Saturday 3 September

I’m sitting on Iris’s bed holding her journal in my hand thinking, ahem, I’ve been here before. History always repeats. You would think Iris would learn to not write down her deepest secrets for other people to find them. You would think, but you would be wrong. I knew her passwords would be on the back page – Iris has always kept her passwords on the back page – but as to what else the journal contains, as much as I’m dying to know, a bigger part of me is resistant. Rhapsodies about Theo. Rants about me. I open it again, just for a flash and a piece of paper falls out. It’s a letter and it’s addressed to me. So I guess I have to read it.

Dear Clem,

I know what you think of me. I’ve known it for ages. I knew even before we came here, when you were so eager to share a room with anyone but me. You’ve been screaming for freedom for a long time. It hurts that you don’t like me, that you don’t want to be around me. I lean towards you and you lean away. It’s always been like this. I’m not me without you, but you don’t give a flying fuck.

First of all, know this: I only told Mum and Dad about Stu because I was worried about you. You changed when you met him and I don’t trust that. I don’t get why you would willingly give up the one thing you’re good at. I don’t even get how you could sleep with a guy you’d only known for a minute, who’s so obviously not boyfriend material (even I can see that) . . . I’ll admit there was a bit of jealousy there. Why are things so easy for you? You going away to Kate’s was like the last straw. Did you have to take her away from me? My only friend here, if she ever truly was. Did you laugh about me together? I bet you told her all my fails. Well, sister, you don’t know the half of them.

You know what I do to make myself feel good? I got the idea in Wellness. Dr Malik was talking about depression, ways to lift yourself out of the swamp. He said we should think about people who are having a worse time than we are. Or maybe he said we should think about being grateful for what we have? But it made me think of that word schadenfreude – taking pleasure in other’s misfortunes. You were right when you said that I was only happy when I was looking at someone else’s sads, and it made me even happier to know that I could share it. Who doesn’t want to feel better about themselves? Who doesn’t want to feel like those perfect people suffer too? It’s the rule that fuels a hundred gossip rags – and okay, we don’t have any celebrities at St Hilda’s, so we just have to make do with our own social pecking order. But I think you should know that the first time I shared something on PSST it was an accident. I was with Theo, studying. I was telling him about how some Year 8s had ordered sex toys online and had them sent to Old Joy. Do you remember the week after there was that thing on PSST about Astrid Martin and her peppermint lube? That was the start. I’d see Theo every week and tell him things – sometimes they were true and sometimes I made them up – and I guess it hit the same part of my brain where chocolate does. Theo loved my ‘work’. He flattered me and I was ripe for it. I bet even the most terrible evil tyrants start small. I bet things just snowball and before they know it the thing they’ve made is alive and hungry and they have to keep feeding it. Malik said that too – energy flows where focus goes.

So there you have it. A confession. I’m not proud of myself. I know that Theo isn’t actually into me (why would he be? why would anyone be?). He’s using me – maybe in a way I do know some of what you’re feeling with regards to Stu. But beyond all that, I know that I’ve hurt people – friends, strangers, family (sorrysorrysorry). This thing Theo wants for Saturday – the big reveal, PSST’s Top Ten – I can’t believe I’ve contributed to it. I don’t know who I am anymore. What I wish, what I wishwishwish, is that I could get a time machine and take us back to age eleven, to sporty Clem and brainy Iris, and our old bedroom with the two alcoves Dad made us – mine mint green, yours sky blue – and that we could be in our bunks laughing like we used to, sharing like we used to.

And now it’s five and time for study hall, and any second Kate’ll be back. So I’m signing off with love and shame, and I’ll never show you this.

Iris