Josie was watching Sophie carefully. Sophie was watching Brendan. Neither of them were laughing.

"I'm just saying," I explained for the billionth time. "They gave me the heebie-jeebies."

Connor put his pen down thoughtfully. It was only the two of us in detention that day, and Mr. Kenton had gone to try to work the coffee machine in the teachers' lounge.

"I don't get it." He shrugged, swinging his feet up so they were resting on the table. "How does a bunch of chickens give someone . . . the heebie-jeebies?"

"Connor, don't even pretend like you don't know what I'm talking about. You can't understand what they're saying when they do all that clucking."

"I'm not sure I understand any animal."

"But clucking is a sinister sound. Who knows what they're plotting?"

"What could they possibly be plotting?"

I ignored him. "And they have eyes on the side of their heads! That's just wrong."

"If they gave you the heebie-jeebies, then why did you go help collect the eggs?"

"I told you. I was seven years old and my parents tricked me into it. It was at one of their friends' farms. I was so afraid of the chickens that I refused to go near them to get the eggs. Dad told me to stop crying and then, to show me they weren't frightening, he went and picked one up to bring toward me. I freaked. Mom threw a bucket of water at him when we were walking back toward the house and that made me laugh. Moms always know what to do."

"It's pretty cool that your parents get along." Connor nodded.

"Yeah, I'm clucky."

He looked at me deadpan.

"Oh come on!" I exclaimed, throwing my head back. "That was such a good one!"

"It's an old one. Done before. Get some new material, Spidey."

"Well, excuse me, comedy pro; I'll try harder next time."

Connor chuckled and then got back to sketching. I narrowed my eyes at him. "When are you going to show me this new thing you're working on? You can't keep it a secret forever."

"I'll tell you what." He grinned and covered his sketchbook with his arms so I couldn't see. "I'll show you my new drawings when you show me your hip-hop moves."

I snorted. "Well, that will be never then."

"Fine with me."

"Fine."

I sighed and pretended to be engrossed in my chemistry notes. When I stealthily peeked in his direction, I could see that he was smiling to himself as he quickly moved the pencil down the page.

It was weirdly calming to watch Connor draw. I even found the sound of the pencil scratching around on the paper comforting.

I looked at the first sentence of my chemistry notes, reasoning that it was probably a bit weird to keep staring. Connor was likely to poke me in the eye with his pencil if I kept doing that.

Sodium + chlorine = sodium chloride 2Na + Cl2 = 2NaCl Hmmm . . . "When are you going to let me see it?!"

"You couldn't even last two minutes. In fact I think that was just under sixty seconds."

"Fine, fine, I'll get back to my chemistry."

"Have you got to the second sentence of that page yet?" he asked, still not looking up.

WHAT IS HE DRAWING THAT NEEDS THIS MUCH ATTENTION?! It was killing me.

"I'm actually on the third paragraph."

"Don't lie, Spidey. I can tell when you're lying."

"Can I ask you something?" I put my highlighter down.

"You can't see my new work until it's finished." He sighed.

"I wasn't going to ask about that," I said smugly. "I was going to ask why you're in detention all the time. You've never actually told me."

"You've never actually told me why you're in detention all the time."

"Oh please," I snorted. "Everyone knows why I'm here."

"I guess yours was a bit more of a talking point." He smiled. "You can't guess mine?"

"Well, you're here all semester like me, so it must have been bad. Did you set fire to something too?"

He chuckled. "Nah, nothing so exciting. It was actually my drawing that got me in trouble."

"How?"

"Last semester I skipped a couple of classes when I was working on some of my characters . . . forgot to do homework because I was drawing every evening. Ms. Duke was pretty cool about it. She said if I finished my homework in detention, I could use the rest of the time to get creative."

"I've never seen you doing homework in detention."

"Maybe that's because someone is constantly asking me questions and distracting me from it."

"Please!" I exclaimed. "You are always distracting me. Today is an exception."

