I took a jacket potato and some sweetcorn and an apple. He took exactly the same.
‘That looks nicer,’ he said, shrugging one shoulder.
I paid for my food and strode across to the table where Megan and Connor were sitting. We were an odd bunch. We weren’t part of any of the main tribes at Perran, like the surfer and skater crowd, or the pony-club girls, or the musicians, although we hung around on the periphery of the main groups from time to time. Megan had a beautiful singing voice and mixed well with the other musicians. Connor was learning to surf – although he wasn’t part of the surfing crowd – and he went to astronomy club on Fridays after school without being a fully paid-up member of the science geeks. As for me, I was part of the cross-country team but avoided all other sports and everything to do with them. Connor and Megan were sitting with Connor’s neighbour, Matt, and Matt’s girlfriend, Amy.
Matt was OK. He played guitar and was pretty laid back. Amy was a drama queen, always performing, always reinventing herself, always the centre of attention. Her latest look was, in her words, vampire chic. She had dyed her naturally fair hair jet black, which made her pale skin look almost green. It was an improvement on her last persona, when she had bleached her blonde hair platinum, and affected a southern Californian vocabulary.
‘I’m thinking, like, a beach party would be totally awesome?’ Amy was saying, as I pulled out a chair.
Megan looked at me and surreptitiously rolled her eyes. Amy had been planning her sixteenth birthday party for weeks. Megan didn’t really like beach parties, but I could already picture the fire burning bright in the inky night, a skyful of stars and, with a little luck, the moon.
‘Amy, it’s the beginning of March. How can you have a beach party in March?’ Connor asked. ‘It’s practically the middle of winter.’
‘Actually, it’s spring,’ she said. ‘Anyway, it’s not going to be bikinis and trunks. Have you never partied on the beach outside of summer?’
‘No,’ said Connor, shrugging. ‘Why would anyone do that?’
‘Because there are no parents on the beach. I could have my party at home with Mum and Dad in the next room – I’m sure they’d just love to serve pizza and lemonade – or we can party at the beach with no parents and drink whatever we like.’
‘I get your point,’ Connor said. ‘But it’ll be freezing.’
‘We’ll build a bonfire,’ said Amy. ‘It’s going to be so great.’
I tuned out and sliced into my potato. Out of the corner of my eye I watched the new boy sit alone at a table in the corner. Three Year Ten girls at the table next to him giggled, flicked their hair and upped the volume of their conversation. Something told me he wasn’t going to have any trouble fitting in, even at this late stage in the school year.
‘What do you think, Eden?’ Amy was asking.
‘Huh?’ I hadn’t been listening. ‘Sounds great.’
Amy turned to where I’d been looking. She winked at me. ‘Checking out the new guy?’
Connor groaned. ‘Not you as well.’ He nudged me. ‘Is he dreamy? Does he make your heart flutter?’
‘Get lost, Connor,’ I said, nudging him back. ‘You’re just jealous.’ I bit into my apple, embarrassed to have been caught.
‘He’s clever,’ said Amy. ‘He was in my science class this morning.’
‘He’s not that smart,’ said Matt. ‘I had history with him and he’d never heard of Hitler. For God’s sake, who hasn’t heard of Hitler?’
‘Or pizza?’ I muttered under my breath, but nobody heard me.
‘It’s not his mind I’m interested in anyway,’ said Megan with a giggle.
‘I don’t get it,’ Connor said, shaking his head. ‘What does he have that I don’t?’
‘Muscles,’ Megan began. ‘And great cheekbones. And . . .’
Connor groaned again.
Megan ignored him. ‘And gorgeous hair.’
‘You have to be kidding,’ said Connor. ‘It sticks up in every direction. Doesn’t he know how to use a comb?’
‘Says the boy who doesn’t even own a comb,’ I said, tousling Connor’s shaggy blond mop.
‘Maybe that’s how they wear their hair in America or wherever it is he’s from,’ said Megan.
Amy frowned. ‘I don’t think he’s American. I think he sounds Australian.’
‘Definitely not Australian,’ Megan argued back. ‘There’s a hint of a twang there. Maybe he’s Canadian. Or Hawaiian.’
‘Or South African,’ said Amy. ‘Their accents sound similar to Australian.’
‘Why don’t you just ask him?’ said Connor, a hint of irritation in his voice. ‘He’s coming this way. I’m sure he’ll put you out of your misery.’
Sure enough, he had finished his meal and had to walk past our table. I studied my apple, hoping Connor wouldn’t do or say something embarrassing.
Connor stood up, just as the boy approached, blocking his exit. ‘Excuse me. I wonder if you would mind settling a discussion.’
The boy smiled warily. ‘If I can.’
‘The girls here were just trying to place your accent. We’ve got Australia, Canada, Hawaii and South Africa.’
The boy smiled a little more. ‘Close,’ he said. ‘America.’
‘America. Now that’s settled. Thank you so much for your assistance.’
The boy raised an eyebrow. ‘You’re welcome.’
The bell went for fifth period and I sighed. Double art with Mrs Link.
‘What class do you have next?’ Connor asked the boy. ‘I’ll point you in the right direction.’
In his hand the new boy was holding a map of the school, which he had clearly folded and refolded several times already that morning. ‘Art. Mrs Link.’
‘Eden has art with Mrs Link,’ Megan said, winking at me.
I cringed. Why did Megan have to be so blunt? I swallowed the piece of apple I was chewing and picked up my tray. ‘You can walk with me.’
‘Eden. That’s a beautiful name,’ he said as we walked towards the Godrevy Building. ‘Is it popular in England?’
‘No. I don’t know anyone else with my name.’
‘Is that so?’
I didn’t reply. I couldn’t think of a thing to say. I glanced at him from the corner of my eye. He was looking at me with an amused smile. The warmth on my face told me that I was blushing. I have reddish-brown hair and the palest skin that blushes fiercely, all the way from my chest to my forehead.
‘What brings you to Cornwall?’ I asked eventually, as I held open the door.
He hesitated. ‘Work. My dad’s work.’
‘It must be tough arriving halfway through the school year. With exams and stuff.’
‘It’s not so bad. Everyone is so friendly.’
Mrs Link was in the classroom, meeting and greeting and watching us swipe in. As usual she was wearing a kaftan that accentuated her enormous hips. And she reeked of the hazelnut coffee that she always drank.
‘You must be Ryan Westland,’ she said, shaking his hand vigorously and beaming. ‘Now, where are we going to put you? Eden here doesn’t have a partner. You can sit with her.’
I sat down in my usual seat and looked away while Ryan sat next to me. I heard the scrape of stools and whispers as several of the girls angled themselves for a better look.
‘So you’re from America?’ I said after a while.
‘Yeah.’
‘My aunt’s boyfriend is from America. His accent is way different to yours.’
‘It’s a big country.’
‘Which part are you from?’
‘You ask a lot of questions, don’t you?’
I got the hint so I took out my sketch pad and flicked through the last few pieces we had worked on. Hands, feet, eyes. All embarrassingly badly drawn. I closed the pad with a snap, afraid that Ryan would see.