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Secret No. 81: I've only ever been served alcohol once. And that was in France with my parents, which they gave consent for me to drink. It's ridiculous, I'm taller than Amy, I should be the one who gets the alcohol for parties. Yet, somehow, I'm the one asked for ID while she gets away with buying ten beers in a row.

Out turns out to be sneaking to Hogsmeade, trying to avoid running into any teachers. And by Hogsmeade I really mean the new club on the outskirts of the quaint village, which a number of people have complained about for letting in Hogwarts students who are under eighteen. They’ve made it harder to get in now. If it wasn’t for Amy looking so glamorous all the time, I have serious doubts about whether I would get in or not. Surely I don’t pass for eighteen. I’m wearing a personalized jumper from my gran, for crying out loud!

We arrive at the club in a record time of fifteen minutes, probably due to my speedy walking in a futile effort to warm me up, though Amy had trouble keeping up because she is wearing, what my Nan calls, ‘hooker heels.’ Honestly, it’s amazing how Amy can stand in them, let alone dance in them, which is what I assume she’s here to do.

The club doesn’t look too impressive from the outside, with its plain black coating on the brick wall, but I know, from past experience, that it’s an entirely different story inside. I feel a little apprehensive when I notice the hordes of people waiting in the queue for the bouncer to let them in, all rubbing themselves and hopping from foot to foot to keep warm.

Amy’s eyes travel up and down the line for a few moments before turning her attention to me. She scans me from head to toe, and rolls her eyes. “Rose,” she hisses, grabbing my arm and pulling me aside so that we’re standing behind the corner, shielding us from view. “What are you wearing?” Amy looks pointedly at my hand knitted jumper and plimsolls.

I fold my arms over my chest, my chin jutting out stubbornly. “You didn’t exactly tell me we where we were going,” I protest, my breath coming out a cloud in the cold temperature.

Amy ignores me, instead thrusting a hand into a large bag she had brought with her. A few moments later, in which I’m positive I got frostbite on my fingers, Amy retrieves her hands, a pair of strappy blue heels in one hand and a clingy vest top in the other. In silence, she passes them both to me, and I know she expects me to strip off in the middle of the street and exchange my beloved jumper for a top which, in my opinion, doesn’t leave much to the imagination.

I take off my comfy shoes a little reluctantly, placing my feet in the ‘hooker heels’ slowly, letting Amy know I’m not happy with her. She taps her foot impatiently, the heel clicking audibly against the cobbled street. Amy takes my original shoes off of me, stuffing them into that bag, and turns to look expectantly at me, signalling with her head for me to put that top on.

I shake my head. “Where am I meant to put that on?!”

Amy lets out a disgruntled sigh, rolling her eyes heavenward. “I’ll shield you.”

So what do I do but dodge behind Amy and, with a quick scan to make sure nobodies staring, remove my jumper? I’m almost warmed by the heavy blush rising in my cheeks. I pull Amy’s top over my head, which, by the way, is much more revealing on than it looked, and Amy reapplies her lipgloss and adds another coat of mascara. She gives a little tsk at the amount of make-up (not) on my face and passes me hers.
And five minutes later, after several attempts of putting eyeliner on and ending up poking myself in the eye due to the crazy shivering I was doing, I settle on just coating my lashes with mascara and a quick swipe of lipgloss. Finally, Amy gives me her mega-watt smile, the smile that usually sends guys into a standing coma, and, placing her hand in a tight grip on my arm, drags me towards the front door of the club, her head held high and a confident bounce in her step.

As we approach the bouncers I hear a couple of girls waiting give little hisses of annoyance and Amy pulls me around to stand beside her, prodding a sharp nail into my back to make me stand taller. The bouncer gives me the once-over, his eyes scanning all the way from my slightly mussed up hair to the tip of Amy’s patent blue heels before moving his attention to Amy, where it lingers for a few moments on the amount of leg she has showing. He finally nods, smirking a little, as he stands aside to let us pass.

There are two things that I am immediately hit by as I step inside the room. The first is the heat – my body tingles a little from the sudden rise in temperature – which I’m sure is product of the bodies gyrating on the dancefloor, and the second thing was the flashing lights which hang from the ceiling, rotating, that blind me the moment I enter.
In fact, the only thing I can see for the next couple of minutes is a white flash obscuring my vision so I grip Amy’s arm for support. Much to my surprise the arm jerks roughly away from me and I tilt my head up, ready to give Amy an accusing stare, but, much to my horror, find a random girl, who had obviously just been let in because her arm was still ice cold, glaring down at me. This is surprising – no girl is normally tall enough to stare me down.

