‘Look. You’re not like him. You’re not like me. You’re not like anyone. And you need to stop seeing that as a bad thing.’ She shakes me. ‘You – are – Alice! And Alice is pretty cool, you know. She’s kinda funny. Cute AF. And she’s – you know – got Pop-Tarts.’

I wince and she smiles. ‘Look, pal, I’m just saying. You clearly like this guy, seeing as you must have checked your phone a bazillion times today. So why don’t you give him the chance to like you, too? You know – the actual you?’

My heart is beating too fast and I throw off the covers to get some air.

‘I don’t know …’

But she leans over me. Grabs my phone off the table. And I watch with wide eyes as she clicks on his name, reads back the last few messages and types back a reply for me.

Hey! Sorry about being AWOL. I’m
around Wednesday, if you are? I need
to tell you something xxxxxxxxxx

I snatch my phone back to stop the kisses, but it’s too late. She’s pressed send.

Having a Rowan-based breakdown = 2 spoons

But then my phone buzzes and Cecelia throws her arms up in celebration before she even knows what it says.

Wednesday. Looking forward xx

61

Alice

It’s Sunday and I’ve been feeling a bit lonely.

I don’t usually, but today Mum and Dad have seemed distracted. And I’ve heard noises from outside my door. Swearing. Whispering. Drilling. So when Dad pops up suddenly by my bed, it surprises me.

‘Spoon count.’

My heart leaps and I check my phone, but it isn’t Wednesday. I didn’t miss it. I didn’t miss Rowan.

‘Have we moved Wednesday-night Cure Board officially now?’

And then suddenly Cecelia pops up, too. I jump.

‘But you’re busy Wednesday, aren’t you?’

I pretend to be getting over the shock of seeing her while trying to give her the eye without Dad seeing.

He waves his hand. ‘Oh, no need to hide it, kiddo. I know all about your secret date with that delinquent.’

I think all the blood has leaked out of me and I shoot daggers at Cecelia. Who is laughing.

Laughing.

‘He’s not a delinquent,’ I say. ‘And it’s not a date. Since when do you listen to anything Cecelia says, anyway?’

Dad elbows Cecelia. ‘Since she came up with ammo good enough to make your face do that.’ He turns to her. ‘You’re right, that was fun.’

Mum pops her head round the door. ‘What was?’

‘Nothing,’ we all say together.

She frowns. ‘Did you get a spoon count yet?’

‘I’m working on it!’ Dad turns back to me. ‘Go on, then. What we at?’