: Fairytale of Llynmawr

What had been a very eventful start to my school year was beginning to draw to a close as we hit the last week of the autumn term. During this term I had gained a stalker, a crush and a kind-of boyfriend, and I had also lost said boyfriend but gained a few new friends to make up for it in the form of the basketball team. On top of this I'd also made friends with Adam and Louis, two very popular boys, and had made enemies of people who, in Year 9 at least, had been friends of mine. So, all in all, it had been very eventful and very interesting, to say the least.

My Drama performance came and went right at the beginning of the week. It had been better than I'd expected: nerve-wracking, certainly, as we sat in the school gym waiting for our turn to go on the stage, but then there'd been the exhilirating rush once the play was over and the curtains were drawn and we all literally ran at each other, laughing and screaming and hugging. And, obviously, there was the elated, easy-going, "I can't believe it's finally over" feeling that overwhelmed for the rest of the evening.

But then that was over and all we had to do was wait for the Christmas disco. The disco always took place the day before the end of term, and that was brilliant because we only had two lessons in school before they let us go for dinner. Well. Not really dinner; you don't eat anything because you're too busy getting ready. That's the case for most girls anyway.

We managed to bribe Miss Moore into letting us use her room to get changed in so we didn't have to share the PE changing rooms with everyone else. Miss Moore and the TA, Mr Stephanopoulos, vacated the room to give us some privacy, and even locked the door to the room behind them so we wouldn't be disturbed.

So, Ann, Siân, Beth, Elisha, Sharon, and me all crowded into the room. After a few moments of rushing around and emptying our bags of our dresses and shoes and whatever, there was a knock at the door.

Siân went to answer it, opening it the tiniest of amounts and peering around the gap with what I imagined to be a look of death upon her face. And then she opened the door fully and Nichola Cryer, Kerry Mully and most of their friends trooped into the room.

"Hope you don't mind if we join you," Nichola grinned, not really giving us much of a choice in the matter, "But Louis told us that Miss Moore had given you the room and well, it was either this or share with the Year 7 idiots or share a room with that awful Gwen Reynolds and her stuck up friends, and we thought we'd choose you."

Thank you, Nichola. We're so honoured that we beat Year 7s and Gwen. It's nice to know.

From us, there were a few mumbles of assent before her friends took over most of the room. We retreated into a smaller corner, not really too bothered. Except for Elisha, that is, who remained with them, adding the finishing touches to her ensemble. She didn't really need to get changed – she'd been wearing her bright pink vest top, pale pink sequinned cardigan, silver leggings and denim hot pants for the entire day, drawing a lot of stares from everyone else. No, she was using this opportunity to do her hair and make up.

When Louis had seen her, a baffled (and generally adorable) look came over his face and he shook his head. "She really confuses me," he confided in me. "Why is she wearing that?"

"I've no idea," I replied, hiding my grin. Personally, I liked Elisha's choice of clothing. Crazy, yes; mismatching, certainly. But it was also fun and colourful, and what's more, Elisha really doesn't give a damn.

Meanwhile, we were all shimmying into our dresses and cooing over everyone else's dresses. Siân was naturally clad in a very daring purple mini-dress that showed off her legs, while Ann had gone for red like she had on Halloween. Her dress was satin with a pencil skirt and she looked lovely – in my opinion, at least.

Beth's dress was plain black but it was very flattering to her colouring. She spent a lot of that dinnertime lamenting the fact that Danny wouldn't get to see the dress. Her and Danny had were now officially boyfriend and girlfriend and Beth was delighted.

I suppose the biggest surprise in terms of dresses was Sharon. Normally, she couldn't care less what she looks like – put her in a bin bag and she's happy. Her dress was pale yellow and very cute, revealing the fact she actually had a figure to the world. "You look really nice," I assured her, and she grinned shyly.

"Thanks," she replied. "So do you."

Hmm. I wasn't so sure. Yes, I still loved the dress but it just felt really summery, not the sort of thing you wore for a bloody Christmas disco. And the shoes were a mistake. I could just about stand up in them. I could hear Pascal's voice in my head, the false French accent chastising me; "I told you to practise walking in them, silly girl!" As if I didn't have better things to do.

But I was actually beginning to regret it.

"Let's see your dress, Nesta," Nichola commanded from the other side of the room. She herself was wearing a very short dress with panels of different-coloured sequins, paired with fuchsia stiletto heels. By the way she walked in them, it was clear she was used to walking in heels well over three inches high. Lucky.

Holding onto the backs of chairs and the desk, I stumbled over to her, ignoring the giggles and snorts of Beth and Siân behind me.

"Stupid – effing – shoes," I grumbled.