“I… er… thought you were, um…” I babble nervously, backing away from this intimidating girl. And she’s not just intimidating because she’s glowering at me so fiercely I’m afraid I might just burst into flames but because she’s also frightfully pretty. And I’m talking about prettier-than-Amy-pretty.

Her ice blue eyes narrow as she flicks her eyes up and down my body. I let out a nervous giggle, trying to inconspicuously shuffle away. “Just who-”

“Rose!” Amy exclaims, tottering up in her heels to stand between us. Amy turns her head, probably ready to snap at the girl glaring at me, but her tiny mouth pops open instead. Amy turns her back on me and I have to step to the side to see what’s unfurling in front of me. “Kathleen, is that you?”

Kathleen? Who the hell is Kathleen?

‘Kathleen’ also looks very surprised – her eyes bug out a little, looking, if possible, even bigger. “Amy Derrick!”

Cue two teenage girls to squeal, jump up and down, and finally delve into a hug. I find it a little frustrating at first, how I’ve been forgotten for a girl who was just seconds ago ready to start a cat-fight with me. After a few moments, when it becomes apparent that they aren’t releasing each other any time soon, I clear my throat.

Amy slowly lets go of Kathleen, turning her head briefly to give me a death look, and gabbles, “I haven’t seen you in forever!”

“I know, honey,” Kathleen clucks, letting her arms drop to her sides, as she tosses her unbelievably perfect blonde hair over her shoulder. I frown at her, trying not to hate her for having the most amazing hair and stealing my best friend. Okay, maybe I am being a little melodramatic but, honestly, if I had my way I wouldn’t be standing in this club where every five seconds I’m jostled by random by-passers.

Kathleen seems to take in every little bit of Amy there is as she flicks her eyes up and down. “You’re gorgeous.”

I can’t believe it – Amy’s blushing. There’s a little flush of pleasure rising in her cheeks and I know this is exactly the right thing to take her mind off Louis. “Thanks,” she murmurs, almost sounding embarrassed

I know I should be pleased for her and everything but, I’ve got to admit, I’m getting a little bored. And, knowing Amy, this talk she’s having with Kathleen could last the whole night or just a few more seconds. I start moving away slowly, trying to be inconspicuous, but I needn’t have worried – both girls are too busy chatting about their new fad diets to notice me.

I turn my back on them, slightly annoyed at being ditched by my best friend for a girl who she hardly knows, and dodge past various tipsy teenagers to reach the bar. I knew it is a long shot that I’d even get served without Amy standing by my side and making eyes at the bartender but, frankly, I’m pissed. And I need some alcohol to make me feel better.

I pull the low cut top down, trying my best to look like I’m of legal serving age, and plaster a confident smile on my face as the bartender nears me. I slide onto the stool.
I take a deep breath, ready to call out to him. “Hey, excuse me-”

Just then I am jostled by somebody’s heavy body smacking into my back, knocking me off my stool. And I would have fallen, too, but a pair of large hands wrap around my waist, catching me. There are a few gasps from the onlookers, people who are lucky enough not to be in this scuffle, and a thud as the person who I’m assuming fell on me, drops to the floor.

The hands remove themselves from my waist once I stand steadily on my feet and I direct my glare from the man on the floor to the person who caught me. My eyes narrow further. “Ouch.”

The light from the bar illuminates his face a little and I can see he looks a little apologetic. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to push him onto you.”

I can’t help it, my expression changes from one of annoyance to confusion. “What?”

The man on the floor starts grumbling as he is picked up by a bouncer. I ignore him, instead trying to figure out what the guy in front of me is saying. He runs a hand through his hair and I can see him trying to fight against the urge to stare at my chest. “How about I buy you a drink and we start again?”

I glance up at him, trying to weigh the odds. On one hand, I’ll get my long awaited drink, free of charge and with no risk of being asked for ID, but on the other hand, this guy is most definitely trying to pick me up and it’ll be difficult later trying to get away from him.

I spot Amy out of the corner of my eye, making her way towards me. I slip back onto my stool and flash him a mega-watt smile. “That’d be nice. I’m Ashley.”

I honestly don’t know where the fake name came from. It might have been the alcoholic fumes surrounding me or, most likely, I just don’t want this guy to sell a ‘kiss and tell’ story to the newspaper, trying to scoop up his five minutes of fame.

