‘Is Adrianne still hanging out with that new group? The ruffians?’

I smile. Only Chets would use a word like ruffians. ‘Yep. She’s so different now.’

‘And she and Katja haven’t made up yet?’

5 I glance at the screen. No sign of xKittyGrimeX. No texts from Kat on my phone.

‘They haven’t spoken to each other for months. And when I tried to talk to Kat about it, she got so mad that she won’t speak to me anymore either.’

‘Do you miss her?’ Chets asks.

Like the polar bears miss their melted icecaps.

‘Nah. Well, maybe a little, sometimes.’

‘I always thought you two would end up…’

I fake a coughing fit to hide my pain. I know he’s trying to help, but I really don’t want to hear this right now. My screen turns red. You were eliminated by UglyPugly1985. ‘Sorry, Bandito,’ I say. ‘I suck today.’

‘It doesn’t matter, Lance. It’s just a game.’ He says this, but I can hear the frustration in his voice. He’s become way more competitive lately, and Chets hates doing badly at anything. Not that he did badly – I totally dragged him down with my lameness.

‘You’d have been better off with MakKarnage,’ I say. ‘But I think we’ve lost Mak for good.’

‘You never know. Nobody can predict these things, especially those of us who are inexperienced in matters of the heart.’ 6

In spite of everything, I splutter out a laugh.

‘He got his ear pierced,’ I say. ‘I’m not sure there’s any way back from that.’

‘Is it golden, like a pirate’s?’

‘It’s a giant diamond. It sparkles in the light so you can see him twinkling from the other end of the corridor.’

‘That sounds kinda nice, in a way. Festive.’

‘I’d love to agree with you, Chets, but it’s more like the Poundland version of Ronaldo. And it just doesn’t seem like, you know, Mak.’

Chets takes a slurp of drink. ‘I guess they really aren’t joining the party. I used to love it when we all played together every week.’

‘Me too.’ For a long time it was literally the only thing I looked forward to. We promised we’d carry on the tradition: every week, no matter what. ‘I guess everything changes, even if we don’t want it to.’

‘True say,’ Chets sighs, and I smile at that.

‘As they aren’t coming,’ I say, as carefully as I can, even though I know saying it carefully probably isn’t going to make a difference. ‘Would it be OK if I invite my other friend, FreshTrim?’

One, two seconds of silence.

7 ‘Chets?’

‘Which friend do you mean?’ he says. He knows which friend I mean.