"Honey, why did you buy them if you can't walk in them?" Nichola clucked, eyes raking up and down my form. "Oh, and the dress is sweet, by the way." Sweet. Huh. Wasn't totally sure what that meant...

"You've never met my brother's fiancée," I told her through gritted teeth. "I meant to pack my smaller heels too just in case but there was no room in my bag, so I took them out."

Nichola rolled her eyes. "Shit when that happens," she said with a sympathetic pat on my shoulder. She turned to Kerry, who had drifted over as Nichola inspected my outfit. Kerry's blonde hair was all pinned up and she wore a white dress that made her look like some kind of angel; it was the sort of outfit that completely contrasted her nature, but she looked lovely all the same.

Then she opened her mouth.

"What's shit?" she asked, popping gum in her mouth.

"When you buy five inch heels but also consider wearing safer heels as a precaution but then you don't and you're stuck wearing shoes that might cause you to break your neck," Nichola said.

"Oh God yeah, that's absolutely fucking shit, that is," Kerry agreed. "I like your dress, by the way. And that ring..." She grabbed my wrist and held my hand up towards the fluorescent lights on the ceiling.

It was just my mood ring, and I told her that. "Billie got it me for my birthday."

"How cute," Nichola cooed. It wasn't really; the ring was made out of that cheap kind of plasticky metal and was slowly causing a band of flesh on my finger to turn green.

"Yeah, I guess," I mumbled in response, but then I heard Elisha shrieking and made my excuses, hobbling back over to my friends.

Elisha had been backcombing her hair when the brush got stuck in her hair. I've no idea now, all I know is that I walked over and found this massive brush sticking out from her head and she looked just about ready to cry. That would have been a pity, as she'd done her make up and everything. Sparkly silver eye shadow and really thick eyeliner and mascara; it would have been a mess if she'd started crying.

Siân was told to go away after her blunt suggestion to just cut the brush out. Thankfully, Sharon was on hand with soothing words and careful hands to pull the brush out of her hair.

This was when someone knocked on the door again. Nichola opened it this time, and allowed Evelyn Awbrey to step nervously in. Her dress was navy and, to be fair, she did look really nice, even if the dress clashed with her hair (she'd dyed it a weird shade of red since the end of Year 9). In her hands, she held a set of straighteners, the wire wrapped around her hand and wrist.

"Um, can I use the straighteners in here?" she asked. "Um, it's just that, Mrs Austin won't let us use them in her room for some reason."

"Sure, as long as it's just you," Nichola allowed. "I'm not having that Reynolds bitch or that Folland chick in here, or any of that other lot. I guess I could let Suzanne in, she's all right she is. I'm doing a favour for you because of Ed."

At Nichola's words, Elisha visibly stiffened as she leaned towards the computer screen she was using as her mirror to check her make-up. Nichola was talking about Edward Watts, who was both Evelyn's boyfriend and Elisha's twin brother.

To be quite blunt, we don't talk about Ed because he's a dick. I mean, Elisha's his sister but he treats her like dirt. Needless to say they don't get along so they avoid each other as much as possible when they're at school. Elisha also hates Evelyn with a burning passion, and so does Valerie Watts, their mother. To top things off, Ed is like Gordon's best friend. He also used to get along quite well with Adam and Louis but I'd not really seen them talk to each other since they'd started hanging around with my friends and me.

It appeared, however, that Ed still got along with Nichola.

"Um. Right, okay. When I've, uh, straightened my hair, I'll tell them that they can't, uh, use this room."

"Good." Nichola gave her a sickly sweet smile that didn't quite reach her eyes and practically skipped back over to her gang.

Evelyn very quickly used her straighteners, cast her eyes over us, and then nearly ran out of the room. As she closed the door behind her, Ann spoke up.

"I bet she was sent to spy," she said casually.

"Spy?" Nichola demanded, eyeing Ann.

"Sure," Ann said easily. "Gwen hates our guts, particularly Nerys. She'd love it if we all turned up looking like hags."

Nichola was silent, and then she giggled. "You're Ann, right? Please, tell me you're Ann. I so want you to be Ann right now."

Ann raised a quizzical eyebrow, looking slightly perturbed. "I'm Ann," she confirmed, and Nichola looked delighted.

"Thank God for that," she said, sounding satisfied, before turning towards one of her friends to help apply her lipstick for her.

Sharon then alerted us that we only have five minutes before the bell would ring, so the room literally became a flurry of activity as people added the finishing touches to their outfit (and in mine and Sharon's cases, tried to cram some food down their throats so we weren't starving and begging for a McDonald's by the time we got home).

But then the bell sounded. Whenever we go to the school disco, everyone has to congregate in the sports hall and gather in our year groups before we're sent to the coaches individually. The time spent in the sports hall was basically fifteen minutes of boredom while you waited nervously, feeling like everyone was looking at you because you were a bit more (or a lot more, for most girls) dressed up than usual.

