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HarperCollins Children’s Books An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Children’s Books 2008
Copyright © Jenny Valentine 2008
Jenny Valentine asserts the moral right to be
identified as the author of the work.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
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Source ISBN: 9780007229659
Ebook Edition © May 2012 ISBN:9780007369638 Version: 2015-03-23
For
Molly and Ella,
Jess and Emma,
and Kate.
All great sisters.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
It wasn’t mine.
I didn’t drop it, but the boy in the queue said I did.
It was a negative of a photograph, one on its own, all scratched and beaten up. I couldn’t even see what it was a negative of because his finger and thumb were blotting out most of it. He was holding it out to me like nothing else was going to happen until I took it, like he had nothing else to do but wait.
I didn’t want to take it. I said that. I said I didn’t own a camera even, but the boy just stood there with this I-know-I’m-right look on his face.
He had a good face. Friendly eyes, wide mouth, all that. One of his top teeth was chipped; there was a bit missing. Still, a good face doesn’t equal a good person. If you catch yourself thinking that, you need to stop.
All my friends were cracking up behind me. The girl at the counter was trying to give me my change and everybody in the queue was just staring. I couldn’t think why he was doing this to me. I wondered if embarrassing strangers was one of the ways he got through his day. Maybe he walked around with a pile of random stuff in his pockets – not just negatives, but thimbles and condoms and glasses and handcuffs. I might be getting off lightly.
I didn’t know what else to do, so I said thank you, who knows for what, and I went red like always, and I pulled a face at my friends like I was in on the joke. Then I shoved the negative in my bag with the oranges and milk and eggs, and he smiled.
All the way home I got, “What is it, Rowan?” and “Let’s see” and “Nice smile” – a flock of seagulls in school uniform, shrieking and pointing and jumping around me. And I did my usual thing of taking something that’s just happened apart in my head, until it’s in little pieces all over the place and I can’t fit it back together again. I wanted to know why he’d picked me out of everyone in the shop, and whether I should be glad about that or not. I thought about what he said (you dropped this … no really … I’m sure) and what I did (act like a rabbit in headlights, argue, give in). I was laughing about it on the outside, feeling like an idiot on the quiet. I had no idea something important might have happened.
My name is Rowan Clark and I’m not the same person as I was in
