Polly’s voice came from the landing.

  “Okay, guys, in three seconds I’m going to do a loud, dramatic cough to interrupt whatever’s happening in here,” she called from outside, interrupting us. “Are you ready? On the count of three. One, two…three!”

  Elijah and I scrambled upwards as Polly hacked her lungs out. He leaped back to his end of the bed and we looked vaguely respectable when she entered with both hands over her eyes.

  “Please have clothes on, please,” she joked.

  “Polly!”

  She laughed and dramatically withdrew her hands. “Aha! Brilliant. Oh no. Bollocks. Are you guys not actually a couple, and now I’ve totally mortified you both? Or WORSE, you’re THINKING about becoming a couple, but you’ve not done anything yet, and now I’ve ruined it for ever and I’m the worst aunty in the WORLD.”

  “POLLY!”

  Thankfully, Elijah was laughing. The cats, lured by the drama, all appeared in the doorway too. The ludicrousness of it sent me over the edge and I started laughing too, and Polly joined in.

  “Polly, please stop being so embarrassing.” I checked with him that I was right and he nodded. A stab of joy pierced my heart. “But, yes, Elijah and I…we’re together.”

  “I thought so. Phew.” She mock-swept her eyebrow. “Well, if I’m going to try and be a parent, I guess I should say you two need to leave the door open or something?”

  “Polly!”

  “I have no idea what I’m doing. I need to google it. Anyway, Elijah, you’d better be nice to her. We’re having a bit of a time as a family, as you probably know.”

  “I promise.”

  Polly’s face lit up. “Good. Well, anyone who can make Paige laugh right now is a winner in my book. But, umm, Paige? I did just call your mum, when I was downstairs.”

  The happiness in the room slid out through a trapdoor and I wiggled so I was completely upright and felt my stomach go back to how it always was.

  “Yeah?”

  Polly looked at Elijah, weighing up whether to tell me in front of him. I nodded.

  “It’s not a big thing…” she lied. “Just, you may have to go into school a bit late tomorrow. Your mum said she’ll be out in the morning at yoga. She suggested it would be a good time for you to pick up your stuff.”

  Pick up my stuff.

  Pick up what was left of my old life.

  With my parents out. So they didn’t even have to see me do it. So they could erase me from their lives without even having to witness the erasing.

  “Is that okay? I can give myself the morning off work to come with you.”

  Of course it wasn’t okay. Nothing about it was okay. It hurt. And would hurt for a very long time. Maybe even for ever.

  Elijah reached out, took my hand and squeezed it. Polly was looking at me with so much guilt that she was the messenger, delivering such awful, painful news. Two people who didn’t have to care about me. Who didn’t have to love me and notice me, but had chosen to care about me, and love me, and notice me. That was beautiful. And the beauty of it gave me some strength. Maybe not enough. But a starting point to build some more.

  I nodded. “That’s fine.”

  School seemed smaller the morning I moved out of my house. I stood outside the gates, looking up at the building which would soon only be a memory. It was quiet and dormant at eleven a.m. All the chaos and drama suppressed as lessons went on – holding its breath and waiting for lunchtime to reignite.

  My house that morning had also felt smaller. Polly and I knocked to double-check no one was home before letting ourselves in. We’d both cried as we quickly packed my stuff. There was no note. No goodbye. No marking of what had happened. The living-room was spotless, no china dust left in the carpet. As Polly stuffed clothes into binbags and promised me we could go shopping for more, I picked up my personal items. My Christmas notepad, almost entirely clean and fresh. The books Elijah had given me, with all their red scribbles in them. My Alexa. And, finally, my notepads of all the horrid things from school. I shoved these into my rucksack when Polly wasn’t looking and put everything else in a box to take to hers.

  I walked around the rooms of my home one final time. There was no trace of me on the walls or the mantelpiece. I’d lived here for sixteen years and left no mark at all. I knew I would carry the pain of that my entire life. Part of my story would always be defined by the years I’d spent not-existing within these walls.

