It was no good.  The two girls had been yelling, and hammering on the red metal door, for the past five minutes.  Nothing.  Miss Bell was, no doubt, chain-smoking in the staff room, as per usual, and it appeared that no-one else was around, either.

   "Haven’t you got your mobile, Charlotte?"

   "It’s in my bag – which is in my locker."

   "What good is it in there?" demanded Emma.

   "Well, where’s yours then?"

   Emma hesitated.  "Confiscated - until the end of the day," she admitted.

   "That’s why mine is in my bag.  So that it doesn’t get confiscated."

   Emma said nothing.  Charlotte couldn’t believe that they had actually fallen for this one – that she and Emma were spending their morning break-time, locked inside Miss Bell’s walk-in stationery cupboard.  If the boys hadn’t somehow managed to rope Bryony, of all people, into assisting them, with this ridiculous prank, she and Emma would have smelt a rat, for sure.  Charlotte had to admire their attention to detail.

   "You have to laugh, though," said Charlotte, at length.  She was trying to convince herself of this, as much as Emma.

   "I do?"

   "Oh, come on, Emma.  This is so typical of Rich and John.  You have to admit…"

   "Sod all.  I have to admit sod all.  I don’t even want to talk to you."

   "Okay, then – don’t."

   "I won’t."

   Charlotte checked her watch.  Damn, was that really all the time was?  "I need the bog," she muttered, jigging around a bit and crossing her legs.

   "Me, too."

   "Thought you weren’t talking to me?"

   ‘Why did you do it, Charlotte?  You knew how much I liked him.  I thought we were friends."

   "I’m sorry, Em.  I don’t even know why I did it.  I was drunk, that night.  We all were.  I’m not even interested in John."

   "He’s interested in you.  He won’t go out with me anymore, because of you."

   "That’s his problem."

   "It’s my problem, too.  I’ve lost my boyfriend, and it’s your bloody fault."

   "Yeah, well, you’re certainly having your revenge, aren’t you?  Between the two of you, you and Bryony must have turned just about every girl in our year against me.  They spit in my face, call me a 'slag' and a 'whore', and write graffiti about me all over the place."

   "Maybe you deserve it."

   "Maybe I do, Emma, but there has to come a point when I can’t take anymore.  And I think you need to get you head around what happened with you and John.  He obviously doesn’t want to get back with you, does he?  If it hadn’t been me, it would have been someone else.  I’m sorry if it hurts your ego, but that’s the truth as I see it.  If John Hill gave a shit about you, he wouldn’t have gone off with me – or, even if he had, he’d have been running after you, begging you to forgive him.  Instead, he asked me out, the other day."  Charlotte took a deep breath.  "You know what, Emma?  I wouldn’t have let a boy get in the way of our friendship – even if you had been interested in Richard.  He told me what you said to him.  At the end of the day, it doesn’t benefit any of us – your using Rich to get your own back on me and John.  It’s just immature."

   Emma pushed a strand of stray blonde hair away from her face.  "Bryony thinks that I should let this go, but I don’t know if I can do that, Charlotte.  You were supposed to be my best friend.  But maybe we should see if we can put our differences aside, for the sake of 'SOS'.  It means a lot to Bry, and I wouldn’t want to let her down.  If she asks you to stay involved in the campaign, which I think she wants to, I won’t have a problem with that.  That’s the best I can do for now."

   Charlotte wanted to hug Emma and tell her not to be so silly – that the two of them would always be friends.  She hated herself for not being able to say the right words – the ones that would put everything right.  Emma meant the world to her.  How could Charlotte have been so stupid?

   "Charlotte?  I really do need the toilet.  I’m not kidding.  I’ll have to piss in that cardboard box or something, if we don’t get out of here soon.  I’ll kill Richard Anderson, when I get my hands on him.  This must have been his idea.  I tell you what, Charlotte – you’re welcome to that little shit.  And you called me immature?"

   "I’m sorry, Em.  For everything.  Please, can’t we just be friends again?"

   Emma sighed.  "Okay – but not best friends.  Bry’s my best mate now."

   "Richard’s mine – well, along with Jessica.  They’re the only ones who’ve stuck by me, through all of this."

   "Has anything happened between…?"

   "No, and it won’t, either.  We’re just mates, you know?"

   "Are you happy with that, then?"

   "Yes – yes, I am."

   "What, so you don’t fancy him anymore?"

   "I didn’t say that, Em."

   "Shit, I’m going to wet myself, in a minute."

   "Think about something else.  But nothing funny or that’ll be it."  Charlotte consulted her watch again.  "The bell should be going, any moment now.  When we get out of here, I’ll race you to the loo with the lock that works."

   "Don’t bother.  Tracey broke it the other day."  Emma paused.  "She did some graffiti, too.  I didn’t tell her to do it, but I didn’t tell her not to."

   "Forget about it.  I have."