When Lucy and Josh come round on Saturday night, Lucy doesn’t use her key. Instead she rings the doorbell, which is a bad start. Already I’m annoyed. I mean, she’s still part of the family, isn’t she? Then Dad answers the door and makes this big deal of pretending he doesn’t recognise her, which annoys me even more.

I stay in the hallway just behind Dad, thinking about escaping to my room. I’m not sure I want to hear about how amazing everything is for Lucy now.

‘Hi, Erin,’ says Lucy when Dad finally lets her in.

‘Hi, Luce,’ I say and push a toe into the carpet. Then I wait for her to say something else. Maybe like, Sorry I never called you back. Or even, Do you have a minute? I have so much to tell you.

‘Better get this on so there’s time to dry,’ Lucy says, and hauls a bag of clothes into the laundry.

Two seconds later Mum follows her in, and I hear Lucy telling Mum that she can do it herself.

‘So … how’s tricks?’ asks Josh, and rubs his hands together.

‘Yeah, okay.’ I look towards the laundry, straining to hear what’s going on. All I can pick up is the sound of water hissing in the washing machine.

When I turn back to Josh, an image comes to me of him in the nude, sucking face with Lucy.

‘Want to play Bionic Racer?’ I blurt. Have to do something before I get more images of them having sex.

Josh looks towards the laundry, and then back at me. ‘Sure.’

It takes a while to set up. I keep an ear out for the others. What are they doing?

Once we start racing, though, the rest of the world falls away and all that matters is leaning round the corners and speeding up on the straight. Josh really gets into it too, tilting to the side and leaning forward just like I am, laughing and cheering whenever one of us crashes. ‘Man, I love this game,’ he keeps saying.

By dinnertime I still haven’t spoken to Lucy, but I’ve won nine races to Josh’s seven.

Mum calls us in and we sit around the good table, as if it’s someone’s birthday. I make sure I’m sitting next to Lucy. I can’t believe that she hasn’t missed me, even a little.

We’ve only just started eating when Lucy asks Dad about her electricity something-or-other, and I end up with nothing to say. Again. More talk about stuff that has nothing to do with me.

By the time we’re clearing the dishes, Lucy asks Josh what time he wants to leave. Mum and Dad disappear into the kitchen to check on the apple pie. I can hear them asking each other who ate all the ice-cream.

I lean closer to Lucy. ‘So, when can I see your flat?’

‘Don’t know,’ she says, rubbing a spot of gravy on the tablecloth and not looking at me.

‘Next weekend?’

Lucy’s head snaps to me. ‘I said I don’t know.’

‘What’s your problem?’

‘Nothing.’

Josh stands up and gestures towards the kitchen. ‘I’ll just see if they need any help.’

But it’s as if he didn’t say a thing. Lucy and I sit glaring at each other. Let’s have it out. Right here, right now.

‘Nothing’s wrong?’ I use my know-it-all voice that Lucy hates. ‘Then why are you suddenly acting like a snob?’

‘All right,’ says Lucy. ‘You want to know? I’ll tell you what’s wrong. You went snooping around in my room as soon as I moved out —’

‘What? I wasn’t snooping —’

‘— and then you dobbed about what you found!’

‘It’s not even your room anymore,’ I snap back at her. ‘You moved out, remember?’

‘It’s still my room!’

‘No, it’s not.’

‘And anyway,’ says Lucy. ‘Even if I can’t stop you going in there, what gives you the right to tell Mum?’

‘Who says she didn’t find it?’ I yell, and my stomach turns over. ‘You’re the one who left all your rubbish lying around.’

‘That stuff is private, Erin.’ Lucy’s voice is softer now, but even angrier. ‘Don’t you think you could have spoken to me?’

‘But I tried to. I called you ages ago …’

‘You called me yesterday!’

‘And you never called me back!’ For some reason, that makes me feel like a kid all over again.

‘I’ve been busy, all right?’ says Lucy.

‘Too busy to make one phone call?’ It’s the only thing left to hold on to, so I grip with all I have. ‘Now that you’ve moved out, you’re too busy for anyone else …’

Lucy scowls at me.

