One More Thing

Chapter Two: She Knows

*TWO WEEKS LATER*

She knows.

Sydney knows.

I can tell from the way she looks at me. Or rather, the way she doesn't look at me. She's gone from giving me death glares at every opportunity to completely ignoring my presence. No one changes their behaviour that much without good reason, do they?

I don't know. I'm trying not to think about it too much. Instead, I've agreed to meet Mae, my best friend, at the cafeteria.

I spot her as soon as I approach the steps leading up to the centre. She's leaning against the wall, looking killer as always. On her feet are a pair of chunky black boots with lots of tiny chains on the inner sides - totally against the dress code policy, of course. She's wearing a tweaked version of the usual uniform and her afro hair is parted into two bunches, adorned with blood red ribbons.

"Hey! I'm loving the lipstick," I say. She's wearing a pastel violet shade today and it contrasts beautifully against her dark skin.

"Thanks," she grins. "Wanna get food?"

We go through the revolving doors - I always approach them with a mild level of dread. On my first day of year twelve, about a year ago, my bag got stuck. I'd never feared for my life so badly. I was catapulted backwards like a dog on a chain and, as a result, my head slammed into the glass. But the worst thing was, near-concussion aside, at least fifty people saw it happen.

Mortifying or what?

"Valerie!" says Mae. "Did you hear a single word of what I just said?"

I shake my head sheepishly.

Mae proceeds to tell me that she's been given detention today, again, for rolling her skirt up at the waistband. Our school is stupidly strict like that.

"They just hate goths," she moans.

"What does being goth have to do with rolling your skirt?" I laugh.

"Valerie, my dear child, you don't understand. Tell me, have you ever seen Mia Johnson get in trouble for rolling her skirt? Hers could pass for a belt."

"Not gonna lie, I haven't," I confess.

"Exactly. To my knowledge, the only people who have been tackled are me, Emily C, Beth Jones, and Alicia Morales. And what do we all have in common?"

"Alt kids."

"Voila," she smiles.

I chuckle, taking in the glorious smell of freshly baked croissants - okay, maybe reheated croissants is a more accurate description. But whatever. They smell amazing. I can smell the gingersnap cookies in the display cabinet, too. I put my hand in my blazer pocket to grab a pound coin.

"Oh my god," whispers Mae. "Look at his hair."

I look up to see Tom Galloway, the guy Mae has been crushing on since forever, saunter through the crowd of sixth formers. His hair is neon green today, which shouldn't surprise anyone because it has gone through the entire colour spectrum over the last six months.

I look at Mae. She is smiling coyly, trying to get his attention.

"You really like him, don't you?" I whisper.

"Um, yes," she says. "What else does this look like?" She points to her face and I can't help but laugh.

"Why don't you just go up to him? Ask him about his art project or something."

"Ha. I wish it was that easy," she says.

"Why can't it be?"

Mae laughs. "You'll understand one day. When you eventually crush on someone."