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Douglas Benson From Another Dimension gave me breasts for my birthday.

It was certainly a change from gel pens and I told him that.

‘It’s certainly a change from gel pens,’ I said.

He switched from one foot to another. I had never seen him embarrassed before, but I had read about the signs. Flushing a strange and unnatural shade of red, shifting from foot to foot, unable to make eye contact. Douglas scored three out of three.

‘They’re very nice,’ I said, gazing at the two strange items on my lap. ‘They are the nicest artificial breasts anyone has ever given me.’

That was true, but he spotted the flaw in my statement immediately, probably because he thinks a lot and has strange knobbly lumps on his head.

‘I bet they’re the only artificial breasts you’ve ever received,’ he pointed out.

‘That is true,’ I replied. ‘Certainly.’

He shuffled some more.

‘I made them myself,’ he muttered.

‘Fancy,’ I said.

‘It’s just that …’ he went in for more shuffling. I started to worry about bald patches on the carpet. ‘You’ve mentioned … you know … how you were worried about … you know … things not happening … you know… there.’ He made a general nod to where my chest might be, though, to be honest, the nod was so general and directionless he could have been indicating the cabinet where Mum keeps a collection of glass animals. I couldn’t remember mentioning my lack of breasts to Douglas Benson From Another Dimension, but then again, I can’t remember everything I’ve ever said. Douglas blurted on, like he had a speech and wanted to get it out before his courage deserted him. ‘So I did research on the web about … you know … and what they should be made of. Then it was a simple matter of engineering. They inflate …’ He said this with pride as if inflation would win over the most cynical of bosomless doubters. He almost made eye contact. ‘… so you can go from … you know …’ He held his own hands against his chest and then moved them out a considerable distance. If I inflated them to that size I’d fall forward and puncture them. I didn’t mention this because it would be ungrateful. ‘Whatever you want,’ he finished.

‘They are very nice,’ I said. ‘I will wear them to the party.’

‘Really?’ He was so happy he looked at me for a couple of seconds before his eyes slipped away. ‘Facsimile Mother said I was mad. She insisted I get you something else.’ He handed over another present and I unwrapped it. It was a calligraphy set which was brilliant and an exciting variation on gel pens.

‘Thank you, Douglas Benson From Another Dimension,’ I said. ‘They are lovely presents.’

Douglas had turned up at nine in the morning because I had planned a day out for my birthday. Mum and Dad wanted something simple and straightforward like chicken parmigiana at a local restaurant followed by a birthday cake, a chorus of ‘Happy Birthday to you’ and an early night. But I insisted. It was my birthday after all.

‘You want to wander around a marina in Brisbane, Pumpkin?’ said Mum. ‘Why?’

‘Because Rich Uncle Brian will be there,’ I said. ‘And he wants to see me on my birthday.’

Mum scratched her head. ‘Well, I can understand that, but couldn’t you arrange to see him separately? You know he and your dad don’t see eye to eye. Couldn’t he take you out first and then the three of us could do something later? Go to a restaurant, for example.’

‘No,’ I said. ‘It’s my birthday and my choice.’ This closed the discussion as it was designed to do.

At nine-thirty we were in the van, heading off to Brisbane. I had my false boobs on under my sweater. I hadn’t inflated them and that was a sensible decision. Even so, they made peculiar bumps. My chest looked like Douglas’s head. Mum glanced at it [my chest, not Douglas’s head] and her mouth opened, then closed again. Then she opened her mouth and closed it again. Another brilliant impersonation of Earth-Pig Fish. In the end, though, she said nothing and simply sat in the front seat. Douglas was next to me in the back. I tried to get everyone singing, but no one was interested. I remembered, in the dim and distant days of family harmony, that we used to sing ‘The wheels on the bus go round and round’ at the top of our lungs. Dad would do all the motions, putting on the windscreen wipers and tooting the horn at appropriate moments. He didn’t care then about the reaction of other motorists. I was tempted to try it, but settled for ‘Killing Me Softly [With His Song]’ instead. After the first chorus, I got the feeling I was killing them hardly, so I stopped. Mum and Dad stared through the windscreen as if reading the road scrolling beneath the wheels. I talked to Douglas.

‘Are you still jumping out of trees?’ I asked.

He sighed. ‘Of course. But without success, I’m afraid.’

‘You fail at jumping out of trees?’

‘No. The jumping is no problem. But I can’t get back to my world. It is so frustrating.’

‘Is there a me in your world?’

‘What?’

‘A Candice Phee? You said there was an infinity of earths and therefore an infinity of me’s. So have you bumped into an alternative me in your alternative Earth, and if so, what is she – me – like? Is that alternative Candice your friend? Does she have a religiously-confused fish? Or is she normal?’

I liked the idea of a normal me somewhere, doing normal things and thinking normal thoughts – a Candice who wasn’t called a shortened form of Special Needs, who had a boyfriend and a phone, who went to sleepovers and drank cider and liked rap songs and confided everything to her sister, who worshipped her and wanted to be just like her when she grew up.

‘You must be there somewhere,’ said Douglas, ‘but I haven’t met you.’

‘Will you do me a favour?’ I asked. ‘If you get back …’

When I get back,’ said Douglas.

