Chapter 2 three—the magic number Last autumn, returning to Blackwell after summer break was really cool. Not only was everyone still gossiping about the LBD’s amazing adventure at Astlebury Music Festival, where we’d been hanging out with the stars and getting our faces all over the tabloid newspaper standing with our close personal showbiz buddy, “Duke of Pop” Spike Saunders, but this term was very special indeed. The LBD would be Year 11 babes! Utterly mature. I’d been yearning for this moment since Year 7. Now, the only Blackwell inmates able to look down on us would be the Year 12/13 crowd (including obnoxious bully Panama Goodyear and her perfect-skinned android disciples Abigail Munro and Leeza Palmer), but thankfully they rarely left their A-level common room anyhow. It was the Year 11s who ruled the school! As Year 11 chicks, we could breeze into lunch on any sitting we desired—no more eating leftover knobbly chicken nuggets that look like deep-fried mice. Yak! And we could use Blackwell’s posh “Senior School”