  And, as I stood outside school, the years I’d spent not-existing there too sewed themselves into my story. Blossom fell into my hair as I realized you can’t protect yourself from life. From people. From harm. I’d thought hiding myself away would shield me and yet not being noticed was just as damaging as drawing attention to myself might have been. If not more so.

  I only had two weeks of school left. That wasn’t enough time to leave a mark now but, as I took a breath and pushed through the gates, I realized the experience had left a mark on me at least. One that hurt, and that pain had taught me something. It taught me that I wanted to leave a mark. Telling my story was worth it, taking up space was worth it. Because not mattering hurt worse than anything else.

  I lugged my bag onto my back and made my way to maths. Mr Sanders’s face changed when he saw me. His eyes went all puppy-sympathetic.

  “Paige, hello, sit down.” He gestured to my chair. “We’re just going through the revision timetables.” His voice was overly bright and overly cheerful. Polly had rung the school to explain my family situation and ask for time off, and I’d laughed when she told me. “Polly, they probably had to look up in some database to figure out who the hell I was,” I’d said. “Nobody would’ve noticed me missing apart from Ms Gordon.”

  I managed to pick up on the stale gossip from the Leavers’ Ball. Grace and Sam had obviously won Prom Queen and King and obviously gotten together. It turns out it wasn’t a night to remember – just school merely continuing, but at night-time, and with punch and cocktail dresses. I was due to meet Elijah for lunch, but needed to renew some revision books first. I sent him a message saying I’d be five minutes late, and rushed through the packed corridors and into the library.

  “Paige! I was hoping I’d run into you.”

  Ms Gordon also had her super-kind face on. It matched her outfit of burnt-orange sundress with yellow accessories. I prepared for sympathy as I took my books up to the desk.

  “Can I renew these? It wouldn’t let me do it online.”

  “Yes, yes. Are you okay? I heard…”

  “I’m fine. Thanks, miss.”

  “Okay, well.” She didn’t push further, which I appreciated. She took the books, bleeping them with her library gun. “I was about to come look for you actually. I know it’s your lunch break, but I was hoping you could help me? You see, the girls are adding in the ball photos this lunchtime and then we can send the yearbook off to the printers.” She handed the books back. “It needs to go to print tomorrow to be delivered in time for the Leavers’ Assembly. It’s a tight deadline. They’re only going to arrive the morning of your last day as it is.”

  “So, how can I help?”

  “Well, I feel bad asking, especially with everything you’re…well… It’s just, Paige, you’re our best proofreader, and I need a final pair of eyes on it. I went through it all last night, and it’s fine. No typos that I could see. But could you give it a final look before we send it off? It should be super quick. We’ve all read it ten million times before.”

  I looked up at the clock and made calculations. I felt so tired of this yearbook. “I’m not sure I can fit it in this lunch break.”

  “After school then? I can give you the remote log-in? Then all you have to do is convert it to a PDF and email it to the printers. You’ve done it dozens of times before for the newspaper.”

  I suppressed a sigh. The yearbook. The stupid yearbook. I couldn’t think of anything I cared about less. I was so tempted to say no.

  “Yeah, fine. As long as you give me the world’s best reference to get me into college.”

  She smiled in her burnt-orange ensemble. “Oh, Paige, you’re going to go to the college? How exciting! I’ll miss you of course, but, still, what an adventure.”

  I nodded. “Yes. I’m sending my application this week. I want…a new story. A fresh start. So, you’ll give me a nice reference if I do this?”

  “I’ll do that anyway. But thank you. You’re a lifesaver. Hang on, I’ll come with you to the newsroom, show you the log-in you need.” She called over to the library assistant who was restacking some Catcher in the Ryes and I grinned, thinking of Elijah’s decorated copy hidden in the stack somewhere. “Jessie? Could you cover me for ten minutes?”

  I sent Elijah a message as we walked across campus, Ms Gordon’s novelty banana earrings playing a symphony on her shoulders.

  Paige: Been dragged into doing the proofread for yearbook: (Sorry! Will probably miss you at lunch. Meet after school?

  Elijah: Can’t believe it. I’ve been puckering up for you all morning, waiting.

