Acting Friends

Acting Friends by Sophie McKenzie Page B

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Authors: Sophie McKenzie
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    I wasn’t sure if she meant me or Frankie, but I didn’t say anything.
    ‘He wasn’t bad in The Little Brother ,’ one of the other girls said with a sniff.
    The red-haired girl shook her head. ‘He’s rubbish.
    So wimpy-looking. And he was pathetic in Land Boys .’
    In spite of my terror, irritation bubbled up inside me. How dare she make fun of Frankie?
    ‘He’s not wimpy-looking,’ I snapped. ‘And he wasn’t even in Land Boys .’
    The girl who’d spoken earlier giggled. ‘That’s told you, Shaz.’
    I glanced round again. The atmosphere wasn’t what I’d thought. Most of the girls weren’t even looking at me. They were laughing at Shaz.

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    ‘Whatever.’ Shaz gave an angry shrug. She pulled a cardigan out of her bag and tugged it on, covering the stain I’d made on her shirt. ‘She’s still a freak.’
    I tried to catch Grace’s eye, but her eyes were firmly fixed on the ground. I held out my hand for my purse. My fingers trembled. With a toss of her head, Shaz shoved the purse into my hand. I grabbed Grace’s arm and started walking away. The girls to our right parted to let us through. As I marched away, Shaz ran up.
    ‘I’ll get you,’ she hissed in my ear before racing off.
    With shaking legs, I led Grace towards the main school building.
    ‘What did she mean, she’ll “get you”?’ Grace whispered. Her face was even paler than when we’d met.
    I shook my head, not wanting to think about it. As we reached the steps, the bell rang and the hordes of shrieking, laughing girls surrounding us sped up, racing off in different directions.
    Was it possible that I’d made an enemy already –
    and I hadn’t even gone inside the building yet?

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    Feeling anxious, I walked into the school’s entrance hall. When I’d been here before it had seemed spacious and intimidating, full of wood-panelled walls with lists of head girls and prefects going back fifty years. Now it was a heaving mass of students.
    Grace and I stood by the door as girls zoomed past us, chatting to each other, scurrying off in all directions. Within a minute the room had cleared of all but the year sevens. Looking round I could see plenty of girls about my height, most of whom were, like me, carrying the regulation navy bag and wearing the regulation flat black shoes. Everyone with long hair had it tied back in a neat ponytail except for one girl whose dark, shiny hair snaked down her back in waves. She was different in other ways too: her skirt was shorter and her heels were higher but mostly it was her attitude . . . the way she 9
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    stood to one side, looking around the room with an air of amused confidence.
    Grace sidled up to me. ‘That was scary with those girls outside,’ she said. ‘What year do you think they were in?’
    I shrugged. ‘I don’t know, but it’s a big school.
    Maybe we won’t see them again.’
    ‘Do you have a sister who comes here?’ Grace asked.
    ‘No,’ I said. ‘I don’t have any sisters, just a brother.
    What about you?’
    ‘Two younger—’ But before Grace could finish, a whistle blew and the room fell silent. Across the hall a grey-haired teacher in a stiff woollen skirt cleared her throat. This was Miss Litton, the deputy head and admissions tutor. I’d met her at the interview and on the induction day and she’d seemed nice, if a bit formal. Four teachers stood around her. I fixed my gaze on the woman on the far right. She was unsmiling, with close-cropped dark hair and skinny legs under a short skirt. This, I knew, was Mrs Bunton, my form tutor.
    ‘I’m in her class,’ Grace said. I followed her pointing finger. To my relief, She was looking at Mrs Bunton as well.
    ‘Me too.’
    We grinned at each other. Relief seeped through 10
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    my anxiety. Maybe Grace wasn’t quite a friend

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