I don’t even know who they are yet.
But I asked them to hit me with it, and it feels like they just did.
“S-sorry?” I finally manage.
Then I take a few steps forward until I can see a boy behind the sculpture.
He’s pale and tall, with mousey hair, thick dark eyebrows and a round face, and – for some reason I can’t fathom – he looks slightly magical. It’s only as I get a few metres away that I realise he has two slightly different coloured irises: one pale blue, the other light brown.
Otherwise known as heterochromia iridis and entirely a result of melanin levels in the eyes rather than enchantment or a Harry Potter spell.
Sadly. I checked.
“Seriously,” the boy growls, grabbing some clay and sticking it into the angel’s leg, “I’ve never known anyone so obnoxiously wrapped up in themselves. It’s quite amazing.”
His magical quality takes another enormous step down.
“Sorry? We haven’t even met, have we? I don’t think I’ve ever even seen you before in my entire life.”
The boy looks at me steadily for a few seconds.
“I’m in your form. I was in the team next to you this morning. For a full hour.”
I get a little closer, and – now I’m not distracted by the thought that he might be a wizard – I can see that, yup: he’s the new boy in the yellow T-shirt who was late this morning, except now he’s disguised by blue overalls.
In fact, I think when we went back to the form room at the end of team-building to do the register he was sitting at the desk directly in front of me as well.
OK. The defence isn’t looking good right now. Annabel would tell me to start plea-bargaining immediately.
Instead, I automatically go on the counterattack.
“Well,” I say, desperately sticking my nose in the air and crossing my arms, “you didn’t say hello to me either.”
“Yes, I did,” he retorts bluntly. “Twice. You were too busy telling India about the essay you wrote for your English exam. Four months ago.”
I flush. It was all about masculinity and gender in Othello and I thought it might be a good way of making peace with her. I don’t think it worked.
“But—”
“And now this poor guy just wants peace and quiet to work on his project, and you follow him in here, ignore his pretty obvious hints and gab away about yourself again.”
Follow him? Excuse me?
“Actually Toby’s my stalker,” I snap indignantly. “Not the other way round.” I pause slightly while I consider how that sounds. “OK, that’s not exactly what I …”
The guy with the heterochromia snorts.
“Yeah, my mistake,” he says, grabbing a piece of wire and bending it into a C shape. “You’re lovely. I can see why you fit into glamorous New York with all the bananas.”
My mouth flaps in silence a few times – he wasn’t even there when I said that; I knew people were talking about me and my bananas – and then I turn desperately to Toby. Why isn’t he protecting my honour?
Because he hasn’t heard a single word, that’s why.
His head is bent over the piece of paper again, his earphones are back in, and he’s lost in Toby-land: scribbling away frantically, humming the theme tune from Star Wars under his breath.
I rush over and pull out an earphone.
“Hello again, Harriet!” he says, quickly folding his arms across the desk. “Maybe I could encourage you to wear a bell round your neck so people know you’re coming? Our cat’s got one. It’s very handy.”
“Toby.” My cheeks are getting hotter and hotter. “Tell this … this boy …”
“Jasper. For the third time today, my name is Jasper.”
I’m not sure how, but this is getting steadily worse. “Please tell Jasper I’m actually quite nice if you get to know me!”
Toby turns to Jasper with reproach in his eyes.
“Harriet Manners,” he says with total sincerity, “is the sweetest girl in the entire universe. She is a sterling example of what great niceness the human race is capable of. Should we ever need an ambassador for outer space, I will be voting for her to represent us.”
A little grateful knot of embarrassment forms in the base of my throat, and I turn to Jasper triumphantly.
“S—” I start, but before I can get to the “ee” Toby continues:
“Sometimes she is so kind she even lets me sit on her doorstep when it’s raining and she’s too busy to let me in.”
Oh my God. That just made it a billion times worse.
But if I let him in every time I’d never be on my own again.
“Right,” Jasper says flatly, picking up another piece of wire. “Sorry. She sounds utterly charming and not at all like a stuck-up princess.”
I can feel myself starting to get angry.
“Toby,” I say, turning back to him. “You don’t really mind me being here, do you? I’m not in the way, am I?”
Then I look triumphantly at Jasper with my ha face at the ready.
“Actually,” Toby says, “you are a bit in the way, Harriet. It would be useful if you could go away today. I really need to focus on my project. And maybe tomorrow too, actually.”
“But—”
“And Thursday.”
“I—”
“In fact, while we’re discussing it, could you maybe leave me alone for the rest of the week? Next week would also be extremely handy as well.”
It feels like something is starting to tighten inside my chest. Toby doesn’t want to hang out with me either?
Then I turn back to Jasper and the corner of his mouth is turned upwards slightly in a little smirk.
That does it.
A lightning bolt is 54,000 degrees Fahrenheit, and it feels like one has just shot through me: white-hot anger is scorching and fizzling from the top of my head down to my fingertips and back again.
Swallowing, I stick my chin in the air and start heading towards the door in dignified silence.
Somehow I don’t quite make it.
“You don’t know me,” I say, spinning round. “You don’t know who I am, or how I think, or why I do the things I do. You know nothing about me at all.”
“You’re totally right,” Jasper says as the bell for the end of lunchtime rings. He stands up and pulls off his blue overalls so that the yellow T-shirt is fully visible again. “And you know what?”
“What?”
“That’s