Yes. That sounds plausible. Amy will believe that.

The guy smiles back at me, getting the dazed expression I usually see when Amy smiles at people. “I’m Leon,” he says, passing me an acid red cocktail.

I swirl it around in the glass, staring over Leon’s shoulder at the figure that’s rapidly approaching. A part of me just wants to grab Leon and hide but I know she’ll find me. She always bloody does.

“Rose!” Amy trills, grabbing hold of my arm and pulling hard, so I find that I have to grip the stool to not repeat what happened earlier.

I turn to her, frowning slightly at her incredibly perky grin. I lean in closer to her and hiss, “I told him my name was Ashley!”

Amy’s eyes widen and she takes a little step away from me to glance slyly at Leon, whose expression quickly changes from confusion, and he winks cheekily at her. I feel a little bubble of rage towards Amy rise inside me until Amy lets out a tinkling laugh.

“I’m awful with names,” Amy says, putting an ‘oh, I’m so forgetful and dumb’ tone in her voice. She bats her eyelashes innocently at him, reaching past me to grab my drink. “Sorry, Ashley.”

I flap a hand at her as she takes a swig. “Oh, don’t worry… Eunice.”

It’s beautiful what happens next and it was literally like I’d waited for the opportune moment – Amy’s inhales a mouthful of her cocktail, or more specifically my cocktail, and suddenly it comes spurting out of her pretty pink lips as she tries not to choke. I suppress a snort – it wouldn’t look too good if I was laughing while my best friend made a complete idiot out of herself, even if that so rarely happens. It’s funny, that’s what it is.

Or, at least, that’s what it was. Until Leon sidles up to her and, placing a hand on her back, begins to steadily rub it. Amy coughs one final time before looking up at him with wide eyes. “Oops.”

Oh, she pulls off innocent far too well. I reach for the drink that Amy previously discarded and down it in seconds, enjoying the warmth from the alcohol in my throat.

“Don’t worry,” Leon says, a large Cheshire cat grin on his face. It unnerves me a little. “I’ll get you another drink, Eunice.”

This time I do let out a little giggle. Amy shoots me a withering glare over Leon’s shoulder but he’s oblivious, or he’s most likely choosing to ignore it, and turns back to the bartender. Amy tries to hiss something from the stool she’s sitting at and from her pissed off frown I can tell it would be something unpleasant.

Fortunately for me, I can’t hear her over the music and, a second later, Leon puts a glass each down in front of us. I smile genuinely up at him and almost snatch the drink out of his hand.

Ten minutes later and I am feeling a little woozy. There is a pleasant buzz in my head and I feel a ball of warmth somewhere in my chest. Which means that in another drink I’ll be taking my top off and making out with the wall. Leon has redirected his feelings from Amy back on to me, passing Amy over to his friend as if she was a collectable card, and, seeing as we’re both being fed drinks by these two guys, neither of us seem to care too much.

I stare at my empty glass, slightly fixated on the ice cube slowly melting into a pool at the bottom, until it’s snatched out of my hand and, in its place, a new cocktail, one with an umbrella leaning on the rim. I grin goofily up at Leon and he moves closer to me, winding his arm around my waist.

This sobers me up. Well, it sobers me up enough to realise what exactly Leon’s intentions are. I straighten up, not aware that I was draped over the bar counter, and shuffle away from Leon until his arm is no longer around me, but hanging in mid-air. But it doesn’t drop back to his side like I expect it would. Instead, Leon moves in closer to me, snaking both his arms around my stomach, and propping his chin atop my head.

“Ashley,” he purrs, his voicebox vibrating the back of my head a little. “What’s the matter?”

I wriggle in his grasp, telling myself not to panic. I’m probably overreacting – it’s not like he’s going to kidnap me or anything. “Where’s Amy?” I ask in a small voice, staring up at Leon with wide eyes.

He pulls back, a look of pure confusion on his face. “Who?”

“Oh, um…” I bluster. I can feel heat rising in my cheeks and, with my red hair, I know it’s going to stand out more. “You know… Eunice.”

He doesn’t seem to notice how long it took me to remember my best friend’s name. Instead, he removes his body from me and nods to his left. “Over there. Will’s getting her a drink.”