‘You think that makes you special? You’re still the same person, you know. You’re no better —’

‘Why don’t you just grow up?’ says Lucy, cutting me off.

For a moment I glare at her. Then I stand up and shout at her perfect, pointy nose, ‘GROW UP, YOURSELF!’

In the kitchen, it goes really quiet. I run to my room, slamming the bedroom door behind me. My room feels too small. I could burst out of it.

My phone is on the edge of the desk. I grab it and select Briana’s name. Don’t even know what time it is. I’ll leave a message if she doesn’t answer. Who cares if she’s on her deathbed?

Briana picks up. ‘Hey, Erin. How’s things?’ Her voice is so light that for a moment, I hesitate. She seems so relaxed.

‘Where were you yesterday?’ I pounce.

‘Um, sick,’ she says, but I can hear doubt in her voice.

‘Did you go to the doctor?’ My voice is loud, but I don’t care.

‘What do you mean?’

My jaw clenches. Even now she’s acting as if everything’s fine between us. Glaring at myself in the mirror, I launch in. ‘You should get yourself checked out. For all you know you might have glandular fever.’

‘What?’

‘You know … the kissing disease?’

‘What are …’ There’s a pause. ‘Phoebe told you?’

‘Yes, she did.’

‘I can’t believe it —’

‘It’s not Phoebe’s fault,’ I snap. ‘She thought you’d told me already. You know, since we’re meant to be best friends.’

Neither of us speaks after that. In my mind I picture the look on Briana’s face, her mouth squashed to one side and her forehead wrinkled.

‘Are you okay?’ Briana asks after a while.

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘I don’t know.’ But the tone of her voice sounds as if she knows exactly. ‘Are you saying you actually care all of a sudden?’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Whenever I talk about Hamish you just vague out …’

‘No, I don’t.’

‘Yes, you do! You get this bored look on your face. As if you wish we’d talk about something else.’

My mouth opens to protest but nothing comes out. I sink to the bed and a wave washes over me. She’s right. I hate it when they talk about Hamish.

‘And … all right, I know you don’t think much of him,’ continues Briana, ‘but the way you’ve been acting, it’s as if you don’t care about me. If you care about someone, you should care about what they have to say. You said so yourself, when I asked you about Lucy.’

‘Of course I care! It’s just … you talk about him all the time.’

‘Not all the time!’

Pretty much, but I don’t say it. Talking doesn’t seem to be fixing this. It’s as if there’s something standing between us.

Phoebe.

‘So when did it happen?’ I ask after a while.

‘Last weekend. After we went to watch him play hockey.’

‘Are you going out with him?’

‘Well, that’s the thing,’ says Briana. ‘We didn’t even talk about it. But we’re going to have a coffee after school on Friday, and Phoebe thinks he might ask me then.’

‘Wow,’ I say, and I mean it. ‘That’s …’ I try to think of more but all that comes out is another, ‘Wow.’

‘Yeah, well, he hasn’t asked me out yet.’

‘I’m sure he will.’ But there’s no excitement in my voice.

‘You’re still angry, aren’t you?’ says Briana. It’s more an accusation than a question.

‘Wouldn’t you be? I mean … jeez, I had to find out from Phoebe.’

‘I’m sorry, okay?’ she says quickly. ‘But … what do you expect? You won’t even tell us who you like. It’s not as if you share anything with us!’

BECAUSE THERE’S NOTHING TO SHARE! That’s what I want to yell, but I don’t. ‘I told you about the wrapper in Lucy’s room, didn’t I?’

‘But that’s about Lucy.’

‘So of course Phoebe has to hear all about it.’

Briana’s voice fades. ‘What does it matter if I told Phoebe?’

‘I don’t know. It should be my choice to tell her, shouldn’t it?’

Silence on the other end of the phone. ‘Okay, okay. I’m sorry.’

Her apology makes it even worse. How did it come to be so bad between us? In all the years we’ve been friends, we’ve never fought like this. I don’t say anything back.

‘I’ve said I’m sorry.’ Briana’s voice is tired and angry. ‘What else do you want me to say?’

‘Nothing. Don’t bother.’ With a lump in my throat, I hang up the phone.

