On the way home past Lettie’s she calls out to me. “Might want to check your letter box.”

I do. There’s a book. I squint at it in the streetlight. Oscar Wilde. I look around. There’s no one in the street.

“From that kid up the road.”

I nod. I figured.

“Sweet on you, is he?”

The question annoys me. “No. He’s just got no friends.”

She laughs at that, which makes me more annoyed.

“Bit like you,” I mutter just loud enough for her to hear. I shut the door before she can reply.

HOME’S KINDER TONIGHT. Maybe it’s the leftover vacuuming warmth and the soft smell of heated dust. It reminds me of Sunday afternoons. The bathroom door’s shut to keep the cleaning fumes contained. I could pretend you’re in there. I could. I throw the book on the couch and head into the kitchen.

Cheese on toast, with tomato this time. Better get to the supermarket soon. There’s no fruit or veggies left. I wipe the kitchen down carefully when I’m done. Do the dishes. The quiet rushes back when I turn off the tap. The cold creeps in through the curtains.

I sit on the couch with Splinter’s head heavy on my lap, TV on. More doom. Something pokes into my bum. The book. I pick it up. Fairy tales?

I read it anyway.

DAY 33

THURSDAY

THERE’S PRICKLY COUCH fabric pushing into my cheek. Splinter’s snoring on the floor, my pillow across his paws. I’m awake, sharp awake, but only in my head. I imagine wiggling my toes. They ignore me. I close my eyes. The heavy of my body soaks my brain. Get up, I think, but I don’t mean it. The words with all the power are For what?

The light changes. I’m pretty sure I should be leaving for school now. The thoughts come slowly. The idea that not being at school could be a bad idea. That there might be consequences. My brain chews on that word for a bit; it was a favorite of yours. I roll it around my head. I should do something. Sleep tugs at me.

Online absentee form. That jolts me awake. I keep my eyes squeezed shut, thinking. It would be easy to cheat. The school app automatically logs in. I’ve seen you use it.

Magically my body works again. I’m up and in the kitchen and logging in to the school portal.

I mark myself sick. No alarms go off. It’s done. Completely legit.

I put your phone back on the bench.

The floor’s cold. My toes ache. The kitchen clock ticks. I have a day.

I sit on the couch and reread Oscar’s book of fairy tales.