I am thirteen. My best friend since prep, Zoe, has gone away for five months to Europe and America. I get postcards from Spain, Italy, New York. In the meantime, I need friends, quick; a flock I can conceal myself in at recess and lunch, somewhere between the soccer oval and the flat grey river. Protective colouration. Failing that, I will kiss boys.
Writers, editors, agents, publishers and more share their thoughts, experiences and stories.