up, but I reckon you’re just shy. I think you’re taking everything in. Are you?’

What am I supposed to say? Yes, I’m taking it all in and I really, really don’t like what I see? That would go down well.

‘Don’t you want to make friends?’ she asks.

I take a long look at Frances. She’s kind of strange. Her crimped and backcombed hair is dyed black and crowned with a red spotty hairband, and her lips are painted neon pink. She is wearing black net fingerless gloves, black lacy tights and clumpy boots, but nothing can disguise the fact that she’s a few kilos overweight. Her school sweater looks like it would be too big for my dad, and her frilled black miniskirt only draws attention to wobbly thighs and pudgy knees.

I am not sure I really want a friend like Frances. Then again, it’s not like I can afford to pick and choose, not these days. Am I going to be the kind of girl who has only a rat for a friend? It’s not even my rat, either.

I look at Frances McGee and try for a smile. It’s a very small smile, but Frances spots it and starts to grin.

‘You can call me Frankie, if you like,’ she says.

Before I can decide whether to risk saying anything, Lily Caldwell glides up to the table, her mouth twisted into a sneer.

‘What’s up, Frances?’ she says, looking at the plump girl’s tray. Her voice drips sarcasm. ‘Not hungry today? On a diet? Didn’t fancy the treacle pudding or the jelly and ice cream? Sure you can’t fit in a plate of chicken nuggets? We don’t want you wasting away, now do we?’

Frances opens her mouth to protest, then closes it again. A red stain seeps across her cheeks, and her gaze drops to the tabletop.

‘Get a grip,’ Lily sneers. ‘You’ve got enough to feed the whole of Year Eight on that tray. It wouldn’t hurt you to miss a meal once in a while, Frances. You could live for months on that blubber.’

Lily’s hands are on her hips and her pretty face is scrunched up into a mean, pinched mask. She is telling Frances that fat girls really shouldn’t wear lacy tights and miniskirts, that seeing her shovelling in the pizza is putting kids off their lunch.

I bite my lip. Sometimes, it is very, very hard to stay quiet.

‘I’m only telling you this for your own good,’ Lily says. ‘Someone has to, right? As a friend. I’m trying to help you, Frances.’

I catch Lily’s eye, keeping my eyes steady and my chin tilted, and give her a long, hard look. It stops Lily in her tracks.

‘What are you looking at, Tanya, Anya, whatever your name is?’ she snarls. ‘If you’ve got something to say, say it!’

But I don’t have the words to argue, or the confidence, or the grammar. I know I will trip over my words, tangle up their meanings, struggle with the accent, but I am angry. I’m angry for myself, after a fortnight in this dump surrounded by wild animals. I’m angry for Frances, for Kurt, for all the kids who die a little bit when Lily and others like her laugh at them, chip away at their confidence with mean words and sneering glances.

I may not have the words, but I do have something to fight back with. I undo the straps on my satchel, lift the flap.

‘Oh, I forgot, you don’t talk, do you?’ Lily sneers. ‘Face it, Sauerkraut Girl, you don’t belong here… so why don’t you just back off and mind your own business? Go back to wherever you came from…’

Her voice trails away into silence as the rat sprints neatly over her spike-heeled boots, then pauses, twitching, to look around.

Lily Caldwell may be a mean girl, but there is nothing wrong with her eyesight. Or her vocal chords.

‘RAAAAAAAT!’ she screeches, in a voice that could shatter glass.

Lily, Frances and I are sitting on hard plastic chairs outside Mr Fisher’s room. We are in big trouble. The little row in the canteen escalated into a full-on riot, with girls standing on tabletops, screaming, and boys skidding about trying to catch the rat.

Things got a little out of hand, with chips, doughnuts and dollops of rice pudding being flung about. One dinner lady fainted and landed face down in the fruit salad.

When Mr Fisher finally got the place in order, he looked around for the ringleaders.

‘How did this start?’ he roared, and all eyes swivelled