'Looked like a guy she was with. D'you think he's her lurver?' purrs Rosie.

'Fuck off! Blind men cannae drive.'

Joy-riding � maybe. Affair � no danger. Why am I wasting my time thinking about that old cow any-way? A wee lassie in a tartan dress falls flat on her face as a fat wifie in leggings yanks her across Princes Street. Rosie sees it too. We laugh so much I end up peeing myself a wee bit. By the time I've got it under control, and feel safe to stand up, it's time to get off. Relieving myself in Pizzaland's bogs, we go to work.

My target today is British Home Stores. They sell really shitey, old-fashioned clothes, but I get a buzz dodging the security cameras. Besides, it's not bad for plain tops and t-shirts. As Rosie can't bear the thought of anyone seeing her somewhere so crap, we arrange to meet outside Bookworld in ten min-utes. Pouting at the greasy-faced slob of a security guard, I make a beeline for the back of the shop and grab two lime-green long-sleeved v-necks. Sticking one inside the other, I deposit the extra hanger on the nearest rail. Then I spot these fab leather waistcoats but the bastards've chained them together like black slaves. Too bulky anyway, I suppose. Making do with three skimpy Lycra tops, I stick them un-der the v-necks then hit the changing rooms. Only declaring one item, I pull the security tags off the hidden ones, layer them under my jumper and hand back the one on the hanger. The chip-pan-pussed guard flashes me a gappy smile as I saunter back out to meet Rosie. The deep pockets of her jacket are stuffed with horoscope books she's going to sell for 50 pence each at school. Rosie's more organised than me, see. She steals to order.

As we cross over to the benches, I lift up my jumper and show off my booty, layer by layer. 'You're no seriously gonna wear stuff from there, are you? Go to Gap or Next. You never get anything decent.' 'Communal changing rooms,' I remind her. 'Anyway, the stuff's easier to get over there. Nobody wants it anyway.'

Bored by my reasoning, she goes to stand at the bus stop.

'D'you want to just come back to mines? Mum's working. There's loadsa Kit-Kats.' I'm sold on the idea by that fact alone, then she adds, '� John left a video the other night. It's absolutely gross.'

You beauty! I practically leap onto the next bus. John, Rosie's uncle, is a major spunk bucket. They're always watching porn together. He's quite old, maybe thirtyish, but flirts like mad with me, y'know, says really filthy stuff, then looks all innocent. I never get to go round when they're watching videos, but I'd really love to. Not with Rosie, though, just me and him. Even thinking about it gives me hot bum flushes. When we get along to Shandwick Place it's complete chaos. Loads of sirens, ambulance and police lights flashing all over the place. Everyone on the bus is straining to see what's going on. Rosie and me run down the front for a better look. There's so many people crowding round whatever's happened, though, I can't make anything out. Rosie's doing contortions against the window.

'She's dead. She's fuckin dead,' she squeals, vacating her prime viewing spot for me and some other nosy folk who are now queuing up for a look. There's a woman lying face-down on the road. The am-bulance men seem too scared to touch her. As our bus slowly moves past the scene, I see a car about 15 feet up the road with the windscreen smashed out.

'How'd she get that far? She's gone miles,' I shout, as the nebby passengers rush up the back for a final look. Sick bastards.

'She was definitely dead, eh? See her brains on the road?'

She's winding me up.

'You're joking. I saw a wee bit blood. Where were her brains?'

'How could you miss them? They were all sticking out the back of her head.'

I think about a head caved open and brains hanging out. I think about this sort of thing a lot, especially when I'm talking to Mum. I used to want to go to medical school so I could see them do a post-mortem. They make you go to one in your first year, everyone faints supposedly. Mum really wants me to go into further education though, so I'm going to get a job in Burger King instead, to spite her.

When we get to the next stop, there's a lot of yelling downstairs, then Twiggy, Daniel and Kes from Art appear and launch themselves beside us.

'Did you see the deid wifie? We got off the bus to get a better look. Her brains were everywhere.'

'I seen them, I seen them,' screams Rosie.

I can't believe there really were brains and I missed them. Daniel starts going on about a time he saw a man who'd jumped out a third-floor window in Raeburn Place. 'When the polis picked him up, his body just crumpled, like he was a big towel or summat. The blood was aw running in the gutter.'

This isn't fair. I never get to see things like that. I saw my granny dead when I was a wee baby but I can't remember anything about it. She just had a heart attack though, so she probably didn't look much different.

There's this strange, sweet smell and I realise one of them has lit a joint. I see Kes take a few tokes then hand it to Daniel. Fuck, everyone must be able to smell it.

