‘Deal.’ I gave them both a hug and watched them disappear among the crowd.

I stood by the entrance and peered down at my phone. There was still no sign of Mum. There was no way I could call Dad to get a lift; he’d absolutely lose it if he found out about the accident. I reached into my pocket and felt the twenty-dollar notes that Mum had given me. I figured that I could get a taxi to the train station in the city and another from the end of the line to Caitlin’s place.

Twenty minutes later, when I was on the train, I called another taxi to meet me at the station closest to The Village.

‘Where do you want to go?’ the operator asked.

I almost told them the exact address but quickly caught myself. ‘Please drop me halfway along the road into town,’ I told the driver when he finally arrived.

During the ride, the taxi driver tried making small talk. I turned my attention to calling Mum over and over in the hope she would eventually answer.

When we reached the road close to home, I jumped out of the taxi hoping that Caitlin wasn’t out walking or something and bust me. I walked up the street, stood out the front of the ugly cottage and pulled myself together before going in. Caitlin was standing at the kitchen counter, wearing a tank top without a bra and yoga pants, cutting vegetables. Sometimes she cooked for hours, soups and curry and bean dishes that stank and grossed me out. I hated eating that stuff too, or at least I pretended to, even when it did taste all right. Dad was losing weight. He was almost as skinny as Caitlin. Over the year or whatever they’d been together I’d seen him get skinnier month by month.

‘How was the game?’ Caitlin asked. I shrugged.

‘And your mum, is she good?’ she said like she wasn’t dying to know. ‘I didn’t hear her pull up.’

‘The game was awesome. We had hotdogs, doughnuts and slushies,’ I said, knowing how much she hated sugar and processed meat, especially hotdogs. I mean, who doesn’t like hotdogs? She turned her back as she threw some food scraps in the compost bin. I knew she was screwing up her face. She’d told me before, one slushy is the equivalent to a week’s recommended sugar intake. Whatever!

Dad and Mum used to give me money to buy lunch at the school canteen. Caitlin made sure to put a stop to that. She packed me celery and boiled eggs and corn cakes like I was a little kid. ‘It’s good for you,’ she would say. I still found a way to buy lunch.

When Caitlin turned around again I was slouched in her old armchair with my feet dangling over the edge, watching some news program.

Caitlin smiled. ‘How are your shoes?’

I hated that she could brush things off so quickly and be so happy.