The rest of the morning passes uneventfully.
Emmy has been in all of my classes, her short, wavy bob flicking back and forth as she introduces me to teacher after teacher. I'm somewhat confused by the loyalty she's bestowed on me, but I can't complain.
Her chatter is enough to drown my nerves and redirect some stares, and when she asks if I want to have lunch together, I agree.
She leads me to the school oval, and the moment I step onto the dirt, I scour the other side of the fence. There are hundreds of boys over there, running around, playing rugby, tackling each other.
Emmy senses my sudden interest and glances at me.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah, fine. Just looking for Jake."
She raises an eyebrow in question.
"My brother."
"Oh. Well, he might not be out yet," she says, leading me to a patch of grass by the fence. "You're twins, yeah? The Year 11 and 12 boys have gym before lunch on Mondays and sometimes they get held back."
"Oh." Disappointment floods me. "Okay."
"Don't worry. I'm sure he'll be out soon."
And then she launches into a lecture about our science teacher, explaining the do's and don'ts of conversing with a self-proclaimed 'trigger-happy detention giver'.
I nod, humming in acknowledgement, but I hardly hear her. Instead, I'm focused on the other side of that fence, my heart aching for just one glimpse of Jake.
That is, until a girl walks toward us and distracts me. She's undoubtedly beautiful, with long legs and thick, black hair, but there's something unusual about her — about the way the light plays off her skin, brightening some patches and darkening others.
As she draws closer, I realise the light has nothing to do with it, and instead, she's actually covered in vitiligo. Her arms, her legs, her face. All covered with patches of albino skin.
"Hey Em," the girl says, and she sits down in front of me.
"Aleisha! Meet Claude. She just moved here. Today's her first day."
Aleisha smiles at me, and I make myself focus on her eyes instead of the patterns surrounding them.
"Hi."
Her voice is melodic, the kind you could fall asleep to.
"Hi, nice to meet you."
Emmy grins like I've said the best thing in the world and grabs Aleisha's arm.
"Isn't Claude gorgeous? She's going to be a great little addition to our group. We don't have a blonde yet."
Aleisha smiles. "You're too focused on image, Em."
"Well, someone has to be. Not all of us believe in the power of inner beauty like you do."
Emmy turns to me.
"Aleisha's an amazing singer. Mr. Collins reckons she'll win the National Eisteddfod this year. I—"
A yell erupts from the boys' oval and we turn, squinting at the commotion.
At first, all I can see is movement, hundreds of feet running in the same direction, but then the chanting reaches me.
Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight.
"Ugh, how immature," Emmy says, and she turns away.
But I don't, not yet.
Because a puddle of dread has formed at the bottom of my stomach, and when the crowd parts, and I get a glance at who's at the centre, that puddle turns into a full-blown flood.
"Aleisha, do you think we should — Claude! What are you doing?"
Emmy's voice rises to a screech of surprise as I jump up and scale a tree lining the fence, landing on the other side.
"Claudia!"
Emmy and Aleisha run up to the fence, staring at me with wild eyes.
"You're not allowed over there!" Emmy hisses. "You're going to get into—"
But I'm not listening anymore. Instead, I'm sprinting across the dirt; straight towards the crowd that has gathered to watch my brother get the shit punched out of him.