Brendan then turns away to talk to someone else and Becky knows that her subdued response hasn’t given him enough to get his teeth into. She has failed a personality test that she hadn’t chosen to take. Will he tell Mary? Will she laugh? What did he mean by it anyway? Was he just trying to be nice? Is hot a word that he uses ten times a day, for anyone, meaning anything?

Becky feels light-headed. She hasn’t eaten since lunch because her jeans don’t allow for anything other than a flat and therefore empty stomach, but until she can track down some booze to numb the hunger pangs, a cigarette will have to do. She slides one out of the box, suddenly feeling grateful for an action that allows her to bow her head and hide from Brendan and the rest of the room for a moment. She sparks it up, lighter metal scuffing her sore thumb pad, the smoke hitting the back of her throat. The unwelcome taste of coal. But she inhales deeply anyway, elbows bent in at the waist, one forearm slung protectively across her middle, watching Mary talk to the pink-lipsticked girl. The combination of nicotine and hunger is making her feel nauseous. Vomiting on the floor in front of everyone would be totally mortifying but at least it would give her a legitimate excuse to go home.

‘Having a shit time yet?’

She turns to find the speaker leaning back on the same bit of wall as her, grinning. Just the sight of Adam’s sweet smile and the radically diminished size of his otherwise egg-large eyes under the thick-lens glasses makes her feel instantly better. He is wearing a woollen sleeveless jumper, like he does whatever the weather, and the collar of his shirt is thin and un-ironed and poking out of the top. He is skinny and into computer programs and indie rock and there isn’t anyone else at their school much like him. Most boys at their school wear the same brand of everything, making choosing a different colour their sole mark of personality.

‘Sight for sore eyes and all that,’ he says.

‘And you. That’s a particularly thin collar you’re wearing this evening. I assume you’re on the pull?’

‘That’s a particularly large number of necklaces around your neck. Selling them for spare change?’

‘Bitch,’ she says, and they both laugh. ‘Seriously, why didn’t you tell me you were coming to this thing? You knew I was.’

‘Thought I’d leave you dangling over the abyss.’

‘The abyss sucks.’

‘Well here I am now. Massive party times.’ He says it deadpan and she laughs.

‘Who do you know here?’

‘Who don’t I know.’

‘Seriously?’

‘Natalie. We used to go in the paddling pool together. When we were five.’

‘And you swapped digits and stayed in touch?’

‘Actually we are still mates. She’s a gamer.’