‘It does matter,’ I say. ‘How can I have a relationship with a father who I don’t even respect?’

‘But, Sky, don’t you think—’

‘Look,’ I say with a sigh. ‘Let’s talk about it when I’m back. Only four sleeps to go. I hate this video thing, it’s so weird seeing you on a screen when—’

‘I know, I just want to touch you and I can’t,’ Oliver says.

‘We’ll be able to soon.’

‘Can’t wait. What are you up to today?’ he asks.

‘Lunch with my grandparents and then going to a band competition.’

‘That’s cool. Wish I could be there with you.’

‘Me too.’ I think of my worlds colliding, Pluto and Earth. Yikes.

‘Who’s playing?’

‘Just some local bands.’ Argh, I hate what I’m doing, skirting around the truth. But I’m just protecting Oliver’s feelings, aren’t I? There’s really no point telling him about Jaxon. What good would it do?

‘Any good tracks I should download?’

‘I’ll let you know.’

He blows me a kiss and I blow him one back.

My grandparents take me to a nice diner where I devour the most delicious veggie burgers I’ve ever eaten in my life. Now I know it’s all about the fried onion, pickles and mustard. Yum.

I hear more about my grandfather’s work, reaffirming my lack of desire to ever study law, and my grandmother shows me clips of her favourite solo violinists on her iPad. I ask to see videos of her own performances but she swears they aren’t available online. When I come to Chicago, she promises she’ll show me the archives.

A few hours later, sunlight faded, I’m all dressed up and standing in the performing arts centre. Alcohol-free zone. Teen mecca.

‘No,’ the lead singer of the band currently on stage sing-speaks. ‘That’s. Not. It.’ He repeats the words randomly in different orders like, ‘It. Not. That’s. No.’

The club is packed and I’ve heard two performances while waiting for Jaxon to begin. The first one was death metal and consisted of mostly screeching and drum solos. The second was okay, folksy and a little boring but nothing offensive to my ears.

Why is it so crowded in here? I thought it would be empty, it being Alaska in winter and all.

‘Not. No. That’s. It.’

These guys. Yawn.

Two people talk loudly in front of me, not even pretending to listen to the music. The girl’s right hand has a trillion bracelets and she touches the guy’s shoulder as she speaks. She has bright orange lips punctured by a piercing and is wearing a brimmed hat that’s blocking my view of the stage. She’s not short either. He’s laughing at everything she says, and I wonder if he can even hear what she’s saying over the music.