But the void yawns open like a cavern inside my chest. I feel so damn lonely all the time. Even though I’m surrounded by pupils, there is this invisible screen between us, and behind the glass wall I am screaming – screaming in my own silence, screaming to be noticed, to be befriended, to be liked. And yet when a friendlylooking girl from my maths class comes up to me in the canteen and says ‘Mind if I sit here?’ I just give a quick nod and turn away, hoping to God she won’t try to engage me in conversation. And at home it’s hardly as if I’m alone, either. The house is never silent – but Kit is still going through his evil phase, Tiffin is only interested in his Gameboy and his footie friends, and Willa is sweet but still just a baby. I play Twister and Hide-and-Seek with the little ones, help them with their homework, feed them, bathe them, read them goodnight stories, but all the while I have to stay upbeat for them, put on the damn mask, and sometimes I fear it will crack. Only with Maya can I really be myself. We share the burden together and she is always on my side, by my side. I don’t want to need her, to depend on her, but I do, I really do.

At lunch break I am sitting in my usual place during the tired afternoon, watching the cold light slowly move across the empty stairwell beneath me, when footsteps from above startle me. I lower my eyes to my book. Behind me, the feet slow and I feel my pulse rate rise. Someone passes me on the steps. I feel a leg brush against my shirtsleeve and I concentrate on the page of blurred print before me. To my horror, just below me, the footsteps stop altogether.

‘Hi!’ a girl’s voice exclaims.

I flinch. Force myself to look up. I meet the browneyed gaze of someone I vaguely recognize. It takes me several seconds to place her. It’s the girl Maya always hangs around with. I can’t even remember her name. And she is looking at me with a wide, toothy grin.

‘Hi,’ she says again.

I clear my throat. ‘Hi,’ I mumble.

I’m not sure she can even hear me. Her gaze is unflinching and she seems to be waiting for something more.

‘The Hours,’ she comments, glancing down at my book. ‘Isn’t that a film?’

I nod.

‘Any good?’ Her determination to make conversation is impressive. I nod again and return to the page. ‘I’m Francie,’ she says, still grinning broadly.

‘Lochan,’ I reply.

She raises her eyebrows meaningfully. ‘I know.’

I can feel my fingers making damp indentations in the pages of the book.

‘Maya talks about you all the time.’

There is nothing subtle about this girl. Her frizzy hair and dark skin contrast sharply with her blood-red lipstick and she is wearing an obscenely short skirt and huge silver hoops in her ears.

‘You know who I am, right? You’ve seen me hanging around with your sister?’

Another nod, the words evaporating as soon as they reach my throat. I start chewing my lip.

Francie looks at me pensively with a little smile. ‘You don’t talk much, do you?’

My face starts to burn. If she hadn’t been a friend of Maya’s, I would be pushing past her down the stairs by now. But Francie seems more curious than amused.

‘People say I never stop talking,’ she continues breezily. ‘It pisses them off.’

You’re telling me.

‘I have a message for you,’ Francie declares suddenly. ‘From your sister.’

I feel myself tense. ‘W-what is it?’

‘Nothing serious,’ she says quickly. ‘Just that your mum is taking your brothers and sister out to McDonald’s tonight so there’s no need to rush home. Maya wants you to meet her at the postbox at the end of the street after school.’

‘M-Maya asked you to c-come here and tell me that?’ I ask, waiting for her to smirk at my stammer.

‘Well, not exactly. She was trying to send you a text, but then she was kept in to finish off some coursework so I figured I might as well tell you myself.’

‘Thanks,’ I mumble.

‘And . . . I also wanted to invite you to have a drink at Smileys with Maya and me, since the two of you don’t have to go rushing off for once.’

I stare at her, mute.

‘Is that a yes?’ She eyes me hopefully.

My mind has gone blank. I can’t for the life of me think of an excuse. ‘Uh, well – OK.’

‘Cool!’ Her face lights up. ‘I’ll see you at the postbox after school!’

She is gone as suddenly as she arrived.

At the final bell I pack my bag with unsteady hands; I am the last to trail out of the classroom. I make a dive for the toilets and lock myself in a cubicle. Sitting on the closed lid after peeing, I try to pull myself together. On the way out I stop in front of the mirrors. In the afternoon light the pale face staring back at me has the glittering green eyes of some alien creature. Leaning over the basin, I cup icy water in my hands and bring it up to my face, pressing my cheeks into the shallow puddles. I want to hide out here for ever, but someone else bangs in through the door and I have no choice but to leave.

Maya and Francie are standing side by side by the postbox at the end of the street, talking in rapid-fire to each other, their eyes scanning the crowds. It takes all the will in the world to stop me from doubling back, but the look of expectation on Maya’s face forces me forward. Her face breaks into a smile of delight as she catches sight of me.

‘Thought you were going to do a no-show!’ she whispers.

I smile again and nod, words running through my mind like a stream of effervescent bubbles.

‘Well, come on, guys!’ Francie exclaims after a moment’s awkward silence. ‘Are we going to Smileys or not?’

‘Absolutely,’ Maya says, and as she turns to follow her friend, her hand brushes against mine in a gesture of reassurance – or perhaps it is thanks.

Smileys is still mercifully empty at this time. We take a small round table by the window and I hide behind the menu, my tongue rubbing the rough skin beneath my lip.

‘Are you guys getting food?’ Francie wants to know.

Maya glances at me and I give a subtle shake of the head.

‘Shall we share some garlic bread?’ Francie suggests. ‘I’m dying for a Coke.’

Maya leans back in her seat to try and catch the waiter, and Francie turns to me. ‘So, are you looking forward to getting the hell out of Belmont?’

I put down the menu and nod, forcing a smile.

‘You’re so lucky,’ Francie continues. ‘Just another nine months and you’ll be free of this hell-hole.’

Maya finishes ordering and returns to the one-sided conversation, which even Francie is struggling to maintain. ‘Lochan’s going to UCL,’ she announces proudly.

‘Well, no, I – I’m applying—’

‘It’s a dead cert.’

‘Shit, you must really be smart!’ Francie exclaims.

‘He is,’ Maya informs her. ‘He’s been predicted four As.’

‘Fuck!’

I wince and catch Maya’s eye, pleading with her to back off. I want to object, play it down, but I can feel the heat rushing to my face and the words evaporating from my mind the moment I conjure them up.

Maya elbows me gently. ‘Francie’s no fool either,’ she says. ‘She is actually the only person I know who can touch the tip of her nose with her tongue.’

We all laugh. I breathe again.

‘You think I’m kidding?’ Francie challenges me.

‘No . . .’

‘He’s just being polite,’ Maya informs her. ‘I think he’s gonna need proof.’

Francie is all too keen to oblige. She sits up straight, extends her tongue as far as it will go, curls it upwards and touches the very tip to her nose. The cross-eyed look completes the picture.

Maya falls against me with mirth and I find myself laughing too. Francie’s OK. As long as this doesn’t last too long, I think I’m going to survive.

Suddenly there is a commotion in the doorway. Francie spins round in her seat and I identify a group of Belmont pupils by their uniform.

‘Hey, guys!’ Francie shouts. ‘Over here!’