"Ugh, I don't want to go down," I complained loudly to Beth as we walked (or in my case, stumbled) towards the stairwell. I carefully manoeuvred myself down the stairs, gripping onto the handrail with two hands as I went, while Beth had my rucksack slung over her shoulder.

"Suck it up," Beth ordered my unsympathetically, shoving the bag into my arms as we reached the bottom of the stairs. "No pain, no gain and all that jazz. It's only for a few hours, anyway. You can cope."

"I'm not so sure," I grumbled under my breath.

"Well, next time then, don't let Pascal bully you into buying things you don't want to wear," Beth sighed, sounding tired. I glared at her, and muttered darkly under my breath.

I managed to make it to the sports hall without breaking my leg. Unfortunately, we were late, so everyone got to witness my stupid hobbling walk. To make matters worse as we all entered the sports hall, John, Adam and Louis decided it was a fantastic idea to start singing, "Here come the girls!"

I kicked my shoes off; grateful for the fact I could walk again. Dropping my bag at the front of the sports hall, I gathered my shoes into my hands and strode over to my grinning friends of the male variety.

"Don't say a word," I said to John as he opened his mouth, presumably to comment on my hobbling walk.

"I was just going to tell you how nice you look," John informed me but the sincerity of his voice didn't quite reach his eyes. "Especially that walk...Damn, that was one sexy –"

At Louis' guffaws, I reached out and clobbered John's shoulder with my heels.

"You try and walk in five inch heels," I grumbled, "And see how you walk."

"I have no desire to walk in high heels, thank you very much," John responded with a smirk.

"I'm surprised, Jervis," drawled a voice from our left, "I thought cross dressing would be right up your street." The voice belonged to Gordon, who stood with his friends sneering at us. He wore a From Autumn To Ashes T-shirt and a pair of baggy jeans, and looked more like he was off to the skate park than to a nightclub. You know, for one of the most fancied boys in our year (bar Adam and Louis) he didn't half look scruffy most of the time.

"Oh, shut your mouth, Morgan," Adam said in a bored voice, while Louis glowered from his other side.

"Don't you tell me to shut up, Lougher," Gordon retorted with a glare of his own. Louis bristled while Adam ignored him.

In comparison to Gordon and his friends (his friends had gone for a similar band T-shirts and baggy jeans look), Adam, Louis and John looked really smart. They'd all gone for shirts paired with cardigans or sweaters with jeans and smart shoes, and the look suited all of them, even John. Okay, so Adam's bright pink sweater clashed hideously with his bright red mop of hair, but he didn't really looked like he cared.

Gordon's eyes then turned to me, and began to rake up and down my form. His smirk, which had been lost when Adam told him to shut up, slowly returned to his face, and I began to feel self-conscious.

He turned to Ed Watts and began to mutter something in his ear. Ed then looked at me, focusing particular attention on my legs, and began to smirk as well. They pulled away from each other and began to laugh.

"Morgan," Adam spoke up, not even looking at Gordon, "If you've got something to say, you might as well say it."

Everyone looked at him, kind of expectantly. Ed opened his mouth to say something, but Gordon elbowed him in the stomach and gave a jerk of his head. "Nothing to say," Gordon muttered, turning his back on us just as Suzanne and Gwen wandered over. Gwen was wearing a very pretty dress – just not very pretty on her – while Suzanne's dress was short, shocking pink and very dramatic, showing lots of leg. Neither Gordon nor John could take their eyes off her.

"Nerys, are you okay?" Sharon asked sympathetically, touching me lightly on the shoulder. "You look a little red in the face."

"I'm fine," I assured her, even though I wasn't. I just felt a little self-conscious now after Ed and Gordon's examination of my legs.

"Now, everyone, BE QUIET!" boomed Mr Shayne. He's a full-time Maths teacher and a part-time rugby fanatic, with the physique to boot; he's English, not Welsh, with a very thick Bolton accent. He's always reminded me of a teddy bear, so that's probably why no one took any notice of his request to be silent. Everyone just kept on chattering away until Mr Hathaway, the Deputy Head stepped in.

"EVERYONE BE SILENT RIGHT NOW!" he hollered at the top of his voice, his face slowly turning bright red. "SILENT! OR I'LL GO OUTSIDE AND TELL THE COACHES TO GO BACK TO THE DEPOT AND I'LL CANCEL THE WHOLE TRIP AND NONE OF YOU WILL GET A REFUND!"

The hall fell swiftly silent, although the chances of him cancelling the trip at such short notice were slim to none.

