But Woody never got to finish. Fred. Fred, who is meant to be my friend and at least have some clue about Massive Significant Conversations in My Life, chose this moment to appear.

I stared at Woody, blinking as if a force field could bounce Fred back in time by fifteen seconds and he could finish his sentence.

But Fred was hurrying—right up to my face. Too close to my face?! He leaned right in. “There you are. Whoa—is your eye okay?”

“Fine,” I said, through gritted teeth (and fluffed eye).

What was Woody about to ask me? This was the first glimmer of hope in six weeks.

I just had to hope the reason Fred had run over was something super urgent that made me look even more spontaneous and exciting to seal the deal. And I could be in luck. He looked pumped.

“So, Hol.” Fred’s eyes were extra wide. “We were thinking. ANOTHER JENGA SUNDAY SHOWDOWN?!” No, Fred. No. “I’ve already done the snack run.” He held up a blue plastic bag. “They had your fave. Ready-salted Pringles.” Nooo—why had he chosen my least-exciting favorite flavor? Where were Chipsticks when I needed them? “Oh, and some caffeine-free Diet Coke.” He held it out. I murmured a thank-you, trying not to sound ungrateful—or like I was actually wishing I could fall down a manhole. “I already opened it so it’s not too fizzy for you.”

Yes, Woody—that’s right. I’m so fun and wild that I can’t even handle bubbles.

I narrowed my left eye at Fred to hint that could he take that back and imply I was off to a pop-up rave instead?

But Fred just looked scared. “Hol…why are you looking at me like that?” Could I actually crawl back under the doormat? “Did you want salt and vinegar? I thought you only had salt and vinegar on Saturdays? Ready-Salted Sunday, isn’t that what you say? And why are you holding bin bags?” I’d forgotten about those. “You are still coming, right?”

“Oh, yes.” I smiled, my dignity slowly seeping into the bin bags I was still holding. Fred was the best human, even if he was the worst at hints. “Sorry…I’d totally forgotten. Been a hectic day.”

“But I thought you said all you’ve done is shampoo your hairbrushes and finish your Christmas jumper spreadsheet?”

Sometimes I wish Fred wasn’t such a pure, lovely human, and understood there’s a reason for private messages being PRIVATE.

“Ah…yes. I’d forgotten that too.” Out of the corner of my one working eye, I could see Woody trying not to laugh. This was a disaster. I plonked the bin bags down. “I’ll, er…have to cancel my other plan. Of not having a plan…” Woody stood up. I swear his eyebrow had risen suspiciously in my direction. “Anyway, did I tell you?” Look out, emergency subject change. “Ruby’s finding out tonight if she’s got a part in the pantomime.” I was talking extra quick, attempting a speed-conversation getaway. “Obvs, she’s amazing and totally will, but still. Exciting, yes?”