I follow his gaze to the blonde man passing some money to the bartender and hop off my stool, fully intent on following him to find Amy. Leon seems surprised that I’m moving, without falling over I might add, although the room seems to be swaying a bit and, quite a few times, I have to grab onto a nearby person to stop toppling over.
‘Will’ is just within my reach when he reaches his free hand, the hand not carrying Amy’s drink, into his pocket and keeps it there, though, by the looks of it, he seems to be struggling to find what he needs. I can hear Leon calling my supposed name but I ignore him, overcome by a desperate need to plunge my hand into Will’s pocket and get what he’s looking for for him. My hand stretches out of its own accord, fully ready to go raiding a stranger’s pocket, but his own hand emerges.

In-between his thumb and forefinger, he’s holding a tiny, white pill, no bigger than my fingernail.

He quickly drops it into Amy’s drink and I freeze, my hand still reaching out to him.
I feel sick. My mouth has gone dry and my heartbeat is suddenly the only sound I can hear even though I know the music hasn’t stopped playing. I’m now completely oblivious to the people around me, replaying the scene I just witnessed over and over in my head. My eyes sting and my vision becomes blurry.

Suddenly, a hand grips my arm and spins me around so that I’m facing them. Leon grins down at me, baring his teeth. I flinch away from him. His hand is too hot against my cool arm – entirely too hot.

“Nearly got away there, eh?” He laughs a booming laugh and now I can tell his breath stinks of alcohol and cigarettes.

I struggle to pull my arm back to my side, knowing that, with my wide eyes, frizzy hair and trembling chin, I must look completely frightened and desperate to escape. I briefly see Leon frowning before turning and yanking with all my might to pull my arm free. I hear a voice then – a voice which sends a little shiver down my back and completely relaxes me. It’s familiar, and that’s comforting.

The hold on my arm is suddenly slack and, taking this as an opportunity, I retract my arm and dash in the direction Will went, going as fast as I can in a dark, busy club. I don’t turn back to see who the voice belongs to.

My head whips from side to side, desperately searching for Amy, as panic rises in my chest. I push back the dark thought that maybe I am too late, that I was distracted by Leon for too long. Then, suddenly, I see a flash of gold and some extraordinarily high heels kick in the air.

I make my way in that direction, silently praying to Merlin, God, Buddha, anyone that the owner of the heels is indeed my best friend and she’s absolutely fine, laughing occasionally at her model friends jokes after ditching the sleaze Will. And I’d get there and she’d chide me for worrying about her before slinging a thin arm around my shoulders and pulling me in for a hug. We’d then both laugh and head back to Hogwarts, exchanging the worst guys we’ve ever met stories.

Someone moves out of my line of vision and then I can see Amy as clearly as I can see my palm if I held it in front of my face. Her whole body is slumped over; her chin seems to be resting on her own chest, her hair covering her face. If I was a random passer by then this scene would have looked totally innocent – Amy looks either exhausted or drunk out of her mind. My eyes stray to the half empty glass beside her and the masculine arm draped around her waist, supporting her in case she fell.

I don’t know when or how it happened but, soon, I am standing directly in front of Will and, placing both my hands on his chest, shove him roughly away from me. He’s taken by surprise and steps back to regain his balance, his arm falling off Amy’s waist. She, in turn, drops straight to the floor, landing on her knees with a thump before sitting back on her heels. She doesn’t make a sound, she doesn’t wince. She doesn’t even lift her head, instead letting her silky brown hair continue to fall over her face.

Will advances on me, a look of anger so ferocious on his face that it makes me forget about Amy and thinking about my welfare. “What,” he growls, his fist clenching, “the fuck is your problem?”

And he’s got me by the wrist and is shaking me roughly. There’s a silence from the people in the club around us and I can feel at least five pairs of eyes staring at me, at the slumped figure of Amy, but no one moves to stop him. I hear that voice again; the voice that I know can comfort me in any situation. I instantly feel my body relax a little.

There’s another thud and, as soon as it came, the hand crushing my wrist is gone and there’s a different face in front of me, different hands around my arms. I’m not worried; I’d happily walk for years just to see this face again.

He frowns down in concern at me. “Are you alright?”

“Scorpius,” I gasp and throw myself into his arms. I know he’s a little shocked at first – his whole body seems to tense up in surprise – but he’s been brought up well and knows never to reject a hysterical, tipsy, shaking girl’s hug. His arms tighten around me. I breathe in his woody smell, noting how pleasant and how unlike it was to Leon’s.

Our hug is interrupted far too soon for my liking, although I guess anytime would be ‘too soon,’ but a cleared throat and a tap on Scorpius’s shoulder directs our attention to the man who’s clearly uncomfortable holding Amy up. I reluctantly release Scorpius and search around for Will but, thankfully, he’s no where in sight. Must have scampered off with his tail between his legs.


