‘Right,’ Meg says.
‘Mr Pitcher, Mr Morgan and Mr Betts.’
Shawna screams.
‘That’s just nasty.
Can you even imagine?’
Liz laughs.
‘No. Cos I’m not imagining,
but you must be.
Rank!’
The bell for the end of break
rings
but
Meg drags on her fag
like she hasn’t heard it.
Everyone else smoking behind the drama block
leaves for their lessons.
‘You’ve got to decide.
Shag, marry or dump?
Go!’
Shawna shrugs.
‘Shag Mr Pitcher, marry Mr Morgan, and dump,
definitely dump, Mr Betts.’
Meg turns to me.
‘You’re quiet,’ she says,
like it’s a crime.
‘This one’s just for Jess.
Right,
Dan, Kenny and…’
She pauses.
Shawna and Liz wait with their mouths open.
I see the horrible machine of Meg’s mind
as she searches for the name.
His name.
I cross my fingers that it won’t be him,
that she’ll say Ryan,
cos he’s the most obvious choice.
Then she finally says it:
‘Nicu.
Go on then, Jess.
Shag, marry, dump?’
It’s a trap.
I mean,
I know it’s a trap,
so I say,
‘I’m not getting married, Meg.’
‘Why? You a lezzer?’ she asks.
Shawna moves away from me,
just a bit.
Liz chucks her fag.
‘It’s a crap game,’ I say.
‘We played it in Year Eight
and it was crap then,
too.’
Meg throws her fag butt on to the ground,
grinds it to dust with the heel
of her shoe.
‘Do you fancy Dan or something?’ she asks.
I almost
crack up laughing.
That’s what she thinks?
That I fancy Dan?
‘Know what, Meg,
you can shag them all.
But it’s a good job it is a game
cos I don’t think anyone’ll
be queueing up to shag you.’