"Don't get touchy. It's nice to talk to someone who likes the same kind of things I do."

"Yeah," I agreed, nodding thoughtfully. "It's nice to put off going home too, sometimes."

"How's that all going by the way? The It Girl stuff?"

I shrugged. "Better. Marianne and I are actually having real conversations. Sort of. It took a little while though. We're pretty different."

"How do you mean? Does she have pet chickens?"

"Very funny. You know. Sometimes it's hard to be . . ." I hesitated, feeling embarrassed. I hadn't really spoken to anyone else about this at length before.

Connor put down his sketchbook and looked at me curiously. "Tell me."

"Well, you know-" I paused. Connor was looking at me intently. I hadn't realized quite how dark his eyes really were. Geez-why was I thinking about that? "Um, it's, well . . . um . . . really hard to be around people like that. Not because they're not nice or anything. Marianne seems lovely. Not that I know her that well but, you know, she seems nice. But she is also Marianne Montaine. Britain's perfect It Girl." I shrugged. "And I'm not."

He leaned back in his chair and picked up his sketchbook and pencil again. I looked at him, slightly confused, as he pushed the pencil back and forth. Had I bored him so much that he was just going to start drawing again?

How embarrassing. I really needed more tips from Jess about how to speak to people in public.

"I disagree."

"I'm sorry?"

"I think you're Britain's perfect It Girl, Spidey," Connor said seriously.

"You're teasing me again," I said grumpily. "Stop it. I was telling you personal stuff there."

"I'm not-I promise!" He laughed and went back to his sketchbook. "Don't worry. You just keep doing what you're doing. You'll get it eventually."

Right on cue Mr. Kenton came in, grumbling about stupid complicated machinery and how he doesn't understand why they couldn't just have a kettle, coffee cans, and mugs like they used to.

I shifted back in my seat and tried to concentrate on the chemistry equations in front of me, but it was really difficult-and not just because chemistry is so thrilling.

Every time I glanced over at Connor drawing, he had this mischievous grin on him. And it bothered me-I just didn't know why.

THERE IS NOTHING I DREAD more-except for sports day-than the bus rides at the beginning and end of a school trip.

No one else has to worry. Everyone else gets excited about school trips because you get to miss a day of class and you get to go somewhere new. But, for me, bus rides are merely another cause of humiliation. Like school dances, they naturally highlight the popular and the unpopular. Nothing shouts "You have no one to sit with!" louder. I have always sat on my own or, worse, up front with a teacher.

Today, on the last day before break, our grade was being taken on a field trip out in the country somewhere. That was two of my worst fears combined. Bus rides AND sports.

In theory, now that I had Jess and Danny, it might not have been so bad, but Danny gets horrifically carsick, so he had bagged Jess as his seat buddy for emotional and bag-holding support. She wasn't delighted with the responsibility for "McPukey," and it also meant that I was essentially by myself again, but at least I could try to get the seats in the row opposite them. I would have to be quick in the dog-eat-dog pile-on to the bus.

I was so nervous that not even Dog could pull me out of my slump the evening before the outing. Not that he didn't try. At one point he even brought me a frozen leg of lamb. Although amazed that he had managed to retrieve it from the freezer (seriously, HOW?!), I just couldn't feel calm.

"Don't do the activities you don't want to do," Dad had told me. "Or if you have to, then laugh at yourself. You can't expect to be good at everything."

Oh thanks so much, Dad. I don't know whether you've noticed, but, thanks to the genes you passed down to me, I happen to be good at NOTHING.

When I wouldn't cheer up, he rudely called me "a big grump," and then, as he went upstairs to get ready for bed, he asked me to remind him to get the leg of lamb out of the freezer the next morning for the dinner party he was throwing tomorrow.

I smirked at Dog. Good luck with that one, Dad. That's karma for you.

