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Ami and I looked at each other. The choc-top was softening in my hand. ‘Just let her sleep,’ Ami whispered. ‘Maybe tell her another time.’

I nodded slowly. But I knew I probably wouldn’t talk to Katie about it. It wasn’t like she would listen.

By the time Ami and I were behind the snack bar again, the ice-cream had begun melting through the perforated plastic onto my hand. I dumped it into the rubbish and went to wash the sticky mess
away. We didn’t say much for the rest of the night, but I was pretty sure Ami had the same word going around in her head as I did. A word that kept coming back no matter how often I tried to
evict it.

Shapeshifter.

‘No way, Ami,’ I said. ‘I’m not going.
Forget it.’

You think you know someone. And you think they know you too. You especially think they know the things that you are absolutely
not
prepared to do. Ever.

Ami had started talking about the formal. As in, suggesting that we go to it. At first I thought she was kidding. I mean, if there was one thing I’d been clear about since I came back from
the clinic, it was that I wouldn’t be doing crap like that any more. And I’d thought Ami was with me on that. It was one of the things we’d
bonded
over, for god’s
sake! But now she seemed to have changed her mind.

‘It could be fun,’ Ami said.

‘It will be horrific,’ I retorted. ‘And cheesy. I used to be on the committee, don’t forget.’

‘Horrific, cheesy fun,’ said Ami, shrugging. ‘What’s wrong with that?’

‘It’s not my thing,’ I muttered.

Ami folded her arms. ‘What
is
your
thing
these days, Olive? Hiding in your room doing nothing? Ignoring the hot guy who clearly has a thing for you?’

‘Listening to Luxe isn’t
nothing
,’ I retorted. ‘Anyway, aren’t we supposed to be staying away from Miranda?’

We had been, too. Since that date night at the Mercury, I’d been trying extra hard to shut Miranda out of my mind - attempting not to notice that her personality and magnetism was growing
stronger every day while Katie kept fading into the background. But all the same, that rubbishy shapeshifter website kept floating at the edges of my mind, especially whenever I noticed how limp
Katie’s hair was looking next to Miranda’s luscious locks.

‘I don’t think it’s Miranda you want to avoid,’ said Ami flatly. ‘I think it’s Lachlan.’

‘Couldn’t we just hire a bunch of DVDs instead?’ I pleaded. I was starting to feel clammy. ‘Eat corn chips and salsa?’

‘Look, I can’t
make
you go,’ said Ami.

‘That’s right,’ I agreed quickly. ‘You can’t.’

‘It’s just that …’ Ami stopped and bit her lip.

‘What?’ I said, like a total
dummkopf
. ‘What is it?’

‘It’s just that I’d really, really love to go,’ Ami sighed. ‘And you know I can’t go without you.’

Of course then I started thinking about all the things Ami had done for me. How she’d made school bearable. How she hung out with me at work, making me laugh and keeping the boredom at
bay. The countless hours she’d spent talking to me about Dad and making me feel that maybe, one day, I’d feel OK again. I wondered yet again what I would do without her.

‘All right, all right,’ I said. ‘I’ll go. But only for a
micro-second
. Do you get me?’

Ami squealed and danced around.

‘And I’m going to avoid Lachlan all night,’ I said. ‘So don’t get any ideas about that.’

‘You can hide under a table if you want,’ said Ami. ‘I’m just happy we’re going.’ And then, because she liked to torment me, she mused, ‘I wonder what
Lachlan will wear?’

Once I’d agreed to go, Ami and I spent quite a bit of time coming up with costume ideas for the winter beach-party theme – something a bit more interesting than the
inevitable bikini tops and little fur-trimmed skirts for the girls, and tuxedos paired with board shorts for the blokes. My first idea was to cover myself in blue make-up and go as someone with
hypothermia, but then Ami suggested going as a shark-attack victim. Nothing to do with winter, but too good an idea to pass up.

This involved a number of visits to the local charity shop, which of course I was happy about. When I first started going there it was because none of my old clothes fitted – neither my
body nor my personality – so I’d bundled pretty much everything I owned into a bag and chucked it away. But I had limited money for replacements, hence the charity shopping. I never
expected to find things I actually liked – but that’s exactly what happened.

The hunt part became addictive. In normal shops you just walk in and see something that looks OK, then check for your size. It didn’t work like that in op shops though. I had to be
patient. Sometimes – often – I came home empty-handed. But there were times when I found something so lush that it made all the failed visits worthwhile. The best bit was that my
purchases only ever cost a couple of dollars.

