A/N: Sorry for the long wait! Homework, writer's block, you know how it is. But now it's summer holidays, and all of a sudden the plot bunnies are bounding through the gates... Enjoy.

'It looks amazing!' Frankie gasped, twirling around my newly-decorated bedroom.

'Thanks,' I smiled shyly. 'I had it done a few months ago.'

'Cool.' She lifted up the white, frothy curtains. 'So, when do I get to meet your new best friends?'

'They're coming around this afternoon,' I said, trying to hide my gulp of nervousness.

'Oh, OK, sweet,' Frankie said casually. Was she as nervous as I was? I could never tell. It was a rare thing to see Frankie scared, nervous or vulnerable, since she hid it all under a facade of breezy cockiness.

'Lunch, girls?' Mum called from downstairs. 'We're going to the Shingle Cafe.'

'Ah, I remember that place,' Frankie grinned cheekily. I blushed. Last time we were there Amber – before she was one of my friends – had dropped a plate of carbonara on my head. Let me just say that cream and bacon do not make good hair accessories.

We headed downstairs and then walked down to the promenade, me and Frankie nattering away.

When we got there, we sat down at a table. I studied the menu, wondering whether to get the chicken salad or the toasted cheese sandwich.

'Hi Stella! And... oh...'

I glanced up to see Amber clutching her order pad and blushing furiously at the sight of Frankie, probably remembering the last time they'd met. Too late, I remembered that she'd said that she was doing a lunchtime shift today.

There was a brief awkward silence. Mum looked puzzled. Thankfully, Frankie decided to break it.

'Hah! I remember you. You dropped the pasta on Stella's head, yeah?' Frankie nudged me. 'Remember that, Stell? You're Amber, yeah? Stella's mentioned you. The skinny ginger one.'

OK, maybe I shouldn't be thankful.

If I could have shrunk myself down until I was as small as the grains of sugar in the sugar bowl, I would have done so. As it was, all I could do was turn bright red, until even my honey-coloured hair was turning slightly pink with mortification.

That was nothing compared to Amber, though. Her face looked hot and red enough to fry an egg and a couple of rashers of bacon on. She covered her face with her order pad and I saw her knees knock together. She was seriously embarrassed.

'I'll have a cup of tea, please, Amber, and a chicken Caesar salad,' my Mum announced. I could have kissed her right then, for breaking the silence and changing the subject.

'Sure, Mrs Stanford,' Amber said quickly, scribbling it down.

'Toasted cheese and tomato sandwich,' I squeaked. 'Please.'

'Chips and gravy,' Frankie said breezily.

Amber nodded jerkily and practically ran off.

I wanted to say something to Frankie, but I couldn't find the words and it was embarrassing with Mum there. What I wanted to say was, 'How could you be so insensitive and untactful? Poor Amber's humiliated. Apologise to her!'

But I've never been good at confrontations, especially with Frankie.

A different waitress brought our food out, thankfully. I wondered what was happening to Amber. My phone was in my pocket. Glancing down under pretence of adjusting my napkin, I typed out a quick text message: r u ok? So so so soz about Frankie. Stella x

Halfway through my sandwich, which I had sort of lost the appetite for, I got a text back: Yeah, i'm ok. Not yr fault. Won't c u this afternoon – phil gave me arvo shift. Ambs xo

I wondered if she really had been given more work, or if she was simply trying to avoid Frankie. I had a horrible feeling it was the second one.

Frankie, however, seemed unaffected, chatting away to Mum and me and asking questions that I gave sharp, short answers to. I knew I had to talk to her, but how? And when?

Just as Mum was paying at the counter, I felt my mobile vibrate again. It was from Rachel.

Hey, what's going on? Amber sent me a txt. Sounds like yr 'friend' Frankie is a right cow. Sure u want us 2 meet her?

'What is it?' Frankie asked, seeing me wince at something.

'Nothing,' I lied, putting my phone away. 'Nothing.'