I’m fifteen minutes early to meet Ethan for our date at the Jokey Juice bar, so I line up to get our drinks. The food court at Westland Mall is pumping with the post-school crowd and the juice queue is already winding into the sushi shop next door. Ethan and I have been going out for almost a month now, so I know exactly what to get him: apple and celery with lots of ginger.

There’s a special on jumbo juices today. Directly in front of me are three primary-school girls counting up to see if they have enough for one each. They go to my old school – I recognise the cacky colours of their uniforms. One of their mums is probably shopping nearby, but I bet they’re pretending that they’re here alone. I used to do that too.

One of the girls has the same out-of-control curls that I had before I discovered the greatest gadget ever invented: the hair straightener. Curly-girl is the one counting the money. She looks up after a minute, eyes bright. ‘We’ve got exactly enough!’ she announces to her friends.

She’s a little awkward-looking, this girl. Like she knows she’s a bit nerdy but doesn’t know what to do about it. Just like I used to be. I imagine going over and saying something to her. Something like, Don’t worry. When you get to high school, you can be someone different.

I picture myself producing a hair straightener from my bag and giving it to her with a smile – like a fairy godmother – then walking away. Although I wouldn’t actually walk away, because then I wouldn’t be here when Ethan turns up.

Ethan. Funny how even thinking his name makes me feel quivery. I still can’t believe that I actually have a boyfriend – I mean, out of the two hundred students in our year level, I’d say that only ten of them are going out with someone. That’s only five per cent! And of that five per cent, less than half are going out with someone from our year – which means that at the school social in two weeks, Ethan and I will be one of the only actual couples there. That’s pretty cool.

The Jokey Juice queue moves slowly forward and then finally the primary-school girls are up. The girl behind the counter is wearing an apron splattered with fruit pulp and her face is shiny with heat.

‘Three jumbo apple and watermelon juices, please,’ says curly-girl.

The counter girl gets busy with the juicing machine, and a few minutes later she dumps the juices down in front of the girls. I’m close enough to read today’s joke printed around the bottom rim. What time is it when an elephant sits on your fridge? Luckily the juices here are fresher than the jokes.

Curly-girl slides across their carefully stacked pile of coins. But then there’s a problem.

‘You’re five dollars short,’ the counter girl says after counting the coins. ‘The special offer ended at four.’ Her thumb jabs over her shoulder. There’s a clock on the wall – huge and green with a big red smiley face in the middle. ‘See? It’s ten past now.’

‘It was before four when we got in the queue,’ says curly-girl bravely.

Counter-girl shrugs. ‘So?’

Curly-girl flushes and starts counting the money again. Like the coins might have somehow increased while sitting there.

I’m getting sick of this. Ethan’s going to turn up soon and I don’t want to be stuck in this queue when he does. I fish a five-dollar note out of my pocket and slap it onto the counter. ‘Here,’ I say. ‘All paid for now.’ The kids kind of gape at me but don’t move, so I pick up the juices and shove them in their hands. ‘Go!’ I say. ‘Enjoy.’

By the time I have my juices, Ethan is officially late. Only by a minute, but still, it’s not like him. I check my phone, but there’s no message. I could call him, I guess, but I don’t want to use up my credit. Once it’s gone I can’t afford any more until next month. I’ve been trying to talk Ethan into joining the same phone company as me because then we can text each other for free. My sister Carolyn and her boyfriend Max do that, although they don’t really need it because they spend every second together anyway.

I look around for somewhere to sit, but then I remember that they’ve just opened a new branch of Cosmetica in the mall and I may as well check it out while I’m waiting. I slip my phone into my pocket so I’ll hear it when Ethan texts or calls.

The moment I walk into Cosmetica, I spot Edi, Olympia, Jess and Hazel in one corner of the shop. The cool girls from school. Of course they’d be here. Edi Rhineheart is one of the most stylish girls I’ve ever known.

‘Hi, Edi!’ I call. Edi says hi back but doesn’t invite me to join them or anything like that. So I peer closely at the eyeliners, trying to think of a reason to go up to them.

My friends Leni and Soph hate it when I’m friendly to Edi. They’ve never actually said it, but I can tell anyway. Maybe they think I’m trying too hard or something.

But I can’t see what the problem is. How cool would it be if we got to join Edi’s group, or even just hang with them sometimes? Or maybe Leni and Soph are worried I’ll end up liking Edi and those guys better than them. I wouldn’t, though.

I’ve just decided to go over and ask Edi if they’re choosing stuff for our school social when a phone rings – not mine, unfortunately – and Edi answers.

‘Yep,’ she says. ‘Okay, I’m coming.’ Then she sighs and turns to her friends. ‘I’ve gotta go,’ she says. ‘Dad’s going to be out the front in five minutes.’

I call bye as Edi and the others leave, but they don’t seem to hear me. It’s pretty noisy in here, I guess.

There’s still no sign of Ethan. I hope he’s okay. He’s kind of vague sometimes. Maybe he got lost. Or maybe he’s been trying to text and there’s something wrong with my phone. I walk around to where Edi was standing in case there’s better reception in that part of the shop, and to see what she was looking at.

There’s a big display promoting a new line of mascara.

It’s called ‘5000x’ because it’s supposed to make your eyelashes appear five thousand times longer. The girl in the poster does have amazingly long lashes, but obviously the five-thousand-times bit is an exaggeration. Because an eyelash is what – about one centimetre long? So if this mascara made them five thousand times longer, they’d be around fifty metres long. Imagine trying to blink with fifty-metre-long eyelashes! That would have to be annoying, right? The mascara does look pretty good, though. And I do need some new stuff to wear to the school social.

I put one juice down on the ground and pick up one of the mascaras. The tube is smooth and slick in my hand and I notice it has two lids – one on each end with a differentsized brush attached. That’s very cool and I find myself wanting this mascara a lot. Then I check the price. It’s thirty dollars. They might as well have labelled it, Not for you, Anya Saunders.

This is depressing. But what happens next is way worse. My phone beeps and I almost drop the mascara and the juice in my panic to get to it. Because I’m sure this will be Ethan and I’ve got this sudden, horrible feeling about what the message will say. Maybe something’s happened to him.

Something bad. Like he’s been hit by a bus while hurrying to meet me. Maybe he’s texting me from hospital.

But there’s no need to panic. Ethan’s not in the hospital. Ethan is fine. I was right about the message being something horrible, though.

Hi, Anya – sorry, but I’m not coming today. I think we should just be friends. Ethan.

I stand there with the phone in my hand, staring at it like I’m waiting for the letters to rearrange themselves into new words. Ones that don’t spell out such bad news.

But the letters stay just where they are and I’m left wondering what I should do next. Maybe I should call Ethan and try to talk to him? But he might just ignore my call and that would suck. I could ring Leni or Soph, but I don’t really feel like doing that either. Basically, I wish I could just disappear.

‘Hey! You can’t bring food or drinks in here.’ One of the Cosmetica staff members – a tall girl who looks like a model – is pointing at the juices at my feet.

‘Oh,’ I mumble. ‘Sorry.’ I shove my phone away, pick up the juices again and leave the shop. Just outside the door is a bin and I dump the apple, celery and ginger juice in it. I’m glad I bought the jumbo size. It’s worth the extra money for the jumbo-sized splash it makes as it hits the bottom. The cup rolls around so I see the answer to today’s joke. Time to get a new fridge.

Jokey Juice should print up a special cup just for me.

But instead of a joke of the day, they could put my photo on it.