Mum looks at me for a moment, waiting for more. And I let the moment stretch as an aeroplane goes by outside and Dad calls up, asking if she can put more salmon on the list.

She smiles and gets up. ‘Fair enough,’ she says.

I wait until she leaves, then dig out my phone and text the list to Rowan.

He replies straight away.

All right, got an idea. Two hours.

Two hours.

I want to delve into Google, looking for more videos of Wesley now I’ve brought him back to life. But every one of those is a dropped spoon.

Watching videos = 1 spoon

And I’m saving them all for Rowan.

I set an alarm. Close my eyes. And wait to Live again.

53

Rowan

And now I am with someone who’s helping a boy with bright yellow hair fix a helmet on to his head.

‘Hold still,

will you?’

‘I don’t want to wear a helmet! Benji doesn’t have to wear one,’ the boy – Jonah – moans.

Behind us, another boy with spiky hair sniggers behind his hand. And then I notice what he’s sitting on.

‘Bikes …’

Oh shit.

She spoke.

I don’t have my earphones in

so I’m pretty sure Jonah heard her.

I freeze.

Jonah stops squirming and looks so hard into the camera, it’s like he can see me. And I notice that he has the same dark-cave eyes as Rowan.

‘Who’s that?’ he says.

‘Never you –’

‘I’m Alice,’ I say. ‘Pleased to meet you, Jonah.’

Jonah blinks for a moment before putting out his finger and tapping the camera lens, so all I can see is the whorl of a fingerprint.

He’s gonna freak out

or ask questions

or say something rude.

Then he smiles. Wide, so I can see he has a tooth missing at the back.

‘We’re riding bikes. Are you riding with us, too, Alice?’

Bikes. Riding bikes.

I drop my voice.

‘Only if you want to.

I understand if not.’

Jonah clips his helmet on, like he’s forgotten that he didn’t want to wear it. Behind him, his friend peers over, trying to see who they’re talking to.

And it’s me. It’s me – like I’m there. Like I’m sitting astride my own bike, with my feet on the pedals, a yellow-striped helmet on my head and the whole cycle path at my feet.

‘Yes,’ I say. ‘Yes, I’m riding bikes, too.’

Jonah smiles like he’s really seeing her.

And it makes me want to

duck down

and look with him.

Jonah scampers off and picks up a rusty-looking bike with stabilizers on. His friend Benji doesn’t have them, but neither of them seems worried about that. They push off and I watch them, riding and talking talking talking excitedly, out of breath, about nothing and everything, riding all over the pavement and in loops.