A couple of times, I notice Dave Farley glance over in our direction. I think he’s looking at Alice. I mean, it’s hard to tell exactly who he’s looking at in this dim light, but it definitely won’t be me, and it certainly won’t be Heather. Later, though, when Snow Patrol comes on—I never remember the names of the tracks, but it’s that lovely slow one—he crosses the dance floor and heads straight for me. Straight for me.

Oh. My. God. He’s going to ask me to dance. He’s smiling at me. Not at Alice or Sally. Not at Melissa or Bethany or any of the others, but at me. I haven’t made a mistake this time. My mouth goes completely dry. It’s really happening. In front of everyone. I try to look cool and unbothered, but I’m so gobsmacked and happy I can’t stop my mouth from spreading into a smile. This is it. He’s almost here and everyone’s looking. Alice’s mouth has opened slightly. She can’t believe it either. Everyone’s going to see Dave Farley ask me to dance.

But then he swerves away from me at the very last second and holds his hand out to Alice instead. Oh no. My whole body freezes in embarrassment and my stupid smile is fixed on my face like someone’s drawn it on. This is awful. This is the worst thing that could have happened.

Somehow or other, I manage to keep my head high, to make it seem like I’m not in the least bit bothered, that I wasn’t actually expecting him to ask me at all. I watch Alice out of the corner of my eye. She won’t dance with him. I know she won’t. She’ll want to, but she won’t. Not after what he’s just done. We’re best friends. We stick up for each other. She’ll say no and then he’ll be the one who’s humiliated. He’ll have to walk back across the dance floor all on his own, to the jeering laughter of his mates. No slow dance for you, Dave FuckFace Farley.

Except Alice doesn’t shake her head and brush him off. She hands her little clutch bag to Heather Langton and follows him onto the dance floor. I shuffle closer to Sally and Heather, cheeks burning, and pretend to be interested in their conversation, pretend not to care about what’s just happened.

I can’t believe Alice is dancing with him. How could she?

Later, when we’re on the way home and it’s just the two of us, I tell Alice exactly what I think of her.

“How could you?” I shout. “How could you dance with him after what he did to me? Don’t you care about my feelings at all?”