Then, over the years, three other hangings, right up until last year: Denni King. She had gone to the school’s farewell dinner, then come up here that same night to kill herself. It rocked the community to the core, and changed Jasmine’s life.

She stood watching the tree, suddenly aware she was holding her breath. She let it go.

Scarlett Watkinson, the straight-backed and big-boobed year-level captain, laid a bouquet at the base of the tree. They were beautiful roses, in pink paper. They looked like they should’ve been a bride’s bouquet. The thought made Jasmine feel sick.

Miss Ellis was crying. Jasmine’s heart went out to her. She didn’t deserve any of this.

Mr North blinked a lot, too, fighting back the tears. He was married to Miss Ellis’s sister, Monica, and so he had been Denni’s uncle. Jasmine’s heart didn’t go out to him, though. Bum-chin, steroid-munching fuck.

Madison was crying now as well, smudging her make-up. Jasmine, Cierra and Georgia huddled around her, drawing comfort from one another. Madison had been the one who’d found Denni’s body. She’d been filming at the time, live-streaming a ghost hunt. The plan had been for her and Denni to film it together, so Denni had told Madison to meet at the Hanging Tree right after the farewell dinner. That way, they both would look amazing on camera, up in the creepy bush in their beautiful dresses.

Clearly Denni had wanted Madison to be the one to find her body, and for the whole discovery to be live-streamed. A white dress, her tattoos visible on her bare arms, her brown braid piled up on top of her head with a golden hairnet . . . hanging by the neck.

The incident made Madison’s subscriber numbers skyrocket, but of course it was horrible. Jasmine still had nightmares about Denni’s body – she had been watching live. Aside from her mother dying, it was the worst thing that she’d ever experienced. The video had done the rounds afterwards, before all the images were taken down. Georgia had told Jasmine that if you googled it, you could still find some of those stills of Denni’s body on foreign blogs.

Jasmine rubbed Madison’s back through her jacket. A separate knot of girls kept glancing their way, whispering to each other. Some people believed Madison had been in on it, had known what Denni was planning and went along with it for the views. Jasmine scowled at the girls and they looked away.

The wind grew stronger, and the branches of the Hanging Tree groaned and creaked. An eerie chill ran down Jasmine’s back, and she knew she wasn’t the only one who felt it. One girl nearby jumped, as though the tree itself had spoken. It seemed a good cue to continue: girls started getting ready, pulling their backpacks on.