“You’re in that show,” the girl says, and I nod and give Jamie a look, because I have no idea who I’m talking to.

“This is Erin and Henry.”

“We’re twins,” Henry says.

“Our double delight,” Jamie’s mom says.

His dad rolls his eyes and mumbles, “More like our double despair.”

They look about nine, and I wonder why Jamie hasn’t mentioned them before. But we haven’t really talked about anything except me since we met.

All through the meal, Jamie’s dad talks about the show, and his mom keeps trying to change the subject.

“I knew your mother,” his dad says, which catches me by surprise. The way Jamie looks, this is news to him too. “I’m sorry about what happened.”

“Thank you,” I say, feeling uneasy.

I expect him to keep going, to try to ease the awkwardness by making it even more awkward, but he doesn’t say another word.

Eventually, I ask, “How did you know her?”

He sighs and says, “I used to go in the store where she worked. She was very friendly.”

When Jamie’s mom mentions dessert, I say, “I’d better go. But thank you. It was delicious.”

Outside, I remind Jamie about Friday, then say, “Did you know your dad knew my mom?”

“No idea.”

“Have you always lived in Doveton?”

“Yep. We’ve been neighbors all along.”

If he knows what I’m getting at, he doesn’t let on. He’s hopping from one foot to the other, and I suddenly feel nervous for a completely different reason.

Ignoring it, I say, “Do your parents watch the show?”

“Only my dad. Mom thinks it’s exploitative. No offense.”

I laugh and say, “None taken. I should go.”

As Jamie steps forward, I step back and say, “See you soon.”

Chapter 113

After school on Thursday, I greet my nan with a sad face and a sigh.

“What’s wrong?” she says, and when I tell her I’m not feeling well, she reaches for my forehead as expected. “You don’t feel hot.”

“My head’s pounding,” I say, “and my stomach doesn’t feel right.”

She pours out the tea and sits across from me while I keep my head down, breathing deeper than normal, my eyes not quite as wide, my smile replaced by a grimace.

If you are going to fake an illness, it’s no good doing it on the morning of the day you want to stay home. Effectively skipping school requires preparation. You have to be willing to sacrifice the previous night if you want to get the next day off, so when Nan asks what I want for dinner, I say, “Maybe some soup. I’m not hungry.”

She looks more serious then, because I always ask for soup when I’m sick. She touches my head again, and even though the result is the same, she says, “You do feel a little hot.”