I tried to talk to Chelsea-Grace today.

I didn’t plan it. If I had, I definitely wouldn’t have chosen today to do it. I would have picked a time when I felt positive and confident.

Today I felt weighted. Heavy. So full of dark things.

I didn’t sleep the other night, after Alyssa came over. After Fergus said he’d never forgive me. After Mum and Dad told me I’d messed up, big time, and that I should have left well enough alone.

They looked so angry, Ms Hiller.

And then Sophie came home, and Mum and Dad told her what had happened, and she was angry too. She said I was a silly little girl.

I went to my room and I cried and, for a while, I thought about giving up, but then I remembered what you’d said. About the dead fish.

I still want to fix Fergus, Ms Hiller. I can’t believe that was my only chance and I ruined it. I have to hope there’s another way.

I spent the past two nights thinking about how I could make things right. By the time this morning came, I still had no answer, and I had a head full of sludge and a heart full of stones.

So it wasn’t the best time to talk to Chelsea-Grace. Sometimes the stream takes you in directions you’re not ready for. But I guess it’s still up to you what you do when you arrive.

I was at my locker, looking for my notebook, when I heard her voice. ‘So I’ll see you after school, okay? All right. Bye bye, hon!’

It was at that moment that my hardcover copy of Ulysses decided to make a leap for freedom from the depths of my locker. ‘Oh, holy freaking doughnuts,’ I cursed as it connected with my forehead.

‘Clem, are you okay?’ Chels stopped in front of me. ‘Oh, eek!’ She touched her fingers to my forehead and held them up before my face. They were red and wet. ‘That must really hurt.’

‘It’s . . . a big book.’ I felt slightly woozy.

What I did next should make you proud, Ms Hiller. This is the part where I was brave.

Or perhaps concussed.

‘I’m really sorry, Chels,’ I said quickly. ‘I never meant to hurt you, with Sam. I didn’t encourage him at all. I don’t like him at all.’

Chelsea-Grace looked at her feet. Her face had gone scarlet.

‘I promise,’ I said gently. I reached out and put my hand on her arm. And she didn’t flinch away. She let me leave it there.

‘What’s going on?’ I’d been so fixated on Chelsea-Grace I hadn’t noticed Cleo approach. She stood beside Chels, her hands on her hips. Her eyes flicked to my forehead, but then they narrowed.

‘Well, I was just telling Chelsea-Grace—’

‘Clem, stop!’ she cried, and the anger in her eyes was real. She wasn’t enjoying this drama. Cleo was really furious with me. ‘Please stop. Don’t hurt her even more.’ She took Chelsea-Grace’s arm. ‘You’ve already done enough. Come on, Chels.’

‘I . . . I have to go,’ Chelsea-Grace whispered. There were tears in her eyes. As she walked away, Cleo extended an arm and Chelsea-Grace sank into it, leaning her head on Cleo’s shoulder.

And I thought my heart would break.

‘They’re your friends?’

I turned to see Fred Paul standing behind me, in knickerbockers, holding a unicycle. I sighed. ‘Not anymore, I don’t think.’

Fred nodded. ‘May I accompany you to class?’ he said.

As we walked, I pulled the book he’d loaned me from my satchel. ‘Sorry,’ I said.

‘Whatever for?’

‘Well, both for taking so long to return it to you, and for the Worcestershire sauce stain on page 134.’

‘Did you like it?’ he asked.

‘It made me want to live in Victorian England. I wanted to go back in time.’

‘You can, you know.’ Fred’s hazel eyes sparkled.

I looked at him curiously. ‘What do you—’ A drop of blood dripped onto my arm, and my hand flew to my forehead. I’d forgotten all about my injury-by-flying-Great-Work-of-Literature.

Fred reached into his pocket and pulled out a crisp white handkerchief. Gently, he dabbed at the cut. When he was done, his perfect handkerchief was tainted with scarlet splodges.

‘I’m so sorry,’ I said.

‘Never mind,’ he said softly. ‘Are you all right?’

I nodded. ‘Better now.’

At that moment, Sam, Brent and Todd walked out of a classroom into the corridor. Sam spotted me, said, ‘Go on, guys. I’ll catch you up,’ and headed my way.

‘Shall I leave you alone?’ Fred asked.

‘No,’ I said quickly. The last thing I wanted was to be alone with Sam Peterswalds.

Sam leaned on the wall, blocking my way forward. ‘Well, if it isn’t my lucky day,’ he said.

‘Hello, Sam,’ I said, as politely as I could manage. ‘I’m just going into class.’

‘Can we talk later?’ Sam stepped closer, sliding across the wall like a copperhead snake. He looked down at me, the corners of his lips curling up. Now he wasn’t a snake – now he was the Cheshire cat. And he stared at me as if I was a saucer of cream. He didn’t even seem to notice the blood.

‘I’d better get in now, anyway.’ Fred indicated our classroom door.

‘Me too,’ I said quickly. ‘Sorry, Sam.’

I wasn’t really, though.

Sam shrugged. ‘Another time, Clem. I’ll keep trying.’

‘He seems a bit of a nasty fellow,’ Fred said – observantly – as Sam walked away.

‘He is,’ I agreed.

‘And he likes you?’

‘I’m not sure like is the correct word.’ I sighed.

‘He covets you,’ Fred said, nodding. ‘And you don’t want to be coveted.’

‘Not by him,’ I said firmly.

Then something wonderful happened, Ms Hiller, I’ll give you that. One wonderful thing in the midst of this heavy, dark day. Fred reached out and took my hand. ‘Then I’ll just have to protect you,’ he said.