Chapters (97)
- Cover
- About the Author
- Also by Sarah Ann Juckes
- Dedication
- Welcome back to Stream Cast, Alice
- 1
- 2
- 3
- Welcome back to Stream Cast, Alice
- 4
- 5
- 6
- 7
- Welcome back to Stream Cast, Alice
- 8
- 9
- 10
- 11
- 12
- Welcome back to Stream Cast, Alice
- 13
- 14
- 15
- 16
- 17
- 18
- 19
- 20
- 21
- 22
- 23
- 24
- 25
- 26
- 27
- 28
- 29
- Welcome back to Stream Cast, Alice
- 30
- 31
- 32
- 33
- 34
- 35
- 36
- 37
- 38
- 39
- 40
- 41
- 42
- 43
- 44
- 45
- 46
- 47
- 48
- 49
- 50
- 51
- 52
- 53
- 54
- 55
- 56
- 57
- 58
- 59
- 60
- 61
- 62
- 63
- 64
- 65
- 66
- 67
- 68
- 69
- 70
- 71
- 72
- 73
- 74
- 75
- 76
- 77
- 78
- 79
- 80
- 81
- 82
- 83
- 84
- Author’s Note
- Acknowledgements
- THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING
- Author’s Note
‘You told me once that this was where you escaped to.’
I drag my fingers through my hair.
‘Look, I need to be alone right now, Alice.
I need you to –’
‘Leave?’
He slides a look at me. For a moment, our eyes meet, and I feel my heart skip.
I smile. ‘I’m not leaving, Rowan.’
My gut wrenches because
this is what I chose for myself, isn’t it?
Her.
Her over Jonah.
And I can feel myself still wanting to
choose her again,
despite everything.
He doesn’t take his hands from his hair.
‘Why did you run?’
I turn away.
‘You saw.
You sent me that text.
I said I’d protect Jonah
and I didn’t.
I was late picking him up
and then he climbed that tower
and now the social are asking questions
and they’re going to –’
My words choke.
The whole world is crumbling out from under me.
And I can’t get
how the floor I’m sitting on
hasn’t moved.
I want to reach out and put my arms round him, but they don’t seem to want to move.
‘It wasn’t your fault.’
It was. It was. It WAS.
I feel the guilt tsunami-ing
up through my bones,
making my fist
T H U M P
on the castle floor
so the whole thing finally starts
earthquaking.
I jump and dart a look down at Dad, who’s staring up and trying to pretend that he isn’t.
‘Rowan – it isn’t your fault. It isn’t. You weren’t there. You couldn’t have stopped him from climbing –’
‘Exactly!’ I spit.
‘I wasn’t there, was I?’
I’m shouting and I can’t stop.
‘Just – go away, Alice.
I need to think.’
I put my head in my hands.
His voice is splitting spoons, but I’m clinging on.
‘You can be there for someone without being present,’ I say quietly. But the n – if that’s true – what on earth am I doing in the middle of a children’s playground, as my parents huddle together on a bench waiting to scrape what’s left of me off the floor?
I turn to him. Now his feet and hands are planted on the floor, like he might spring up at any moment, his hair out of its band now and wild. And he has holes in his shoes and dirt on his hands and a mad look in his eyes – but I know him. I know him like he and I are the same.
‘You don’t have to do this alone.’