"Now that everyone is quiet," Mr Hathaway continued, lowering the volume of his voice a notch, "You will all leave the hall through the fire exit at the back when your year group is called. You then make your way quickly and quietly to the right coach. Your form tutor should have told you this morning which coach you're on, so don't fuss around asking us teachers where you're supposed to be because you should already know. So, Year 7, you're going first."

The Year 7s – all clad in a variety of tracksuits and fluorescent tutus – trooped out of the hall, chattering noisily.

"I said quietly!" Mr Hathaway snapped loudly as he raced after them. I had no idea why he was causing such a fuss about their noise levels; the rest of the school was more or less empty, so it wasn't as if lessons were being disturbed or anything.

Mr Shayne had just sent the Year 8s on their way when Billie and his friends finally decided to make an appearance in the hall.

They swaggered into the hall, talking loudly and laughing, not caring that they were late. They were all wearing bright blue shirts, black waistcoats and bright pink ties. One or two of them sported black trilbies. Very coordinated, but not much of a surprise.

"Mr William, Mr Wace and the rest of your friends, do hurry up and get into line," Mr Trow commanded, folding his arms and glaring at them.

"Yeah, sorry we're late, sir, Liam managed to get stuck in one of the toilet cubicles," Billie sniggered in response. They all took their time in walking across the hall.

"I do not care, Mr William," Mr Trow sighed. "Just hurry up."

"Nice legs, Siân," Liam winked at Siân as he passed her on his way past us. "That dress really...suits you."

Ann snorted. "It's hardly a dress," she muttered to me. "It's more like a...I don't even know, but it's not really a dress, is it? It barely covers her arse."

"Don't you be so concerned with my arse, Ann darling," Siân giggled at her. Ann poked her in the side in retaliation, and Mr Trow sent the Year 9 lot on their way.

"If Year 10 would like to settle down..." Mr Trow looked towards us pointedly. We all straightened up slightly and shut our mouths, and he waved us out of the hall. I carefully balanced myself upon my death traps and grabbed hold of John's arm so he could help me walk.

By the time I got on the double-decker coach, I felt just about able to walk on the shoes, although I was still wobbling. Actually being on the coach was an entirely different matter; I had to climb up the stairs and I swear I nearly fell off those bloody stairs twice in the matter of thirty seconds.

"Well, you might not be able to walk, but you still look lovely," John told me as I plodded precariously towards one of the seats.

"Shut up," I growled at him, "I know you're laughing at me inside –"

"I'm not doing anything of the sort," John sniggered, giving me a gentle shove, "so shut up and sit down, wench." I fell down into one of the chairs, all arms and legs and tangled skirts, and John didn't help matters by plonking himself down directly on top of my legs. "I meant it though," he said randomly a few moments later, as the coach began to drive away from school, "You do look lovely, stupid walk ignored."

"Cheers, John," I mumbled, adjusting my skirt around my legs. I'd managed to push him off me and right myself before the coach had driven off.

A few moments of silence passed, and then I decided to start a new conversation. "So, everyone else looks lovely too, yeah?"

"Yeah," John agreed, giving me a weird look. "Why?"

"Like who?" I pressed. "Who looks the loveliest? And don't say Suzanne, or I'll impale my shoe in your head."

He glared at me, and then rubbed the back of his neck, looking uncomfortable. "Um, I dunno, I mean, Ann looks pretty good, I guess."

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, yes, we all know that Ann's pretty fit when she bothers trying –"

"Why are you talking about me?" Ann demanded, her head appearing over the top of the seat in front of us. There was some scuffling about and a second later Siân's head popped up as well.

"It was nothing bad," I assured her. "John was just telling me how nice you look today." He nodded in agreement, and Ann's eyes narrowed.

"Right," she said, sliding back down into her seat. Siân didn't move.

"Do I look nice?" she asked, batting her eyelids at John. He sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Of course, Siân," he told her. "You look gorgeous, as usual, and all the boys are probably having a delightful look at your knickers right now." She winked at him – cue more eye rolling from him and me.

"Miss Siân, sit down!" Mr Trow ordered from his seat on the front. "Your seatbelt should stay on at all times!"

Siân reluctantly vanished from view, and I turned back to John.

"So, yes, Siân and Ann look good today," I continued as if we'd never been interrupted, my voice now a low whisper in case anyone else overheard us.

"Ann does. I mean, Siân does, but I think the skirt's too short. Personally," John interrupted.

"Bloody hell, I thought guys would be going nuts over that dress," I shook my head. "She's got a nice set of legs on her, after all."

"She has," he agreed, "But I'm not really a legs kind of person. I like my boobies."

"Boobies," I giggled. "I love that word. But, hey, that makes no sense, Suzanne's nearly as flat as Elisha. Nearly."

