I think I’m dreaming at first. My eyes adjust to morning. I don’t remember falling asleep, nor do I remember taking any of the contents of the spilled bottle of pain medicine on my nightstand. I’m groggy enough to suggest I’ve slept for longer than I ought to have. Peyton is standing, arms crossed, at the far end of the room, as far away from me as she could possibly be. She’s not even looking at me. She might not have said it.

‘There’s a bunch of cops outside the diner, Mona. Mainland police too.’

I prop myself up, a prickling line of sweat dripping down the middle of my chest, hair glued to the nape of my neck. Peyton’s bathed in velvety orange, her skin rich and glowing. I love you, I think sleepily. How angry you are, how much you love Ellis and despise me.

‘That’s where you went last night.’ She’s still not looking at me, eyes flitting between the floor, the wall and through me, out of the window. Maybe she’s a mirage. One of her heels bobs up and down at a dizzying pace. ‘Whatever you and Ellis were doing had to do with that.’

‘Yeah. It was. How do you kn–’

‘How do I know it was you? Man, I don’t know, an educated guess.’

‘No – how do you know there’re cops?’

‘Your weird small-hour escapades must be rubbing off on me. I guess I wanted to see the damage.’

I’m fully awake now, my mind ticking along steadily. ‘Did you see anyone else there?’

Now Peyton finally looks at me and scoffs. ‘Are you interrogating me?’

‘No, I’m asking as a friend. Was anyone else there? Did you see Mary Anne?’

‘And I’m more likely to answer to an interrogation,’ she says. ‘You’re out of your mind.’

I get up and dress, unconcerned by Peyton’s eyes on me. I have to leave. Peyton notices my arm. ‘Oh my God. What did you do?’

I’d almost forgotten about it but, yeah, it smarts as I tug a fresh shirt over my head. I fell asleep with my old shirt wrapped round it and bursts of red are peeking through the fabric. ‘Doesn’t matter.’ I pull on some shorts and tie my hair in a ponytail, which takes a moment longer than usual on account of the wound, and I’m ready in maybe thirty seconds flat. Peyton watches me leave. She’s eerily silent as I open the door.

‘Mona,’ Peyton says, and I turn back to face her. ‘I’m going to kill you if anything happens to Ellis because of this.’ Without a hint of irony, hyperbole, teasing. I’ve never heard her voice so dark. She means it. How much you despise me. How much like home it feels.