That’s our other thing: hanging outside the pet shop and trying to choose which dog we’d take home if we could.

‘Mum wants you to come for dinner on the weekend. She’s making xiao long bao,’ says Bridge with a smile.

Bridge knows I’d do anything for her mum’s soup dumplings. Since the fire last year, whenever I was having a really rough time, Bridge’s mum would cook for me. I’ve done pretty well so far: a couple of suckling pigs, pork-and-ginger dumplings and this fried tofu dish that I can’t remember the name of. Basically, Bridge’s mum spoils me. Between her and Maggie I get pretty well looked after on the food front.

‘Can I stay over?’

‘Course.’

‘Actually, can I move in?’ I say without thinking.

‘Why?’ says Bridge. ‘Everything okay with your dad?’

‘Yeah, course.’ I’m not sure why I don’t just tell her Mum’s coming home, but for some reason I can’t.

‘Mi casa, you casa … or whatever the Italian saying is.’

‘That’s Spanish, actually. I think it’s probably good you chose French at high school. Can’t be any worse than your Italian,’ I say teasingly.

Bridge laughs. ‘Just because you’re so good at Italian.’

‘Hope we’re together for all our other classes.’

‘Yeah. Me too.’

As the bus pulls into the stop at the shopping centre, I prepare myself for the fifty metres of heat before we make it to the entrance. I wish I’d worn thongs instead of Converse. My feet are sweaty and uncomfortable and we haven’t even started shopping yet. As we walk inside and the glass doors close behind us, the temperature drops about fifteen degrees and Bridge shudders next to me.

‘It’s actually cold in here.’

‘It’s perfect in here,’ I say, making her laugh.

‘Come on. I need doughnuts. I haven’t had breakfast.’

I let my best friend slide her arm through mine and pull me towards the escalator. When we discovered the shopping centre was near both of our houses, we started meeting here quite a bit on the weekends. Now we know where every shop is, as well as the quickest way to reach the doughnut stall at the back of the foodcourt.

‘What do you feel like?’

I shrug. ‘Surprise me.’

‘Dangerous.’

I let Bridge order. Today she buys two raspberry glazed ones and two mini round cinnamon holes. I watch as she wedges a cinnamon hole into the middle of the glazed doughnut, making a solid circle.

‘Look, it’s a perfect fit,’ she says, holding it up.

‘Yep, it fits perfectly in my mouth, too.’ I shove mine in.

Instead of biting the doughnut, Bridge picks the sprinkles from the icing, one by one, as we walk. I’m already halfway through mine.

‘Just eat it!’

‘No. I like making it last.’