I really don’t know what El’s problem with Tracey is, unless it’s just petty jealousy. El has always been a bit possessive of me. Frankly, Tracey is far nicer than her – and pretty too. Obviously El is beautiful, which is annoying in itself, with her auburn hair and big blue eyes, but Tracey is pretty and nice. That’s the difference. El is just a bitch. But we’ve known each other for so long that I’ve never thought about not being friends with El. Steph and Emily are just background noise, but El and I have been friends since we were little.

And yet I don’t actually know if I even like her anymore. She is so obsessed with how she looks and boys, whereas I’m not that interested, but I have to pretend to be. I can’t remember the last time El and I had a conversation that wasn’t about boys and clothes.

Spending time with Tracey is easy. It feels normal. I can enjoy myself without having to put other people down, laugh at jokes that aren’t at someone else’s expense, eat chips out of the wrapper with salt and vinegar rather than worry about how many calories there are in a banana.

Being friends with El is hard work. You are constantly on your guard in case she has changed her mind about what is the latest thing to wear or you speak to the wrong person, someone she has decided she will pick on this week. She can cut you down with one sharp comment and leave you withering on the floor. I’ve seen her do it so often to Steph and Emily, but they keep coming back for more as they hang their self-worth on El’s approval. She does it less to me, but there is always that element of danger, knowing she could turn on me at any moment. It’s like hanging out with a hand grenade with a loose pin.