“It’s really not,” I say sharply. Molly’s irritability appears to have rubbed off on me, because my tone is quite uncalled for. At the same time, though, it feels nice for some reason. Especially when Harriet takes the hint and resumes her way downstairs.

“I’ll leave you to it then,” she says. “But promise to tell me what the mystery was when you come back down, okay?”

“If I can.” Danni smiles. “Leave your door open and I’ll come by? If you’re still around, that is.”

“Oh, I’ll be around.”

I suddenly, inexplicably, wish I’d been even ruder to Harriet. What are they doing right now, flirting? It wouldn’t surprise me in the slightest on Harriet’s part, because she’s been patently obsessed with Danni since day one, and there was a rumor in second year that she and Nellie Henry kissed behind a tree during school camp. It was never proven, and it eventually died down, but I haven’t forgotten it, because it’s the first time I’d ever heard of anyone else potentially being Like Me.

But if it is flirting, and Danni’s participating, what does that say? Does that mean she likes girls? If so, does she like Harriet? Why?

No, I decide. More than likely she doesn’t like girls at all. Danni is just one of those people who gets along with everyone because she’s kind, and sweet, and a touch too eager to be liked. I can’t relate to one bit of it, even if I do grudgingly admire it.

In Eleanor’s bedroom, I throw my cape on the ground, while Molly sets up her laptop on Eleanor’s desk and Danni pulls out her phone and sits on the bed. I consider sitting beside her, but before I can, Eleanor takes the remaining bed space. So, I sit crossed-legged on the carpet directly across from Danni.

“By the way,” I say, while I have everybody in the one place. “You’re all invited to my mum’s birthday. It’s at the palace this year, so it’s not too far to travel.”

Eleanor nods absentmindedly as she fiddles with her television remote; she has attended Mum’s birthday gatherings yearly for as long as I can remember now, as has Molly. Danni, however, looks positively terrified by the invitation.

“Wait, seriously?” she asks. I imagine, now that I think about it, it’s quite an intimidating prospect for her. The palace, my parents, the distinguished guest list.

“Seriously,” I repeat. “If you would like to, of course.”

“Oh my god, no, definitely. For sure. I’d love to.”

Molly doesn’t say a single word. I might as well have invited the curtains for all the reaction I receive.