“I need you to make a call for me.” I try to meet her gaze but my eyes keep sliding off. I focus on the spot between Splints’s eyebrows instead and give it a scratch; he licks my wrist. I clear my throat, start again. “I need you to call the school and tell them I’m sick.”

“You don’t look sick.”

“I’m not. I slept in.” I consider telling her about the vomiting, or playing the leg card, but decide against it. “I missed the online absentee time and you need a parent to sign you out or call you in sick after that.”

I can feel Lettie watching me. “And you need me to do that.”

I nod.

She swallows loudly and leans back in her chair, making it creak. She crosses her ankles then uncrosses them again.

Why did I think this’d be a good idea? I stand quickly, making Splints skitter backward. I don’t look beyond her feet. “Never mind.” I turn to the gate.

“Who would I say I was?”

I stop. “What?”

“Who would I say I was, if I made this call?”

I shrug.

“Well, this doesn’t strike me as a particularly good plan.”

I knew this was a bad idea. I step away.

“I mean, I need to know who I’m pretending to be, if I’m to do this. Convincingly.”

I stop. “You’ll do it?”

“Well. I figure I owe you for the manual labor yesterday. And I could probably do with an insurance plan, in case that cut of yours gets infected and you have to have an amputation. A bit of leverage can’t hurt my cause.” I risk a look at her face. The smug old goat’s smiling. Not one of the mean smiles.

I look at my blurry shoes, trying not to sniff. “You’ll call?” It comes out croaky.

She digs around in her jacket and brings out a phone. “You’ve got the number?”

I stare at her.

“Well?”

I shove your phone into her hands. “Better if you use this.”

SHE’S GOOD. SHE’S more you than you.

 . . . Very sorry, we’ve been up all night and then at the doctor’s all morning, I completely forgot to call . . . Just a twenty-four-hour thing, apparently. I think I’ll give her another day tomorrow just to be on the safe side, it’s knocked her around a bit. Okay, thanks. Bye now.

She hands me back your phone with a wink. “Shut your mouth. The flies’ll get in.” She points to the kettle. “Pop some water in that. I could do with a nice warm cuppa.” She grins at me. “And you need to keep your fluids up.”