He smiles bashfully. "Sorry, my sugar." He looks at me and greets me, "Hiya, Heather. You look different."
Shannon says mockingly, "Yes, eejit she cut and coloured her hair."
He looks at me approvingly. "It looks nice."
" Thanks." My hand comes up to my hair again.
He folds his hand around Shannon's and we walk through the parking area toward the school entrance.
When we walk into the school building, Shannon and I walk to the bathrooms, as we always do, first thing every school day.
As I wait for her while she uses the facilities, I glance at myself in the mirror. Without thinking, I reach for my lip-gloss in the front pouch of my bag. I lean closer to the mirror across the basin and smear the gloss onto my lips liberally. I smack my lips together as I push the gloss back into the pouch. I thought the new black hairstyle would be harsh, but I like it. It makes me look extra pale, almost fragile. It makes my watered-down grey eyes look bluer. I step away from the mirror and lean against the basin as I wait for Shannon.
At last, I hear Shannon flush. When she walks out of the cubicle, I sigh exasperated. "I thought you were stuck in there."
She replies vaguely, "Monthlies."
I groan, feeling sorry for her.
We walk to our lockers to collect our books for class and Dermot and the new boy is already standing there waiting for us.
Dermot says excitedly as he steps in behind Shannon and wraps his arms around her waist. "Have you met Kieran, yet?"
I look at the new boy and I smile friendly. Even if love has gone lost, there is no need not to have manners. I say pleasantly, "Hiya." I bring my hand up to my chest as if to point me out to him, as I say, "I am Heather."
He smiles faintly and there is a gleam in his eyes. He looks at me as if he knows me and this makes me feel awkward, so I turn away from him and reach up to my locker to get my books.
It turns out Kieran is in almost all of my classes. He slouches in his chair in every class, twirling his pen through his fingers. He must be clever because he seems not to make any effort to pay attention. Whenever I glance in his direction, I see him staring at me absorbed. Either he is psycho or he likes me. These days it is hard to tell and I hope, against my will, because of the love thing, that it might be the latter.