Anyway, when I stepped on to the bus the next morning, I was feeling especially nervous. I'd turned up late to school because Dad had been searching for the stupid lamb, so I totally missed the rush onto the bus. It was my usual nightmare played out all over again. At least at my last school people didn't really pay attention to me on a daily basis. At this one, I was the It Girl who still had no one to sit next to.

"Forget to set your alarm today, Spidey?" Connor smiled up at me from one of the first few rows, where he was sitting next to Max. They had both come prepared for the journey with headphones around their necks, and I could see a small sketchbook sticking out of Connor's bag.

"No, there was a . . . lamb incident." Both Connor and Max blinked up at me in confusion. "Don't worry about it," I said hurriedly. "It's not interesting."

"It sounds fascinating." He grinned. "You can sit opposite us if you like." He gestured to the next-door row, and I felt a wave of gratitude.

"I don't think so, Mr. Lawrence," came Mrs. Ginnwell's stern high-pitched tone as she scrambled onto the bus behind me with her clipboard in hand. "I'll be sitting in the row opposite you and Mr. Gelson. I don't want any trouble on this trip, and I will be keeping a close eye on both of you."

"Mrs. Ginnwell." Max feigned a dramatic sigh, lifting up his headphones. "I told you that time with the cornstarch was an accident. When are you going to start trusting me?"

She narrowed her eyes. "No time soon, Mr. Gelson."

I raised my eyebrows at Connor as Max smiled and shoved his headphones on and Mrs. Ginnwell bustled into the opposite row, almost taking me out with her clipboard.

"What happened with the cornstarch?"

"That's a story for a rainy day." Connor chuckled. He looked at me apologetically. "There's probably some spaces farther down near Jess."

Connor was right in that there was a space near Jess and Danny-in fact the row opposite them was completely empty. But as I neared it, a strange smell hit me, and the pained look on Jess's face didn't bring me much comfort. "Is that . . . Lysol?" I asked, scrunching my nose.

"Good going, Sherlock." Jess glanced at Danny, who was already resting his head on her shoulder, looking very pale, a "just in case" plastic shopping bag scrunched on his lap. His eyes were closed and his mouth very slightly hanging open. "You missed the main event. Luckily, I was still making my way to the seat. The driver only turned the engine on for like one second."

"Is he okay?"

"The nurse gave him some motion sickness tablets-I think he's got it all out now. Mrs. Ginnwell went to town on the disinfectant. It's a little overpowering, and I think the seat is still a bit damp. Sorry, Anna, I tried saving you a seat somewhere nearby but people kept nabbing them." Jess craned her neck to look at the rows behind. "I think there's a few spare seats at the back that are fairly close."

"I'll find one." I nodded, waving it off like it wasn't a big deal.

"This stinks. We'll definitely sit near each other on the way back." She kneeled up on her seat. "I'll watch for where you sit so I can come visit during the ride."

"Yeah, course." This made me feel a bit better, and I gave her what I hoped to be a brave smile before making my way farther down the bus. I spotted Sophie and Josie huddled together in the back with some other girls, laughing at something on Sophie's phone, but there were no free seats near them.

"Sit here if you like," a voice piped up as I passed. Brendan Dakers smiled up at me, leaning back against the bus window with his legs draped over both seats in his row.

I stared at him. He shrugged and swung his legs down, leaving the aisle seat next to him empty. "If you want, this seat is free."

I glanced back at Jess, who was looking as shocked as I felt. But she nodded encouragingly toward the seat anyway.

Sophie and Josie had looked up from the phone and were watching carefully. I slid into the seat next to Brendan, trying to act as calm as possible (not very).

The journey was a long one as we drove out of London and away into the countryside. Every now and then, when Brendan got animated telling me a story, his arm would accidentally brush mine and I would forget to breathe. I tried to remember to nod and laugh in all the right places, even though most of his stories were about sports, which I didn't always understand.

When we got to the park and got off the bus, Brendan smiled and said, "See you later," then went to join James and the other soccer boys while I stumbled toward Jess and Danny.