‘It looks deep,’ I say, grabbing the roll of paper towel and tearing off sheets to hold against it.

‘Brooke—’

I interrupt her. ‘Just let me handle it, okay?’ I say and she shakes her head and flops back against the couch.

‘My parents are doctors. I can help,’ Tristan says.

‘Your parents are psychologists,’ I reply.

‘I have first-aid training,’ Henry says.

‘That’s more helpful,’ I say, making room for him on the couch.

‘Well, I mean, I did the course online, and they sent me a PDF afterwards. Let me just find it in my emails. I might need a quick refresher,’ Henry says, a lot less sure when he sees the blood.

‘It’s barely a scratch,’ Lauren says, but I shush her and look at Jesse. ‘Can you get the first-aid kit?’

‘We have a first-aid kit?’ he says.

‘Yes, in the kitchen. In the medicine cabinet.’

‘We have a medicine cabinet?’

‘Jesse, please.’

‘I’m sorry, this is all news to me!’ He throws his hands in the air.

‘Harper, can you help him find it?’ I say.

‘I didn’t know we had a first-aid kit either,’ she says, giving me an apologetic look. She and Jesse hurry off together to investigate.

‘Oh my god, oh my god,’ Kendra says, with a mixture of horror and excitement. ‘I feel faint. That’s a lot of blood.’

‘Stop looking at it,’ I tell her. ‘Tristan, can you please get a towel?’

‘Should we call someone?’ Penny says.

‘Who?’ I ask.

‘An ambulance?’ she says.

‘No,’ I say.

‘Nurse on call?’ Penny says. ‘What does your pdf say, Henry?’

‘I’m only on page four of twenty-six,’ he says. ‘It’s really hard to read on my phone.’

‘Calm down, everyone. We don’t need nurse on call, because I’m a nurse, almost,’ Lauren says. ‘I can assess it.’ She peers at her hand. ‘I pronounce it…totally fine! Let’s go out,’ she shouts, standing up.

‘No. Stop. You’re drunk and losing blood and you might need stitches,’ I say, pulling her back down.

I am suddenly very aware that I’m the only sober person in the room.

‘Here’s a towel,’ Tristan says, breathless, hurrying back into the room.

‘It’s wet,’ I say.

‘It was the one hanging on the towel rack.’

‘It’s not clean. I need a clean one. From the cupboard near the sink.’

‘Okay, okay, cupboard,’ he hurries off.

‘We found it,’ Jesse says, appearing with the first-aid kit.

‘Okay, open it,’ I say. ‘Where’s that towel?’ I yell to Tristan.

‘Blue or red?’

‘What?’

‘Blue or red towel?’ he asks.

‘It doesn’t matter!’ I yell at the same time as Harper yells ‘Red! Red!’ The blue ones are hers.

‘Bandages? Antiseptic cream? Tweezers?’ Jesse is holding things up from the first-aid kit one at a time.