  He sent a selfie of him pulling a ridiculous kissy face.

  Elijah: But I’ll live. See you after school. Love you xx

  I almost stopped in the busy corridor. It was the first time he’d written it down and seeing it on my screen made the whole universe smile. I clutched my phone to my heart, like it was a love letter delivered by trusty steed or something.

  He loves me, he loves me, he loves me.

  He doesn’t have to, but he does.

  I was in such a state of blissful delight, I forgot I was entering a snakepit, until we got into the newsroom and found Grace and her merry bunch of sociopaths huddled over the computer, giggling.

  “Girls!” Ms Gordon boomed and they all jumped away from their screen.

  I noticed them frantically click onto a different page. They all looked guilty before plastering fake smiles on their faces. Lots of people might’ve missed it, but I certainly didn’t. My suspicion sense started firing, and I narrowed my eyes.

  “Are you almost done?” asked Ms Gordon.

  “We’re totally done.” Grace smiled so sweetly I was surprised she didn’t have more cavities. “It’s all ready to send to the printer’s.”

  Amelia started laughing behind her, trying to muffle it with her sleeve. This started a cascade of giggles between them. Further evidence.

  “What’s so funny, girls?”

  “Oh, nothing,” Grace said. “Just, I’ve been taking the piss out of Cara because she wore the same dress as Katie.”

  “Be nice to each other.” Ms Gordon leaned over to check their ball page and, curious, I looked over her shoulder, wondering if I’d just imagined them hiding something. “Oh, this is lovely, girls. What great photos. Worth the last-minute rush, I say.”

  I took in the double-page ball spread and it was very much the final jewel in the populars’ propaganda crown. A photo of Grace’s victory was giant, front and centre, and at least forty per cent of the other photos were pictures of their group.

  “It’s all ready to send off now.” Grace’s voice was an octave higher than usual and I wondered how Ms Gordon didn’t notice. Though, I’d been quietly monitoring people my whole life and, instinctively, it became very clear to me that the girls shouldn’t know why I was there.

  “Ms Gordon,” I said, turning away to show how uninterested I was. “Can I use the photocopier?”

  “What? Yes. Hang on, girls, let me just check the wording on this final page.”

  She didn’t notice them glance at each other nervously, but I did. I played indifferent though. I took myself into the photocopying corner, my spidey senses tingling, and busied myself with taking out a lot of papers I didn’t actually need copying. I utilized my very best wall-blending abilities, acting like I was lost in the fascinating world of photocopying maths coursework.

  Please, hurry up and leave. Please. I kept my head down as they chatted final fonts with the librarian. And my invisibility cloak worked, as, once Ms Gordon gave them the thumbs up, they picked up their stuff and left, seeming to have forgotten me in the corner.

  I hadn’t forgotten them.

  I picked up my warm batch of paper and made my way over to the computer. “So it’s all done,” I said, pointing to Grace’s perfect digital smile. She wore a tiara that probably only cost a few pounds from a fancy-dress shop but its social collateral was priceless.

  Ms Gordon let out a deep sigh. “All done. Another year gone by. Another yearbook created. I don’t know where time goes, Paige. I just keep getting older and older.”

  I didn’t really know what to say to that.

  “Sorry, I shouldn’t go on. It just all passes so quickly. I really think this is one of the best yearbooks we’ve ever made though, Paige.” She gave me a giant, sympathetic grin. “Which, of course, is so much down to you.”

  I squirmed. “You don’t have to be nice to me just because of what’s been going on at home.”

  “I…I…wasn’t. Sorry. Don’t think that. I mean, I’m sorry you’re having a rough time but…you are a remarkable student, Paige. Truly. One of the best I’ve had on the paper. Sorry if I’ve pushed you out of your comfort zone with the yearbook sometimes. I only do it because I think you’re so good.”

  The compliment landed happily in my heart. She was okay, Ms Gordon. A bit clueless, but she believed in me, and school would’ve been so much worse without her. “Thanks, miss.”

