"I was right about the girlfriend." Then she stops, thinks and adds, "But he was not over you. I totally knew that too, by the way."

Now she tells me. "I found that out the hard way. And I mean that in the most innuendo-ey way possible."

"Shut. Up." Ruby actually sits up and makes me worried that she's upset with me, the way she looks like she's about to shout. "You are not telling me you lost your virginity via the medium of innuendo. Nuh-uh. You have to say the words. Repeat after me: I had s.e.x with Tom."

"I had s.e.x with Tom."

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" She pats my cheek, and collapses on my shoulder as if perhaps that was too hard. Then Ruby adds, "I will beat you up for not telling me about Tom some other time."

"How about me beating you up for not telling me about Adam Wexler?" I tilt my head so she can see I'm grinning, that this is a joke.

"Not sure I'll ever be talking about that one."

I a.s.sume she's joking too, because Adam Wexler. I can understand why she freaked out about every last person at Remix knowing, but I'm her best friend. I have rights to information like this. "Was he any good?"

"Not for me he wasn't." The way she's talking, the tone of voice she's using doesn't sound like Ruby at all and I realize I misread the truth as a joke. "I couldn't stop thinking that I'd rather be anywhere else than with him."

I stroke her hair away from the cut on her forehead it's starting to congeal. And there's a rather large lump forming.

"He didn't...?" How do I even ask this?

But Ruby and I aren't so far gone that she can't read my mind. "I wanted to. I just really wish I hadn't. Like really. Like send someone back in time and Terminator 2 myself."

"Kill yourself?"

Ruby sighs. "You've never seen T2, have you, Kaz?"

I haven't.

"So ... was Tom any good, then?" Her voice is back to normal and I decide that I'm never going to ask her about Adam Wexler again. Just because Ruby can talk to me about anything, it doesn't mean she has to.

"You have obviously never had s.e.x in a one-man tent," I say.

"No. Just a tour bus." And there's a sigh of laughter in her voice.

"Yours was roomier," I say.

We sit a little longer.

RUBY.

"Speaking of rock stars," I say, "anything happen with Sebastian?"

At the mention of his name, my best friend's face blooms into the most beautiful smile. "We kissed. It was nice."

The happiness I can hear in her words makes me want to cry, because there is no one I want to be happy more than Kaz. As she stands, the dress she's wearing floats back in the breeze outlining her body in the sunlight she seems aglow with Kazness. Strong and sure.

She makes me strong too.

"Come on." Kaz helps me up. "I think we'll go and meet your boyfriend up at the first-aid tent. That head wound is unnerving me."

Boyfriend. Kaz didn't even sound angry when she called him that.

As I wobble on the steps to the ground, I look down at my vest. "Poor whimsical unicorn. She looks like she just escaped from the abattoir."

"I'll give you my whimsical badger. How about that?" Kaz suggests and I nod only once, because moving my head is not something that feels all that great.

"Always preferred badgers anyway. Much handier in a fight."

And I slide my hand into Kaz's as we walk back out into the arena. Friends.h.i.+p isn't something that's supposed to be perfect because people aren't perfect. People will lie, they will cheat and they will let you down. Friends.h.i.+p is what picks you up.

You can't pick someone up if they never fall down.

I don't care how many times we fall one of us will be there to hold the other up.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS.

Thank you most intensely to Annalie Grainger and Denise Johnstone-Burt. I tried several times to write a sentence that truly expressed why you are so brilliant and I'm sure you know what that sentence should be without me actually writing it something that sums up the editorial process for Remix pretty well, I think. Thank you also to Christian Trimmer whose very sensible thoughts from afar have been invaluable.

Books are a team effort and I am in love with my team mates: Daisy Jellicoe, Jack Noel, Victoria Philpott, Sean Moss ... and everyone else in editorial, design, publicity, marketing, sales, production and rights just because you aren't named doesn't mean you aren't appreciated. A lot.

Thank you to my amazing agent, Jane Finigan. You pep talk like no other and I continue to be grateful to have you on my side.

This book has changed a lot through the drafting process and I want to thank those who read various incarnations: Laura Hedley, who will always be my litmus test for whether what I've written is utter rubbish; Liz Bankes, whose feedback without fail makes me snort-laugh and nod in agreement; Kim Curran, who kindly invested time and thought on the wrong draft (sorry!); and James Dawson, who I caught in time to stop the same thing happening to him. I thank you as readers, but you're pretty awesome as friends too.

Thank you to the book bloggers, not just for your enthusiasm for my book(s), but for books in general. I wish I could thank you all by name, but I would like to give a shout out to Jim Dean, for spreading a particularly happy-making kind of book joy across the Internet.

Speaking of which ... thank you, everyone on Twitter, who has suggested a synonym for "having s.e.x", or slang for condoms, made up a stupid (sweary) insult, told me about an unromantic present and above all, thank you A MILLION for all the entertaining, serious, ridiculous and brilliant t.i.tle suggestions. I'm still a little bit sad we didn't go with the one from @ciclovesbooks: I Came to this Festival to Forget About My Ex and All I Got Was this Friends.h.i.+p (and Possibly Drugs. But Mainly Friends.h.i.+p).

Thank you to the real Kirsten Turner, who won the right for her name (and her left boot) to get written into Remix.

Ta muchly to the Masons for coming with me to a festival Conrad for suggesting we go in the crowd and Kat for introducing me to the phrase "musical omnivore" and to the friends who accompanied me to gigs in days of yore: Caroline, Katy, Osie, Ruth and Simon.

Thank you, Gemma Cooper, Claire Wilson and Helen Boyle, all of whom help to keep my feet in publis.h.i.+ng whilst my head's in another world.

Family, thank you: Mum for what must have been a lot of repet.i.tive phone conversations; Dad for unfailing pride in what I'm doing; Addy for distracting me (not actually very helpful, but never mind); Pragmatic Dan, you can't choose who loves you, which is just as well for me, or I think you'd have chosen someone less erratic, grumpy and messy.

And a kind of pointless (but important) thank you to all the bands who shaped my love of music there really are few things better than a three-minute-thirty song.

"Smart, engaging and hard to put down; Non Pratt is a YA writer to watch."

Guardian.

Hannah is smart and funny. She's also fifteen and pregnant. Aaron is the new boy at school. He doesn't want to attract attention. So why does Aaron offer to be the pretend dad to Hannah's unborn baby? Growing up can be trouble but that's how you find out what really matters.

www.ink-slingers.co.uk.

Non Pratt's real name is Leonie, but please don't call her that unless she's done something really bad. She grew up in Teesside and now lives in London. After graduating from Cambridge University, Non decided to work in children's publis.h.i.+ng. Since then she has worked as a non-fiction editor at Usborne and fiction publisher at Catnip. She now writes full-time. Remix is her second novel. Her first, Trouble, was shortlisted for the YA Book Prize and longlisted for the Carnegie.

Find Non on Twitter (@NonPratt).

Other books by Non Pratt:.

Trouble.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or, if real, used fict.i.tiously. All statements, activities, stunts, descriptions, information and material of any other kind contained herein are included for entertainment purposes only and should not be relied on for accuracy or replicated as they may result in injury.

First published 2015 by Walker Books Ltd.

end.