‘I will be here when you get home, Mum. You can bet your life on that.’ It comes out as a whisper from my tear-choked throat. She wraps me in a fierce hug so I know it got through. When she finally lets go we both ignore our face wiping motions. I give her the cheekiest grin I can manage.

‘If you got nuthin better to do than hang around the house there’s a few chores needs doin.’ It’s what Mum always said to us when we were younger. She hasn’t said it since we hit puberty and she couldn’t get us to stay at home. Funny how that works. It’s a lame joke but Mum smiles, giving me another quick kiss and heading out.

I get ready for school and even do some work on Mrs Clay’s assignment, which is due in four weeks, but still. I put a few extra books in my port and heave it up.

The house is finishing its preheat cycle, which means it isn’t quite as hot as outside yet. I do as I said I would and head out. What I haven’t told Mum is that Thursday afternoons all the year twelves have free study periods. I will keep my promise, but I’ll be doing my own research too.

I stride in, already wishing the hours away.

Rounding the final block that brings school into sight, the last thing I expect to see is Sam Miller sitting on the grass. He lives on the opposite side of town, which means there’s no way he is there by chance. He’s already seen me and is climbing to his feet. There are people around and this will definitely get back to Mum.

‘What the hell?’ I hiss.

He brushes his backside off and, pulling his port on, lifts a shoulder.

‘I needed to talk to you.’ He sounds annoyed, but won’t look at me.

‘You could’ve snuck me a note. We’re gonna get it for this.’

‘It’s too late for that. You aren’t goin out there, are you?’

‘No way!’

Me thinks the girl protests too much. Bloody Mum and her love of misquoting Shakespeare. I didn’t even know I was thinking about it, but even as I deny it some part of me knows it’s a lie.

His lips twist. ‘She’s not always like that. She has her good days and I thought she was havin one when I brought her up there. That was my stuff-up. But you can’t trust what she said up there. She wasn’t … right.’

She’d scared the shit out of me, that’s what, and part of me desperately wants to take the excuse he is offering.

‘Why do you even care?’

His eyes drop and he fidgets with the strap of his port.