That lunchtime, some of the girls who had dropped out of Isabelle’s contest got bored of sitting around watching other people skip. For the first time in ages, there were other girls to play with and other games to play. Zoe played handball with Lily, Holly, Aysha, Ching Ching and Olivia.

Zoe was glad she had people to play with, and glad that Isabelle couldn’t stop everyone from being friends with her. But she still missed Iris. Even though she was mad with Iris for liking Isabelle more than her, Zoe still wanted to be friends with her. It just wasn’t the same playing with others.

As she was thinking about this and eating her lunch, Holly asked her, ‘How come you don’t play with Iris anymore? Did you have a fight?’

Zoe didn’t know what to say. Her dad wanted her to stand tall, but it would be so easy right now to tell Holly how horrible she thought Isabelle was and how dumb she thought Iris was being. She hadn’t yet decided what to say when Holly nodded and said, ‘It’s that Isabelle, isn’t it? You know, I think she’s a bully.’

Just then, Ching Ching howled in frustration. She had missed an easy shot in handball while she was in dunce. She left the square and let Olivia take her place, and sat down next to Zoe.

‘Are you talking about Isabelle?’ Ching Ching asked.

‘Yeah,’ said Holly.

‘She’s such bad news,’ said Ching Ching. ‘You know, she even told me I should stop being friends with Olivia if I wanted to play with her. Can you believe it?’

‘What did you say?’ asked Zoe.

‘Huh! I told her to get lost. Who cares about skipping, anyway?’

Dad was right, thought Zoe. Isabelle is starting to trip up.

After lunch, in the last period before the weekend, Mr Mack said, ‘Poetry now! I want each of you to spend some time looking at the painting you did yesterday. Then, when you’re ready, we’re going to write poems about those feelings.’

Zoe looked up at the wall where her painting had been pinned. It was next to Isabelle’s. Isabelle had painted a black and grey cloud, and Zoe wondered what it meant. Maybe Isabelle’s feeling was hate – maybe she had painted how she felt about Zoe! That was a scary thought, and Zoe quickly went back to her own painting.

After a couple of minutes, she started to write her poem.

‘OK,’ said Mr Mack. ‘The bell is about to ring. When you’ve finished your poems, pack up your things quietly, and please hand in your work on your way out. I’m very interested to see what each of you has written.’

Zoe was very interested, too. Although she knew Isabelle would hate her to peek, she glanced over to see what Isabelle had written. It was a long poem with lots of crossing out in tiny, neat writing. It was difficult to read upside-down. Zoe could only read the title.

It was called ‘Homesickness’.

Oh! thought Zoe. Isabelle’s homesick? I never would have guessed!

‘What are you looking at?’ Isabelle asked. She must have been chewing her hair again, because the end of her ponytail was soggy.

‘Nothing,’ said Zoe, looking away.

‘Good. You should mind your own business.’

She might be homesick, thought Zoe. But she’s still mean.

She went out to the locker room to pack her bag for home. She thought she’d got everything and was halfway across the playground to meet up with Max and her mum, when she remembered that she had left her diary behind. She’d have to go back and get it.

She ran back into the locker room, trying to hurry so she didn’t keep her mum waiting. She was in such a hurry, she didn’t notice at first that she wasn’t alone.

There was someone else in the room.

Oh no! thought Zoe. Isabelle! Well, I won’t say anything to her, and she will hopefully leave me alone, too.

But then she heard something amazing.

Isabelle was crying.