On Monday morning, the girl arrived at school earlier than usual.

She hadn’t meant to. She had simply woken before her alarm, and when she tried to fall asleep again, she remembered the third girl’s message.

I’ve thought of something even bigger for next time.

Ever since she’d read it, she’d been trying to guess what it might be. Perhaps a photograph in some extraordinary place, or new clothes, or something nobody at school had ever done before.

She loved that feeling, the anticipation of something about to happen, and the possibility that this time she might be at the center of it.

When she entered the classroom, the third girl was already there.