Inevitably, some kids never overcame their issues. There were the heartbreaking stories of those who ended up in prison, homeless, ricocheting from one bad decision to another. Others we never heard from again. But they were the exception. Two walls of the principal’s office were covered in photographs of prom nights, college graduations, and young adults proudly wearing the uniform of their first job. You could find Charis House alumni working in local supermarkets, the animal rescue centre, and the hairdresser’s. Even our GP was an ex-student.

The thought that all that might come to an end was like a shard of ice in my chest, turning my blood cold. However far-fetched our plan, it had to work, because the alternative was quite simply unbearable.

After a good cry and a few more minutes staring into space, I decided that it was time to pull myself together and regather my focus, and the best way I could think of to do that was to find Henry.

‘Okay?’ he asked, looking surprised when I came and plonked myself into the seat next to him.

‘Why, can you tell I’ve been crying?’ I whispered. There was no one else in the room, but Baxter had made it clear that there were cameras everywhere.

‘No.’ Henry sat up and gave me that look that made me feel like a scientific specimen. ‘Why have you been crying?’

‘I spoke to Jed.’

‘Oh. Bad news?’

I shook my head. ‘No news to speak of.’

‘I see.’

He really did.

‘Worst Christmas present ever?’ he asked a moment later.

‘Given or got?’ I asked, pulling my legs up onto the sofa as I swivelled around to face him.

‘Got, surely? Why would you give someone a bad present?’

‘Lack of ideas, time, or money? Revenge? Because you were broke and desperate so you baked your whole family cookies using the block of chocolate found in the back of a random cupboard and didn’t bother to read the label first?’

Henry’s mouth twitched. ‘Okay, given, then. What’s the story?’

I grabbed a cushion and buried my head in it. ‘It was Dad’s chocolate laxative. End of story because the details aren’t for sharing.’

Henry winced, and then grinned before wincing again.

‘Your turn.’

He thought about this for a minute. I knew he’d found an answer when his ears started turning pink.

‘Spill.’

He coughed, looked down, glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, and then gave in, twisting around so that we were facing each other.

‘Concert tickets to see The Last Loris.’

‘What? That’s an amazing present! I was obsessed with that band. How can that possibly be your worst present?’

‘Because the person I got them for made up with her boyfriend about an hour before I had a chance to give them to her.’

My heart hovered between beats for a second.