I tear a blank page out from a workbook from my last school. Annie’s bought me a whole load of pens, so I’ve got a big choice. She says that having all them colours around me might inspire me. I keep the pens in some enamel mugs I bought in the market. I pick up a gold pen, but sometimes it goes a bit blotchy. I want this to be perfect. I choose a greeny-blue that makes me think I’m looking into the bottom of a swimming pool, where everything’s cool and still.

I start:

Dear Kandi,

Sorry

Am I really gonna start with “Sorry”? She’s my little sister. So, yeah. I owe her the apology.

Dear Kandi,

Sorry I still can’t come and see you. The social workers made me move …

I take a big breath. The words splash onto the page.

The social workers made me move from my first place because I kicked a tin of white paint at my foster dad’s shed. He’d only just finished building it. The paint was for the inside, but it splashed all over the outside, on the windows and everything. I did it because my foster dad wouldn’t bring me to see you. I wanted to be with you for your birthday, but your dad didn’t want me to come. He said that you get upset when you see me and you can’t stop crying for ages afterwards. That’s why I got cross and kicked the paint.

Then when I moved to the next place, this kid teased me about how I ate breakfast and …

I’m writing this down and I know it’s making me look so bad. But me and Kandi were close, man. The last time we saw each other properly was at Mum’s funeral and we didn’t know what to say. I told her dad that me and Kandi should never have been split up. I think that’s when he asked social services if we could have a “pause” on me seeing her. That’s the word Kandi’s dad used, like he’s watching his favourite film and needs to slip out for a quick pee. Pause.

Annie agrees that me and Kandi should see each other, but she says that we can’t always control the world. Sometimes we just have to stand back and work out how to pull it back into a shape that’s good for us. That’s easier for people like Annie than me. She doesn’t have folks always shaping her world for her, then expecting her to smile and say it fits.

I’ll go back to the sentence about breakfast later. What else do I want to say?