don’t know how long I cry for.

In fairness, people don’t normally time themselves. All I know is that I cry long enough for my face to get all swollen and weird-shaped, and not quite long enough to forget what it is I’m crying about.

Not one person stops to ask if I’m OK. Not a single stranger asks if they can help. Not a human soul interrupts to offer poignant words of wisdom and kindness and—

“Are you OK?”

I sniffle and wipe my nose on my jumper. All right. Maybe I should have been a bit more patient before I attacked the entire human race. I nod.

“Are you sure?”

The voice is muffled and indistinct. “Yes. Thank you.”

“Because,” it continues, “for somebody who thinks they’re OK, you spend a hell of a lot of time rolling around on pavements.”

Slowly I remove the jumper and wipe my eyes.

“Hey,” Lion Boy says with a small smile. “There’s my girl.”

I look at Nick, with his beautiful face and his beautiful hair and his beautiful cheekbones. I look at the way he’s slouched, and the way his lips curve as if the world is permanently, irresistibly funny.

To summarise, I look at how incredibly beautiful and perfect he is.

“Go to hell,” I say, pulling my jumper back over my head.

I hear Nick sit down next to me. I immediately whip my head out again like the furious tortoise I am. “I’m not sure your geographical knowledge of the afterlife is very strong,” I say through my teeth. “Do I need to draw you a map?”

“I didn’t realise this was your pavement.”

“Actually,” I snap, and then stop. Stupid Japanese laws about public pavements. “Leave me alone, Nick. I mean it. Now.”

He opens his mouth to respond, and then sees the blood on my hands and knee. “God, Harriet. What happened? Are you hurt?”

I jerk away from his hand. “No,” I snap, struggling to stand up. “I am not hurt.”

I’m suddenly so angry it feels like the contents of my chest are about to rush out of my ears like the magma inside Mount Tambora in 1815 (the biggest ever recorded volcanic eruption). “Get lost, please. Go away. Go on, shoo.”

Nick’s lips twitch and his nostrils flare. “Did you just shoo me, Harriet Manners?”

And my head bursts.

“WHO THE SUGAR COOKIES DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, NICK? You may be a supermodel and you may be beautiful and charming and cute and funny but you’re also just a boy! You’re just a boy, and I am a girl, and every time I breathe in there is a molecule that used to be part of a dinosaur in it which I assimilate into my body which means that I AM PART DINOSAUR, POSSIBLY T-REX, AND YOU DO NOT GET TO TREAT ME LIKE THIS.”

I’m so swept up in a torrent of blind fury that I am making little claws at random passers-by. Nick blinks and then grabs one of my T-Rex hands. “Hang on a second, Harriet—”

“And OK,” I continue fiercely, shaking him off, “you’re probably part dinosaur too, but you’re probably a Dilophosaurus with a rubbish frilly neck or a Linhenykus which only had a little pointed finger where an arm should be like this.” I hold my forefingers out by my armpits and wave them around uselessly.

Nick snorts and I take a cross little hoppy step towards him.

“Oh, that’s it. Am I not mature enough for you? Not interesting enough for you? Too silly for your epic adultness? Well you’re the problem, Nick. Not me. Don’t you ever try and make me want to be someone else again. I am just fine the way I am.” I grab the handle of my suitcase. “And this time you can sit and watch while I disappear.”

I turn to sweep elegantly away, but Nick holds on to my suitcase. I cannot believe that on top of everything he has now totally ruined my dramatic exit.

“Can I say something now?” he says, lifting an eyebrow. “Or do you have more second-rate dinosaurs you’d like to compare me to?”

I scowl and stick my nose in the air. “Whatever.”

“Great. First of all, it turns out somebody has been sabotaging the campaign. I only found out at the lake. I had no idea before. We thought you were just being clumsy as usual.”

OH MY GOD HOW DARE HE—

Oh, OK. I suppose that’s a reasonable assumption to make. “I already figured that out yesterday, genius,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Poppy and Rin.”

“No,” Nick says, frowning. “Not Rin. She actually helped us sort everything out.”

I abruptly sit down on top of my suitcase. “Oh.”

“Harriet, Rin hasn’t got a bad bone in her body – plus she adores you. She’s getting a T-shirt made with both your faces on it. She wanted to make your friendship ‘official’.”

I’m so relieved I feel like crying. Of all the girls I’ve ever thought might be my friend – other than Nat – Rin’s my absolute favourite. I’m suddenly filled with so much happiness I have to desperately claw back a few remaining strands of anger to finish what I need to say. “So it was Poppy. Big surprise.”

“It was to me.”

“I bet,” I say in my most sarcastic voice. “Don’t you know your own girlfriend very well?”

“Usually,” Nick says, raising his eyebrows. “But Poppy’s not my girlfriend. She never has been.”