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  KISS

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  Also available by Jacqueline Wilson Published in Corgi Pups, for beginner readers: THE DINOSAUR'S PACKED LUNCH

  THE MONSTER STORY-TELLER

  Published in Young Corgi, for newly confident readers: LIZZIE ZIPMOUTH

  SLEEPOVERS

  Available from Doubleday / Corgi Yearling Books: BAD GIRLS

  THE BED AND BREAKFAST STAR

  BEST FRIENDS

  BURIED ALIVE!

  CANDYFLOSS

  T H E CAT MUMMY

  CLEAN BREAK

  CLIFFHANGER

  T H E DARE GAME

  T H E DIAMOND GIRLS

  DOUBLE ACT

  DOUBLE ACT (PLAY EDITION)

  GLUBBSLYME

  THE ILLUSTRATED MUM

  JACKY DAYDREAM

  T H E LOTTIE PROJECT

  MIDNIGHT

  T H E MUM-MINDER

  SECRETS

  STARRING TRACY BEAKER

  THE STORY OF TRACY BEAKER

  T H E SUITCASE KID

  VICKY ANGEL

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  GIRLS OUT LATE

  GIRLS IN TEARS

  LOLA ROSE

  LOVE LESSONS

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  JACQUELINE WILSON

  KISS

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  Adobe ISBN: 9781407043173

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  KISS

  A DOUBLEDAY BOOK 978 0 385 61010 0

  Published in Great Britain by Doubleday, an imprint of Random House Children's Books A Random House Group Company

  This edition published 2007

  5 7 9 10 8 6 4

  Text copyright © Jacqueline Wilson, 2007

  Illustrations copyright © Nick S h a r r a t t , 2007

  The right of Jacqueline Wilson to be identified as the author of this work h a s been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

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  To Vicky Ireland

  I h a t e d lunch times. I always missed Carl so much.

  When we were in middle school we spent all our time together. We'd r u s h off t h e m o m e n t t h e bell went, shovel down our school dinners in t e n minutes flat, and t h e n we'd have a whole h o u r j u s t being us. We'd s n e a k off to one of our special favourite places. When it was s u n n y we'd sprawl by the sandpit or sit kicking our legs on t h e wall near t h e bike sheds. We'd lurk in t h e library most of t h e winter. It didn't really m a t t e r w h e r e we were, j u s t so long as we were together.

  Some days we didn't t a l k much; we j u s t read our books, chuckling or commenting every now and t h e n . Sometimes we drew t o g e t h e r or played silly paper games. B u t most days we'd invent another episode of Glassworld. We'd act 1

  it out, though we couldn't do it properly at school the way we could inside t h e Glass Hut.

  The other kids thought us weird enough as it was. If they came across us declaring undying love as King Carlo and Queen Sylviana they'd fall about laughing. We'd m u t t e r under our b r e a t h and make minute gestures and the magic would s t a r t working and we'd be whirled off to the glitter of Glassworld.

  It was always a shock when the bell rang for afternoon school, shattering our crystal crowns and glass boots. We trudged back along the pizza-smelling corridors in our shabby trainers, wishing we could stay in Glassworld for ever.

  I still kept the Glassworld Chronicles up to date in our huge manuscript book, and Carl occasionally added notes or an illustration, but we didn't often act it out nowadays. Carl always had so much boring homework. Sometimes he didn't come to the Glass H u t for days and I'd have to go calling for him.

  It didn't always work then. He'd follow me down through the garden and sit in the h u t with me, but he'd be all quiet and moody and not contribute anything, or he'd be silly and mess around and say his speeches in stupid voices, sending it all up. I could generally get him to play properly eventually, b u t it was very h a r d work.

  'Maybe you shouldn't keep pestering Carl to play with you,' said Mum.

  'But he's my best friend in all the world.

  2

  We always play together,' I said.

  'Oh, Sylvie,' said Mum. She sighed. Nowadays she often sighed when she talked to me. 'You're too old for this playing lark now, making up all these secret imaginary games. It's not normal.

  You're thirteen, for God's sake. When are you going to s t a r t acting like a teenager?'

  'You don't know anything about it,' I said loftily. 'They're not little kids' games. We're writing our own series of books. You wait. They'll be published one day and Carl and I will make millions, w h a t with all the royalties and the foreign rights a n d the film deals.'

  'Oh well, you can maybe pay off the mortgage then,' said Mum. She sighed again. 'Who do you think you are, eh? J. K. Rowling? Anyway, Carl doesn't seem quite so keen on this playing –

  sorry, writing l a r k nowadays. You're both growing up. Maybe it's time to make a few new friends. Isn't there anyone you can make friends with at school?'

  'I've got heaps of friends,' I lied. 'I've got Lucy.

  She's my friend.'

  That was true enough. Lucy and I h a d made friends t h a t worrying first day in Milstead High School. I'd known her in first school and middle school, but I hadn't ever needed to m a k e a proper best friend of any of the girls because I'd always h a d Carl.

  It was h a r d trying to make friends now in Year Nine. Nearly everyone h a d been at our middle school so they j u s t carried on in the 3

  same twosomes or little gangs. There were several new girls in our form, b u t they palled up together. There was also Miranda Holbein in the other Year Nine form, but she w