‘Do you remember when I bought three cichlids for the fish tank and one disappeared on the first night?’

‘Yep, and you suspected the other two fish had eaten it,’ I add.

‘I think three can be a difficult number. You have to work at not feeling left out,’ she says, making me think of Ellie and Bridge. ‘But then I’m sure Matt felt left out when his parents had another baby and there are four of them. So maybe that feeling just comes with being human.’

‘How should I be with Mum?’

‘You’ll work it out, Clem. You’ve connected with Matt. I’m sure you can sort things out with your mum, too.’

I think of Mum and all the things she knows about me that nobody else does. The way she’s always been able to guess when something’s wrong, and how before she got sick, she was always there. I fidget, feeling my skin tighten on my legs.

‘You going to help weed?’

‘No. Sorry. I’ve got homework to do,’ I tell her.

Maggie squeezes my knee, leaving a smudge of dirt on my skin.

Most days, at lunch, I hide out in the library. In this cocoon of books, there are beanbags and couches and the floor is covered in fluffy red carpet. If I sit near other kids, then I can pretend that I’m hanging out with them. Sometimes Matt meets me here, but he never stays long. He’d prefer to be outside, under a tree, than in the library.

I haven’t seen Bridge and Ellie since last week. Actually, that’s not true. I’ve spied them in the distance: running up some stairs, queuing for the canteen, and sitting on the other side of the theatre in assembly. But I haven’t spoken to them or texted them for five-and-a-half days. After missing net-ball training I thought they might track me down at school to find out what was going on, but they haven’t. They’ve obviously forgotten about me. They’ve probably got a big group of new friends who are easier and nicer than me. I’ve been replaced.

Today I’m reading at power speed to try to finish the last thirty pages of a ghost story I’ve been working my way through. I don’t have a library card to borrow books yet, so I bury this one in the reference section, between history and geography, and hope that nobody finds it.

I turn the page just as someone sits down, too close, on the couch. I shift over and continue reading. Just as I go to turn another page, my book is plucked from my hands.

‘What …’ I start to say, and then I look up and see Bridge staring at me. I begin to smile, but it gets stuck halfway.

‘Your mum’s back,’ Bridge says too loud for the quiet of the library.

I swallow.