On Monday Jo was surprised when Susan turned up at the canteen, "whatcha listening to?" She asked climbing onto the table beside her.

"Perfect circle just now but it's on random." She said, offering Susan an earbud.

Susan accepted the earbud and scooted close, they sat until first bell, listening to music, saying very little but enjoying the company.

The week continued on a very amicable note until one of the smokers approached the group of girls, they had been standing chatting in a corner near the maths block, "So, I hear you're all lesbos now. Such a shame." He said it whilst walking past but Susan turned and accosted him.

"If we all decide we prefer girls it won't be just because we start hanging out with Jo, it will be because boys like you are such knob ends!" She approached him, a finger stabbing into his chest, "You hang out with Jo, you know she's cool, if you were any kind of friend to her you would be happy for her. So she found some girls to talk to, why would you find that so damned threatening?" The boy began backing away, Susan kept up her tirade, "It's not like any of us come disparaging you and your filthy smoker buddies, perhaps the homophobia is to hide your little boy band's real reason to exist, smoking the sausage? So, how does it feel? Having your and your friends' sexuality questioned? Nice? No, think about other people for once, and if you are any kind of friend to Jo at all, perhaps you need to apologise?"

She had backed him into a wall and he stood there with a shocked look on his face. His mouth opened and closed a few times but he said nothing.

"Come on girls, let's leave this homophobic douche alone." She left, all five of the girls following.

"That was so awesome, I can't believe you did that!" Mae whispered to her as they strode down the corridor. "I can't believe I did it either! My hands are shaking" she admitted.

When Susan saw Jo at the canteen the next day she was strumming a guitar, it was a dark wood acoustic but she was playing it very softly. "Nice looking guitar." Susan started.

"Might look nice but it's a second hand cheapie, my mum won't let me bring either of my good ones in. This one has a bit too high an action so it's harder on the fingers, doesn't sound as good either."

She played a little finger-picked rift and Susan was amazed, "it sounds bloody brilliant from here!" She said, "but perhaps in just hearing the skill of the player?" She smiled at her.

Jo increased the volume of her playing and started singing,

“I am just a poor boy

Though my story's seldom told

I have squandered my resistance

For a pocketful of mumbles

Such are promises”

Susan sat down in a chair in front of her and enjoyed being serenaded, Jo’s voice was clear and bright and cut through the large room. When the song ended Susan clapped and was surprised when a bunch of the other kids around the hall joined in. Jo gave a little mock bow and continued the impromptu jam session with a rendition of ‘In Hell I'll Be In Good Company’ a complete contrast to her last song.

When she finished that one she put her guitar away, to a few peoples disappointment.

“I don't have the gravelly voice for that one but it's catchy.” She apologised.

“I loved it, I thought it was really nice the way you sang it.” Susan moved to sit beside her again. “So, are you in a band? Can I come hear you play?”

“Nah, I mainly just play at home. No time for a band between running and weightlifting.” She said dismissively. “You’ll just have to be satisfied with me thrashing you all at singstar!”

“Are your folks okay taking you over? We have a spare seat in the car if you want us to pick you up?” She asked, assuming that her dad wouldn't mind a detour.

“That would actually be super helpful, I was thinking I might cycle but I don't like being out quite that late on the bike.” She hunted for a pen, “Erm… let me give you my address and number. Damn, I think I've left my pen at home.”

Susan handed her a pen, “Here you go, keep it, I have a few of them.”

“Thanks, don't know what I would have done in class!” She accepted the pen and wrote her phone number and address on the empty back page of her English jotter. “Nice pen, you sure you don't want it back?” It was a rollerball gel pen with purple ink, something Susan had been using for years.

The bell rang, signifying a five minute window to get to their registration class.

“Yeah, as I say, I have loads of them.” She accepted the torn out page and waved as she took off running.

As she arrived at her registration class she realised there was something on the back of the page. She sat down beside Heather and paused as she realised it was poetry.

“My heart thumps the rhythm,

My feet follow the path,

It seems there is one way forward,

Hard though it may be.

I push on through the mud, the stones, the hurt,

I chase that closest goal, ignoring how it burns,

I wonder if I should or not, keep pushing through it all,

I wonder what the worth could be, that keeps me moving on.

My feet keep time, whilst my mind is free to roam,

It thinks of all the could have beens and all the should have nots.

I wallow in the memories, of times I slipped and fell,

The pain of old still haunts me now, though wounds are healed and gone.

What risk I ask, is there to me, for chasing something new,

Will I fall as hard, as fast, as far, and take another with me,

Into that dark ravine,

Is the worth enough, to push on sight unseen?

It was more McGonagall than Kipling but she liked it, she suspected it wasn’t really about running. Copying the address into her own jotter she resolved to give it back, in case it was English homework or something.