But there was no need. We were already hurtling down the stairs like a stampede of delirious elephants.

And so, it had become just the two of us. Well, more like the one point five of us, as, weirdly, after coming off my medication abruptly without telling anyone about it, I wasn’t doing very well. The Monday after the party, our little social orbit of school had been a festering mess of gossip. People were unsure of what part of the piss-up to focus on. They didn’t know whether to spread Abi breaking the table, and the quiet, inevitable fat-shaming, or the three-act structure of Jessica’s downfall. The tequila worm, the getting with Matt, and the giant friendship spat that had followed. The boys remained oblivious and unimpeachable, as always.

“I’m really sorry about blanking you at school today,” Amy whispered down the phone. “It’s just, Kim is still so upset.”

“I’m quite upset too. I’ve not done anything wrong.”

“You didn’t need to take Jessica’s side.”

“I didn’t. I just said, we shouldn’t argue over boys. It’s so dumb.”

“I just...don’t trust her, Fern. I didn’t want to say this before, but she’s always made me feel uneasy. And look at what she did. First chance she got.”

I sighed. “I think she made a mistake, yeah. But she said sorry.”

“Kim and I just aren’t comfortable hanging out with her. We’ve talked, and we’re happy to still hang out with you separately. But not if she’s there.” She used this weird, grown-up voice and I knew she was secretly congratulating herself for acting “maturely.”

“Sorry, Fern. We’re happy to see you. Just not her.”