Sourcing my formal outfit was one of those sweet experiences. I found a dress right at the back of the shop, folded up with the fifty-cent bed sheets, and even before I smoothed it out I knew it
would be perfect. A bit mouldy with age and tight in the waist, but beautiful anyway – pale minty-green with little beads sewn on to the bodice. Something that a girl from the 1950s probably
wore to
her
school formal. Except that she wouldn’t have worn it the way I was planning to.

Later, as I held the scissors above my new purchase, I found myself hesitating. Poor dress. It had really come down in the world. But then I thought about how amazing it would look when
I’d finished and I stopped feeling like I was destroying the dress and told myself that this was more like
re-creation
. I had to do it anyway. This would be my way of letting everyone
at the formal know that I wasn’t taking the event seriously.

On the night of the dance, I put the dress on and smeared the skin that was exposed by the ‘shark bite’ with fake blood. I didn’t even mind that my pudgy
stomach was showing. Blood smears can be very flattering when they’re applied vertically.

Ami directed me while I did my hair. Prissy on one side. Chaos on the other. When I’d finished, she nodded. ‘Perfect.’

I had to go into Mum’s room to see my reflection. My mirror was another thing I’d removed, post-clinic. The shark-attack side was only visible if I turned to the left. From the other
angle I looked completely normal. It was this side that freaked me out the most.

‘I look so …’

‘Pretty,’ smirked Ami, drawing out the word so it rang in my ears. ‘Preeeeetty.’

I clasped my hands together. Fluttered my eyelids. Channelling the 1950s girl who’d once owned the dress.

‘Maybe some dreamy guy will dance with me tonight,’ I said in a sugary voice. ‘That would be so
peachy
.’

I put on my shoes. Mint-green kitten heels – another op shop purchase and one I never thought I’d actually wear. They were perfect, especially with just a tiny splattering of
blood.

‘Well, Cinderella, I wonder what
Lachlan
will think of your outfit?’ said Ami.

‘That’s something we’ll never know,’ I said, ignoring the sudden lightness I felt. ‘Seeing as I’m going to avoid him. And we’ll only be there for half
an hour.
Max
.’

All the same, it was an interesting question.

The formal was being held at the town hall, a lush old building down on the esplanade with all these crazy turrets. It was painted a pale creamy colour and because it was the
tallest building on the street it loomed up against the evening sky like an oversized sandcastle. As Mum turned onto the esplanade, I started catching glimpses of people from school. Sadly
I’d been right about the bikinis and little fur-trimmed skirts. Seriously. Some people are insane.

My feeling of dread had started to reach dangerous levels before Mum even stopped the car, and the moment I stepped out onto the footpath I knew this was a huge mistake. No matter how
rad
my costume was. But by then Mum had already pulled away, leaving me and Ami on the footpath. Music –
scheiss
music – blared from the town hall. Two girls arrived, dressed as
mermaids, their skirts so narrow around their ankles they could hardly walk. They clutched each other to keep from falling. Each one was wearing a little icicle tiara that went nicely with their
cold little smiles. They stopped on the steps, listening to the music.

‘Oh my god,’ screamed one mermaid.

‘I
love
this song!’ screamed the other, nearly tripping on her tail.

‘I’ve changed my mind,’ I announced, pivoting on my heel. ‘I’m going home.’ There was a bus stop nearby – I could be home in twenty minutes.

Ami threw herself in front of me. ‘No! You promised me you’d stay for a bit. Just remind yourself that we’re here to have fun. Or will that break some Princess of the
Alternative rule?’

‘No,’ I said, laughing. ‘We’re allowed to have fun. We just don’t like bad music.’

‘Well, put on your headphones and listen to your own music,’ said Ami, clearly exasperated. ‘I bet you brought some. Let’s go inside.’

‘Everyone is staring,’ I muttered as we walked up the steps and through the ornate wood and glass doors.

‘That would be because of the gaping, bloodied hole in your dress,’ Ami pointed out.

Oh yeah. I’d forgotten about that. I straightened up. The only thing worse than turning up in a bizarro costume is looking like you regret it.

Inside the hall, set to one side, was a table for refreshments. None of it looked very refreshing – just a bowl of flat orange punch and a few platters of crisps. Clearly Miranda and Katie
hadn’t wasted much of the budget on food.

Nearby, Cameron and his friends were standing together, all of them wearing tux jackets with ties shaped like tropical fish. Either they’d planned it or they’d all had the same dumb
idea. Cameron looked edgy. He kept fiddling with the fish, his eyes continually flitting towards the door like he was waiting for someone to appear. Not Katie, obviously, because she was standing
right near him, silent and grey as a shadow.

‘It’s a worry, isn’t it?’ As usual Ami said exactly what I was thinking. ‘She looks like she’s being drained of life.’