He sighed. "I see past the downsides of Suzanne's physical appearance –" he began, but I held up my hand for silence.

"Bullshit," I said flatly. "Suzanne's a pretty face and she's a nice girl and all, but like hell do you see more than the physical side when it comes to Suzanne."

John glared at me. "Shut up," he growled. I was right, though; while he used to get on with her quite well and they were friends, I wasn't sure how much of that friendliness had seeped into his crush on her.

"How do you think Elisha looks, by the way?" I spoke up randomly, and he raised an eyebrow at me.

"Crazy but cute, as usual," he responded, "Why?"

"No reason," I said, shrugging. "What about..." I paused, as if I was thinking about it. "What about Sharon?"

"Sharon?" John said incredulously, his brow furrowing. He rubbed the back of his neck and wriggled his shoulders uncomfortably. "Uh, I don't know. I didn't really look at her, to be honest."

I gaped at him. "John," I scolded, "You helped her buy her dress, didn't you?"

"No, Siân did. I was just there. I mean, come on, Nerys." John lowered his voice even further, if that were possible. "Why would I look at Sharon?"

"Because she's really pretty and cool and amazing and if you haven't noticed she looks lovely today," I snapped at him. "God, John, you're so...ugh, sometimes. Haven't you ever thought of Sharon like that?"

He looked confused. "No. Should I have?"

I covered my face with my hands. "I don't mean like that," I said, a few moments later, looking up at him. "I just mean, you look at all of us and tell us we look nice, but you overlook Sharon. Why?"

"Because she's Sharon."

"Yes, and that doesn't really make a difference." I shook my head. "John, she looks really pretty today, and you get on with her..."

"Wait a second." He held up both his hands, a small smirk playing on his lips. "Are you trying to, like, tell me to get over Suzanne with Sharon here?"

"What? No!" Even though I was, but you know – he didn't need to know that.

"I really like Suzanne, Nerys. Sharon's a great girl and I'm sure she does look really nice today, but..."

"And I get that, John, I'm just pointing out to you that – oh, you know...Suzanne's not the end, you know? There are loads of other girls out there. Maybe not Sharon, I get that, but I just think you're..."

"You think I'm wasting my time, and I get that, Nerys, but it's not so easy to just stop liking someone. It wouldn't be fair on Sharon if I still liked Suzanne, would it? I mean, I could try...try and distract myself by telling myself I like someone else, like youdo with Antal –"

"Excuse me," I spluttered. "I do like Antal!"

John looked at me. "Sure you do," he replied, in a voice as flat as mine had been earlier. "I really believe that."

"I do," I muttered like a petulant child, crossing my arms over my chest and turning my head towards the window.

"I know," John said lightly, drumming his fingers on his knee. "Look, maybe this isn't the best time to be talking about this, huh? It's the Christmas disco! Let's lighten up, get ready for a rave!" He grabbed my hand and waved it in the air.

"Oh yeah," I snorted, "a proper rave..."

"You'd better believe it, Nerys," John told me in a mock-serious voice. "This part is, like, the shit. Forget Ibiza and all that jazz, you know that Llynmawr has the best nightclub scene in the whole world..."

About fifteen minutes later, our conversation had been forgotten as our coach drew up outside The Play, the club where the disco was held. The streets were slick with rain as we toddled off the bus and began to walk towards the entrance of the club. Again, I had a death grip on someone so I didn't fall flat on my face, but this time I used Louis as my victim.

Inside, the club was very dark with bright flashing lights in all sorts of different colours; there was the huge booth for the DJ and then the dance floor, which was surrounded by large leather sofas and, to one side, a row of tall tables with equally tall stools around them. There were two large screens on the walls playing the latest music videos.

The Year 8s and 9s were already on the dance floor, while the Year 7s seemed to be playing tag around the club, especially up the stairs where the larger of the two bars was located.

Our first job was to find a table on which to dump all of our handbags, and the second was to make a quick dash to the toilets to make sure we looked okay before we started dancing.

The DJ was fairly decent, too – rather than just playing dance songs he played a random selection of pop and indie from the last few months, with the odd dance song thrown in.

I wasn't sure how long had passed before I left the dance floor, tottering on my heels towards the bar with my handbag in hand, fishing out a few quid to pay for a bottle of Pepsi. As I began to drink, I headed over to our table. Louis was sat on one of the tall stools that surrounded it, looking completely and utterly bored. He had a silver mobile phone in his hand.

"Hey, Nerys," he called over the music as I dumped my handbag on the table and took another swig of my Pepsi.

"Louis," I replied.

He held out the phone. "I think this is yours," he said. "It was on the table when I came over and it was ringing, it must have fallen out of your bag I guess. It said 'Pascal' on the screen."

