I frown, a little confused by almost everything she’s said. First of all, when has she been chatting to the girls without me?

Secondly, ‘Matty’s going to be there, of course’. I’m the one who’s been her best friend for over half our lives. Not him.

And what does she mean by make up? I never realized we’d fallen out . . . Has she told him about what I said?

I reply to Elle’s message all nice and sweet, but inside I’m burning. The truth is, I’m scared about what’s going to happen between me and Elle if I don’t go. And I need to figure things out with her, even if it means being around Matty.

Safiya: Miss you too <3. Sounds great! When are we going? X

Elle sends back a virtual invitation to the event, like it’s a birthday party and not some sort of casual hang-out. That’s when it hits me.

The flyer for the play. That must be the object linked to the last memory.

I shove my phone aside and grab Mum’s laptop. It’s still on her coffee table from before she went to the hospital. It’s dead, so I look for the charger. Mum’s so messy and random that I end up finding it in the cupboard with her mugs after about ten minutes of searching.

I pace up and down her living room while I wait for the laptop to get enough charge to turn on. When it does I’m relieved to see she hasn’t set a password. I manage to get on it without any trouble. I cross my fingers and hope to find the person I’m looking for . . .

I look for her name in Mum’s emails and a whole stream of messages come up.

The most recent one is dated just a month ago. They’ve kept in contact for all these years. That’s true friendship.

I don’t read Mum’s emails, because that feels too personal, but I copy Rawan’s email address and start drafting a message from my phone.

Hi Rawan,

You might know who I am . . .

Chapter 22

‘Are you sure you want to get all of that?’ Elle whispers from behind me. We’re at Maccies with the others and I’m just about to buy a burger and chips.

‘I thought we came here to eat?’ I retort.

Our Maccies is always busy. Tonight it’s full of people our age, though I don’t recognize most of them. They must go to a different school.

‘Yeah, but I’m just getting chips. I don’t want to look greedy,’ Elle says.

I roll my eyes (when she’s not looking). I realize, in that moment, that our Friday-night sleepovers are well and truly over.

‘Well, I haven’t eaten since lunch, so I’m buying a burger.’