Mum has a go and Dad gives her a set of controllers to hold, so she can swipe at neon bricks with lightsabres. And – because she’s still wearing the Morphsuit – on the screen we just see her head floating in a tunnel of light.

Dad has a go and Cecelia pulls me off to the side, laying my head in her lap.

‘Maybe you could bring Hot Boy here? Have a virtual date with him in a jungle or something. That would be cool.’

I laugh, staring at the light bulb swinging after Dad just accidentally punched it.

‘You know, I think perhaps it’s the real things that are the most fun. Like this,’ I say, smiling at Mum, who is poking Dad in the ribs and making him jump.

Cecelia mock-faints. ‘It’s only taken you sixteen years, Alice, but I think you might have actually finally got it.’

62

Alice

Last night, I dreamed I was back in that endless sea.

It was so deep that, when I looked at what I thought was the bottom, I saw only a starburst sun, shining up at me.

Somewhere I could hear the clicks and slaps of life carrying on above the surface. But no matter how long or urgently I swam, I couldn’t reach it.

I wake up, gasping.

Mum is there already and has taken the day off, like she knew what was going to happen. I try to tell her about my dream and how yesterday was perhaps the most wonderful day anyone has ever spent, but she shushes me.

‘Rest today, love.’

So I do. I eat and I drink, but that’s all. And I try to gather up the spoons that I dropped while spinning in space. Occasionally, though, I clench my fists. Try them out: they’re working. There isn’t any migraine pain, or stomach pain, or mystery bone pain.

My thoughts are whirring and I can remember my name, and Cecelia’s name, and Rowan’s, too.

And my belly even somersaults when I remember that I’m going to be with him outside soon. Not in real life, because, even without the usual dropped-spoon symptoms, I know the Illness is there somewhere – waiting.

I run through all the different ways I could tell him and all the different ways he could react. Everything from him turning off the phone immediately and never speaking to me again, to the far scarier version of him running straight to my house, into my room, and –

I shake my head.

Mum busies round me, muttering about how stupid it was to force me into the spare room on six spoons. And I want to tell her that actually I think this time I’ve got away with it.

But also I don’t want to jinx it.

I want to just float in this hope a little longer.

63

Alice

It’s Wednesday and I’m nervous.