‘Hey, man, really appreciate this,’ I say as we walk through the shopping centre.

It’s a late Saturday afternoon, when there are slightly fewer shoppers about. Zayn Malik’s new song is playing, and a flash mob wearing clown wigs has gathered by the fountain. A middle-aged bloke with a big red nose is barking orders, handing out banners.

Daevon looks at me and smiles. ‘No problem. You been through a lot lately. Plus, Mum’s stuck me on some low-cal diet, but man needs his carbs, right? Gotta boost them muscle gains.’

‘Auntie Candice ain’t making patties no more?’ I ask in horror. His mum’s patties are legendary. One bite, and you’re hooked for life.

‘Worse. She’s making healthy ones with quinoa and adzuki beans and kale. Taste like shit.’

I notice a couple of girls checking Daev out. With his hair tied back and his slick goatee, my boy is looking damn fine. It makes all this dieting business even more messed up. He should embrace the extra pounds.

The merry-go-round with bright flashing lights and loud carnival music is up ahead. We stop, watching cartoonish cars spinning round and round. Most of them are empty. I glance up at the sign. Five pounds a ride. No wonder there are so few takers.

‘Brah, you ain’t thinking of riding, are you?’ Daveon asks with concern.

I chuckle. ‘Nah.’

‘Auntie Foz used to bring us here back in the day. Remember that?’

‘Back when they weren’t trying to fleece you. You seen them prices?’

Daevon glances at the kids on the ride. Their well-dressed parents stand around taking pictures and shouting things like ‘Weeeeee!’ and ‘Don’t go too fast!’

‘Your mum let us ride bare times! Then she’d buy us candyfloss on a stick or them spiral lollies. Oh man, remember those giant lollies? Like something outta Wonka’s factory!’

Daev’s reliving the good times, not realizing that what made them so good was the fact that we never worried about what we looked like or what anybody else thought. We were living our best lives.

‘Say, where is Auntie Foz at, anyway?’ he asks.

I stick my hands in my pockets, kicking my scuffed trainers. ‘Pakistan. My auntie’s badly sick.’

Daevon lets out a low whistle. ‘That sucks.’

We’re quiet for a while, lost in our own thoughts.

‘Hey, they replaced the sweet shop with a health food shop!’ he says, pointing indignantly. ‘Bet you any money it’s a government thing. Stupid prime minister sugar-taxing my life!’

‘You remembered it wrong, fam. The shop’s on the other side of the food court, behind the escalators. Remember all them import sweets? Sour Patch Kids, Mike and Ikes, Tootsie Rolls.’

‘That’s some memory,’ Daevon says, looking impressed. ‘No wonder you got moved up to Ms Mughal’s set. I wish I was smart …’

‘You are, though. Imran and Noah are holding you back, and it pisses me off!’

His eyes widen in apparent surprise at my bluntness. ‘Nah, it’s the system. They want to oppress us. Besides, even if you’re right, it’s too late now anyway.’

I shake my head. ‘Not really. Bet your parents would sort you out a private tutor if you asked. You’d be breezing the exams, fam. End up going some posh uni and wearing a suit.’

But Daevon isn’t listening any more. He’s licking his lips, dimpling. ‘You reckon the American candy store is still here?’

‘Only one way to find out.’

We turn around, and I nearly jump out of my skin when I see Imran. He’s wearing a brown leather jacket and black jeans that are so ripped, he probably popped them in a blender instead of the washing machine. His arm hangs round the shoulders of a tall girl shoehorned into a patterned minidress. Other than the smile, it’s a whole different Kelly. This one has straightened hair, parted in the middle and glittering like it’s been sprayed with crushed rubies. Her large blue eyes are framed by what Shais calls ‘feline flick’ eyeliner. Thick buttery lip gloss clings to her mouth in a suggestive sheen.

I look away, embarrassed. What is she doing? Swapping the persona Jade’s crew created for her to become the girl Imran wants her to be isn’t an upgrade. I’m heartbroken cos she is so much better than this.

‘Bro!’ Daevon gets Imran’s attention just as I’m figuring out a stealthy exit strategy.

We DedManz dap, but my eyes are on Kelly. She smiles watching the kids on the merry-go-round. The smile is all glass. She’s clearly latched on to the kids so she doesn’t have to look at me.

‘What you guys doing here?’ Daev asks.

Imran slides an arm around Kelly’s waist, surprising a squeal out of her as he draws her into a kiss. He grins at us, eyes lingering on mine, while Kelly looks flustered. ‘Treating my woman, innit?’