"Oh. Right. Cheers." I took it from him, and turned the phone over in my hands. Placing it on the tabletop I then screwed the lid onto my Pepsi bottle and put it down. "Why aren't you dancing?" I asked, picking up the phone again.

He shrugged. "Got bored, I guess. I'm just taking a break."

I looked over to the dance floor, where Elisha, Adam, John and Siân were attempting to start a conga line, and I smiled.

"I'd best go and phone Pascal," I said, waving the phone in the air. "She probably wants to tell me something. She'll stress out if I don't."

"Sure, sure." He nodded at me and I began to pick my way over to the club's lobby, where it'd be quieter.

In the lobby stood two burly security men and a gaggle of Year 10 boys, Gordon and Ed amongst them. As I walked into the lobby, they all looked at each other and began to whisper. I ignored them; jabbing Pascal's number into my phone and held it to my ear.

A few minutes later, I'd ended the call. All Pascal wanted to tell me was that she was picking me and Gareth up when we got back to school, not my dad, because my dad's car was acting up again. I agreed to pass this information on to Gareth and then hung up.

I turned to go back into the party and found Gordon and Ed blocking my way. I looked up at them and took a wary step backwards, glancing over my shoulder. The security guards looked at us disinterestedly before continuing their conversation.

"Hello, Nerys," Gordon greeted me with that all-too-familiar smirk. I sighed.

"What do you want, Gordon?" I asked.

"Just to say what I wanted to say earlier." He shrugged. "I would have said it too but you know, Lougher was there."

"How brave of you," I snapped. "Waiting till he's gone."

His grin stretched wider. "Of course, you like having your little bodyguards around, don't you?" he said. "I find it so funny how, only a few months ago, none of them gave a shit about you, and suddenly, they're all going crazy over you. Adam, Louis, Billie..."

"And that Kiss guy," Ed chipped in. "Out of all the girls in our year, and he goes for you. He clearly has no taste."

"Obviously," Gordon agreed. "I mean, guys like them...You'd think they'd be going for girls like Kerry Mully, but they're not...They're going for girls like you."

"Girls like me," I repeated, looking at a spot above his head. I swallowed.

"Yeah. It's embarrassing really. Not them, you. You dress...dress like this." He waved a hand at me. "I'll be blunt, here, Nerys. You're fat."

"Fantastic," I muttered, feeling something inside of me deflate. Even though, at the end of the day, I didn't really give a shit what Gordon or his mates thought, no girl really wants to be called fat by a guy.

"Evelyn and all them were talking about it earlier, and we agree with everything they say. You look like a pig in a dress. It's kind of fucking disgusting," Gordon said, eyes narrowed to the point where they were slits. "What the hell were you thinking?"

I swallowed again. Shit, shit, shit, don't cry, it's just Gordon. He's a tit, I told myself, and I closed my eyes, moving forwards to shove past them. Unfortunately, my body decided that it was the opportune moment to wobble and shake so I went toppling over in my heels. Fortunately, Louis was there to catch me.

"You all right, Nerys?" he asked, eyes sliding over Gordon and his friends. "You didn't come back, so I thought I'd come and see where you were."

"I'm fine," I lied. "I'm just...you know. Um, I need the toilet." Kicking off my shoes, I fled as fast as my feet could take me. I just about heard, over the din of the music, Louis snarl something at Gordon before the music became too loud for me to hear anything anymore.

Sham Rock's version of "I'll Tell Me Ma" was booming out as I passed our table. Elisha was there, drinking my Pepsi. She looked at me, worried, as I dropped my phone into my bag, put my shoes on the tabletop and moved away. "Nerys, are you –?" she said loudly, but I ignored her, going as fast as I could towards the toilets.

I locked myself into a cubicle and put the lid down, sitting there until my throat stopped aching and I didn't feel so bad. The bottoms of my feet felt all sticky now because I was barefoot, but my feet were glad for the relief of not having to wear five-inch heels anymore.

I finally exited the cubicle, and I looked at myself in the mirror. Twisting this way and that – and ignoring the Year 7 girls who were watching me – I examined my outfit and my physique. Sure, I was a bit on the big side – I did have rather chunky legs and an awkward bit of fat around my belly, but I'd never really thought of myself as fat...I wasn't like one of those girls you saw on the telly, those teen girls undergoing gastric band fittings...At least, I didn't think so. I sighed, rising onto my tiptoes in an attempt to see my legs. I wasn't tall enough, so I just had to peer down at them instead. They didn't look too big.

After a few minutes of this examination, I was starting to feel a little better about myself. Pig in a dress... Not quite, I thought triumphantly, and at least I had boobs, I added, thinking of Suzanne. And that Ed! He couldn't say anything; his girlfriend was hardly the smallest girl in the world!

