Soul Beach

been going there for the past six years.’
    ‘Wow!’ I say, putting my pen down. ‘Wow! That’s so cool. What’s it like?’
    ‘It’s fun,’ she says. ‘Though I’d say it takes a certain kind of girl to fit in. Stylish. Smart.’ She frowns. ‘You hoping to come, are you?’
    ‘How did you know?’
    She shrugs. ‘Just a lucky guess. What year are you?’
    ‘Eleven. My parents think it’d be good to go into a boarding sixth form.’
    Brace Girl scowls. ‘Good for you or good for them?’
    I laugh. ‘Both, I guess. I’m . . . an only child, and I think they’re looking forward to having the house to themselves again.’
    ‘Sounds familiar,’ Brace Girl says. ‘I’m Jade, by the way.’
    ‘Alice.’
    ‘Maria,’ says the girl with the acne. ‘So what else do you want to know?’
    ‘Do you get to wear your own clothes? Do you get to go out? Do you get your own room?’
    ‘Yes to the clothes, yes to going out, though there’s sod all to do round here, and yes, to your own room, though new girls sometimes have to share till someone leaves,’ says Jade.
    ‘Dead girls’ shoes,’ Maria says. The two girls exchange a glance.
    I shiver. ‘Do lots of people leave?’
    Maria suddenly spots something interesting in her coffee. Jade with the brace narrows her eyes. ‘Like Maria says, it’s not for everybody. People who don’t like it, don’t always stick it out.’
    ‘Is there bullying?’
    She stares at me. For a moment, I think I’ve gone too far. ‘Schools are no different from anywhere else. You need to fit in. That’s not bullying. More a case of . . . natural selection.’ She smiles a closed-mouth smile, to keep her braces out of view.
    ‘Ignore Jade. She’s a biologist,’ says Maria.
    If I really was considering this school, that idea of natural selection would be enough to make me think twice. But knowing what I know about Triti makes her words sound even more sinister.
    ‘There was a girl from round our way who came here,’ I begin, realising that if I don’t strike soon, they’ll get bored and freeze me out. ‘Her name was . . .’
    But then I hear a rush of air as the door to the café is flung open. Lewis stands there. People stare. Especially the Keyes girls. Maybe I’ve misjudged him, and actually he is more attractive than the average computer guru.
    Or maybe it’s the thunderous expression on his face that’s making everyone look. I’m surprised at how angry he seems, on behalf of a girl he never even knew. Maybe it’s that sense of injustice that makes him willing to do so much for me.
    It’s the weirdest moment: a break in time, where this smalltown Starbucks suddenly seems to have transformed into a saloon in a spaghetti western.
    ‘I’m looking for Demi,’ Lewis announces. ‘I was told I could find her in here.’

57
    A lot of things happen, one after another. A baby cries, which breaks the High Noon moment. Pressurised steam shoots out of the coffee machine. And a dozen schoolgirls look towards the window, where a girl in a too-tight V-neck black sweater is staring at Lewis.
    It can only be a second or two, but it feels like years, before she stands up.
    ‘I’m Demi.’
    She has a gruff voice, like Cara’s when she’s thrown an all-nighter. She wears jeans that strain across her thighs, and her stubby nails are painted coral-pink. I didn’t even notice her when I came in. She’s too ordinary to be the spiteful but smart Salli, surely?
    Lewis gestures towards the door and steps out into the street. Demi hesitates, but I see curiosity in her plump face, and I know she’s going to follow him. As she steps out of the café, three of her mates are behind her. Her gang.
    I stand up, too, leaving my coffee on the table. ‘My brother,’ I say to Jade and Maria, who are struggling to make the connection between this avenger, and their first assessment of me as a slightly dim potential pupil.
    In the street, Lewis and Demi face each other, with the posse behind her like backing singers in a teen musical. He waits for me to get close enough to hear.
    ‘I want to talk to you about Triti Pillai.’
    I watch her face, see the flicker of panic that disappears almost instantly, to be replaced by a slappable blandness. Her mates aren’t quite so quick – one looks scared, one grumpy, one clueless. The three monkeys.
    ‘Who?’ asks Demi. ‘The name rings a bell.’
    ‘I’ll bet it does,’ says Lewis. ‘Because you bullied her to death.’
    Two of