The front door is open and I hear male voices inside. The radio fills in the gaps in the conversation. Without thinking, I kick off my thongs and start to walk in, wondering if someone will stop me. The floorboards don’t squeak under my feet like the old ones did. They’re so polished and smooth I can almost see my reflection when I look down. I step further in until I reach the doorway to the left, where my room is. Someone laughs and I wonder which room they’re in.

Then I step over the threshold into my bedroom.

Everything is white. It’s so glaring it’s like being in the snow. I feel like closing my eyes so the shine doesn’t get me. I’ll never fill this room. The ceiling is too high, and the walls too far apart. Even if I only lived in a corner of the room, it would still be too big.

I make it to the bay window and climb up onto the wooden ledge. Leaning against the window, I look out to the magnolia tree and spy a single bud growing on one of the delicate branches. If I focus on the bud, it’s like there’s nothing behind me. No room. No white. No house. The world is all out front. I wonder if this is what Matt feels when he’s swimming in a rooftop pool. If this is the sort of freedom he means. I wish I had a book with me so I could curl up here and read.

‘Hey, kid!’

I spin round so fast I almost fall off the ledge. I see a man in paint-spattered overalls walking towards me. He’s about Dad’s age with wild grey hair and a look of confusion. I think about explaining what I’m doing here, but I don’t want it to get back to Dad. So I jump off my seat and I leap straight towards him. Then, just as I reach him, I dodge left and around. I think I hear him calling, but I’m already outside.

And it’s only when my feet touch down on the hot summer concrete that I realise my thongs are back at the house.

I’m sitting down shredding pieces of grass into tiny pieces when Bridge plonks herself down next to me. She hands me a pair of orange Converse with holes in the toes.

‘They were in the chuck pile.’

‘Thanks.’

I slide my feet into them and decide that maybe Matt is onto a good thing not wearing socks. It’s strangely pleasant having so much space.

‘You broke into your own house? Classy, Clem.’

‘I didn’t break in. I walked in.’

Bridge leans her knee against mine. Her brown skin is warm and soft.

‘You going to apologise?’

I look across and see her watching me. ‘Sorry,’ I say quietly.