Pick Your Poison. Lauren Child

nothing like me,’ protested Ruby.

      Five minutes later Elliot arrived, waving the newspaper excitedly. ‘You have a doppelganger!’

      The photograph was black and white and did not show the vivid pink T-shirt or the glittery sneakers, the heart patch on the jeans, or indeed much of Dakota Lyme’s mean, pinched face.

      Red walked over, and peered at the picture. ‘Hey Ruby, congratulations. I didn’t know you had won the mathlympics prize!’

      ‘Don’t you think that girl looks like Ruby?’ said Del.

      ‘Not even slightly,’ said Red. ‘Dakota Lyme is a total vacuum.’

      Ruby thanked Red for her support and went off to find Clancy, who was sitting on a bench reading his Garbage Girl comic.

      ‘You’re early?’ said Clancy.

      ‘Maybe I’m turning over a new leaf,’ said Ruby.

      ‘I give you one day, possibly two.’

      ‘For what?’

      ‘For your leaf to turn back over.’

      ‘I’m inspired by your confidence.’

      ‘I just know you – likelihood is you are going to revert to your old ways.’

      ‘Well, that’s kinda depressing.’

      ‘Talking of depressing, look who it is,’ said Clancy.

      Vapona Begwell walked by with her little gang. Gemma Melamare’s nose was encased in a triangle of splint and wadding. Ruby almost felt sorry for her; Gemma was very proud of her nose. It was certainly the cutest thing about her.

      When they passed, Vapona gave Ruby the evil eye and hissed, ‘Tell Lasco she’s a yellow-belly.’

      ‘Jeepers Vapona, tell her yourself,’ said Ruby. ‘I haven’t got time to run little messages between you guys.’

      ‘You’re in my sights, Redfort!’

      ‘I’m flattered,’ said Ruby as she walked into her form room.

      ‘So what’s the real reason for your punctuality?’ asked Clancy.

      ‘I got something to tell you,’ said Ruby.

      ‘Please don’t make me guess,’ said Clancy.

      ‘My dad gave me this.’ Ruby took out the invitation.

      ‘You must be in his good books,’ said Clancy. ‘My dad said you either got to know the right people or part with a whole lot of cash.’

      The first class of the morning was behavioural science and Mr Cornsworth was excited to announce a project which he hoped all the students would take part in.

      ‘I would like you to explore the idea of social interaction and think about the way human beings form groups and clubs and the various ways they communicate. Perhaps you could explore and investigate the importance and significance of these rituals.’

      There was a lot of exaggerated yawning from Vapona Begwell and Gemma Melamare. Bailey Roach, who was sitting at the back of the class, was throwing balled-up pieces of paper across the room. Mr Cornsworth was not a confident teacher and had little clue when it came to controlling a class of thirteen and fourteen-year-olds, but when he went on to mention there would be ‘extra credit’ suddenly there was a lot of interest.

      Vapona, Gemma and Bailey Roach really needed to make up their grades. So did Clancy, as a matter of fact, but he was interested in the project for other reasons. Already he could see the outlines of a way of making a strong challenge to Mrs Bexenheath’s proposal that the school lockers be relocated. Not only might he change Principal Levine’s mind, but he could also gain a big tick on his grade sheet.

      Clancy started planning immediately, chewing on his pen.

      Ruby felt she had enough on her plate, psychologically speaking, without having to think about other people’s behavioural patterns – and besides, she didn’t need the extra credit. She might not be the most punctual, but she was a straight-A student.

      The issue more immediately facing her was the psychological falling apart of her basketball teammates. She had been thinking about this for much of the morning, already dreading the moment when school would end and she and her team would have to make their way to the Basketball courts, where they would almost certainly lose.

      Mouse was sat on the bench just down from the lower Amster stop when Ruby got there, waiting for the bus that would take them to the tournament. Opposite was a large brick wall and newly pasted there was an advertisement for something which showed the massive cartoon head of a kid, eyes crossed, and twisting from the mouth in huge curly letters the words:

      Weird, thought Ruby. What’s that supposed to—

      ‘What do you think the likelihood is that we get totally slammed?’ said Mouse, interrupting her thoughts.

      ‘You know that’s not a great attitude, Mouse.’

      ‘I just hate losing, and with Del on the bench we probably will.’

      ‘I read in this tennis coaching magazine that you’re a whole lot more likely to win if you love winning.’

      ‘I do love winning, that’s what I said.’

      ‘No, you said you hate losing. You shouldn’t be focusing on the losing, just set your sights on winning.’

      ‘Yeah, I guess you’re right, but I don’t think we’re gonna.’

      Ruby sighed, knowing this was probably true: most of her teammates did not have the killer instinct.

      ‘What do you reckon Taste Twisters are?’ said Ruby, staring at the image of the boss-eyed cartoon kid.

      Mouse studied the picture.

      She shrugged. ‘Some kind of candy – aimed at kids.’

      Ruby continued to stare. ‘It’s odd that they don’t tell you what it is, don’t you think? I mean, ordinarily they would want you to know.’

      ‘What are you guys looking at?’ called Elliot. He was walking towards them along the sidewalk, his gym bag over his shoulder. Del and Red were lagging a little behind.

      ‘We are trying to figure out what a Taste Twister is,’ called Mouse.

      Elliot joined them on the bench and he too turned his gaze on the poster.

      After a couple of minutes he said, ‘A drink – it’s a drink of some kind, most probably a kids’ drink.’

      ‘Why a drink?’ said Mouse.

      ‘Because of the straw,’ said Elliot.

      ‘Where’s the straw?’ asked Mouse. ‘I can’t see any straw.’

      ‘The twisting words, they represent a straw.’

      ‘I don’t see it myself,’ said Mouse. ‘But if it were a drink then what flavour would it be?’

      ‘Milk,’ said Elliot. ‘Milk. Has to be.’

      ‘Why?’ said Mouse.

      ‘Look at the kid’s teeth. If it was for soda or something then they wouldn’t emphasise how white the kid’s teeth were. They’re saying drink milk and have strong white teeth.’

      ‘When do they ever advertise a drink and show the kid with rotten teeth?’ said Ruby. ‘Doesn’t matter if the drink is choc full of sugar and treacle, they would still show the kid smiling a pretty smile. White teeth proves nothing.’