When I get to school on Monday, I walk the long way round to my locker. There doesn’t seem any point in heading to our bench. Briana’s probably telling Phoebe about our fight right now. I picture them both checking the path and hoping I don’t turn up.

In homeroom Briana sits next to me like normal, but I have a feeling it’s more out of habit than because she wants to.

‘Hi, Erin,’ she says and bites her lip as if I’m a bomb that’s about to explode.

‘Hi, Briana,’ I say, and stare straight ahead at nothing.

I’m expecting Briana to lean back and talk to Phoebe like she always does, but instead she pulls out her diary, flicking from page to page, biting her lip.

That makes me wonder. Is Briana angry with Phoebe? I turn my head, sneaking a peek behind me.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Phoebe’s long dark hair. Her mouth opens as if she’s about to speak so I quickly turn away. What do I care about Phoebe? None of this would have happened if it wasn’t for her.

It’s the longest homeroom in the history of the universe. Me ignoring Briana. Briana ignoring Phoebe. And Phoebe’s the one who started it all.

It’s like a love triangle, but without the love part.

Maths isn’t so painful. Briana keeps her head buried in her diary. By recess, I realise what I have to do. I grab my muesli bar and head straight for the oval.

Leni is brilliant when I turn up. She stands up and pulls me into the group without missing a beat. I’m glad that she doesn’t ask what’s going on. We talk about the sports carnival for a bit. Then Sophie starts listing each step of her campaign for more ethical food in the canteen, while I stare up the path leading to our bench.

What is Briana saying to Phoebe right now? Are they talking about me? I think about heading over to talk to them, but then I change my mind. What’s the point? All I do is sit there while they talk about guys.

And what do I have to say about them? A whole lot of nothing.

I’m about as low as you can go by the end of the day.

I slump into a free space on the bus and stare out the window.

George drops into the seat behind me and wobbles my backrest. ‘So …’

Not in the mood.

‘… aren’t you going to ask?’ says George.

‘Ask what?’ I wonder what Briana and Phoebe are doing now. I should be glad that I’m free of all that boy talk. Except I’m not glad I’ve lost my best friend.

‘About the Hero Quest movie?’

I shake my head. ‘Not sure that I want to hear how awesome it was, right now.’

‘No, but —’

‘Not today, okay?’

I can feel George’s eyes on me, so I turn to stare out the window again. The bus engine rumbles and hums.

George shuffles in his seat. ‘Is something wrong?’ he asks quietly.

When I look up to see the concern in his face, I immediately feel guilty. ‘Sorry. I just have stuff going on.’

‘Ah.’ His voice drops knowingly. ‘Girl stuff or guy stuff?’

A chuckle escapes. ‘What makes you think it’s either?’

‘Am I right or what?’

Actually, it’s pretty close on both accounts. I shrug.

‘Come on,’ he says. ‘Try me.’

My feet shift on the floor. ‘I don’t know. Sometimes friends just … change, you know?’

‘Yeah.’ George’s voice grows brighter. ‘You haven’t changed, though.’

That’s part of the problem.

A passing ambulance catches his attention and I take the chance to check out his face, wondering what it would be like to be the kind of girl who was crushing on George. She’d definitely like his hair. I’ve never noticed the way it’s almost straight, except it’s almost wavy.

Before I can glance away his eyes slide back and mine drop faster than an atomic bomb.

‘C’mon,’ says George. ‘Shove over.’ He swaps seats and I shuffle over so that we’re sitting next to each other.

‘The girls in our class are always fighting. And I’ll tell you one thing …’ he drifts off, waiting for me to look up.

My eyes slide to George. ‘You’ll tell me what?’

George leans in, so close I feel a piece of his hair brush my ear. ‘Girls always sort it out without having a punch-up.’

That makes me smile. ‘And that’s how guys sort out their problems?’

‘Sometimes.’ He breaks into a grin. ‘And sometimes we just pretend nothing’s wrong.’

I groan, but I’m laughing too. ‘Thanks, George. You’ve been really … helpful.’

George winks. ‘Got you smiling, didn’t I?’

I roll my eyes. But I’m still smiling.