"I look awful in this," Inez complains. "Cerys, Eve, how could you? We're supposed to be friends!"

She's staring at the photo Cerys and I took at five thirty-seven. Inez and Edie are both asleep in the background and neither of them look her best, like at all. Inez is mid-snore and Edie is curled up into a ball with a little bit of drool escaping her mouth.

"It's not like we post these on Instagram," Cerys replies. "And you should've stayed up then."

"Proceed wisely knowing that I am the one feeding you on this fine morning," Inez says.

She's making us omelette toast. I've been cutting the sliced bread into halves, triangles because I like the way they look. Inez has whipped up some omelette mix and is carefully dipping each slice into the bowl before chucking it onto the pan.

"So what kind of omelette are you making?" Edie asks. "And will it go with Nesquik?" She holds up her tub of strawberry milkshake mix.

I snort. "As if that'll stop you."

"It's barely an omelette really," Inez adds. "It's eggs, obviously, with coriander, onions, chilli powder, salt and tomatoes."

"And it's the best omelette ever," Cerys says.

"You've never had it!"

"I remember who's feeding me on this fine morning." Cerys flashes her a smile. "So where are your parents?"

"Camping." Inez pulls a face. "In Yorkshire of all the places for my dad's best mate's fiftieth."

I always forget how much older Inez's parents are than mine. They have more than a decade on Dave and Mum easily.

"For my fiftieth, we are not going camping in bloody Yorkshire," Cerys declares.

"Bold of you to assume you'll last till fifty," Edie says. "And we'll go camping in Wales. Obviously."

Cerys ignores her. "On my fiftieth, we're going to Atlantic City and hitting the casinos and gambling our lives away."

"Yes because that's what I'll be looking forward to for the next thirty... thirty-four years," I tell her.

The fact that Cerys is so firm about the fact that we'll all still be close enough at fifty is admirable. The thought of not seeing the same one hundred and seventy-nine people that I've been seeing everyday for the last five years is more than a little scary. True, I'll see a fair few of them at sixth form, but a load are going to the college or different sixth forms. And as much as we repeat the lie of of course we'll stay in touch, we'll have forgotten half their names by December.

"Clear your calendars for 2056, bitches."

"Eat your toast," Inez chides, sliding a slice onto each of our plates.

It's good, really good. Hot though so I burn my tongue when I first take a bite and let out a yelp which makes everyone else laugh. We eat our omelette toast and Edie drinks her strawberry milk with too much powder.

"I want it to be bloody pink!" she explains as Inez tells her off. "Like the regular serving size makes it this gross almost pink colour, but not pink. And I need pink!"

"I need to go." The words sound regretful as they come out of my mouth. "I'm sorry, there's just stuff I need to do."

There's a lot of complaining because we didn't get to Mean Girls 2 last night and I've only had two triangles of omelette toast. But somehow, I manage to convince them that it'll be alright if I leave early. I collect my things, hug them all goodbye and step out onto Inez's quiet street. I've avoided checking my phone for a while now, so that's the first thing I do.

forget what i said yesterday please i was just upset x

talked to my mom and everything's ok now x

sorry if i worried you x

I frown.

are you sure you're ok? x

i'm sure thanks x

That's one x too many.