Kelly is not your woman! I want to scream. She belongs to no one but herself. And right now, she’s making a big mistake, and even though she’s blanking me, I still care. I hate you, Imran.

‘Hey, Kelly …’ I say instead, hoping she’ll at least make eye contact so I can transmit a last-ditch warning. A flash of my eyes would do it. But her face goes stiffer than burned toast, brushing crystallized hair away from her jaw.

‘We’re going to miss the start of the movie.’ She gives Imran a meaningful look.

‘What movie you guys watching?’ Daevon asks.

Imran laughs. ‘Some superhero shit, but gotta please the lady, innit?’

Jealousy blooms in my chest. Superheroes was our thing. How could Kelly betray me like this? Especially with Imran dismissing it as ‘shit’.

Kelly has the decency to blush, but yanks Imran’s arm with enough force to get him moving.

‘See you boys later,’ he calls as they walk off together, his left hand cupping her butt.

I cuss, punching my fists together. Daev places a hand on my shoulder.

‘Easy. She isn’t putting out, anyway. Imran’ll get bored soon enough.’

Hearing that makes me feel a little better. Kelly hasn’t betrayed herself. But I’m still worried cos Imran is going to see her as some sort of a posh-girl challenge. Can anyone defy the evil powers of Imran Akhtar?

‘Sugar is what my boy needs.’ Daevon slings an arm across my shoulders and, singing ‘I Want Candy’, walks me to the American sweet shop.

Sunday afternoon, I’m busy making a revision timetable on my laptop, trying not to get depressed by the amount of hard work and cramming that is looming over me, when my phone rings. It’s a welcome distraction … until I see that it’s Kelly. I pick up anyway.

‘Hey,’ she says.

‘Hey,’ I reply, matching her aloof tone.

A sigh. ‘I don’t want us to be like this.’

‘Dump Imran. Simples.’

‘Why can’t you be happy for me? He’s your friend too.’

‘He’s not my friend. He’s just a guy I hang with cos I’m too scared to walk away. You saw the meme, right? That was Imran dangling me off a bridge till I pissed myself. That’s who you’re dating.’

‘I’m sorry Imran was a bastard to you. There’s really no excuse. But, well, we don’t choose who we love. It just sort of happens.’

I sigh too. ‘You taught me about power imbalances. You said you were gonna make Imran a better man. But the only person I see changing is you.’

‘I’m fifteen years old, trying to figure things out just like everyone else. Sometimes you have to compromise your ideals a bit.’

‘You’re feeding his ego …’

‘It’s not like he isn’t making an effort for me too. He sat through a two-hour movie he hated. If that isn’t love, then what is?’

I’m so done with talking about Imran. ‘Can I tell you some amazing ideas I’ve had for Big Bad Waf?’

‘Sure.’

Just like that, I change the subject, telling her about some cool new plot twists, getting myself more and more worked up before realizing this isn’t a conversation. It’s a monologue.

‘Kelz?’

Silence.

‘Earth-One to Kelly?’

‘Yes, I’m here! Sorry.’

‘Were you listening?’ I ask, my cheeks burning.

‘Absolutely.’

‘So, you’re coming over tomorrow to help?’

‘Oh, um, sorry, Ilz. I’m sorta busy tomorrow.’

‘But Kablamo! Kon IV is only weeks away!’

‘You’ll manage. I’d only get in the way …’

‘You could never get in the way. Not ever.’

‘That’s really sweet and all, but …’

She lets out a long sigh, and I brace myself for impact. You can change the subject, but you can’t change someone’s mind.

‘I can’t live in stories any more, Ilz.’

‘Oh,’ I say. Knew it was coming, could feel it suffocating me like Living Shadows, but I wasn’t prepared for how much it was going to hurt.

‘All my life, Mum has made decisions for me: trips to museums and galleries, dissertations and piano lessons, Latin classes and chamber choir. I thought I loved making stories as much as you do. See, your love is pure. Mine was only ever about escapism.’ She swallows, clearing her throat. ‘Imran is exciting, Ilyas! He’s more into me than any guy I’ve ever dated. I’m usually just a way for boys to get closer to Jade or Mels.’

I open my mouth to beg her not to be so dumb. Imran is more evil than Thanos and Darkseid combined. What she sees as attention is just him wearing her down. But if I speak up, Kelly is going to think I only care about my comic, and I’ll lose her. Maybe Mrs M was right, and I am a parasite …

‘Then be with him,’ I say, emotionally drained, finally defeated. ‘I mean, if it’s what you want.’

‘Oh my God! I knew you’d get it eventually. You’re the best.’

If I’m the best, then why do I feel like the absolute worst?