‘After lunch.’ Normally the thought of Bridge coming over would make me very happy, but today it’s not enough to improve my dark mood.

‘Are you okay on your own until then?’

I resist rolling my eyes. ‘Yeah, Dad.’

‘I’ve left you a croissant in the oven,’ he says as he stands and starts towards the door. Just when it looks as if I’ve dodged the ‘Mum’ chat, he pauses, turns, and his face softens. I know what’s coming. I try to breathe, but my chest strains.

‘Honey, I know it’s going to be weird having her home, so you can talk to me if you need to. Anytime.’

‘Okay.’

‘One other thing. I decided against having the spag bol tonight. I’m going to do roast chicken instead. Is that alright?’

I want to shout, No! That’s not alright! Roast chicken is mine. It’s the special meal Dad cooks for me on my birthday. But of course I can’t say this to him. And he should just know anyway.

Instead, I nod. ‘Yeah. I reckon it sounds perfect.’

Dad taps his knuckles on the door twice as he leaves, like everything’s been decided. I am happy he’s happy. I just wish I were too.

As I hear the front door click shut, I lie back in my bed. My room might be nearly as small as I am, but it’s mine. After Mum comes home, I’ll probably hide out here a lot. It’s not like I don’t want her to come home; it’s just I’m not sure how I feel about everything, about her. And I’d rather work it out before we have to coexist in this tiny flat. I haven’t lived with Mum for eleven months now, and I’m used to Dad and me sharing a space and navigating our way through life together. Mum will complicate everything again.

I can smell buttery croissant pastry and decide it isn’t worth the risk of burning it just so I can lie in bed for longer. As I walk into the kitchen, I see the money Dad’s left. There’s a note telling me to buy stationery, not earrings, with a big smiley face at the end, suggesting he doesn’t actually mind what I spend the money on. I pull the croissant out of the oven and stick my fingers into the hot middle, trying to pull it apart without wrecking it completely. It’s the perfect temperature to make the butter melt and the jam go all sticky.

Later today Bridge and I are going shopping together to buy everything on our year-seven school list. Things like pens, pencils, rulers and notebooks. I know I should be excited about starting high school, particularly because I’m back with Bridge again, but every time I look at the list I shudder.