The first day of school was always the easiest, mostly because we didn't have any lessons.

The morning was taken up with a long assembly, during which the head teacher talked us through the rules we'd heard repeatedly. New students were welcomed, and they introduced teachers. The afternoons were more for the first years; new kids who had to be walked through everything from their schedules to how to order lunch properly.

It was the evening that everyone was looking forward to.

The first chance to meet the boys.

Lisa's idea of welcoming them to the school wasn't appropriate; I had a feeling that breaking into their dorm building would leave a negative first impression. Besides, we had a tradition of opening every new school year with a party. The teachers thought it was a good way to have us interact in a laid back, fun atmosphere.

It was not a relaxed affair.

While casual was the dress code of the evening, anyone who turned up in something less than a ballgown was sneered at for the night and deemed unworthy of anyone's attention. The bathrooms were battlefields. Girls fought over the showers and screwed with the water temperature by turning the taps on and off should anyone take too long. My friends were no exception to the rule. Which was why I found myself sat on my bed, hairpins between my teeth, trying to tame Megan's unruly hair.

I reached for the bottle of hairspray beside me and gave the strands another dousing. 'I don't see why you need it straightened. I'm going to put another hole in the atmosphere soon. It's fine the way it usually is.'

'Lisa said -'

'You bet your arse, Lisa said,' Lisa snapped as she wiggled into her dress. It looked like it was going to be a tight fit, but that was the style she was going for. The boys could count her ribs through the fabric. 'I'm not going in with you looking like a toilet-brush.'

'Hey!' I snapped right back at Lisa. 'Her hair's gorgeous. There's just a lot to wrangle, that's all. Besides, worry about your hair. Frizz city, much?'

Lisa clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. 'Whatever.' Her flippancy didn't stop her from checking to see if her strawberry curls were behaving. Adopting a sweeter tone, she asked, 'Jen'? Can you help me with the zip?'

Jenny had been ready for hours, save her hair. I'd wanted to style hers first given it was so long, but she'd insisted that I leave her until last and that it wouldn't matter if she just left it down. I was determined to curl it for her, whether she liked it or not. Meg whimpered as I tugged the brush through her thick hair again. I said, 'Look, I'm going to put it up, okay? Just deal with it for five more minutes, and I'll let you go.'

'Okay,' Meg mumbled, picking at a loose thread in my blanket.

Poor girl. She didn't deserve to have her head bitten off by Lisa just because her dress was cutting off her air supply.

Chrissy came back into the room, a towel around her torso, and her damp hair clinging to her olive tanned neck. She pointed openly when she saw Lisa and accused, 'That's mine!'

'What is?' Jenny asked.

'That dress! I was going to wear that. You're stretching it!'

'I look better in it than you!' Lisa argued. 'You have about five in your suitcase, anyway. Wear a different one.'

'That's not the point!' Chrissy retorted. 'Take it off and wear your own!'

'I didn't bring a dress. I forgot.'

'Chris',' I said, 'wear a different one. There's no point arguing.'

'I can't believe you're on her side!'

'I'm on my side. The side that wants you two to shut up and finish getting ready. Wear a different dress and dry your bloody hair. I can't style it when it's that wet.'

'I'm not talking to you,' Chrissy told Lisa.

She wasn't fooling anyone.

Their fights always lasted about an hour before they were best friends again. Once Jenny had finished helping Lisa wriggle into her stolen gown, ensuring that the girl could breathe in it, she offered to help Chrissy dry her hair. All those Hollywood movies that depicted girls giggling happily and singing into their hairbrushes in some crazy makeover montage were completely delusional. Preparing for a party was an ugly process. There was a lot of swearing, complaints about the removal of body hair, and an emotional meltdown when one member of the group discovered that their concealer was inadequate in hiding a sudden acne outbreak.

I straightened out my hair meticulously while I waited for Chrissy to grace me with her presence, dragging the irons through each thick layer until they sat like curtains on either side of my head. I tugged a brush back through it, creating a side parting, and encouraged some volume back into it with light back-combing and some hair spray. Tempting as it was to hide half my face during the party like a less disfigured Phantom of the Opera, I needed the vision in both eyes if I was going to be forced to dance.

Before we left, I wrestled Chrissy's hair into an up-do and curled the cascades of golden locks for Jenny. They could deal with their own make-up, as could I. Normally I didn't wear much, and that wasn't out of choice. Our school had a reputation to uphold. So long as we looked natural, we could slap on some foundation and mascara before class. On weekends and during social events, they didn't have an opinion on it. I applied thin lines of black liquid eyeliner, making the wings at the edge of each eye sharp yet delicate.

'What are you wearing?' Lisa asked as she curled her lashes. 'You'd better not say jeans.'

'I was thinking of putting on an old potato sack and some leather biker boots. How does that sound?' I retorted sarcastically.

'You're hilarious,' she said. 'But, seriously, what are you going to wear?'

I set down my maroon lipstick, feeling that I looked a little vampiric with such a bold colour against my pale skin. I quite liked it. The notion of spooking any boys bold enough to approach filled me with sadistic glee. I held up a pair of black pressed trousers and a white blouse with puffed shoulders and short sleeves.

'No.'

'Yes, actually,' I said. 'There's not going to be enough boys to dance with everyone, so I'll wear this. Then I can pair up with the girls who'll be left out.'

'Or,' Lisa hurried to Chrissy's trunk and pulled out a pretty white gown, 'you could wear this!'

'Would you stop stealing my bloody clothes?!' Chrissy protested.

'I'd rather die,' I said. I set my desired outfit down on the bed, knowing that it would have to do for a different occasion.

Damn it.

It wasn't a dress, but I found a tartan mini skirt in my luggage and a black top with spaghetti-thin straps. I'd be mocked into the next week for not dressing like a princess, but I'd get over it. I held them up and asked. 'Does this meet your approval, your majesty?'

'God, fine. But you'll be the only one not dressed up.'

'I can cope with that.'