Slowly, I let go of the post and lifted both hands in front of my chest, palms out. In my mind, Sam’s voice said, Electricity can jump! But I had to make some kind of greeting. My breathing slowed to normal and the last scraps of fear melted. Even so, my hands and the tip of my nose felt like they were close to a candle, and a shuddery feeling went down both arms to my elbows, as if I’d banged my funny bones. A nicer, fireworky smell came off Whizzy now.

Can’t believe I wasn’t scared, but when something’s scary, the fear travels down your back in ripples. This was the opposite. My skin felt safe all over. Didn’t feel like Whizzy wanted to hurt me – at least, not on purpose. It was jumpy, like a nervous puppy. Ready to disappear in a second if it needed to. Scared of me, but curious. Totally curious.

The weirdest part was trying to work out how long it was, because the tail kept changing from short to long, like a flickering flame. Did that mean my eyes weren’t even seeing it properly?

Then Whizzy dropped to the ground and spread horizontally for almost a minute, which was doubly cool. After that, before I could work out what was happening, Whizzy shot upwards in a perfect vertical streak that ended in a blur, as if the actual air had folded up. Whizzy was gone.

A patch of pale grey ash lay on the ground where Whizzy had been. I brushed one finger into the soft, warm, almost-wet powder. It smelt like singed hair. Then I stood there for ages. My eyes wouldn’t go back to normal: a dark after-image made curvy lines behind my eyelids. Wow. I kept whispering it. Wow. I shook my head, couldn’t believe it.

The house felt warm after the night air. Quiet, too, until I got halfway up the stairs just now. Lily was standing there looking down at me.

‘I’m telling.’ Her voice was a thin whisper.

My head still buzzed. I shook it at her. ‘Couldn’t sleep,’ I whispered back. ‘Just went outside to get cool.’

‘No you didn’t.’ She smirked. ‘It isn’t even hot. You’ve been further than that.’

How much had she seen?

‘Wandering about in the middle of the night,’ she said. ‘Wonder what Dad would say?’

‘You bin your breakfast sometimes. I’ll tell Mum that.’ It came out fast, before I’d had the chance to think about it.

She stared down at me with cold eyes.

‘I’ll show her where you bury it in the compost,’ I said.

She didn’t move a muscle.

‘The exact spot. I’ll text Dad too.’

‘That was once, and it was months ago,’ she said.