It’s ironic, being large and largely invisible. I can tuck myself in among the shadows, where the canteen roof slopes and drips stale water long after the rain has stopped. I can ignore the drops that catch the wind and sleet their way onto my face with their little nuggets of dirt inside.

From here I can see groups of kids, arranging themselves with others that match them.

The nerds, circular around a tree, discussing the latest computer technology.

The sporties, substituting catch and run for life. Letting balls and legs and arms do the talking.

I can let my eyes focus in peripheral vision without moving my head as a telltale. And if I angle my body, just slightly and not enough for anyone to notice the movement, I can get the little slices of interaction between the cool group. I can use my eyes as a casting agent might, taking a mental snapshot of each of them. The shiny group: ideal for shampoo commercials, health bars. Their tag lines could be written with ease, because I know them now.

I have watched. I have listened.

I have to remind myself to focus, though. It’s necessary to switch quickly from one person to another. There are always so many exchanges, and so much to take in. They are people who live publicly. Not hidden in the shadows.

I have to be careful. The temptation is to let my peripheral vision land on Jordan and stop right there. Exotic beauty, effortless flair. She leans against a white pole and it becomes a backdrop just for her. Jordan has perfected the art of not giving a shit, and it becomes her. It’s cruel, how it all works. For her.

I have to tear my eyes off Jordan. I tell myself to do it the same way I would rip a bandaid off. Quickly. Instead, I slowly start pulling, feeling the wound stick to the plaster.

It’s a competition between Jordan and Lee. I can tell just by their body language. I am not stupid. Just fat. I can see what’s happening.

It’s a short movie, the sound’s muted, and I find myself barracking for Lee. Go the underdog. Wholesome and radiant. The Girl Next Door. Lee is the sweet one. She almost knows I exist. She even smiled my way in English. It had been a shock, and for a frightening moment I thought I’d been caught staring. I think I looked away quickly enough for her not to notice me.

The prize is Jack. Of course. A prize no red-blooded girl would be disappointed with. Jack could be used to model a trophy. He would be gold, arms outstretched, muscular. A Jack for the mantelpiece. Masculine, athletic and a little touch of zing.

Lee won’t win. I can see that already. I’d like to be her coach, advise her to pull back a little. Stop blinking. Stop letting your feelings spurt everywhere. Of course it’s just fantasy. It will never happen, you and Jack. Except inside your head.

I know that I will never give Lee any such advice.

I use the exchange of Twisties as an opportunity to move around the group. I force my eyes to ride from hand to packet. Cecilia takes three. Exuding delicacy and grace. She drifts away from the group. I notice the sliding of Twisties beside Cecilia’s mouth. Sleight of hand, a magician’s trick, but if you look closely it’s not hard to figure out how it works. The Twisties remain in her hand, her hand drops down, resting against her leg, and it’s only a short trip to the ground.

Then my eyes are with Meredith. She’s a performer, that one, roving around looking for material to use in her act. Vivacious smile to light up any screen. The threat of masticated Twisties, spewing out with her guttural laugh. Overdone, you think. A touch too vivacious. But the others laugh.

Lee screws up her nose. She tries to act grossed out by Meredith, but it’s a pretty weak decoy. Her body is permanently pointed towards Jack and Jordan.

Jordan deigns to take some Twisties. Lee turns to Jack, offering him some, but he hardly notices. His eyes are glued to Jordan. His eyes are unshifting pupils full of Jordan.

I follow Lee as she steps back, accepts defeat.

Jordan: for whom the world turns.

Meredith steps back in front of them. It’s as though she has received a call back from me, the casting agent. Requires a second audition, requires more attention. And it’s just as well, because I don’t know whether I would have been able to change focus, to rip off the last remnants of that bandaid. She is saying something to Sam. Typical teen. Perfect in sidekick role. Meredith is laughing. That one is always laughing.

It makes me wonder why she is sad.

The something she said has slapped Sam. His cheeks are burning red. I wish I could have heard it, but it’s too dangerous to move within earshot.

I have a salad roll for lunch. I am starving and want to take a bite, but that is dangerous. A big girl eating will always attract unwanted attention. Still, I take the risk. I try to do it slowly, with no sudden movements. I lift the roll towards my mouth.

It’s a stupid risk. I have blown it. There are eyes on me, and although they don’t see me really, I must swerve away.

Viewing time is over.

I look down at my school shoes. Giant boats. Let them ship me down the track to the breezeway behind the canteen.

Alone.