Mum video-called us at bedtime from her hotel in Melbourne. She and Dad had a chat first and then he put us on when we were in bed reading.

‘How was your first day at school, kiddlypunks?’

I wished, for the thousandth time, she’d stop calling us that. It’s embarrassing.

‘It was great, Mum,’ I said. ‘I think I made a friend already.’

We told her everything about the day, the classes and what we’d learned and especially about Mr Meredith. Mum smiled, nodded and told us she’d be back the day after tomorrow, assuming flights weren’t disrupted, which was a big assumption. She told us she loved us and to make sure the bed bugs didn’t bite and we told her we loved her and that there weren’t any bed bugs and then we handed her back to Dad.

Aiden wanted to talk, but I wasn’t in the mood. I thought it was crazy we still had to share a room when we were twelve years old. It wasn’t like there weren’t plenty of bedrooms in our new house, but Mum and Dad wouldn’t hear of it. You can look out for each other during the night, they said. We’re asleep. Duh, I pointed out. Didn’t make a difference.

I switched off my bedside lamp and turned towards the wall, mainly to discourage Aiden from talking. He wouldn’t say anything if he thought I was going to sleep. But I wasn’t going to sleep just yet. I was going to go over in my head the entire day, relive every moment. And I knew that when I did fall asleep, I’d dream of school, Mr Meredith and Charlotte. It would be delicious.

Aiden doesn’t dream. Or so he says. Maybe he doesn’t remember them. That’s equal parts weird and sad, if you ask me.

2

I knew it was a very bad idea. As soon as I had it, I knew. But I wouldn’t listen, even to myself.

Mr Meredith checked his tablet again before lunch; this time the news was better and we were allowed to play outside, though only with hats and sunblock that he personally inspected. Duty of care, he muttered as he examined us. You get skin cancer, I’m the one responsible. Nobody but Mr Meredith seemed to worry about that. Some of the boys and a couple of the girls immediately rushed to the basketball court. Charlotte and I stayed under shade at a bench and opened our lunchboxes. I had an apple, sliced carrots and a boiled egg from our very own chook, Kentucky. Charlotte had a sandwich with what looked like beef in it. She noticed me staring.

‘I love beef,’ she said, taking a small bite. ‘Don’t you, Ashleigh?’

‘Oh yeah,’ I said. ‘But Mum and Dad won’t let me have any. They say it’s “not sustainable”.’ I made the quotation marks in the air with my fingers. ‘That’s why I’m stuck with fruit and vegetables. Always vegetables. I get sick of it, to be honest.’