‘Yes. When you get back, would you look me up? Say hello from me.’ I started to get excited at the possibilities. ‘And because you are a whizz at all things scientific, perhaps you could invent something whereby we could communicate between our worlds. Letters, preferably, because I can’t do email. And maybe the alternative Candice could be my penpal.’ I stopped then, because a horrible thought struck me. What if the alternative Candice was too cool to bother with me? I could cope with the knowledge that Denille was too busy and/or too American to write, but I couldn’t face knowing that I didn’t like me. So I bit my fingernails, which I do when strange thoughts buzz around my head. If Douglas replied I didn’t hear it. I was focused on the probability of being snubbed in an infinite number of worlds.

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We arrived at the marina in an atmosphere of confusion. Dad locked the van and we stood for a moment gazing around the car park, which, to be honest, didn’t look like the perfect site for birthday celebrations. Neither did the sight of masts bobbing in a strange, detached fashion above the roofs of the cars.

‘Well,’ said Dad. ‘We’re here.’

‘True,’ I said. ‘Though, when you think about it, we are always here. I mean, at any given moment, here is inevitably where you must be. You can’t be there, without moving from the here to the there. And every movement is a small “here”. So “here” is a permanent …’

‘Candice,’ said Dad. ‘I know it’s your birthday, but please stop. We’re here. At the marina, which is your choice. So what do you want to do? Do you want your birthday party in this car park? Nothing would surprise me anymore.’

He started to mutter darkly, so Mum grabbed him by the arm and hauled him off a few metres. There was much waving of arms and subdued growling mingled with the muttering. An occasional word like ‘selfish’ and ‘pig’ and ‘birthday’ fluttered past my ears as well as the odd phrase like ‘her day’ and ‘sarcastic bastard’. These were Mum’s contributions. Dad just scowled and muttered. Darkly. Wonderful, I thought. I was aiming for harmony, but achieving discord. I took Douglas by the arm and headed towards the boats. Maybe Mum and Dad would notice we’d gone after they’d finished muttering and growling.

‘Why are we here, Candice?’ asked Douglas Benson From Another Dimension.

‘To perform a miracle,’ I replied.

‘Oh,’ said Douglas. ‘Right.’

I took him straight to the marina. There were so many boats it was difficult to see the water between them, but I knew where I was going. After all, I had thrown up on most of this marina and that helps in the getting of bearings. I saw Rich Uncle Brian’s boat at the far end of a long pier and headed towards it.

Now that I was close to the BIG MOMENT, I was becoming nervous. If Rich Uncle Brian and/or Dad didn’t respond appropriately I could be moments from an unpleasant death. That got me thinking again, so I stopped.

‘Douglas?’ I said. ‘Do you think there is such a thing as a pleasant death?’

He screwed up his face in concentration. His caterpillar eyebrows writhed.

‘Maybe being sucked into a Black Hole,’ he replied finally. ‘I’m not sure that would be pleasant, but it would be amazingly cool. You see, as you approached the event horizon …’

‘I thought not,’ I said, and took off for the Motherboard once again. Rich Uncle Brian’s yacht bobbed in the water in what sailors would probably find an agreeable fashion. I felt like throwing up. There was no sign of anyone on deck, but Rich Uncle Brian was almost certainly lurking down below, doing whatever nautical people do. I had rung him the day before and he had promised to be there. Rich Uncle Brian keeps his promises. I glanced over my shoulder. Mum and Dad were following, though they were some distance away. I had time to provide important information to Douglas Benson From Another Dimension.

‘Douglas,’ I said. ‘Promise me that whatever happens in the next few minutes, you will do absolutely nothing.’

‘What do you mean?’ he said.

‘I thought it was fairly plain, but I’ll rephrase. Promise me that whatever happens in the next few minutes, you will do absolutely nothing.’

‘Like what?’

‘Like nothing.’

‘No.’ He shook his head as if to clear away confusion. ‘I mean, what will happen?’

‘Something.’ Suddenly an unpleasant thought surprised me. I was getting plenty of surprising thoughts today. Maybe it had something to do with being a teenager. ‘Unless,’ I added, ‘no one else does anything. If that happens – and ONLY if that happens – I want you to leap around like a mountain goat, screaming, pointing and generally being dramatic. Got it?’

‘No,’ said Douglas Benson From Another Dimension.

‘Good,’ I said. ‘I’m glad we’re on the same wavelength.’

A hundred metres away, Mum and Dad walked along the pier. The time had come. I formed a megaphone with my hands and filled my lungs.

‘Rich Uncle Brian!’ I yelled. There was a pause while I took in the absence of an uncle on the Motherboard’s deck. I geared myself for another bellow, but was spared by the sight of RUB appearing from the bowels of the boat. It was unnerving. A peaked cap rose into view. Underneath it was RUB’s head. For a moment it was like a severed head balancing on the boards. Then his shoulders hove into view, followed by the rest of his body. It was like he’d oozed, head first, through the fabric of the boat. I might have applauded, but I had other things on my mind.

‘Pumpkin!’ he shouted. He might even have waved an arm. I cannot be sure. ‘Happy birthday, my girl. Happy birthday!’

‘Thank you, Rich Uncle Brian,’ I replied.

Then I threw myself off the pier and into the water.

It was very wet, which was no great surprise, but also very cold, which was. I resisted the urge to take a sharp intake of breath, which was probably wise.

I sank like a stone and waited. For rescue or death, whichever came first.

I’m confident you’ll work out which.