“Make yourself at home.” I do your best vinegar voice but it’s lost on him.

“Thanks.” He smiles.

I hand him the book. He takes it and stays sitting on the couch.

“Okay. You can go now.”

He looks around. “You know, our houses aren’t that different. We’ve got the kitchen on the other side, and an extra room at the front, but otherwise they’re kind of the same.”

I shrug and wait for him to go.

“What’s with all the vaporizers?” I keep my face still, shrug again. “Is it because of—” He angles his chin to the backyard.

The entire weight of my body sinks into my feet, taking most of my blood with it. I make my lips move, fight to breathe like a normal person. “What?”

“You know—” He makes the movement again. “Because of her?”

My lips don’t move right. I force the words out around them. “You know about her?”

“Everyone knows about her.”

I can hear a rushing sound, static. I struggle to focus. “What?” It comes out a whisper. I dig my fingers into the back of the couch, hanging on, forcing myself to stay upright.

Oscar peers at me funny. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” The words echo in my head. Fine fine fine fine fine fine fine fine.

“It’s the smell, right? Everyone knows she’s a hoarder.”

Lettie. The relief makes me want to vomit. “Yes. The smell’s from Lettie’s house.” My voice is thick in my head like my ears are blocked.

He nods and stands. “Well, duh.” I walk him to the front door. When I get there he’s not behind me. I spin around; he’s in the kitchen, staring out the back. My stomach falls away. I watch him, my head as small as a pin, as he squashes his face against the window and looks out. Splinter launches himself at the glass, paws smacking the pane in line with Oscar’s head. He jumps back, laughing.

“What’s your dog’s name? Can I meet him?”

I remember to breathe. “Splinter. And no.”

“Why not?”

The blood rushes back into my fingers, tingly and hot. I tuck them under my armpits. “I’ve got homework to do. And my mum’ll be home soon.” My voice sounds a long way off.

“Come on. Just for a few minutes?”

He rests his hand on the back door. I think frantically for an excuse. He’s not good with people? Splinter’s licking at the glass, his face a goofy mess of tongue. Oscar pushes his face closer to the pane.