Scorpius is at Amy’s side in a second and, as petty as it is, I feel a pang of jealousy. He gently places Amy’s arm around his neck and puts his own around her middle to support her. Amy’s head rises a little and I can see her try to focus on me, the cogs in her brain turning to figure out who’s holding her. By the looks of it, she’s given up; her head is hanging down once more.

“Let’s go,” Scorpius says, his voice sounding completely full of authority, as if he isn’t a minor in a club. I move to Amy’s other side to help her walk – the faster we get to Hogwarts, the better, as far as I’m concerned.

People don’t really pay us much attention as we drag a half unconscious girl through the crowds, probably suspecting that she can’t handle her drink. I stumble a little from the alcohol and under Amy’s weight, but Scorpius is soon there, supporting nearly all Amy’s weight so I can walk. We reach the exit and the bouncer stares nervously at Amy.

“She alright?” He asks, indicating who he means with a nod of his head.

Scorpius glances at me but I duck my head, still not ready for the interrogation yet. I don’t want to even think about this night again, let alone tell it to someone else.

“We’ll just get her back quickly,” Scorpius replies and then he does something which completely surprises me. He bends his knees into a squatting position and, bringing his free arm up so it’s resting behind Amy’s lower leg, he picks her up off her feet so that she is cradled in his arms.

My hand that was holding Amy is still out. I’m too shocked to move. Never in my life did I think I would see something like that. Which only makes a rush of affection for Scorpius fill me till I think I’m going to explode. I beam at him, trying to not let tears of relief fill me eyes.

The air is sharp and cold when we come out and it’s exactly what I need to clear my head. Even Amy seems to notice the sudden temperature drop for she groans audibly and nestles her head further into Scorpius’s chest. Oh, I’m so jealous of that girl right now.

Our footsteps crunch against the gravel and I find myself wondering what time it is. I completely lost track of how long I spent shovelling drinks down my throat. I shiver, not only from the cold but from remembering the way Leon’s clammy arm felt around my waist.

I don’t know what would have happened if Scorpius didn’t come along.

“Scorpius?” I break the silence and guiltily look up at him, wondering if he’d rather be back in the club, dancing with gorgeous girls.

“Mmm?” He doesn’t look disgruntled. He’s staring up at the sky with a thoughtful look on his face.

“Can I ask you a question?” Now the effect of the alcohol seems to have worn off there are plenty of things I want to know. There’s something about Scorpius being here, carrying Amy, saving me, that doesn’t quite add up.

“Sure,” he murmurs, his eyes straying towards me for a few seconds. I’ve known him for too long not to recognise the suspiciousness in his gaze. “What do you want to know?”

There are so many questions swimming around in my head it takes me a few moments to sort it all out, and to not jumble them up. I hold his gaze. “What were you doing in a club?”

All the curiousness and open friendliness is wiped clean off his face and that usual look of disgust, snobbines and general pissed off-ness is apparent. “It’s Friday. Just because I’m not a stuck-up bitch doesn’t mean I don’t do something on Friday.”

Ouch. That one hurt. Especially after I thought we were making such progress.

I let my eyes fall to the ground, noticing how quickly it’s taking this time round to reach Hogwarts, unlike the elongated minutes it took with Amy, dreading going to this club, where such disasters happen. I clear my throat after a few minutes of stung silence. “Um… where’s Zoe?”

He shrugs and Amy bounces up and down in his arms. “Not really her sort of thing.”

“Oh,” I let it go quiet again for a few more steps. I flash a look at Scorpius to see if he’s still annoyed with me. “What about Al?”

Scorpius rolls his eyes. “Not really his either.”

I nod. “Uhuh. And Alice?”

His head shakes just barely but I can see a little smile playing on his lips. This, obviously, makes him look so adorable I have a hard time restraining myself from licking him. I let out a frustrated sigh. “Well, then, who did you go with?”

This time, it’s a fully fledged smirk which appears on his face. “Do you know Lei?”

The playful smile drops off my face and I turn to him, shocked. “Lei? Louis’s ex-girlfriend? The one who dumped him?”

His smirk grows. “That’s the one.”

I whack him in the arm and he obviously thinks that I’m annoyed with him for screwing over my cousin not for going on a date with one of the prettiest girls in seventh year. “I’m not going to protect you from Louis anymore.”

