I turned to see Jamie, red as anything and covered in beads of sweat. His tank top was completely soaked. It was so gross, but I knew I didn’t have a leg to stand on, sweating my arse off.

‘How far have you run?’

‘From my place to here. Not far. And then fifteen laps around the oval.’

I didn’t say anything but I had to give him credit. Fifteen laps was pretty impressive.

‘Can I join you?’ he asked.

‘Only if you don’t come too near me.’ I pointed at him, screwed up my face and then bounce-passed him the ball.

He laughed. ‘You can’t feel any better than when you’re completely covered in sweat.’

What’s wrong with the kids here? I thought. Don’t they have any shame?

Jamie had good technique and kept hitting these cool little bank shots from outside the key. We both took turns in moving around the three-point line and putting up shots.

I was surprised by how many hoops Jamie was hitting. When I ran in to collect the ball and throw it back to him, I noticed how beautiful the sunset looked, throwing golden light across the oval. The huge gum trees lining the oval were glowing.

Jamie finally missed a shot. ‘Here you go,’ he said, passing me the ball.

‘I think I need to go,’ I said, remembering Dad’s words and not wanting to get on the wrong side of him any more than I already was. I’d had enough of the heat and needed a shower.

‘Can I run with you?’ Jamie asked.

‘When?’

‘Now. You know, run back to your place.’

What are you, some kind of superhuman? I thought. ‘Nah, it’s all right. I want to walk by myself, if you don’t mind … take in the serenity,’ I told him. Maybe I’m stereotyping but the word ‘serenity’ seems to gel with white kids.

‘Right,’ he said with an understanding nod. ‘I’m going to do another few laps. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

I turned and lazily started dribbling my ball home.

All I wanted was to be able to pass by Dad and Caitlin without them humbugging me, have a long shower and fall straight to sleep instead of lying awake worrying for once.

Some kind of South American music was playing when I walked into the house. Dad and Caitlin were out the back. I thought I’d tell them that I was home, in case Dad started panicking or something.

‘What if Bronwyn gets worse?’ I heard Caitlin ask Dad as I approached the back door. I cleared my throat to let them know I was there, and to make Caitlin feel guilty.

‘Having a shower and going to bed,’ was all I had the energy to say.

‘No worries, bub,’ Dad said, a smile on his face. He was obviously keen to get on with the glass of wine in his hand and his precious time with Caitlin. Their family time.

‘Goodnight, Phoebe,’ Caitlin said. ‘And don’t worry, things will get better.’