SPOW

At the bus stop, the Scrunchie girls stared vacuously ahead. They all looked alike, these slapperettes; died hair with bad root – jobs, the dead ends all held fast by cheap Lycra scrunchie hairbands. One of them, Portlyn Maddison, is in my year, Year Ten (14-15); the others are Year Nines (13-14). I noticed Portlyn ( three scrunchies) had a huge love – bite on her neck, the size of a Ritz cracker, that she was showing off to the others. Our new head teacher, Mr Riddick, would be down on her like a ton of breeze – blocks if he saw it. Love – bites were definitely not part of his 'new vision' for Adams High.

The bus was late. I was dying to get to school but the bus was late and along came Chad Dylan Cooper. Maybe, just maybe, moving could have been bearable, but when I discovered we were going to be living on The Close with him, I knew my life was over. Chad – I – may – be – thick – but – I - think – I'm – gorgeous Dylan Cooper. Chad – I – will – wreck – your – lesson – but – I'm – a – laugh, aren't I? Dylan Cooper. Chad – I've – just – come – back – from – Minorca – what – are – you – doing – here – Munroe? Dylan Cooper.

'What are you doing here, Munroe?' he asked.

'Minding my own business,' I answered.

He grinned. His white teeth shone, enhanced by his mid – term, unauthorized tan. He is very, very good – looking in an obvious football star sort of way. Fortunately, having excellent taste, I'm immune. Tawni, my best friend, wanted to have his babies.

'Wotcha, Port,' he greeted he, 'nice neck.'

'Port' blushed and covered he love – bite with her hand, as if she only just remembered it was there. 'It was Nico. We were just messing about.'

'I'll bet you were,' Chad replied meaningfully.

Ah, Nico. Nico Harris, best friend of Cooper and fellow pain in the love – bitten neck. Both in my form. Lucky, lucky, lucky girl that I am. Sadly, Cooper returned his attention to me and I cursed all forms of public transport. 'Come on, through, random, what are you doing here? It's a bit far from your end, isn't it?' he asked.

As if I'd reply after the random bit. Curse funniness. Curse Road Car Buses.

'She moved here the day after you went on vacation,' Portlyn informed him on my behalf. 'Lives where the Walesbys were before they got evicted.' She glanced sourly at me before continuing. 'They've not been on the corporation list two minutes either, my mum says. Our Nicola would have loved that house but they won' give her a three bedroom with only one baby.'

Well, sor – ee for existing, Mrs Maddison. I can assure you if I had my way 'your' Nicola could have it this minute. Cooper laughed, as if reading my thoughts, and punched me in the arm. 'Welcome to my world!' he joked. I couldn't return his smile. I have seen his house – houses – numbers nine and ten. They were unbelievably awful – pond, gnomes, fake wishing well, fake Mediterranean shutters against diamond – studded UPVC windows – the full fake works.

I turned away and fixed my eyes on the row of shops opposite, preferring the sight of a dog peeing against a letter box to Suntan Boy. I heard Portlyn ask if he'd be going to the 'Centre' that night. She tried to sound casual but you could tell she hoped he'd say 'yes'. I could feel all the other little Scrunchies pricking up their ears to hear God's Gift's reply. 'Might do, might not,' he concluded. There was a collective, oestrogen – laden sigh. Tomorrow, I'd be walking on the next bus stop.

Grady was waiting for me as I arrived. At least this part of my morning hadn't changed. Grady always timed his walk to school so that he met me off the bus, then together we waited for everyone else. I have three very close friends – Tawni Hart and Selena Gomez, whom I've known since Primary School (5 – 11), and Grady Mitchell, who has hung out with us since Year Seven (11 – 12). We're very protective of Grady; he gets called Gayboy a lot because he knocks around with us instead of gobbing on pavements and smelling of BO like some of the moronic males at Adams High. He is not gay but he's definitely a bit of a victim. The fact that his mum, who's a vicar, buys his clothes second – hand doesn't help and I noticed he'd been experimenting with his sideburns again but thought it best not to comment. ' Have you had a phone installed yet?' he asked as we headed for the main entrance where Selena was waiting.

'Negative.'

'I tried phoning that box number – you know – the one on Newstead Road, where I phoned you last time?'

'Aha.'

'This bloke answered and tried to sell me some hash!'

'I hope you said no.'

'Well, duh!'

'Cos I can get it much cheaper.'

'So when are you getting one put in? It took me three hours to do my maths last night,' Grady moaned.

I just gave it to him straight. 'We're not, the Munroe's are going to be the only family in the entire western world without a telephone.'

'You're kidding!'

'I wish. I had a massive row with mum about it last night.'

Grady looked concerned. 'You and your mum never row.'

'Oh, don't we?' I muttered.

'What are you going to do?'

'Save up for a mobile,' One they wouldn't know about and therefore couldn't confiscate.

'Obvious solution. O Wise One.'

'I thought so.'

Trouble was, my pocket money had been halved until 'things sorted themselves out' too, but I couldn't tell anyone that. There are only so many embarrassing disclosures you can make in one day. Instead, I broke the news to Selena that she would be in charge of steering Grad through his maths until further notice. She glanced away and sid hard, prompting Grady to protest that he wasn't that bad.