night, she’d asked her mum if she could go round to Jess’s at the weekend.
“Jess?” asked Cally. “I haven’t met her, have I?”
“She’s my new friend.” The words had felt luscious. She’d wanted to keep on saying them.
Isis looked at the girls on the table. Jess, Hayley, Chloe, Nafira. They were all popular and Isis was spending lunchtime with them, instead of watching from across the room. It was like a hug, sitting here. Like warmth after years of cold.
The conversation wound away from phone cases on to shoes, then to a song Hayley liked. Isis didn’t say much, she mostly listened, learning this new language of girls together. Basking.
An older girl came into the room, looking around. Isis didn’t recognise her; she was probably on an errand or searching out a younger brother or sister. Then she spotted Jess, waved, and walked towards them. Jess waved back.
“Hi, Summer.”
“Hi,” Summer said to Jess. Everyone at their table stopped talking. Summer’s eyes glanced across them with narrowed interest. “Which one is her?”
Jess pointed at Isis.
“Hi,” Summer said to Isis. Only to Isis.
“Hello,” said Isis quietly. What was going on?
“You’re the girl who was dead? The one who sees ghosts?”
Isis felt sick, her throat tightening. She stared at Jess, who only smiled.
“Yes, she is!” squealed Hayley, hands flapping. “She is amazing! She sees ghosts all the time, and she gave Jess a message from her gran, who’s been dead for two whole years!”
“And she knew loads about my uncle,” said Nafira, “and he died ten years ago!”
“She knew everything about him,” agreed Chloe.
Jess nodded, proud of Isis.
Summer ignored all of them, focusing on Isis. “I want you to do the ghost thing for me,” she said.
Isis pulled into her chair, hands gripping tight to the seat. She searched around the room but there was no hint of Mandeville. And even if he’d been here…
“I can’t,” she said, “not in front of everyone.”
Jess stood up. “We can go into the toilets.” Her hand was on Isis’s arm, tugging her to standing.
“But I…” don’t want to. Don’t even know her.
“Come on, Isis,” said Jess, smiling. “Summer’s in Year Eleven.”
The older girl nodded. “You can hang out with us after, if you want.” Although the way she said it was flat, like a lie.
Jess’s smile only shifted a little, but Hayley, Chloe and Nafira all jumped up, talking at once.
“Oh wow!”
“Can you get us in the Senior Common Room?”
“It might not work,” said Isis, pulling back on Jess’s grip.
Jess laughed artificially, looking at the older girl. “Isis always says that, but it works every time. She’s amazing!”
Isis wanted to shake her head, she wanted to refuse. But over at the back of the classroom was the table where she used to sit, often alone. For a moment she had a double view: herself now, here with Jess and her friends; herself sitting back there, watching from a distance.
She took a breath, and nodded.
“And where are you all going?” asked the teaching assistant as they headed for the door.
“They’re trying out for drama club. I came to get them,” lied Summer, looking straight at the woman.
“Oh, okay then.” She went back to her marking, uninterested.
They hurried Isis down the corridor. Summer was silent, the others were giggling. When they reached the girls’ toilet they all crammed through the door. High frosted windows lit the room and the five empty cubicles. White tiles covered the walls from floor to ceiling, sharpening every sound. Isis caught their reflections in the mirrors: some laughing, some serious.
“So what happens now?” asked Summer, scowling. “Are we supposed to sit in a circle or something? Cos I’m not sitting on the floor in here.”
“Isis doesn’t need tricks like that, do you?” Jess smiled.
Isis shook her head. In the mirror, her reflection was pale, her eyes dark with anxiety.
“I’ve never done this for a stranger before,” she whispered to Jess, but her words bounced back from the walls.
Summer studied her. “Is this just a load of rubbish? Are you all playing some stupid game?”
“No!” said Chloe.
“It’s not rubbish!” snapped Jess, looking fiercely at the older girl.
Hayley flapped her hands. “Honestly, Isis is amazing!”
Isis felt the warmth of them. Her friends, standing up for her. She had to prove she was worth it, she couldn’t go back – but there was a problem.
Mandeville.
Where was he? He’d been following her around almost constantly, and now when she needed him…
Summer’s frown hadn’t softened, and the others were all looking at Isis expectantly.
“Don’t worry,” said Jess encouragingly,