He said seriously, “Ah yes.”

“The Tree Sisters are in detention, all their dorm is.”

Charlie said, “Yep. Phil got caught coming into Woolfe Academy late so he’s mostly in chains. We’ve had the Hoppy lecture on letting your friends down, letting your school down, but mostly letting yourself down. Have you?”

I said, “More or less.”

Charlie said, “Makes you feel dirty and ashamed and yet somehow . . . really feel like a Jazzle. Do you want one?”

I said, “Oooh yes.”

As we sucked on our Jazzles, he said, “How are the owlets?”

I said, sucking quietly and being casual, “Well, you know, a bit . . . a bit . . .”

“Owly?”

I said, “Yes, yes, owly . . . well, I think so . . . They’ve flown the nest so they have to hunt for their own mice now. But they’re useless at flying so how will they catch anything? When I tried to kiss Little Lullah’s head, she fell off the windowsill backwards. Ruby said they’re so hopeless at flying that the mice laugh at them so I might have to . . . you know . . .”

He said, “What?”

“Er . . . make them mice . . . snacks . . . to tide them over.”

Charlie said, “Mice snacks?”

Oh God. I had said mice snacks. I must say something to let him know I am not completely insane. My dream popped unexpectedly into my head so I said, “Yes. Or, er, shrew snacks.”

Charlie said, “Nice.” And then he laughed. But in a good way.

He’s got a lovely laugh. It’s deep and warm. Like he thinks I’m funny in a good way. I laughed, too. He’s got nice crinkly eyes.

His hair’s a bit longer. It suits him.

And he wants to be my friend. Which is good considering that I have made a fool of myself with him by thinking he might like me in a more-than-friendy way. And that he might want to kiss me again.

The least I can do is be grown-up and friendly.

I looked down to think of something to say and noticed that the front of my jacket is sticking out. In the corker area.

I wonder if he’s noticed that my corkers have grown.

It’s the kind of thing that Cain would notice.

I don’t want Charlie to think I am deliberately thrusting my corkers at him.

You know, in a girl way. In an “ooooh, look at my corkers” way.

I hunched my shoulders a bit so that if there was any sticking-out going on it would be counterbalanced by my sticking-in-ness. Not too much, though. I don’t want him to think I’ve become a hunchback over the holidays.

Charlie was looking at me. What should I say . . . oooh . . . er . . .

I know what I can do to make the situation more normal, I can use my Inner Man.