  “It’s true. Anyway, let me show you how to log in remotely. As I said, one quick read-through. Shouldn’t take more than an hour.” She showed me around the back end of the document. “It should hopefully look the same on your home computer. I mean, wherever you proof it. Then, once it’s done, you just download to PDF by clicking here – do you see?” I nodded, scanning the pages as she flicked through them. Nothing seemed different. Maybe I was thinking the worst? My instincts ravaged by the week’s dramas. “If there are any typos – which there really shouldn’t be – just correct them. Then let me know what you’ve changed so I can double-check before send-off. But, if not, just email it over to them. They know you. The printers are doing a rush job on it anyway because the deadline is so tight. They’ve made it very clear they can’t proofread it for us, but I’ve gone through it three times. It should be clean. Thank you, Paige.” She looked up at the clock and shuddered. “I’ve got ten minutes to grab some lunch. You’ve got my email if you spot a mistake.”

  I waved her away. “Have a good sandwich.”

  “At this time of lunch hour? No chance. There’ll only be egg and cress left. I’ll stink out the library.”

  She left in a bundle of orange, leaving just me and the yearbook. A year’s effort. A year of lies that would sit on the shelves of every student here indefinitely.

  I stretched out, cracked my knuckles, and clicked through the pages again. There wasn’t really any point proofreading now, as ten minutes wasn’t enough time to concentrate. I scanned through each beautifully laid out page. Everything looked like it should. Well, not what it should be, but you know what I mean. Maybe I’d imagined the Awfuls’ guilty behaviour? I was just clicking through the Most Likely to… page, when a name caught my eye.

  No.

  It couldn’t be?

  Lily Welsh’s name was on there. The very quiet, very big girl who hid in the library as often as I did. She spoke even less than I did. But that was strange. Lily hadn’t been nominated in any of the Most Likely to… categories. My breath caught as I followed her name with my finger to see which category she’d accidentally won. Which didn’t make sense if Ms Gordon had already checked this…but…

  “No way.”

  There, in front of Lily’s name, in exactly the same font, so it would take some time to notice it…there it was.

  A new category and a new winner.

  They couldn’t have.

  No.

  Both of my hands clasped my mouth as I searched the page we’d laid out and finalized weeks ago. Some were still the same. Grace was still most likely to be a supermodel, of course. And Joe was still most likely to be a football manager. But they’d scattered in new ones. Awful ones. Truly, what-the-actual-hell-is-wrong-with-people? ones.

  Chad came from the really rough part of town. Was in foster care. Sponsored by the church to be here. A nice boy. Really harmless. He ran to the canteen every lunchtime to get his free school dinner so nobody would notice and wore second-hand uniform that didn’t quite fit, hoping nobody would notice. They had noticed, it seemed.

  I mean, of course. How dare she get pretty and dismiss them?

  One final blow for the boy who had done nothing.

  There were more. Each as cruel as the last. Hidden amongst the approved ones. The girls had obviously deleted the categories they deemed too boring, and held their own parliament. The senseless brutality of it all, the utter sociopathic shamelessness of it…it didn’t make sense. It was so pointlessly, needlessly cruel. Why? They’d been crowned royalty – wasn’t that enough? Surely they’d get suspended for this. But they obviously didn’t care at all. Tears stung my eyes from rage. I closed them for a second, shaking all over, alone in the newsroom, and pictured how this would unfold. What would happen if I didn’t do something?

  Yearbooks delivered right before the Leavers’ Assembly next week.

  Unboxed by Grace and the girls. “We don’t mind doing it, Ms Gordon. We’re happy to help.”

  Students standing in line to pick them up on their very last day of school. Their shirts covered in marker-penned farewell messages. Feeling good about themselves. Proud of themselves for getting through it. Already nostalgic, maybe, for “the good old days”. Excited to pick up their yearbook. To see what it looked like. Trying to gather the courage to get the person they fancied to sign it before they left. Taking off the plastic. Marvelling at the front cover. This was their yearbook. Their keepsake. Finding a space to stand in the excitable, crowded hallway to flick through it. To have this moment with their history. Looking for their face, their section, their legacy. How they’d be remembered.