"Just keep an eye on all possible locations for the next week or so. Let me know if another reading comes up. I doubt it will." She tried to ignore the instinctive shiver rippling down her spine. "Well, let's hope it doesn't."

Then she turned on her heels and walked out of the lab.

It didn't take long for the tears to come. As I stormed home I could feel them streaming down my cheeks. I couldn't tell if they were tears of rage or humiliation. What had I been thinking? Normal people don't have emotional outbursts like that. It wasn't like I lived in a movie where the hero makes evil people recognize their wrongs just by delivering a dramatic monologue. This was real life. Reality. Mean people never worry about their misgivings and generally flourish. Whereas people like me keep their mouths shut, take the abuse, and waste their lives waiting for karma to arrive before sorrowfully realizing that it doesn't exist.

What a night. I started to shiver, ignoring the looks I was getting from passers-by. I guess a sobbing teenager running alone in the dark isn't something you see often. My phone was beeping manically in my bag but I chose to ignore it. I would deal with tonight's fallout tomorrow, when I had the strength. I couldn't stop thinking about the look on Ruth's face when I mentioned her chlamydia. And I had promised her so reverently I would never tell anyone. Oops.

As I got closer to home the streets got quieter and darker. The houses got further apart until, eventually, they all had their own moat of perfectly manicured lawn. My tears were beginning to subside, and the crying had calmed me.

You can't change the past, I told myself. Another little lesson from therapy. So there's no point in obsessing over it.

I tried not to think about Noah, but it proved difficult. I'd not reacted like that to a boy before. I wrapped my arms tightly around myself, and my mind flashed to the first moment our eyes met. Maybe I was delusional but I was sure his eyes had found mine through the crowd. Like he was searching for me. Okay, definitely delusional, but it had felt that way. My heart began thumping like a nightclub bass beat just from thinking about it. So I did have a crush then. Well, that wouldn't do. Especially as it had taken less than five minutes for him to reveal himself as a complete asshole. Imagine laughing at someone's mental illness. Especially as Lizzie said he'd suffered from depression himself.

I turned the familiar corner into my road and dug in my bag for my keys. As I walked up the drive, I forbade myself to think about any of it until I was a tad more sober, less sweaty, and less emotional.

Dad was waiting for me in his usual spot. I dumped my bag on the living room coffee table, and he peered at me through his half-moon spectacles, lowering his newspaper.

"Good night, hon?"

"It was..." I paused for a moment. "...Okay."

He coughed and folded his newspaper up neatly. Then he tapped the arm of his chair in invitation. "That bad, eh? Come on, tell me all about it."

I kicked off my smelly ballet pumps and curled up next to him.

"Well," I began, "I had another panic attack. That was pretty embarrassing."

He raised his eyebrows but didn't say anything. If my news upset him, he kept it to himself.

"And then Ruth told this guy I had passed out because I thought he was so good-looking. I think she was trying to impress him by making fun of me."

Dad's face didn't register surprise. "Sounds like Ruth."

"Yep, that's her alright."

He picked up the paper again. I squinted to see his page.

"So what's going on in the world?" I asked, more out of habit than real curiosity.

Dad shook out the pages. "Oh, you know, the world is ending, etc., etc."

I rested my head on his shoulder. "Just another normal day then? Complete misery?"

He smiled. "Indeed."

I watched him read, snuggling into the maroon woolly jumper Mum kept trying to put in the charity shop but he kept buying back because apparently Paul McCartney once wore the exact same one. Is it weird to say I loved the way my dad smelled? It was so comforting. So well known.

The thing is, I was a complete Daddy's girl. His little princess. I was a "happy accident", as my mum so adoringly put it. They weren't expecting to have another child after my sister Louise, especially as late afterwards. And when she got married and moved away, I think it freaked them. My dad especially. So I was lavished with a lot of attention. And sometimes I wished I wasn't, because I couldn't imagine meeting anyone else who treated me as well as my dad did.

I started to get sleepy, but stayed nestled.

"I yelled at Ruth," I said. "I told her off for using my panic attacks as a pulling mechanism." I paused, wondering whether to continue. "And then I told the bloke she was trying to pull she had an STI."

Dad was definitely surprised by that. He put his paper down again and stared at me.

"It's such a mess," I continued. "I don't know what came over me. I was just so angry. She's never going to talk to me again. And now this random bloke knows all about me. I'm so humiliated."

