I shook my head. ‘No, Heather,’ I said. ‘You misunderstand me. You can never have your life – your old life – back. But you can start a new one. That’s got to be better than this, than being here all by yourself forever, storming around in a rage, hurting people—’

She shouted, ‘You said I could get my life back!’

I realized, all in a flash, that I’d lost her. ‘I didn’t mean your old life. I just meant a life—’

But it was too late. She was freaking.

I understood now why Bryce’s parents had sent him to Antigua. I wished I were there – anywhere, really, if it would get me out of the way of this girl’s wrath.

‘You told me,’ Heather screamed, ‘you told me I could get my life back! You lied to me!’

‘Heather, I didn’t lie. I just meant that your life – well, your life is over. Heather, you ended it yourself. I know that sucks, but hey, you should have thought of that—’

She cut me off with an unearthly – well, of course – wail. ‘I won’t let you,’ she shrieked. ‘I won’t let you take over my life!’

‘Heather, I told you, I’m not trying to. I have my own life. I don’t need yours—’

With the crickets and the birds silent, the sound of the water burbling in the fountain a few yards away had been the only noise in the courtyard – with the exception of Heather’s screaming, that is. But the water sounded strange, suddenly. It was making a funny popping noise. I looked towards it, and saw that steam was rising from its surface. I wouldn’t have thought that was so strange – it was cold out, and the water temperature might have been warmer than the air around it if I hadn’t seen a great big bubble burst suddenly on the water’s surface.

That’s when it hit me. She was making the water boil. She was making the water boil with the force of her rage.

‘Heather,’ I said, from my bench. ‘Heather, listen to me. You’ve got to calm down. We can’t talk when you’re—’

‘You . . . said . . .’ Heather’s eyes, I was alarmed to see, had rolled back into her head. ‘I . . . could . . . start . . . over!’

OK. It was time to do something. I didn’t need the bench beneath me to start shaking so violently that I was nearly thrown from it. I knew it was time to get up.

I did so, fast. Fast so that I wouldn’t get hit by the bench. Fast so that I could reach Heather before she noticed, and deck her as hard as I could with a right beneath the chin.

Only to my astonishment, she didn’t even seem to feel it. She was too far gone. Way too far gone. Hitting her had no effect whatsoever – except that it really hurt my knuckles. And, of course, it seemed to make her even madder, always a plus when dealing with a severely disturbed individual.