Marlon meets my eye in the mirror. We stay silent for a moment, and then he takes my hand, so I turn to face him.

‘You okay?’ he says. ‘D’you wanna talk about it?’

I know I probably should. I should explain about the argument with my adoption mum and all the arguments we’ve had over the past few weeks. I should explain how difficult it is to keep trying to do better when there are so many people who just refuse to understand how hard it is. I should explain that I barely slept last night because I was so anxious about dinner and, even though I actually did quite well, I still felt like everyone was watching me; waiting for me to fuck up and ruin the day.

‘I just…wanted to have a nice day.’ I say, and I feel myself welling up again.

‘Okay,’ he says, slinging an arm round my shoulders and walking me out of his room, then kissing me on the top of the head. ‘Let’s do that, then.’

*

‘Oh, all right, Ben?’

Half an hour later, Marlon’s gone to the loo and I’m suddenly facing Justin – Marlon’s older half brother by four years – while I’m drinking a glass of water in the kitchen.

Justin’s not really like Marlon in any way except for their identical dark blond hair. Justin’s a lot shorter – shorter than me, actually – and completely up himself. He went to a posh university and hangs out with lots of private-school guys who do rowing and wear quilted jackets. He has been known to boast about cheating on his girlfriends.

Marlon and Justin don’t really like each other and I don’t think Justin likes me very much, either. When Marlon came out to him as homosexual, Justin laughed.

‘Hey,’ I say.

He grabs a beer bottle from the fridge. It’s definitely not his first.

‘So you all cured and stuff, man?’ he says.

‘er…’ This is possibly the most ridiculous question I’ve received all day. ‘Well, that’s not really how it works, but I’m doing better, thanks.’

‘Oh, ace.’ He takes a swig of beer and stares at me like I’m a zoo animal.

‘How are you? I ask, purely out of there not being anything else to say.

‘Oh, I’m really good, thanks, yeah,’ he says. ‘Uni worked, rowing, you know. Worked hard, played hard, mate.’

‘Cool.’

‘So what’s happening with you now? You allowed back at school yet?’

Allowed. Everything about him irritates me.

‘I’m going back next term for teaching classes again,’ I say.