Paper Aeroplanes by Dawn O'Porter Page B

snooker hall on Thursdays, and she lets me eat it with a spoon sitting on the floor next to the heating vent, because that is my favourite place. That fifteen minutes once a week is my idea of heaven. Not only does tinned Chicken in White Wine Sauce taste like the most delicious thing ever – with the possible exception of Wotsits – but Nana only has to heat it up, so even she can’t ruin it.
    Nell has recently announced that she is a vegetarian. When she told Pop he shouted at me for filling her head with nonsense, and Nana cried. I think everyone in my family is actually starting to lose their minds.
    When Mrs Suiter turns to write something on the blackboard, something light hits me on the back.
    Hey!
    Thanks for coming to Dad’s funeral. I don’t know why you came but I am really glad you did. I’m sorry if I was weird with you in the field that time. I guess I am quite jealous of you really. Anyway, I just wanted to say thanks for coming. It was really nice that you did x
    My belly does a little flip and I get goosebumps on my arms. I’m so used to people translating every nice thing I ever do as me trying to get something for myself that I just presume people think the worst of me all the time. I have been wanting to apologise to Flo for ages about how mean I was to her that day we ate chips together. I think I just got defensive because she was right – I don’t really do anything apart from mess about.
    That’s OK! I’m sorry I took the piss out of you for playing the clarinet. I actually think it’s quite cool that you play an instrument x
    I wait for Mrs Suiter to turn around and throw it at Flo. Seconds later it’s back.
    Chips after school?
    I turn around to smile and nod.
Flo
    I see Renée waiting for me at the end of the school lane. I observe her more in these few seconds than I ever have before. Renée is really pretty but a bit of a mess. Her skirt is above the regulation length, and both of her brown knee-length socks are scrunched down at her ankles. Her white shirt is untucked and hanging below her jumper, and her tie is loose. She’s wearing a blazer despite the cold – almost everyone else comes to school in their duffel coats at this time of year. Above her round face her hair is messy and brown with a fringe that’s too long. Her eyes are dark and her smile is wide and cheeky, with dimples on both of her cheeks. She leans against the wall with one foot pressed against it, her bag on the ground even though it’s muddy, smoking a cigarette.
    We first make eye contact when I’m halfway down the lane. She doesn’t take her eyes off me, and I walk towards her awkwardly.
    ‘Hey.’
    ‘Hey.’
    She picks up her bag. Not even checking to see if it’s got muddy, which it has.
    ‘So, what do you want to do?’ she says as she swings it over her shoulder and sprays mud on her socks.
    ‘Honestly, whatever you want. I don’t mind.’ I hate myself for being so indecisive.
    ‘OK, let’s go to the beach. Do you want a fag?’
    I shake my head. ‘No thanks. I don’t smoke.’
    ‘I like the smell of smoke,’ she says, blowing a perfect smoke ring. ‘On the right person it smells lovely.’
    We walk down the huge hill into St Peter Port, passing the boys’ school on the way. They’re all coming out, looking so smart in their grey suits. Julian used to go there, but he left after his GCSEs to work as a mechanic. I can’t imagine any of this lot fixing cars, they all look like lawyers or bankers. No wonder Julian never fitted in, these aren’t his kind of people at all.
    We don’t say much while we walk through the sea of boys. Renée links her arm into mine and leads me through them like she has done this a thousand times. Then one calls after us. He looks angry.
    ‘Renée?’
    ‘Keep walking,’ she says. ‘I don’t want to talk to him.’
    ‘Who is he?’
    ‘It doesn’t matter. Just keep walking.’
    ‘Renée, WAIT. Renée.’ He is pretty determined to get her attention but