‘You wish to turn them?’

‘Yes!’

The Captain waddled over to the table and opened the bird cage. Both of the birds hopped out on to her hand. The Captain said a few words in ScreeWee; the birds fluttered past Johnny’s head, squeezed through the mesh, and disappeared. After a second or two he heard the squeak-squeak of nuts being undone.

‘What were they?’ he said.

‘Chee,’ said the Captain. ‘Mouth birds. You understand?’ She opened her mouth, revealing several rows of yellow teeth. ‘For hygiene?’

‘Living toothbrushes?’

‘We have always had them. They are . . . traditional. Very intelligent. Bred for it, you know. Clever things. They understand several words of ScreeWee.’

The squeaking went on. There was a clonk, and a nut rolled through the mesh.

The panel fell into the room.

Johnny looked at the hole.

‘O-kay,’ he said uncertainly. ‘You don’t know where it goes, do you?’

‘No. There are ventilation shafts all over the ship. Will you lead the way?’

‘Um—’

‘I would be happy for you to lead the way,’ said the Captain.

Johnny stood on the bed and crawled into the hole. It went a little way and then opened on to a bigger shaft.

‘All over the ship?’ he said.

‘Yes.’

Johnny paused for a moment. He’d never liked narrow dark spaces.

‘Oh. Right,’ he said.

Kirsty’s mother put down the phone.

‘There’s no one answering,’ she said.

‘I think he said his father works late and his mother sometimes works in the evening,’ said Kirsty. ‘Anyway, the doctor said he’s basically all right, didn’t she? He’s just run down, she said. What was the stuff she gave him?’

‘She said it’d make him sleep. He’s not getting enough sleep. Twelve-year-old boys need a lot of sleep.’

‘I know this one does,’ said Kirsty.

‘And you said he’s not eating properly. Where did you meet him, anyway?’

‘Um,’ Kirsty began, and then smiled to herself. ‘Out and about.’

Kirsty’s mother looked worried.

‘Are you sure he’s all there?’

‘He’s all there,’ said Kirsty, climbing the stairs. ‘I’m not sure that he’s all here, but he’s certainly all there.’

She opened the door of the spare room and looked in. Johnny was fast asleep in a pair of her brother’s pyjamas. He looked very young. It’s amazing how young twelve is, when you’re thirteen.

Then she went to her own bedroom, got ready for bed, and slid between the sheets.

It was pretty early. It had been a busy evening.

He was a loser. You could tell. He dressed like a loser. A ditherer. Someone who said ‘um’ a lot, and went through life trying not to be noticed.

She’d never done that. She’d always gone through life as if there was a big red arrow above the planet, indicating precisely where she was.

On the other hand, he tried so hard . . .

She’d bet he’d cried when ET died.

She pushed herself up on one elbow and stared at the movie posters.