'We're going along the graveyard if you fancy,' Daniel smiles, handing it to me. I quite like him. I don't usually go for guys that young, but he's got big Liam eyebrows and thick dark hair and he looks like he'd have really dark, hairy pubes as well, know, like Robbie Williams.

We all get off at the garage and walk down to the cemetery. As we follow them up to the crypt that gets used as a speakeasy by the drinkers at our school, Rosie and me get the giggles. There's two older guys already there, smoking dope with tins of Irn Bru and plastic sandwich boxes in front of them. They look like painter-decorators. When they see us, the one with the spliff holds it behind him. Kes is spit-ting as we walk past.

'That's not on. That's our place. Cunts like that can go to a pub, y'know?'

The two guys snigger as we trudge up to the far corner and sit on the grass. It's slightly damp but my bum's sweating so much it doesn't really make much difference. Several joints and a bottle of White Lightning are passed round. Rosie starts pulling horoscope books out of her pockets, chucking them at us according to our star signs. Daniel's an Aries, same as me. Supposedly we're very compatible, as long as I can satisfy his voracious appetite for physical love and not get too jealous.

Something tickles my hand and makes me jump. Holding it up, I watch an ant tramping in between my fingers. We all start gawping at it, open-mouthed, without saying anything. I'm starting to feel really dry, like I've been eating flour, so I ask Daniel for the bottle. Rosie looks shocked, probably because you never usually get a peep out of me in a group. Aw, but the cider's really wonderful. It makes my chest tingle as well, makes me feel all warm and woozy. Lovely. I watch lovely Daniel rolling another joint. Kes is talking about his dad's new car, really loudly to Twiggy. Twiggy is really into cars, and men who have cars. I'm not sure if she uses the men to get to the cars, or just goes on about cars to impress men. They call her Twiggy cause all her hair fell out when her mum was having chemotherapy. It was like it came out in sympathy. Still, it's no excuse for being boring. I'm not even listening. Rosie looks like she's about to fall asleep. Staring at Daniel, I fantasise about him taking me behind that tree and doing it to me. He has long fingers and a long nose, sort of foreign-looking, and you know what they say about that. When he's not talking, he bites his lip, or pokes his tongue in the corner of his mouth, sort of like he'd maybe like to be biting and poking somewhere else. I have to remind myself that he's only a year or two older than me. Guys are really immature till they get into their twenties. When I finally get a boyfriend, I want him to be much older than me. Someone that really knows what he's doing and has grown out of slagging girls.

He hands me a joint, to spark up. Did he notice me staring? I'm getting a beamer.

'You did that optical illusion screenprint at Art, eh? The black and white one?'

God, he's noticed something of mine, amazing.

'Ocht, it was rubbish,' I blush, taking a sook of the joint, then handing it back right away as I'm feeling a bit dizzy.

'No, honestly. You should go to college. It was like something out a book, that.'

'Ta.'

It was out a book but I'm not telling him that. Some old hippie album cover book Dad has. Nobody else'll have ever seen it. Rosie's sitting watching us both with a funny smile on her face. Does she know something I don't? Daniel grins at Kes to pass me the cider. What's going on here? Everyone seems to be smiling now, in on something. Then suddenly they're all talking amongst themselves. Ro-sie leans over to me.

'What's the story with monkey boy? I think he fancies you. Sorry, he definitely fancies you. You like him?' I can hardly speak for grinning so much. I'm sweating like fuck under the four tops. Not just my bum now, all of me.

'Really, you really think so? He's really nice,' I whisper, leaning close, so he won't hear. Kes takes a long slug of the cider, then does an enormous belch.

'Someone go an see if they two cunts have fucked off yet, eh?'

Leaping to his feet, Daniel grabs the cider and offers me his hand.

'Want to chum me? You can be my messenger.'

I can't believe my luck. Rosie's giggling, gesturing me to go with him. They all start roaring and whis-tling as I stumble to my feet.

As soon as we're out of view though, I tense up and can't think of a single thing to say. I dredge my brain for one tiny sentence that might break the silence but there's just a jumble of words up there and a vision of him grabbing me and necking me. He seems kind of nervous as well. He's sort of hunched up with his hands in his pockets, walking very quickly. We arrive back at the now-deserted crypt without having said a word to each other. He gives me the thumbs-up.

'Right then, go get them. I'll see you in a mo.' I hesitate for a moment, hoping he's joking and that grabbing and necking are still a possibility. But he turns away from me, unzips and begins peeing against a gravestone. I start running back towards the others, as the sight of him peeing just makes it worse. Even if I pass a complete stranger having a pee in the street it really turns me on. What a pig. He was definitely making out like he fancied me in front of them all. They'll all ask about it when I get back. What a bastard. I fucking hate young guys...