Midnight (7 page)

Will slammed the door in their faces.

‘Oops!' said Marnie, hand over her mouth, her shoulders still shaking.

‘Why did he slam the door like that? What was he
doing
?' Terry asked.

‘He wasn't doing anything, I don't
think
,' said Marnie.

They talked about Will for the next half hour, giggling all the while. I knew Will could hear everything. I knew he'd be so angry with me afterwards.

I decided to break friends with Marnie and Terry after that. I avoided them at school the next day and stalked round by myself. I knew I should try to join up with another little gang of girls but it was impossible. I couldn't just go up to someone and ask if we could be friends. I knew I could probably find Will in the library but I didn't dare seek him out. He'd made it very plain from my first day in Year Seven that we were to behave like strangers while we were at school.

So I drifted back to Marnie and Terry, because there was no one else. And now I'd given up on ever finding a congenial friend. But when I went to school the Monday after the bat weekend I got a surprise. There was a new girl in our class even though it was the middle of the term.

She was standing at the front, by Mrs Mason's desk, wearing her own clothes instead of our brown school uniform. They were amazing clothes too, a tiny black lace top, a silver and white embroidered waistcoat, a purple-velvet tiered skirt edged with crimson lace, and black pointy Goth boots with high heels. She had brightly coloured Indian bangles jingling all the way up
both arms and beads plaited into her hair. And what hair! Long blonde fairy princess waves all the way down to her waist.

I fell in love with her instantly.

Dear C.D.,

I keep thinking about that blonde woman who accepted your prize.

I know you like blonde women. Nearly all the fairies and nymphs and dryads in your books are blonde, from moonbeam white to tawny yellow. I so love your picture of the Violet Fairy, but she is blonde too. I've always longed for you to create a fairy creature with long dark hair, black as midnight.

But I do understand. Blonde hair is so beautiful.

With love from

Violet

XXX

WE ALL STARED
at this exotic new girl. She was like a lovebird amongst a flock of sparrows.

‘What does she
look
like!' Marnie whispered to Terry.

‘Who does she think she
is
?' Terry whispered back.

Mrs Mason was taken aback too. She narrowed her eyes as she looked at the girl, wincing slightly as if in pain.

‘I know there's not much point you getting school uniform as you're only here a few weeks, but maybe you could wear something more suitable for school tomorrow?' she said.

‘Sure,' said the girl, smiling.

‘Only here for a few weeks? I bet she's a gypsy,' said Terry, so loudly that the girl looked over to our front row.

‘Shut
up
,' I hissed, blushing. ‘She's too fair to be a real Romany gypsy – and anyone else you call a traveller.'

‘I'll call her whatever I want, Miss Bossyboots,' said Terry.

‘Right, girls,' said Mrs Mason. ‘I'd like to introduce you all to Jasmine.'

‘Jasmine,' I whispered. It was the perfect name for her.

‘Where are you going to sit?' said Mrs Mason, glancing round the room.

‘I'll sit here,' said Jasmine pleasantly, and she walked over to my desk and sat down in the empty seat beside me.

Mrs Mason frowned. She hadn't meant that Jasmine should choose for herself, but there wasn't much she could do about it. The only other spare seat was right at the back. Jasmine sat herself down with a swish of her purple skirt and a clink of her bangles. She smelled appropriately enough of jasmine scent, sweet and strange. She smiled at me. She had the most beautiful big blue eyes, outlined with kohl so they looked even larger.

‘Hi,' she said. ‘What's your name?'

I swallowed, my throat nearly too dry to talk. ‘Violet,' I whispered.

Jasmine laughed. ‘You're kidding! Well, us flower girls had better stick together.'

‘Shh, Jasmine!' said Mrs Mason. ‘You're not supposed to natter in class. You're only meant to talk when you're answering a question, and then you must put up your hand.'

Jasmine said nothing, but she raised her eyebrows expressively.

‘And I don't care for dumb insolence,' said Mrs Mason, going pink.

Jasmine blinked at her, looking innocently wounded, but when Mrs Mason started calling the register Jasmine muttered, ‘Daft old bat.'

She had a beautiful red notebook studded with beads. She opened it and started drawing a startlingly accurate cartoon figure of Mrs Mason, adding vampire fangs and outspread bat wings.

I looked on in utter delight. She saw me staring and smiled. Mrs Mason started giving us back our English homework. Jasmine peered over my shoulder to see what mark I'd got. I was pleased that I'd got an A–. English was my best subject – well, the
only
subject I was any good at, apart from art and needlework. I'd tried especially hard analysing Mercutio's Queen Mab speech because it was about fairies.

Jasmine was reading what I'd written. I was suddenly scared she'd think me a sad swot.

‘
Romeo and Juliet
?' she said.

I tried to raise my eyebrows the way she'd done. ‘We had to comment on any Shakespeare passage. Boring!' I whispered, though I actually loved Shakespeare.

‘Yeah, triple-boring,' she said. ‘Though I don't mind the death-bed scene.' She started muttering Juliet's last speech. She did it beautifully, looking utterly stricken, as if she was truly heart-broken. Her eyes even filled with tears.

I stared at her. She blinked and then grinned.

‘What?' she said.

‘You know what! You did that like a real actor.'

‘I
am
a real actor,' she said. ‘So are my mum and dad. Miranda Cape and Jonathan Day.'

