I think about kissing her, but I’m scared. So far, Amy has kissed me first. I can imagine Zak telling me to go for it, and I almost do before remembering where we are. This is the house where something isn’t quite right.

I know what horrible homes feel like. Mum and I breathed them in for years. You can sense the cracks and the bad memories. You just need to know where to look.

Back downstairs, Chris points at the dining table and says, “Sit.”

Amy slides in next to me and squeezes my hand.

Will is already eating, and no one tells him to stop. Mum would let her dinner get cold if there was someone missing from the table, but there are different rules here.

I still wait until everyone is sitting, then focus on my food and hope someone else starts talking.

“So,” Jane says, “how is Amy settling in at school?”

“I’ve told you, I’m fine,” she mumbles.

Her mum looks annoyed. “I’m just making conversation.”

Jane turns to me, like she still expects me to answer, so I say, “It feels like she’s always been there.”

It catches me by surprise, and I’m not the only one. Amy makes a weird face, then smiles to herself, while her mum looks at me differently and says, “That’s nice.”

Even now, with everything that’s happened, I like Amy. I think about her in so many ways and not all of them are about the holes and the walls and the little boy. Some of them are nice thoughts, like me wishing we could be more than whatever this is.

When I look up from my food, her dad is staring at me, and he doesn’t look away. His eyes force mine back to the tablecloth and the plate I have no choice but to scrape clean. It’s the only thing I can do to feel less anxious. Eventually, Amy takes it from me and carries the rest of the dirty dishes into the kitchen.

“I’ll help,” I say.

“No,” says Jane. “You’re our guest.”

But no one else moves, not even her brother, and we watch in silence as Amy slowly clears the table.

“What grade are you in?” I ask Will, because I have to say something.

“Sixth,” he says.

“So you’ll be coming to our school next year?”

“Will got into St. Gregory’s for Boys,” Jane says, just as Amy walks back into the room, and I see her body stiffen.

“He’s still going, even though Amy moved?”

Jane nods. “Boys aren’t so… We think he’ll be fine.”

I remember how much Amy hated her time at the girls’ Academy and hope her brother has better luck at the boys’ school.

“Well done,” I say, even though I don’t mean it, and Will half-smiles but doesn’t make eye contact.