I came to a stop and waited for his response, his wisdom to make it all better.

"So..." he said. "Just another normal day then? Complete misery?"

And despite myself, I laughed.

Waking up on a Sunday morning is supposed to be a pleasant experience. And for about the first five minutes, it was. The light streamed through my curtains and I happily savoured being warm and snugly in bed. Then, of course, I remembered what had happened. I jerked up and dived for my phone, which I had left buried in a discarded pile of last night's clothes. Flicking open my screen, I saw I had nine missed calls: four from Lizzie, four from Amanda, and one from an unknown number.

I shouldn't have run off like that. At the time it had seemed dramatic and important, but now I saw it was selfish and silly. They must've been worried. Angry as hell but still worried. I ran my fingers through my hair and sensed it was going to be a day for apologies.

The doorbell rang and I heard my mum answer it. Probably one of the neighbours asking to borrow some milk it was that type of road. We had a neighbourhood watch scheme and street parties.

I was surprised when Lizzie stormed through my bedroom door, her face livid.

"So," she said, "you're alive then."

I picked up a hoodie from my floor and quickly pulled it over my head. "Lizzie, I'm so s-"

She interrupted me. "If you're going to apologize for your hysterical outburst last night, then don't."

My stomach relaxed in relief.

"It was the funniest thing I've ever seen in my life. The look on Ruth's face. And Noah's. Priceless. Okay, the whole thing was a tad overdramatic, but you bloody well had a right to do it. Although I think you're absolutely mental. Taking on Ruth? You're braver than I gave you credit for."

"So Ruth is...?"

"Absolutely furious, of course. Do you blame her?"

"No," I squeaked. "And you?"

"Let's just say you're not my favourite person this morning. Why the hell did you run off like that? And not even bother answering your phone? You could've been hit round the head with a hammer for all we knew."

"I'm sorry, Lizzie."

She smiled. "Yeah well, by the time it got to midnight and we hadn't had a frantic call from your neurotic mother, I assumed you'd made it home unscathed."

I patted the empty space next to me and she sat down.

Good. I was forgiven.

"So what happened after my dramatic exit then?"

Lizzie shuffled herself back on the bed so she was leaning against the wall. "Oh, it was brilliant. Amanda and I were trying to contain our hysterics while Ruth went schizo. Of course we had to nod furiously when she told us what a conniving bitch you were."

"Great, thanks."

"Ha ha. She'll get over it...eventually."

"Is this whole thing going to make things awkward...you know...between the group?"

She waved her hand vaguely. "Nah, it'll be fine. I figure you're even stevens. What she did was pretty low and you trumped her. I think even she realizes she took her seduction technique a bit far this time. Poor Noah."

My body spasmed at the sound of his name but luckily Lizzie didn't notice. As casually as I could, I said, "So what did he make of it all?"

She paused.

"Bless him," she said. "He looked like he'd been smacked in the face. Don't think the poor bloke is used to being spoken to like that. God, he was fit, wasn't he? Didn't I tell you?"

I nodded, frustrated we had gone off track. "Yes, very gorgeous. Well done, Mystic Meg. So...what did he do next?"

"Ooooo," she cooed. "You're keen, aren't you?"

I flushed red. "Shut up."

"Ha ha. Poppy's got an uber-crush," she said, elbowing me in the side.

"Yeah yeah, very funny. Okay, so there's a man in Middletown whose face doesn't resemble hell. It doesn't mean I'm in love with the guy."

I wasn't, was I? I couldn't be. Shut up, thoughts.

"I believe you, thousands wouldn't. He's a nice guy actually..."

My mouth fell open. "Lizzie! How can you say that? After he laughed at me and my panic attacks?"

"No he didn't. He just thought you'd fainted. He was mortified when he found out the real reason, kept asking me for your number so he could apologize."

I swear my heart stopped beating. "He did?"

"Yeah. He kept insisting until I gave it to him."

The unknown number on my phone. It must have been him. I blushed again but crossed my arms stubbornly.

"Yeah, well, why would I want to talk to him?" I said in a sulky voice.

"Jesus bloody Christ, Poppy. I swear you're crazy. God, if he was calling me I would lick the phone." She leaned back against the wall and fanned her face with her hands.

"And you're calling me crazy? You're the one who wants to dribble on a piece of technology."

