They all brought out the best in each other. Tyler made Connor and Ryan braver and Connor and Ryan calmed down Tyler, recognizing that his sudden flashes of anger came from a desire to be taken seriously, the way that he wasn’t at home.

‘Got into a scrap at the park.’ He’d shrug as they’d probed about his bruises. ‘You should have seen the other kid.’

Ryan and Connor would exchange a glance, their years of shared friendship meaning they could often communicate wordlessly. They didn’t believe him. They’d seen the way Liam treated him. They’d stood outside his front door, hand fisted, knuckles poised to rap on the reinforced glass, hesitating when angry shouts came from inside. Tyler would run out of the door. ‘Tosser,’ he’d shout. Liam would chase them as they’d leg it down the six flights of stairs. Tyler’s mum standing silent, watching.

‘That’s it. Run away with your loser mates like the cowards you are.’

Cowards. That word strikes a chord with Connor now. He wants to run away. He stops walking, drags his sleeve across his forehead to wipe away the sweat that’s formed.

He can’t go inside and face everyone. He just… can’t.

‘You okay, mate?’ Tyler says. ‘You look like someone has—’ He shakes his head. ‘Shit. Sorry.’

‘I can’t do this.’ The air is damp, the sky grey, but perspiration still gathers in Connor’s armpits. Trickles down his back.

‘Me neither. Everyone’s staring at us.’ Ryan’s breathing is laboured as he leans against the wall. ‘We should have changed schools.’

‘I couldn’t have done. My mum couldn’t afford the bus to send me to Parkfleet,’ Tyler says. ‘People will soon forget. Today’s gossip is yesterday’s chip papers.’

‘Tomorrow’s chip paper,’ Ryan corrects.

‘Whatever.’ Tyler shrugs.

‘And when have you ever seen chips wrapped in newspaper?’

‘When have you ever not acted like a tosser?’ Tyler nudges Ryan. ‘Come on. We got this. Safety in numbers. Year Thirteen is our ticket to freedom.’ Tyler more than any of them talked frequently of life after this. School. Parents. He was desperate to go to university far, far away and never return.

Connor flexes his fingers, the memory of Hailey’s warm hand in his when they thought nobody was watching. She will never be full of last day euphoria, the ritualistic burning of school ties in the park, never shyly offer her wrist to his to fasten a corsage on the night of the school prom. She will never do any of those things.

‘I can’t…’ He loosens his tie.

‘Come on.’ Ryan claps him on the back. ‘We’ve got this.’