I laugh for real this time. Seeing him nervous and stumbling makes me feel less nervous somehow. And, with his eyes covered, I can let myself look properly at the perfectly parallel lines of his eyebrows, mouth and jaw. The hint of dark stubble at the end of his chin. The curls of hair that have come loose from their tie and are fluttering in the sea breeze.

‘I’ve been thinking about what you said before,’ I whisper. ‘About taking something for yourself.’

My heart

L U R C H E S.

I look at her from between my fingers.

I lick my lips. ‘I know you said that art school wasn’t an option, but I’ve been looking, and –’

‘Alice …’

She stops and I do, too.

I want to remind her that I chose

H E R.

But I’m tired of jumping off cliffs

with no safety net.

I sigh.

‘I’ve been looking, too.’

My heart flutters. ‘You have?’

‘Yeah, you wore me down.

Sort of feels like asking me to

go to the moon.

But I guess some people have been.

Some people make it.’

‘It’s not impossible,’ I smile.

Just sort of unlikely.

‘There’s a scholarship your pal Wesley

was always on about.

Maybe after A Levels I can

take a look.’

I’ve managed to hold everything together so far.

Maybe I got this, too …

‘Well, I think you’d be wonderful.’

When she says it,

she nods

like she’s agreeing with herself.

Her fringe bounces into her eyes

(sea blue).

Her lips. Part.

‘Alice?

Where are you?’

I stop. Like I’ve been running so fast that I’ve stumbled over the edge of the world.

I can feel the wind under me like I might be able to jump on its back and fly. But below there’s plummeting and, below that, there are rocks, and even further below that there is absolute nothing, and that scares me the most.

But perhaps this is Living. Perhaps Living isn’t staying on the cliff edge and wondering whether you might fly or fall. Perhaps – sometimes – Living is jumping.

‘Rowan. I need to tell you something.’

She looks afraid.

But I don’t want to turn her round this time.

‘So tell me.’

I close my eyes. Take a breath. And really the truth is just like gravity, isn’t it?

It’s as simple as falling.

‘I’m not … well.’

‘Oh …’

Mam used to use that one, too.

With work. Old boyfriends. Me.

It was always a

– headache, or

– cold, or

– upset tummy.

I wait for Alice to give me

another excuse to leave.

‘It’s – um – it’s difficult to explain.’

I think back to all the rehearsals of this conversation I’ve had, and they all jumble in my head.