He grins at me and shakes his head. ‘Had to ask or Aunty would never let me hear the end of it.’

I laugh, raise a hand in farewell and keep walking. Everything is getting so complicated.

Day 3, Twilight

Day 3, Twilight

The front door to the house is wide open so I stride in and stop. Mum is sat on the sunroom couch glaring. The silence stretches while my eyebrows climb higher on my face. Option one is to just ask her what’s wrong, but that seems like a bad idea. She hates it when I don’t know what I’ve done. Telling her sarcastically that I’m not a mind reader always gets me in bigger trouble but, really, adults can be so freaking stupid.

It doesn’t help that I’ve broken so many rules the past twenty-four hours that I have no idea which one she’s angry about.

Option two is to walk right past her and into the house, but that’s a bit like edging past a king brown curled up in a corner. You’re never sure if it’s sleeping or not, and it might lash out at you for getting close. And the slow edge past is also extremely undignified.

Option three is to walk back out the door. That one is seriously tempting and before I’ve even finished the thought my body steps backwards.

‘Freeze,’ Mum growls.

I am getting sick of this game. ‘Don’t you need music to play statues?’

I want to sigh at myself. When will I learn to keep my big mouth shut?

‘Knock off the smart-arse comments and tell me where ya were.’

Panic snatches at my stomach and throttles me with it.

‘Do you have any idea how worried I was?’ Her voice breaks and I realise it isn’t about any rumours or bad behaviour. I have to fight to keep the relief off my face. But now I have an emotional Mum on my hands and no idea how to deal with it.

I swallow it all back and find my most gentle voice. ‘Mum, I left a note for you on the kitchen table. I needed to go up to the reservoir for a bit to … think.’

It’s lame but the best I can come up with. I watch her physically choke her pain down and now glass shards join the roiling in my stomach. Slowly I settle beside her on the couch, taking her hand in mine, rubbing it. She doesn’t like people to see her upset any more than I do, so I keep my eyes on our linked hands.

‘I’m sorry, Mum. I thought the note would be enough. I won’t do it again.’

She grips my hands with both of hers.

‘It’s okay, I panicked.’ Through my hair I can see her staring at our hands too. ‘I only just got home and when you weren’t ere …’