Tracey WhatsApps me on the way to school. I take the bus, but Keenan’s school is round the corner, so he walks.

Tracey’s opening line:

So? First day? Dish, gf

School seems legit. Boring teachers. Not much has changed

My slightly dishonest reply.

I don’t know why, but I don’t feel like spilling the beans on the stuff that has been happening round me. I can’t tell you why, but I feel like … like having a secret.

No vampires?

I can almost hear the disappointment in her voice.

None that I can see.

Boooring.

Good. She’s off the scent.

The bus groans as it rounds the corner of the street the school is in.

Gtg, stop coming up. Txt you l*r.

I rush, scooping my satchel onto my back and wait for the bus to pull to a halt.

I keep a keen eye out for Saskia and Chuma. I want to know more about them. They’re pretty elusive though – hard to pin down. I glimpse Saskia once during first period, but that’s it. So, I’m surprised when I see the two of them approaching me in the lunch hall.

I’m eating alone – don’t worry, I’m used to it. This is the fate of many a fat girl in the world. Now, there may be girls of generous proportions reading this and saying, “Speak for yourself! I’m big, fab and popular. I never eat alone.”

To those girls I say: ‘Chill. That’s good. For me, though, this is the experience.’ So yeah, I’m not speaking for all bigger-bodied girls in the world, OK? Just me.

As if out of nowhere, Saskia and Chuma are standing in front of me.

“Sup, cutie?” says Saskia, and flashes a dazzling smile. They slide into the seats opposite me like dancers in a ballet – swish, and they’re there.

Up close, I note how pretty both of them are – in their different ways. Chuma has high-cheek bones and makes me think of the word ‘handsome’, rather than ‘pretty’. She has a serious cast to her features – always grave, sort of like an emperor or queen. Her hair is shorn super short.

Saskia’s face dances with energy. Her eyes are liquid and expressive; a little slanted, and remind me of the eyes in Japanese cartoons – only blue. Not just any blue – ice blue, like a crisp wintery sky. Her cheeks are flecked with red as if she has been running. Her mouth is animated and pink, poised for mischief.

They both have real presence.

Saskia rests her chin in her hands and blinks at me. “How is it going, being the new kid?” She is playful.

“Kinda sucks,” I admit.

Chuma laughs. “You don’t need to tell us. This school is like the shallow end of a swimming pool, full of pee.”

Saskia snorts lightly out her nose.

“What do you think of this shade of lipstick?” Chuma continues. “It’s called ‘midnight’.”

It’s dark blue. I dig it. I dig her.

“S’cool,” I say, trying to sound chill.

Saskia regards it with a sideways-tilted head.

“It makes you look bad-ass.”

This to Chuma is a compliment.

“What’s your favourite drink?” asks Chuma.

What? I make a face.

Saskia laughs. “It’s not a trick question, dummy. Just answer.”

“Coke Lite.”

Chuma reaches into her bag. “Let me see what I have in here…” she mutters.

Out of her bag she pulls the most curious assortment of objects I have ever seen.

A Barbie doll, its hair cut short like a punk; a Samsung with a cracked screen; a baby’s dummy; a little canister of gold glitter; two seashells (twirly, in the shape of a cone); a paper tube of Cerebos salt (I don’t even know where to start with on that one); a lighter; and a small little black notebook, held closed with an elastic band. On it, in Tippex, is drawn a silver star.

***

Tell us what you think: Are these good friends for Tam?