Mum turns off the film and starts to squeeze my wrists. I should let her. I should tell her that I’m fine and smile through the pain. But it’s just another thing taken away from me and it makes me want to screw the world into a tiny ball and stomp on it. Hard.

I shake her off and turn away.

‘I’m sorry, sweetheart.’

She lifts herself off the bed and brings the Me-deadening pill over. Taking those feels like giving up, so I shake my head. She puts it on the bedside table with a glass of water, turns off the light, and leaves.

I should call her back and tell her that I’m sorry and that I’m fine. But the pain gets worse.

I stare at the pill. Stare at my phone. And I hang on for as long as I can until the edges of me start to disintegrate. Then I pick up both.

I wince into my phone screen as I text.

Busy tomorrow! Speak soon,
though x

I turn the phone all the way off. Then I swallow the pill with the water so I can do the same to me, too.

But I hope he sees the kiss I gave him back. And I hope it’s enough to make him see that – despite the impossible world between us – I want him, too.

59

Alice

I’m not really here. But Cecelia is.

I watch as she opens her birthday present. Points to her favourite photos in the book I made her. Kisses me on the head.

When dinner arrives, she stays.

She scoops creamed kale on to a spoon. Makes quiet aeroplane noises. Into my mouth.

I try to give her a smile. She sees. It eggs her on.

She makes the spoon duck.

Dive.

Loop-the-loop.

Gets kale all over me. And her. And my duvet.

And, inside, the part of me that remains is laughing.

So hard, I can’t breathe.

60

Alice

I’m back to eight spoons. Which isn’t enough for me to spend all day on Screen Cast, but enough for me to check my phone for another text from Rowan.

Again. And again. And – because she came round as soon as school was over – Cecelia notices.

She swipes my phone off me and ducks away so I can’t reach to snatch it back.

‘Cecelia, that’s mine.’

‘Well, obviously.’

She unlocks it. I really must change the passcode.

‘There’s nothing on here,’ she says, disappointed. ‘You know, if you want to keep looking at my face, you can just look at the actual me. I am right here and way better-looking than this stupid photo you have on your lock screen.’

I snatch the phone back. ‘I like that photo.’

She’s right, though. No messages from Rowan. Not even ones without kisses.

Cecelia is staring. ‘You’re waiting for a text, aren’t you?’