The day of the farty beside the cake came at last. Elo woke up, sprang out of bed and searched for a clock. It was March, but the wind blustered and howled outside. Why was it that whenever Del organised something it was cold?
A few streets away, Spook had woken in a state of high excitement. She grabbed a box of lakes - her parents had dropped them off recently - and waded across the floor, which was knee-deep in clothes. What would she wear? She had no farty clothes: she had outgrown them years ago.
Never mind, Del wouldn't care.
A few streets away from this, Del was worried. What if there wasn't enough food? What if there was too much food? What if the others didn't come - because of the cold? What if people she hadn't invited came? What if Spook fell in the cake? She'd done that before, after all.
Elo decided to see if Del was okay. The girl was a worrier - she had lived with her pessimistic parents for too long, and her own optimism was squished.
"Delorfinde?" she said, picking up the foam. Del picked up.
"Oh, hi," she said. Yep, she sounded worried.
"Stop worrying." Elo didn't meander around, talking about unimportant things. "Be happy. It's gonna be okay."