We had just joined the queue for the Ferris wheel when Tam said something about a locked room in a mystery book she was reading, and it had suddenly occurred to me that I couldn’t remember if I’d locked my front door.

Now I bit restlessly on the end of my thumb and screwed my forehead up as I tried, once again, to remember. I could picture myself stepping out of the front door, and I could kind of picture myself putting my silver key in the silver keyhole in the door, but was I remembering that from today or was I just remembering it from the gazillions of other times I had locked the door?

“Kiki?” Emily gave me a gentle jab with her elbow. “You okay?”

I nodded and tried to concentrate on what she and the others were saying, but all I could think about was the front door of my house. As far as I was concerned, the sequence of hypothetical consequences of an unlocked front door went something like this: burglar (or goose) sees unlocked front door; burglar (or goose) can’t believe their good luck; burglar (or goose) bumps into Mum while attempting to loot the kitchen; and then, inevitably, burglar (or goose) murders (or eats) Mum.

Emily’s eyes moved to my hand, and she watched with concern as I mauled my thumbnail. “You’re not okay,” she said, and lowered her voice so that Tam and Tam’s friends wouldn’t hear her. “What’s up?”

If it had been anyone other than Emily or Mum, I would have lied and pretended I felt sick or had a headache or something, but it was Emily, so I told her the truth.

And because she was Emily, she listened to me and then she nodded. “And it won’t matter if I tell you that your mother’s death by goose is extremely unlikely, will it? Because once it’s in your head, you can’t get it out?”

She knew me so well.

“I should go home and check the door,” I said. Shame, anger, and frustration made me grit my teeth. “If I don’t, I’ll just spend the rest of the day worrying about it.”

“Okay, I’ll come with you.”

“No!” I said at once. “Stay. I’ll just feel worse if you leave, too.”

Emily hesitated, but then she said, “My mum’s making Chinese chicken stew for dinner tonight. Come over and eat with us?”

“Chinese ginger chicken stew?” I asked, perking up.

Emily grinned. “Yep.”

So after promising her that I would go to hers for dinner, I left the park in slightly better spirits. On the bus ride home, I pulled my feet up onto the seat, took my overstuffed sketchbook out of my backpack, and sketched a quick doodle of the Ferris wheel. I drew Emily’s tiny delighted face peeping out of the car at the very top, and then mine next to hers. I giggled to myself as I added a gull in the sky above us, pooping on Emily’s head. She’d love that when I showed her later.