He’s absolutely right. I’ve walked this corridor a thousand times, but tonight it feels like a different place. It’s amazing how the right lighting and decoration transforms it completely. As we walk beneath an archway, it makes me feel like I’m going back in time.

‘That’s what money can do,’ Bec says. ‘Gotta keep the Hawthorn Elite happy or they’ll be demanding a refund …’

The sound of a string quartet reverberates round the old walls, and silence falls upon us as we reach the top of the stone staircase that overlooks the hall.

‘Wow,’ Chase breathes.

Candelabras are lit in every corner, with banners hanging in crimson and gold, the colours of Hawthorn – their reward for winning Capture the Flag. That should annoy me, but right now it’s hard to care. It’s beautiful. I can’t believe this is the same room we had lunch in just a few hours ago. A stage has been constructed on one side, where the string quartet are playing now, but they’ve already cleared away all the tables to make room for a dance floor, so presumably the music will get livelier later on.

Phones rapidly appear to snap photos, people lift their masks to get a better look, and, even though I probably only post on social media once a year, I find myself reaching for mine too. You expect a lot from a private school, but this is truly beyond.

‘I don’t think anyone’s gonna be asking for that refund,’ Chase says.

‘I wouldn’t speak so soon,’ Bec says, nodding in Tiffany’s direction. She’s actually pouting as she looks at the decorations. ‘Literally, what is her problem?’

‘I don’t think that girl will ever be happy,’ he says.

‘Oh well –’ Bec shrugs – ‘more for us to enjoy. Shall we?’

She holds out her arms. Chase and I take them and lead her down the stairs together, as if we’re her double prom dates, and in that moment I feel so grateful to have them both as my friends.

‘Yearbook?’ Chase says as we reach the bottom, pointing to the candlelit table that now houses it. This is the first time I’ve seen it not behind glass. It’s open to a random page, and there’s dozens of scrawlings fighting for space, all in different handwriting. The top of the page reads Class of ’26 in elaborate lettering.

‘It’s hard to believe anyone was really here back then,’ I say, staring up at the interior of the building, trying to imagine how it looked all those years ago. ‘Don’t you feel weird, thinking about a time before any of us existed?’

‘Because the whole universe revolves around you?’ Chase teases me. ‘A world without Zach Evans? The unimaginable horror!’

‘Funny,’ I say, leaning closer to the book.

I thought it would be full of uplifting messages of positivity and affirmation, but someone has written To the night I never thought would end. Jeez. Surely their prom can’t have been that bad?