‘You’re acting so weird. What is your problem?’

‘You! You’re my problem! You showed up here with no notice. You’ve hijacked my whole night. You’ve ruined everything!’

‘Ruined what exactly?’

‘Everything!’

‘Fine, I’ll just drive home right now if that’s how you feel.’

‘Good! Go!’ I yell.

‘I will!’

We pause, breathing hard, glaring. I am acutely aware of everyone watching us with interest.

‘Don’t go,’ I say, suddenly worried she’ll drink and drive.

‘Obviously I’m not driving home right now.’ She rolls her eyes, and then turns back to the song list, shrugging off the fight with ease.

That’s it, that tips me over the edge.

‘You know what? I’m going home!’ I shout. I turn to the room at large. ‘And Tristan, I’m going on my own because, surprise, Jesse and I aren’t really together! We lied about it so I would look less pathetic in front of you, and yes, now, ironically, I look more pathetic than ever! So you win. I hope you’re happy. I hope everyone is happy. Jesse, you’re free. Lauren, you’re free too. You can hook up with Jesse tonight, no worries. Do it now! Right here on stage!’

I have lost control. Me, the queen of control, is now yelling wildly at people. I have stepped into total-meltdown territory. I’m ready to be cast on a reality TV show. Tristan and Kendra are staring at me, mouths agape. Jesse is still on the floor and he’s wincing, either at what I said or because he’s hurt himself, or maybe both. Penny and Harper exchange a she’s-lost-it look. Henry looks incredibly anxious at the whole situation. Lauren lets out a laugh.

I turn and storm out. My outburst might be mortifying, but I’m hoping my exit looks good. I don’t even look back. If it was set to music in a TV show, put into slow-mo, I’m confident I would look great but in real life, it’s hard to tell what the effect is.

But by the time I have stepped onto the street, I’ve lost all my anger and I am deeply embarrassed and I need to escape. I am not a maker of scenes. I hate making scenes. My role is to smooth things over when someone else makes a scene. The streets are busy, filled with drunk people and happy people, the worst combination for a recently humiliated sober person. I want to put my hands over my face and sob. I want to scream. God. Why do I feel so unhinged. It’s like I’m thirteen again.