She said the names as if they were household words. I hadn't heard of either of them but I didn't like to admit this. I nodded, trying to appear impressed.

‘You haven't got a clue who they are, have you?' said Jasmine.

‘Well . . . Are they on television?'

‘No! Well, Miranda was in
EastEnders ages
ago, and Jonathan's been several different telly cops in his time, and a few criminals too. But they're basically stage actors. They've both got big parts at the moment. Miranda's touring in a Noël Coward and Jonathan's about to open in
San Francisco
.' She saw my face. ‘The musical, stupid, not the place.'

I didn't like her calling me stupid – even though she made me
feel
stupid. She talked very fast but softly, so that Mrs Mason couldn't hear. I couldn't hear properly either. It was difficult to concentrate anyway. I breathed in her strong scent and stared at her palely perfect face, her deep blue eyes, her long blonde hair. I wondered if I'd have her airy confidence if I looked like her. But maybe she could feel a little bit anxious sometimes too. I saw her nails were bitten right down to the quick. She sawme staring at her tiny chewed nails and quickly balled her hands into fists.

I didn't know what to do when the bell went for
morning break. I wanted to stay with Jasmine but I didn't want her to feel she was lumbered with me all the time. Maybe she was dying to make friends with some of the other girls. She didn't belong with me. She could be friends with anyone – Alicia, Gemma, Aisling, Lucy, all the pretty cool clever girls with designer clothes and boyfriends.

Marnie and Terry were hovering, their eyes bright with malice. I knew they were all set to have a mammoth bitch about Jasmine.

‘Come on, Vi,' Marnie called.

‘Over here,' said Terry, beckoning impatiently.

‘Oh,' said Jasmine. She looked at me. ‘Are they your friends?'

‘Yes. Well, not really.' I hesitated. ‘I haven't got a
real
friend,' I blurted out.

She didn't laugh at me or look at me pityingly. She gave me this big beautiful smile.

‘Can't
we
be friends?' she said.

I was so thrilled I started blushing like a fool. I had to hide my red face behind my desk lid.

‘
Violet!
' Marnie yelled.

‘You two go on ahead,' I shouted. ‘I'm going to show Jasmine round.'

I walked her around the school, showing her everything I could think of, the cloakrooms, the art room, the PE changing rooms, the science block, and each and every classroom. She tried to concentrate at first but as we went along corridors and up and down each staircase she shook her head.

‘It's no use. It's a complete maze. I'll never remember it. I get all these schools mixed up.'

‘So do you keep going to different schools?' I thought about my first day at Ashstead High. I'd felt sick with nerves all day, even though it was Will's school and he'd told me all about it. He did look out for me at lunch time that first day but I wouldn't go with him to the canteen because I was too scared to eat.

‘Don't you mind?' I asked Jasmine.

She shrugged. ‘You get used to being the New Girl. And I don't really get fussed about fitting in.' She looked down at her clothes. ‘As is obvious!'

‘Are you going to wear clothes like that tomorrow?'

‘No, I've got an ordinary old outfit, a grey top and a green skirt. I wear that as a kind of school uniform to keep the peace.'

‘You couldn't look ordinary no matter what you were wearing,' I said. I blushed again because I sounded so wet and gushing.

Jasmine giggled. She was obviously used to compliments and people getting crushes on her. A lot of the boys in our year were hovering, yelling and barging about and bashing each other, showing off to get her attention. Jasmine barely bothered to glance in their direction.

‘Idiots,' she muttered.

One of them threw a KitKat at her. She caught it deftly.

‘Thanks, I'm starving,' she said, opening up the wrapper. She broke a tiny mouthful off one end and then gave the rest to me.

‘Hey, it's for you, not SC Violet,' the boy shouted.

Jasmine took no notice. ‘Eat it,' she said to me. ‘SC Violet?'

‘Oh God,' I said.

I didn't want to tell her. The horrible boys in our school divided all the girls into two categories. Most of us were SCs – Sad Cows. The really pretty cool girls were SBs – Sexy Bunnies. Jasmine would be categorized as a Super-super-super SB. We all knew this was a repellent and degrading practice and all the SCs objected strongly. The SBs didn't seem to mind too much. But when I told Jasmine she screwed up her face in disgust.

‘God, I can't stick boys,' she said.

‘Neither can I,' I said quickly. ‘Well, apart from my brother. And I'm not officially talking to him at the moment.'

‘Why?'

‘Oh, just because of something he did at the weekend,' I said vaguely.

‘Like what?' said Jasmine.

‘It's just this stupid game,' I said.

‘Tell me more!'

‘Nothing to tell, really,' I said. I sat down on a bench in the cloakroom and nibbled the KitKat. Jasmine sat sideways beside me, her pointy boots up on the bench. ‘Have you got a brother, Jasmine? Or sisters?'

‘Well. Sort of. I've got some steps and one half brother. Miranda's been married twice. Jonathan's never married but he had a son – he's grown up now. I don't like him;
he was really hateful to me whenever we had to spend a weekend together.'

‘My brother can be really hateful to me too, sometimes,' I said, astonishing myself. It was as if someone else was saying my words for me, like a ventriloquist with a dummy. Then I said something even more surprising. ‘My brother isn't my real brother either.'