‘Come on,’ Ellen hurried him. ‘Think fast.’

‘Ummmm, probably be trapped with the spiders.’ He cocked his head to the side, testing his decision. ‘Yeah. I reckon I could kill some of them.’

Alexa grinned. ‘Good answer.’

‘Right, my turn,’ Ben said. He looked at Jack. ‘Would you rather drink Ellen’s urine from that box over there, or have to wee in a box for the rest of your life?’ He added, ‘Just wee.’

Jack blanched. Ellen and Alexa made identical disgusted faces.

‘Ew, Ben.’ Alexa prodded him in the side. ‘That’s gross.’

Ben shrugged, grinning.

Jack wasn’t sure how to answer. They were watching him. ‘Um …’

‘Poor Jack,’ Alexa said. She was looking at him sympathetically.

He felt like they were teasing him a little. ‘OK …’ He swallowed. ‘I choose the box. Because I can always pour it away.’

‘True.’ Ben winked.

Jack felt relieved that he’d got away with it. There was a silence. He hoped that he wouldn’t have to come up with one. He could never think of anything clever. Usually, Ellen told him his ones didn’t really work.

‘I wish you hadn’t mentioned that box. I’m worried I have to go for another wee,’ Ellen said, miserably.

‘Already?’ Alexa asked, disbelievingly. ‘Your bladder really is tiny.’

Ben laughed.

‘Yes, already.’ She looked accusingly at Ben, as if he were responsible for her predicament, then turned back to Alexa. ‘And you already know my bladder is tiny.’

Jack bit his lip and gave Ellen a sympathetic look.

Alexa, meanwhile, smiled mischievously. ‘Sometimes, she needs to go to the bathroom three times in the night.’

‘Yes, and you know it makes me worry every day that I have developed diabetes,’ Ellen moaned.

Ben laughed again.

Ellen didn’t get up, though she shuffled around a little. Ben’s hand was lingering on Alexa’s lower back now. Jack felt a little awkward around this new, demonstrative Alexa. Still, she seemed happy. Though she had a nice smile and always looked very clean, Jack could not imagine going out with Alexa. She had a job he didn’t entirely understand, and in the evenings she would often sit at the kitchen table with thick piles of paper, wearing her glasses and sometimes making marks in pen. Jack would tiptoe around, terrified that he was disturbing her. Sometimes, she ran to work, which was really rather far (Jack had looked it up on Google Maps when she told him). Her room looked like no one lived there. When she cooked, everything was arranged symmetrically on the plate.