Jane is awake, Prin is sure of that, but her whole body is shaking, and it reminds Prin of the gerbil who died in its cage at school, just lay sideways on the floor, jerking and quivering and it didn’t look right at all. Don’t look at it, their teacher cried. Don’t look!

But Jane is right here in Prin’s bedroom. She can’t help but look. Jane is crying and shaking and it’s all getting a bit scary for Prin. The house is big and both Mum and Daddy sleep soundly, but the way Jane is going, how can they help but hear her?

So Prin runs to the desk and grabs the zoetrope, the trusty zoetrope that always calms her cousin down. But this time when Prin offers it to her, Jane pushes the toy away; in fact, she knocks it right out of Prin’s hands and it falls on the floor with a crack.

When Prin picks it up again, it’s all dented and bent out of shape.

Jane is pressing her hands to her eyes. ‘I can see it!’ she keeps saying. ‘I can see it all happening. Please make it stop. Please make it go away!’

The zoetrope is on the floor and broken. Jane’s sobs are getting louder and louder. Prin just wants to stop Jane crying and she can’t think of what else to do. Until she remembers at the beach: how Jane was laughing. And remembers Daddy in the kitchen, with the onion.

She grabs her cousin’s elbow and pulls her out of bed. Maybe she pulled her a little bit hard, but she needs Jane to come with her. ‘Come on,’ she says. ‘I know what will help.’

Jane still has one hand pressed to her eyes. ‘It’s like the zoetrope!’ she says. ‘The pictures! They just keep going round and round!’

‘Come on,’ says Prin again. She shows Jane how she can lift up the sash window and how they can clamber right out. Jane is smaller and shorter, but with Prin’s help she can do it too.

In their games, Prin always takes the lead and Jane follows. Like always, it is so much cooler out here. Better for Prin and better for Jane.

‘Isn’t it better?’ she says, and when Jane doesn’t say anything she tells her, ‘’Course it is!’

She helps Jane climb up on the flat piece of roof. They are out under the stars now. The sky above them feels like a great dark blanket, lifted up to give them room beneath. ‘Look,’ she says to her cousin. ‘Look.’

She points up to the stars wheeling above them. It’s better than any silly, broken zoetrope. You can see anything you want in the stars. Horses, angels, whatever you like. ‘Look up,’ she tells Jane. ‘What do you see?’