"Would you say I'm fat?" I demanded of some poor Year 7 girl as she walked past me to use the toilet.

"Um, no, yes, um, are you going to beat me up if I say yes?" she squeaked. I rolled my eyes.

"No," I told her.

"Then, um, no, you're not." I stared at her, raising one eyebrow. What was the point in being worried, then, if she didn't think I was fat?

"Really?" I asked her, squinting. She nodded wordlessly. "Seriously?" Another nod. I smiled.

"Cheers, kid. Find me later and I'll buy you a Pepsi or some crisps."

She fled into the toilet cubicle and I nearly skipped out of the toilets.

I found Billie and Adam waiting for me outside the toilet. Curiously enough, Gordon accompanied them. To be fair to Gordon, I don't think he was there willingly; Adam had a fairly tight grip on his arm.

"Say sorry to her," Adam ordered in a tight voice. Gordon glared at me and looked away.

"Gordon, say sorry you stupid dick –" Billie said in a furious sounding voice, and Gordon sighed heavily, as if he'd just been asked to do something life threatening and dangerous.

"Sorry," he spat at me. "Sorry for what I said. Jesus Christ, I shoulda known you'd go blabbing straight away –" He wrenched his arm away from Adam and turned to leave.

"It's your own fault for saying all that shit when Louis was in earshot, dickface," Adam snapped, beginning to walk after him.

Billie stayed with me, looking me up and down. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine," I said, honestly. "I mean, I wasn't before. But I am now. There's this really lovely girl in Year 7, I might buy her a drink later. She said I'm not fat."

Billie stared at me incredulously. "I could have told you that," he reminded me.

"You could have, but you have to, you're my friend. She," I wrapped an arm around the girl's shoulder as she exited the toilet, "is a stranger, and therefore isn't obliged to tell me nice things like I'm not fat."

She wriggled away from me. "Um, can I have that drink in a bit?" she asked.

"Sure," I agreed, striding ahead of her. She hopped along next to me, while Billie followed on from behind.

After retrieving my handbag from the table, I bought the girl a bottle of Pepsi and a packet of cheese and onion crisps. I found out that her name was Lisa Marr and she was a classmate of Gareth's. She vanished into the club with her prizes and Billie pulled me around to face him as I zipped up my bag.

"You look nice," he told me.

"So do you," I said, shrugging. "I'm sorry, I didn't offer you anything..."

"I don't want a drink or anything, Nerys," he said impatiently, and held out a hand towards me. "Did Gordon upset you?" he asked seriously as I put my hand in his.

"A bit," I admitted as he led me towards the dance floor, "But I got over it. He's not as bas as he likes to think he is."

"Hmm," he murmured in a non-committal manner. "I just don't get where he's coming from. You don't look fat at all. You look really nice today, Nerys."

We stepped onto the dance floor. The DJ seemed to be going through a cheesy pop of years past phase at the moment, as Aqua's "Barbie Girl" was playing. Billie began to dance, somewhat awkwardly, and I joined him.

"Thanks," I shouted over the music, a delayed response to his compliment. "He's a dick, though, so I've decided not to pay any attention to him."

Billie grinned. "I couldn't have said it better myself," he declared, and took hold of my hand to twirl me.

"Where is everyone?" I demanded down his ear.

"Um, not sure. When I last saw them, Adam was dancing with Ann, Beth, Elisha, John and Sharon were doing the Macarena to the completely wrong song and Siân..." Here, he paused and smirked. I sighed.

"Siân...?" I prompted.

"Oh, Siân was snogging Liam in a dark secluded corner on the sofas." He held me still and pulled me up onto my tiptoes, pointing over everyone's heads towards the sofas.

"Um, Billie, I'm not as tall as you," I pointed out, glaring.

"What about your heels?" he demanded. "They were pretty big from when I last saw you..."

"I took them off. Couldn't be bothered wearing them."

"You're feet are bare," he reminded me, and I grinned at him.

"I can wash them."

"Someone might stand on your feet."

"True, but no one has yet."

He sighed heavily and set about removing his own shoes. He nudged them towards me. "Put them on," he commanded, and waited for me to do so.

I did, after a while. They were far too big for my feet and felt very warm. It was weird, wearing his shoes, and my movements were almost as limited as they had been when I was wearing my death trap heels. Still, it was nice to have something on my feet.

Once they were on, Billie wrapped an arm around my waist and lifted me up so I could see over everyone's head. On the sofa I saw Liam and Siân, wrapped around each other as they snogged for England. Siân had her back to everyone and her mini dress had bunched up around her waist, displaying her Superman boy shorts. I snorted at the sight and Billie put me back down carefully.

