I grab my bag, leave the bathroom and start to run.

The track’s empty when I arrive, except for a little kid playing with his dad and a dog. I have to stretch my legs before I start. I hold onto my foot, pulling it up behind me, and feeling the strain in my quadricep. There’s a beep as my phone goes off in the pocket of my shorts. It’s Mum. Clem, what time will you be home?

It’s the first time she’s messaged me and I’m not sure what her question means. Is she asking because she wants me home, or because she doesn’t want me home? I start texting her back, but before I can finish my phone rings. Now she’s calling me. There’s a rush of energy to my body and I hope everything’s okay. I scramble to answer.

‘Hello?’

‘Clem, it’s just Mum.’

Just Mum. When did she become a just?

‘You okay?’ I say, feeling a wave of sickness wash through me.

‘Yes, I’m fine. I was going to make pasta, but wanted to check that’d be okay with you.’

I breathe. Relieved. Confused.

‘Is that all? I thought something had happened.’

‘Sorry,’ she says. I hear the hurt in her voice and I want to swallow the moment up and start again.

‘Mum, I love pasta. That’d be great.’

‘Okay. Great. What time will you be home?’

‘I’m just running. In an hour?’

‘Okay.’

She’s gone, but I still have the phone pressed to my ear. I feel a rush of nausea and I gag. How will this ever be normal? ATF I had so much anger I felt like my insides were burning with it. Now I’m not even sure what I’m angry about.

I dump my bag at the side of the track and run. As my feet hit the red ground, I speed up until I’m hurtling down the straight. This should be making me feel better. But it’s not. Something’s wrong. A tiny stone must have flicked up into my shoe, because there’s something jabbing into the ball of my foot each time it touches down on the track. Coach used to tell me to keep running no matter what, to ignore a cramp, a shoelace coming undone, even a rock in my shoe.

I try.

I change lanes and speed up, running flat out as I approach the 400-metre mark. Then the stone works its way between my toes and I pull up fast. I yank off my shoe and bang it against the track.

I know it’s the end of my run.

Chapter 13

Matt grabs my arm as we reach the outside of the building. ‘The trick is to look like you know exactly where you’re going. Just keep talking to me. Okay?’