“You weren’t a very good protector, were you?” Scorpius’s voice is light, teasing, and, dare I say it, flirty? I sneak a peek at Amy and find her sleeping, her mouth a tiny bit open, as she snuggles against Scorpius’s chest. It doesn’t look like it requires any effort on his part to carry her all this way. In fact, it almost looks easy. “Louis sucker-punched me.”

“You told him his girlfriend was cheating on him.”

“He asked me to!”

“Scorpius,” I say sternly, trying to not let my exhaustion seep into my voice. I glance up at the castle before us, wishing that the walk wasn’t that short and we still had plenty of time to talk. The sky behind the castle is surprisingly clear, which I guess explains the arctic temperature outside. “I’m not going through this again.”

He shakes his head in reply, as if agreeing with me, before slowly letting Amy’s legs drop one by one from his arms till she’s standing with her arms just around his neck. He unpicks those, too, handing one to me as if it’s a toy that could be easily exchanged. I smile at him and gently shake Amy awake so that she can at least help me get her back to the Gryffindor Common Room. In all this kerfuffle with Amy, it somehow managed to escape my notice that Scorpius slipped away, not even bothering to say goodbye.

I stare at the spot where he was standing, feeling a little disheartened.

“Rose!” A voice barks in my ear, awakening me which I’m sure was the persons intention. I open my eyes slowly, wincing when the bright light enters my eyes. My eyes begin to focus and I glare at the girl leaning over my head.

“Amy,” I growl, sitting up carefully to not aggravate my pounding head anymore. “Shouldn’t you be throwing up in a bin somewhere?”

So sue me, I’m not a morning person.

“Funny, Rose,” Amy tells me, unsmiling, and for a moment I feel guilty for making Amy remember last night. I, for one, wish it never happened so Amy must be going through her own personal hell. I reach out my hand and place it on Amy’s. She looks at me again and removes her hand from out under mine. “I need your help.”

“What?” I say, wondering if I heard her correctly. I stare at Amy’s face and, with a pang, realise I will never ever look that good in the morning. It’s obvious she has no make-up on her face – she looks about two years younger – but she pulls off the ‘Oh, I just woke up’ look surprisingly well. “You never need my help.”

Amy just gives me that ‘Shut Up, Just Listen’ look that has worked so well for her the past few years. I obediently clam my lips together and huddle further down into my duvet, preparing myself for Amy’s latest plan. No matter how awful they are, Amy will never fail to amuse me with them.

“We’re going to have some fun.”


Now her face clearly says; ‘Yes, douchebag, you too.’

I sigh, resigned. “Fine. What is it?”

Amy giggles, although, if anybody else performed the exact same laugh it would be describes as a cackle, and claps her hands together. Her eyes light up. “We’re going to ruin him.”

She’s never asked me to be part of a ruining plan before. Firstly, I’m not the most skilled liar and, secondly, I’m often too overcome with guilt to actually perform the action.

I start to shake my head but stop myself, wondering who this ‘lucky’ person could me. And I say lucky because, for the first few weeks the plan is in progress, the ruinee often thinks he’s hit the jackpot. Amy spends hours using her feminine wiles to bring them so their knees which is when she swoops in and rips it out from under them, often ending it in a completely humiliating way.

The last person she did this too happened to be Marissa’s slimy ex. He used to be the most popular guy in school, now he spends his free time in the boy’s lavatories.
Most times, I just stay out of my friends business when this happens.

“Who is it?”

“Rose,” Amy tuts, leaning back on her heels to give me a disapproving look. “I know who told Louis.”

My blood runs cold. I literally freeze. My breath catches in my throat. My mouth is dry.
“What?” I manage to croak, staring at Amy in absolute horror.

“This time it’s Scorpius,” she tells me with a cheeky wink as she leaps off my bed and sashays to the bathroom. Amy turns her head towards me for a second. “And you’re going to help me.”


Secret No. 39: Sometimes, no matter what the situation, I feel completely uncomfortable being friends with Amy. It's not that I don't enjoy her company - it's that if I say the wrong thing, refuse to do something or talk to the wrong people than I have a strange fear that she'll cut me out of the group, thus alienating me from the whole school and casting me off as the 'loner.'

A/N: I honestly can't believe how long this chapter took me to write. I did have to do something weird to my computer but that only took a week and I just never got back in the habit of writing again. So I'm really sorry for the stupidly long wait. But it's okay now, because today I'm positive I just failed my Maths exam which should land me with around a weeks detention :]
How, I ask you, am I supposed to remember all these numbers?
Effy xx

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