"Yeah well, I think he wants to make it up to you."

The words triggered a warm gooey feeling. I quickly summoned the rational side of my brain. He wasn't interested in me, just wanted to make peace. I supposed I could let him. But what if he was interested? I entertained the thought for a second it made me quiver just thinking about it. His hand on the small of my back, those dark eyes locked on mine, the touch of his lips brushing mine...

Lizzie interrupted my fantasizing by standing up.

"Where you going?"

"I'm off to Middletown Lakes," she said, swinging her bag over her shoulder.

"Umm...why?"

"I heard the council has drained one of the ponds too shallow by accident and some fish died. Mum saw it this morning when she was walking the dog. I thought I would go down and get some pictures and quotes and then try and flog the story to the Middletown Observer."

Her ambition never failed to stun me. "Lizzie. It's a Sunday. The day of rest."

"The news never rests, my dear," she said, acting like my mother and patting me on the head like a child. "You know that."

"You're mad," I yelled as she strode out of the room.

"You smell," her voice called back.

As I heard her footsteps descend the stairs, I leaned back into my pillows. I closed my eyes and Noah's face appeared instantly. This had to stop. I was turning into an obsessive I was beginning to scare myself.

"One more thing."

I jumped and my eyes snapped open. Lizzie was peering round the door.

"Ring Ruth and make it up, will you?" she said. Then she disappeared before I even had the chance to protest.

I eventually got up, showered and pottered about the usual mild hungover Sunday activities. Every so often I examined my phone, but the blank screen stared back at me. I couldn't decide whether I wanted Ruth to call. Or Noah. Or both. Or neither.

After nearly a day of driving myself insane I decided to get out and pulled on my trainers.

As I stepped outside I knew I'd made the right decision. Much as I despaired of where I lived, I couldn't deny its luscious lawns and green-belt land were beautiful. My phone felt lighter in my pocket as I walked to the common. I passed several middle-aged neighbours, squatting in their front gardens, bums out, eagerly tending to their immaculate flower beds or topiary hedges. Some children were playing on their bikes in the road, which was always clear of traffic at the weekend. Massive cars sat hibernating in everyone's double driveways, resting before the perilous school run on Monday morning.

I turned a sharp left into a slightly overgrown alleyway, the trees on either side forming a green tunnel. I'd walked this path so many times I knew exactly when to raise my legs to avoid stinging nettles. The path got steeper and I pulled off my jumper and tied it round my waist hoping like mad that no one would see my fashion crime. Eventually I emerged into startling daylight. I was here. My favourite place.

To anyone but me, it wasn't anything special. Just a clearing where dog walkers exercised their pedigrees and a meeting place for fourteen-year-olds to drink a bottle of cider together and dry hump. But I loved it here for several reasons. Firstly, the view. The clearing overlooked the whole town, making everything look tiny, like Toytown. Any silly problem my brain manufactured would relinquish its hold the moment I sat down on the lone bench and looked out. I could see the local airport's landing strip in the distance, miniature planes stuffed full of people landing and taking off.

I also loved how undiscovered this place was. Middletown was full of parks and green spaces, tarted up with lottery money we didn't need or deserve. At the slightest hint of sunshine, a stampede of mothers with prams, dads with footballs, and teenagers with disposable barbecues would descend onto those spaces. But up here it was usually mostly empty. I felt I had ownership of it. I only had to share with the odd rambler or dog walker. It was my own little space where I could sit and think, away from my turbo-charged mother and my cramped bedroom, and try and make sense of whatever problem was distracting me at that moment in time.

Today it was two problems: Ruth and Noah. Up here I felt I had the strength to evaluate last night's events. Solving the Ruth crisis was easy enough. I would have to beg for forgiveness and suck up for a couple of days. I was certain I would never receive an apology in return, but that was the way the world worked, wasn't it? My friendship with Ruth was largely successful as long as I suspended hope of her ever growing a conscience.

I sighed, flipped my mobile phone open and dialled her number.

She let it ring before answering. "I'm not talking to you."

I stared out over the view below me. I could handle this...up here anyway. "Come on, Ruth, I'm sorry."

"And so you bloody well should be. I've never been so humiliated in my life."

She'd never been so humiliated? SHE'D never been so humiliated? My cheeks burned with fury but I kept my voice even. Getting angry wasn't going to resolve this. "I said I'm sorry and I mean it."