‘I know all about feeling like you’re in the way,’ he says.

I wish I could ask him more, find out what he means, but he doesn’t push me for any details about my life, so I can’t push him either. If I were talking to Ellie or Bridge or even Maggie, they’d drill me for answers. But sometimes answers are too hard to find. Instead, Matt stands up and walks past me into the kitchen.

‘Wanna drink? You look kinda red,’ he calls.

I pat my face, feeling the heat still coming off it. Now he’s made me blush I bet it’s even worse.

Embarrassed, I stand up. ‘I should go.’

‘Okay,’ he says, opening the fridge and flashing the darkness with a burst of light. I see him take out a bottle of lemonade. He stands with his back to me and drinks from the bottle. I’m pretty pleased I didn’t ask for a glass. I make it to the front door before he closes the fridge and walks across to where I’m standing. He holds out the bottle of lemonade and grins. He suddenly looks all playful and I laugh.

‘Backwash? No, thanks!’

‘Fair enough,’ he says, draining the rest in one long swig. ‘Thanks for explaining the fish to me. I’m going to study them for a bit now,’ he says, but I’m not sure how serious he is.

‘Tell Maggie I dropped in.’

‘I will. I’m sure she’ll be delighted to know we hung out.’

This time when he smiles I find myself smiling back. At least he’s stopped me thinking about Mum for half an hour.

‘Wanna show me around sometime this week?’

‘Yeah. Alright,’ I say, opening the door before my face reddens any more.

I step out of the cool flat and into the balmy twilight. I have a million questions swarming around in my head, like: Why has Matt come to stay with Maggie? What is his story? But they’ll have to wait for now.

Because I ran out of home in such a hurry I don’t have my keys. I think about Dad’s reaction to me leaving and if he’s been worried. If he takes ages to open the door then he’ll be cool about me having raced out, but if he flings it open within seconds then he’ll be fuming. I take in a big breath and knock once. The door cracks open. It takes me a second to realise that nobody had even locked it after I left. Maybe nobody cares.

As I walk in, I hear two voices chatting. The smell of salt and crispy chicken skin has filled the room and my stomach rolls with hunger. I haven’t eaten since the doughnuts with Bridge. Dad’s roast chicken is enough to make me hungry anytime, let alone when I’m already starving.