Contents ( 64)
- A Letter from the Author
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- FIFTY-SEVEN
- FIFTY-EIGHT
- FIFTY-NINE
- SIXTY
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- ONE
‘The Very Hungry Caterpillar?’
I look down at the book. ‘Wrong book,’ I say.
‘So,’ he says, not quite able to look at me, ‘why don’t you read me your whole presentation?’
‘OK.’ I sit down and put Elsa between us as a barrier against accidental finger touching. ‘But I can’t look at you when I do it. I’ll just read through my introduction.’ Ed nods and picks up a pen. I stare at my first card … I can’t take in a single word. Whatever happened just then has rewired my brain. Solar system, I read … Does Ed like me? G-type stars … radiation … I mean, I know he likes me – he wouldn’t have put so much effort into coming round today if he hated me – but does he like me? The material begins to heat up … Like my cheeks, right now! What is wrong with me? I have to look at him, act normal. I force myself to glance in his direction, but the moment I see his dark eyelashes, his frown of concentration, I know.
I know that I like Ed.
He stares back at me. ‘What?’
An astronaut must remain focused even when potentially catastrophic events are unfolding. ‘I just remembered a YouTube film I can use,’ I say. ‘It’s about Alpha Centauri B, the star hiding behind Alpha Centauri. That’s where the Goldilocks planet might be.’
He nods. ‘Sounds good. Let’s see it.’
And that’s how Ed and I end up watching space films. Outside, dark clouds roll in and rain starts to patter against the window, but there’s something good about sitting on the sofa with Ed, eating crisps and watching back-to-back Hubblecasts. Usually I watch these on my own, but it’s so much better watching them with someone else. And I suppose it might seem a bit datey, if Elsa wasn’t constantly trying to force-feed us plastic fruit and eggs.
It’s almost dark when Ed checks his phone and says, ‘I’d better go. Mum wants me back for dinner. She’s making toad in the hole.’
I take in this little bit of information. I’ve always imagined that Ed would have things like olives and fettucine for dinner … I don’t actually know what fettucine is, but it matches his ironed shirts better than toad in the hole.
‘I suppose I should feed Elsa,’ I say. Right now she’s standing up on my lap, trying to suck my face. It’s what she does when she’s hungry. I hold her hands and she bounces up and down.
Ed starts packing his books away. ‘Won’t your Mum do that?’
‘She’s at a festival,’ I say, forcing myself to keep bouncing Elsa.
‘Beb … Beb!’ she says, again and again.
‘Like last weekend?’ Ed’s got a look on his face that I recognise from school, the one where’s he’s working something out and getting close to the answer. I try to remember if I talked about where Mum was when we were at the science centre.