I drop my sandwich crusts onto the plate. I should have known better. I try to think of a comeback, but nothing’s very snappy or satisfying. Nat obviously gives up on me because she gets up and leaves me with the plate of crusts. I return to sorting the bandaids and hoping my friends hurry up.

It seems to take ages, but I finally hear them laughing as they come into the house. Bridge has a bag of chips and Ellie is carrying a bunch of different ice-creams. She drops them all onto the table in front of me. ‘Your choice!’

I take the Frosty Fruit and Bridge squeals. ‘Told you!’

‘We had a bet on which one you’d pick,’ explains Ellie. ‘And Bridge said you would always choose the Frosty Fruit.’

I hate the idea that they’ve been talking about me behind my back, so I toss the Frosty Fruit back onto the table. ‘In that case, I’ll have the Paddle Pop.’

Bridge stares at me. ‘You hate chocolate ice-cream.’

‘Not today.’

‘Not fair. I won that bet,’ she says to Ellie.

As I peel the wrapper down, the smell of the Paddle Pop is gross. Bridge is right. I hate chocolate ice-cream and now I have to eat the whole thing and pretend to enjoy it.

Bridge starts on the Frosty Fruit. ‘Ellie’s going to join our netball team. What do you think?’

I blink.

‘I told her I’m not a netballer,’ says Ellie.

‘Yeah, but you’re tall and fast and we need some height in defence,’ says Bridge. ‘You’ll pick it up.’

I hunt around for the right words, as the ice-cream drips down my hand. ‘But isn’t the team full?’

‘No. We lost Poppy, too. So we need another player. And this way we can all play together!’

I notice that Ellie’s watching me, probably because she wants to see how I feel about it, so I force a smile. I wonder if Bridge just asked Ellie on the way to the shop; if it flashed into her head and she didn’t think to check with me first. I lick the Paddle Pop and the taste is even worse than I remember.

‘Do you want to trade?’ Bridge holds out the Frosty Fruit.

I shake my head, making my throat swallow. ‘No. I love it. It’s delicious!’

The questioning look Bridge gives me tells me that she doesn’t believe a word, but I force myself to keep licking because I’m trying to prove a point.

‘Mum invited you both for dinner,’ says Bridge, biting the end of the icypole and making that ice-crunching sound I hate.

‘Yes, please,’ says Ellie enthusiastically.