Mam and Dad are staying overnight at the hospital in two rooms near the intensive care unit. Mormor and Uncle Pete are driving me home and staying at our house. We’re in Pete’s car, and neither of them has said a word to me for the past ten minutes. It convinces me that they think:

a) I punched Seb in the face while he was lying in a coma in hospital. Why would I do that?

b) If I could do that, then I’m probably responsible – somehow – for Seb’s current condition.

Well, they’re half right, at least.

As for me, I’m not keen on talking, anyhow. I have enough going on in my head without adding conversation.

I stare out of the car window as we turn left along the seafront towards home. It’s an overcast, muggy evening, and the usual breeze from the lilac-grey sea isn’t even bothering the leaves on the trees. People with drinks stand outside the Park Hotel, laughing; a small crowd of day-trippers with cool boxes and sandy feet wait at the bus stop; and, a little bit further along the front, a familiar figure walks alongside a slow black-and-ginger dog …

‘Stop!’ I shout. ‘Please stop!’

‘What’s wrong, pal?’ asks Uncle Pete, turning back to look at me and making the car swerve a little.

It is definitely her – Kez Becker – and walking alongside her is Dennis.

‘Nothing’s wrong. I just need to speak to that girl. See? Her with the dog there!’

But we are driving too fast, and we’re already way past her.

‘Susan? It’s me … Guess what? I’ve just seen Dennis being walked by Kez Becker by the Park Hotel.’

I’m up in my room, lying on my bed under the hook where the Dreaminator used to be. I told Uncle Pete and Mormor that I wasn’t hungry (untrue) and that I was tired (untrue) and that I was going upstairs to read (also untrue).

‘What?’ says Susan.

‘Dennis. Kez has got Dennis – Kenneth McKinley’s dog?’

‘All right …’

‘Look. Seb is … he’s not improving. In fact, he’s getting worse. We have to act fast. And Kez Becker is the key.’

‘The key to what?’

‘Getting the Dreaminator from the funeral parlour!’

‘And how will we get Kez to help us?’

‘I don’t know.’ I say. ‘I haven’t thought of that yet.’

‘I see.’ She sounds doubtful. ‘But … it is getting late and Mola is …’

‘No,’ I say. ‘We haven’t got much time.’

I tell her everything about the hospital, about Seb writhing on the bed and getting the wound on his face, and the ICU …

‘How soon can you meet me?’ says Susan, her tone suddenly changing from doubtful to positive.

‘How soon? You mean now?’

‘You said it was urgent.’

‘I know. But I can’t just … leave. I’ve got relatives here.’

‘You will find a way. Twenty minutes. By the Priory gates. I have an idea.’

I take a deep breath and look in the mirror. Is that me? My blond haystack is the same, my bogie-coloured eyes (Seb’s description) and the freckles over my nose … they are all familiar. But something has changed. Do I look older? That’s silly. A nearly-twelve-year-old can’t suddenly look older.

Perhaps I just feel it. I run my hand through my hair, and, as I do, I touch the spot where, weeks ago now, I bruised my scalp when I floated up to the ceiling that very first time. It doesn’t hurt now, there’s no bump or anything, but it makes me think.

I go back to my bed and lie on it, trying to position my head against the headboard to touch the same spot, and I really can’t. Not easily, anyway. I did this the first morning, remember, but I just thought I must have bumped my head on the wall. Now I know that I didn’t.

The head-bump from my dream became real, just like the teeth-marks, just like the sores on Seb’s wrists …

It has been going wrong right from the start!

I stand up from my bed, tighten my jaw and say with as much determination as I can: ‘You can do this, Malky.’

Downstairs, I hold up a plastic bag with a book in it, trying to behave as if this is the most normal thing in the world. Uncle Pete and Mormor are in the living room, watching television with the sound turned up to loud because Mormor’s hearing is really bad.

‘I have to take this back!’ I shout. ‘I won’t be long,’ and I turn to go, believing for a whole second that I have got away with it.

‘Hang on, mate. Where are you going?’ says Uncle Pete, muting the sound and making Mormor look up from her phone. ‘It’s nearly half past eight. It’s dark out.’

Okay, okay, total relaxation. They don’t know that this isn’t normal.

‘Oh, it’s just a school thing.’ Don’t make your voice go high, Malky. ‘Ahem. Susan left her school iPad here. Earlier. Before. By mistake. And she needs it right now. She’s only at the end of the street.’ I’m gabbling, definitely, but I’m keeping my voice low.

‘School iPads, heh? So modern!’ says Mormor, raising her eyebrows.

Oh, please don’t ask to see it. There’s just a book inside this bag, and our school doesn’t use iPads, anyway.

‘I won’t be long.’

‘Who is this that you’re meeting?’ says Uncle Pete.

Oh, come on! I can see the clock on the mantelpiece eating up the minutes …

‘Susan. Susan Tenzin. Big house at the end. She’s always round here. Mam and Dad know her really well. She’s like my best friend.’

Somehow this seems less like a lie than it might have done until recently.

‘Well, that’s nice,’ says Mormor. ‘I had a friend called Susan when I was at school, and …’

Oh no! She wants to chat!

I add, ‘They’re Buddhists,’ for good measure just because I know Uncle Pete did a mindfulness retreat in Greece last Christmas. ‘And they go to bed very early.’ He gets the hint.

‘Don’t be long. Got your phone with you?’

I wave it at him and I’m out of the door before he can change his mind, and I run to meet Susan on time.