‘I never made fun of people,’ he says, looking slightly outraged.

‘You sat with people who did, and that’s the same.’

‘Really? When?’ He seems honestly confused.

‘Here’s an example. Two years ago. It was winter, and we had a casual-clothes day at school. I’d saved up and bought a new jacket, and it was brightly patterned, not the black puffer I usually wore. Your friend Nathan yelled out “Nice jacket!” in his most obnoxious voice in front of everyone when I got on the bus.’

‘Nathan is not my friend. We just sat sort of near each other. And I don’t remember that.’

‘Well, I do. And it made me feel like shit.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘You should be.’

‘I didn’t say it!’

‘You didn’t stop it,’ I say. I want to add, and you caused it. Nathan was there, in the room, standing behind Gretel, when Jesse said Do I like Brooke? No. No. Fuck, no. Nathan is a douchebag and, frankly, a loser, and he probably would have yelled ‘Nice jacket!’ at anyone wearing anything that caught his eye. I can accept the logic of this, but my brain still thinks it all started that night at Gretel’s, that Jesse gave him permission in some twisted way.

‘You’re right. Nathan was a dick, but I don’t think I ever told him that.’

‘Well it’s never too late.’

‘Should I call him right now?’ Jesse holds up his phone.

‘Yes,’ I say.

‘I don’t actually have his number,’ Jesse says.

‘Send him a DM.’ I smile and blink innocently at him.

‘Feels a bit out of the blue. I’ve never messaged him in my life,’ Jesse says. I knew he’d try to weasel out of it.

‘It would be really cathartic for me,’ I say. Jesse gives a small snort, then squares his shoulders a little.

‘Okay. What should I say?’ he says.

‘You made fun of Brooke’s jacket on the bus two years ago and you were wrong. It was a great jacket and she looked amazing in it.’

He opens a message and types it up, exactly as I said. Two formal little sentences sitting there, and he even puts a full stop at the end.

‘Should I send?’ he says, raising his eyebrows.

I start laughing. ‘Yes! Send.’

He does, which makes me laugh more. We watch and wait for a response.

‘He’s probably asleep,’ Jesse says. ‘Oh wait. A reply!’

He holds it up. The message says ‘wtf’ and nothing else.

Now we’re both laughing.

‘What now?’ Jesse says.

‘I don’t know. I’m panicking,’ I say.

‘I mean, it’s fairly self-explanatory. Does he really need more information?’