I closed my eyes and prayed that it would be OK as Betty snipped at my hair. I was over at Nesta’s.

‘Don’t worry, Lucy,’ said Izzie. ‘Least she can’t make it worse.’

‘Understatement,’ I muttered. Please don’t let Tony walk in while I’m having my hair cut, I added to my prayer. Nesta insisted that I come over when she saw how upset I was about my hair and had talked me into letting Betty, their family hairdresser, try and fix it. I agreed in the end because I knew I couldn’t go around looking like a mad person and Mum and Dad hadn’t bought the ‘I have a terrible stomach ache and can’t go out ever again’ excuse for a second.

Betty snipped away and the girls made various encouraging noises but I kept my eyes tight shut until it was all over, cut and blow dried.

‘Open your eyes now,’ said Nesta.

I finally did.

‘Wow,’ I said. It looked fanbloomintastic. Even I had to admit it. Spiky and short at the front, and she’d even run some white blond highlights through the top. It really suited me.

‘You look gorgeous,’ said Izzie. ‘It shows off your cheekbones.’

I changed my prayer to, Please God, let Tony walk in now and see me looking so good. God wasn’t listening however because he didn’t show. Or maybe he was listening and had answered my first prayer to keep Tony away and maybe you only get one prayer answered a day.

For the rest of the evening, we did each other’s nails and then flicked through Nesta’s mum’s interior magazines. I felt so great about everything. I had a new look and soon I’d have a new room to match. And Nesta had been so fab, I was beginning to think that we really could be friends after all and that three wasn’t a crowd – three was one more person to share the good times with.

‘Nesta,’ I asked.

‘Yeah . . .’

‘Um, you know Tony?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why doesn’t he live with his mum?’

Nesta went quiet. ‘She died,’ she said after a few moments. ‘A road accident when Tony was six months old. A year later, his dad met my mum and so my mum’s the only one he’s ever really known.’

‘Where is he tonight?’

‘Some class after school, I expect,’ said Nesta.

I shot a look at Izzie. It seemed so obvious to me that Tony was the boy I’d seen and I was amazed that she hadn’t put two and two together yet.

She must have finally read my mind because suddenly she clapped her hand over her mouth. ‘Ohmigod,’ she said. ‘OhmiGOD!’

‘What?’ chorused Nesta and I.

‘Tony,’ said Izzie. ‘Tony.’

She knew. I knew she knew. I went scarlet. She clocked my blushing cheeks and then I knew that she definitely knew.

‘What?’ asked Nesta.

Izzie looked at me as if to say it’s your call. I decided that I would take a risk and trust Nesta.

‘Tony,’ I said.

‘I know,’ she said. ‘What about him?’

I nodded at Izzie as if to say ‘Feel free to say what you want’. We sometimes had a telepathic thing and she got what I wasn’t saying immediately.

‘A boy that we didn’t see in Highgate because he stays late for classes after school?’ said Izzie as she waited for the penny to drop.

Nesta thumped her forehead. ‘Oh. Ohhhh! Except we did see him! Obvious! Tony is the MC!’

I nodded.

Nesta did a small shriek.

‘And he made you kiss him,’ giggled Izzie.

‘I really didn’t mind,’ I said.

‘And I told him to stay away from you,’ said Nesta. ‘You must have hated me.’

‘Not as much as I hated that red-haired girl. Jezebel.’

‘Why didn’t you say Lucy?’ asked Nesta.

‘I was afraid you’d tell him and I’d look like such a saddo.’

At that second, we heard someone in the hall. Moments later, Tony appeared.