing. She pressed ‘read’, her fingers clumsy with impatience. The words ran across the screen before she could take them in properly. She pressed ‘read’ again. ITS ABOUT YOUR DAD FDAY SAME PLACE 5.00.
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