“She’s not that drunk,” I reply, but he shakes his head.

“She’s drunk enough.”

Zak looks like he wants to argue, but I say, “Okay. We’re going.”

“Boo,” Amy says, before pointing at the bouncer and shouting, “You take your job way too seriously.”

It takes a lot to be banned from Sensorium. But I don’t want Amy to push it, so I guide her to the front doors. Zak calls a taxi while she rests her head on my shoulder and says, “This is fun.”

I don’t move a muscle until the car arrives.

When we’re in the back seat, she nuzzles into me again, mumbling about nothing until she falls asleep. And I sit with my eyes closed, thinking about all the times I didn’t dance and wondering why.

27

There’s a buzzer to get past the gate.

The intercom crackles, and a voice says, “Yes?”

I clear my throat. “It’s Tom. From school. I have Amy with me.”

The voice doesn’t reply right away and, when it does, it sounds uncertain. “She knows the code.”

“She’s…forgotten it.”

I glance over at Amy, who is grinning up at me and whispering, “I’m in the shit, now.”

More silence, then a buzz and a clank as the gate slowly opens. It feels like we’re walking into a prison.

The front door is open before I get there, Amy’s mum standing with her arms crossed and a weird look on her face.

“She’s…”

“She’s drunk,” her mum says. “What did you say your name was?”

“It’s Tom. I…showed you around the school.”

Amy’s mum’s face slowly defrosts, and she says, “Of course. And now we meet again.”

Amy is starting to feel heavy on my shoulder, and I edge forward, hoping I can bring her inside.

Her mum looks behind her, then back at me, and says, “I’ll take it from here.”

I feel Amy’s grip tighten, and I think her mum sees it, too, because she says, “Okay. Come in.”

I nod and step into a house that looks immaculate. This must have been what else the workmen were doing, after they built the walls and fitted the gate, and I wonder where Amy and her family stayed during the refurbishment.

Everything looks newly decorated, not a speck of dust or dirt.

When Amy sees me staring, she says, “I think it’s too white. If you look at the walls too long, you’ll see your reflection.”

Amy’s mum marches into the hall with a glass of water and holds it under her daughter’s nose. “Drink this.”

They stare at each other until I feel nervous, because Amy looks as angry as her mum does. During the school tour, she shrank into herself, letting her mum run the show. But, now, it’s like they are squaring off.