"Well, at least they're having fun," I shrugged, and we began to dance again.

Eventually, Billie and me managed to make our way across the dance floor to join my friends. Ann and Adam – to my surprise – were dancing together, albeit not in the way I'd envisioned in my head when Billie had said that. They were just stood together, away from everyone else, and dancing like they were alone. It was amusing to watch, but not as amusing as watching Beth, Elisha, John and Sharon doing the YMCA to "I Think We're Alone Now".

The DJ's cheesy pop phase then seemed to end as he decided it was time to go all Christmassy on us. He played "Last Christmas", "Merry Christmas Everyone" and "Do They Know It's Christmas?" in rapid succession, followed by "All I Want For Christmas Is You", "I Wish It Could Be Christmas Everyday" and "Merry Xmas Everybody", while foam snow was released from a machine in the ceiling. The snow caused a thrill amongst everyone, even though it dissolved almost as soon as it landed on your body.

It was one of those moments where everyone's just feeling ridiculously happy for no reason at all.

Halfway through the last Christmas song he played ("Merry Xmas Everybody"), Beth threw her arm around my shoulder, giggling loudly.

"I'm soooooo happy," she shrieked down my ear. I pulled away, shooting her a look which she ignored and continued hanging on my neck. "I see Siân's plan worked?" she asked, gazing towards Siân and Liam. They were still at it.

"What plan?" I replied suspiciously.

"Well, it wasn't really a plan. She just put on a short dress with the intention of throwing herself at the first guy she could. I she just got lucky that that guy was Liam, to be honest," Beth laughed, bouncing up and down excitedly. "You're wearing Billie's shoes!" she added as an afterthought, sounding positively delighted by this.

"I am," I agreed with her. "Um, Beth, are the drink's spiked here?"

"I dunno." Beth pulled away from me, shrugging her slim shoulders before latching onto Elisha who was doing a weird little dance on her own. I shook my head, amused. Beth got like this sometimes when she was really hyped up.

Billie caught hold of my arm then, pulling me back towards him just as the song came to a close. There was a brief moment of quiet from the music side of things, where the only sound to be heard was the bubble of chatter as people talked.

Then the DJ spoke. "And here's one for all you lovers out there," he crooned over the speakers, and we all looked at each other. How cheesy. That line sounded like it was right out of a movie. It probably was.

And then the opening to The Pogues' "Fairytale of New York" began to play, and left, right and centre, people began to glue themselves together for a slow dance.

Adam paired up with Ann, while I noticed John putting his hands on Sharon's waist. That last one made me smile. Over on the sofas, Siân was pulling Liam to his feet – I was amused to see his hair was mussed up and Siân's bright pink lipstick was smudged all over his face. Across the room, I could see Evelyn and Ed wrapped around each other and Gordon and Suzanne were gazing up at each other. Elisha and Louis had decided to pair up for the slow dance; while Beth was left on her own to sway side to side at the edge of the dance floor, a smile on her face. I began to move to join her, when I felt Billie holding me back.

"Hey," he said softly, as Shane MacGowan began to sing. "Where are you going?" I gestured towards Beth, and he smiled and put his hands on my waist. "Dance with me," he requested, although he'd already made the decision for me.

Slowly, and carefully, I raised my hands to rest upon his shoulders. The song began to play properly, picking up in speed. It wasn't what I'd choose to play for a slow song, but no one took any notice of the tempo of the song and continued swaying slowly, moving around in their own little worlds.

I looked up at Billie, and he looked down at me. His eyes were very blue, even in the darkness of the club – the lights had dimmed when the DJ had announced it was time for a slow song – and there was a small smile playing on his lips, and I could tell that my own face mirrored his expression – happy, dreamy, and oddly content. A part of me – a part of me I didn't want to acknowledge, not then, not yet – was telling me that I'd much rather be here, dancing with Billie, rather than the other option of dancing with Antal. That realisation hit me like a punch to the gut and even though I wanted to pull away and pretend it wasn't happening, I didn't. Instead, I sighed, and moved closer to him, and his hands moved from my waist and he wrapped his arms around me tightly.

And then, I was just very, very happy. Later, we'd pull away and blush and be embarrassed, and I'd dance with Beth to Take That songs; later, I'd feel like throwing up on the coach home because I'd not eaten anything all day, and later, I'd feel like a cow for deliberately ignoring him when he shouted after me as I left the school hall to meet Pascal.

But then and there, stood in the circle of his arms and listening to Shane MacGowan's raspy vocals alongside Kirsty MacColl's smoother voice as they sang their bittersweet tale of love and dreams and Christmas, nothing else could possibly have been better. I was just happy, and I didn't even know why.