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realise that Caitlin had as much of that as I did. It was a shame our parents didn’t.
    When we got off the bus, there was a group of boys hanging about at the bus stop, smoking and making odd noises. I didn’t like the look of them and was about to set off when I saw that Caitlin was hovering. I should have known. There were three of them, a tall one with hair combed over his face, a ginger-haired boy, and a small blond one with a sweet spaniel by his side. The boys looked a bit gormless to me, not my type at all, though I’m not sure yet exactly what my type is because I don’t really like boys that much. As far as I’m concerned, they’re just annoying or stupid and sometimes both.
    I went to stroke the spaniel, who wagged its tail happily at the attention and made me wish all over again that Mum would let me have my own dog. I listened in for a moment and heard the boys burp. I soon realised that the noises we’d heard when we got off the bus had been burps and they were having a contest to see who could do the loudest one. The tall nerdy-looking boy then did a loud fart and soon after the ginger-haired boy did the same.
    The blond boy grinned at me. ‘Welcome to Trump Town,’ he said.
    ‘Eeeewww,’ I said and pulled on Caitlin’s arm. ‘Come on, Caitlin.’
    Caitlin asked for directions to the beach and the tall one pointed us in the direction of a lane to our left while looking at us as if we were mad.
    ‘We’re not going swimming,’ Caitlin said. ‘We’re not
that
daft.’
    ‘Don’t you want to stay and join in the competition?’ asked the blond boy.
    ‘Er . . . think I’ll pass,’ I said.
    The ginger-haired boy laughed. ‘Pass. Pass wind!’
    All of them cracked up at this as though I’d said the funniest thing ever.
    ‘
So
juvenile,’ I said as we set off down the lane, ‘boys are so stupid. Did they really think we’d be impressed by their farting ability?
Je despair
.’
    ‘
Moi aussi
,’ said Caitlin. ‘But I’m sure there are some decent ones around here somewhere.’
    ‘Maybe,’ I said. ‘But not if Team Trumpers from Trump Town are anything to go by.’
    Soon we could smell the salt air of the sea and hear the roar of the ocean, but it was hard to walk against the wind. It kept blowing into our jackets making them billow out behind us, which gave us a good laugh until I almost took off into the air.
    At the end of the lane, I thought another gust was going to knock me off my feet, but at last we could see the sea. It was wild and stormy with massive grey waves crashing on to the shore. I looked up and down the beach. It was completely deserted and there was no sign of a café or a surfers’ club or shelter. It started to rain and before long both mine and Caitlin’s hair was plastered to our foreheads and Caitlin’s mascara dripping down her cheeks. So much for meeting new people and making friends.
    Caitlin looked at me and laughed. ‘We’re the Soggy Girls from Sog City.’
    ‘I suggest we abandon the mission, Captain,’ I shouted.
    Caitlin pulled her jacket tight around her. ‘Suggestion accepted,’ she called back. ‘Let’s get out of here. I am freezing.’
    We ran back to the bus stop as fast as we could and luckily Team Trumpers had moved on. We caught the next bus back and, bliss, it was warm inside so we could dry off a bit. ‘We need a hot chocolate by a toasty fire,’ said Caitlin. ‘The seaside isn’t much fun during a flipping downpour, is it?’
    ‘Brrr, no,’ I replied. ‘I thought you said Marie Peters said it was where everyone hung out.’
    Caitlin looked sheepish. ‘Er . . . she might have meant in the summer. But there has to be somewhere everyone goes in winter besides hanging out at freezing cold bus stops. Maybe a café?’
    We trawled the village for a café but only found shops: a hardware store, pharmacy, newsagent’s, post office, mini-supermarket and a pub.
    ‘We could try the park,’ said Caitlin, pointing in the direction of