At lunchtime I check my phone because it makes me look busy. There’s another text from Callie about meeting up. I hover my fingers over the screen, wondering which excuse to roll out this time, as my phone buzzes in another text. I almost say his name out loud in disbelief. I don’t know if I’m supposed to feel cross, stalked or something else. Mum has picked a table right in front of the specials board in Joe’s Café. I order pumpkin soup with pecan and honey bread then open the text, turning away from Mum. I don’t need to worry, she’s knee deep in conversation with Nikhil about this year’s big charity concert.

How r u? I’m grand thanks for asking. Wait, you didn’t ask. Rude!

Is that it? Why bother sending such a tragic text? I put the phone down on the table and sip my Diet Coke. I eavesdrop on four different conversations but can’t settle on any of them. I take my glasses off and wipe underneath my eyes, checking my finger for mascara. My soup’s arrived but it’s too hot to eat. I pick up the phone and I text back.

Bet your name isn’t even Riley Santiago. I’ve tried to find you. You don’t exist. Or you’ve given me a fake name.

I press send before I can stop myself and turn my phone over. Mum finishes her conversation with Nikhil and turns to me.

‘How is it going?’ She looks anxious. ‘You look tired. You’re not worrying about your exam results, are you?’ Before I can think of an answer she carries on. ‘I know it must feel like you’ve got so much to think about at the moment, but just try to enjoy the summer?’

I nod and smile and pretend that I can just switch off. What if I fail all my GCSEs? Or don’t pass enough to get into Shrewsbury College? If I can’t do drama, what’ll I study? What if I fail A levels too, and can’t get on a good university course, and can’t get a decent job to pay off all the student loans I’m going to have to take out? Will I still be living with Mum when I’m thirty because I can’t afford a mortgage?

As if she senses this swirl terrorising my head, she puts her hot hand on my cheek. She smells of coconut and something else, something chemical. She’s poised to offer more advice when Pryia taps her on the arm to ask about a hospital in Oxford.

I look around the room. Everyone is talking to someone, reading or doing something on a phone. I turn my phone over.

I am wounded. Mortally wounded that you’d think I’d make up a fake name. I’ve no time for social media shite like Shitchat, Instagrime, FakeBook or Twatter so there’s no point in trying to stalk me.

I’m not the stalker here!

Talking of fake names I’ve decided that your name isn’t really Hope. It’s a joke isn’t it?

So you did hear me then? If you think my name’s a joke let’s not even start on my surname.

Ah here, you have to tell me now!

Nope. Not a chance.

Alright then, what would you change your name to if you could?

A name that doesn’t have another meaning like mine does. What about you?

If it ain’t broke don’t fix it sweetheart. Seriously now, I’ve already got a deadly name.

I’d like to change my age too. I’d love to fast forward and not be sixteen.

Ah, shite. Are you only 16? You look at least 18.

Of course I look older, that’s the whole point isn’t it.

Sounds sexy, tell me more Mature Martha.

I wouldn’t pick Martha.

What’s wrong with Martha? I used to know a grand girl called Martha…

Ugh! Way too early in the morning to hear about you and your back catalogue.

Calm down Cassie. And I don’t exactly keep a catalogue ;)

Cassie’s nice, that might work.

And where would you go, what would you do as this Cassie one?

I dunno. Maybe go somewhere like Africa and help build a school or do something that might actually make a real difference.

One life live it! Sorry, me Da has Land Rover slogans all over the place.

But I don’t have the money to take a gap year and travel.

Get a job. That’s my grand plan. Earn some euros and get out of here.

I’ve already got a job.

Then stop your whingeing Wendy and start saving.

I wouldn’t pick Wendy, she does herself no favours massaging Peter Pan’s tender little ego.

Er… maybe we didn’t watch the same Disney cartoon? I would have definitely remembered Wendy giving Peter a massage. For the record I prefer your version.

Disappointing, Dublin, deeply disappointing. So, moving on, are you off to Thailand or Australia, Mr Cliché?

Lucky guess Lorna, I’m going to both! Come with me it’ll be a gas.

I don’t know what to text back, so I wait for him to say more but that’s it, he’s gone, and I’m left wondering if he means it.