Monday evening, Thursday afternoon. Jenny Robson

“I’m telling you, Faheema, it was because of your red crayon and that stupid clown’s nose. That’s what made us friends.” “And I’m telling you, Louise. There was no red crayon! No, it was because of my pink lunchbox at break and that horrible Sean Groenewald.” “Red crayon!” “Pink lunchbox! And your hair shining like a gold crown.” “Oh, come on! How could my hair ever look like a gold crown? You’re making that up!” We argued until we both burst out laughing. But there were other arguments going on. Not so, Faheema? Serious arguments that didn’t end with everyone laughing. Arguments that threatened to destroy our friendship forever.