Later that day, the Taylors went out for a walk. This was always difficult. Not because Amy was in a wheelchair. But because of Jack.

“Come on, Jack!” shouted Suzi, as she and Amy waited at the door. “How many times do I have to tell you?”

“How many times do I have to tell you?” came back from inside the house, in a stupid voice.

Suzi and Amy exchanged glances.

“Your sister can’t walk!” shouted Suzi. “And she’s coming out for a walk!”

“Yeet!” said Jack, shambling out of his room. “Walking is for Normies. It’s a dank meme.”

“Please speak English.”

“He doesn’t want to come,” said Amy.

“He doesn’t want to come.”

“That means you have to come now,” said Amy. “If you’re being sarcastic about not wanting to come, it means you want to come.”

Jack looked a bit confused. But then said, “OK!” and put his shoes on.

It turned out that there was an Amy-centred problem with the walk, though.

“Amy! Where is your new chair?” said Suzi. “I’m fed up with watching you struggling with that old one!”

“I told you, Mum. I’m still getting used to it. I just want to use it on small journeys.”

“This is a small journey. It’s a walk round the park. But it’s taking a long time. Because you’re going round and round in circles. Because that old wheelchair’s stuck wheel has got even worse.”

Amy – who was indeed completing a circle rather than going forward – stopped and sighed.

“Amy,” said her mum. “Please. I’ve been to your room. It’s not there. So … where is your new—”

“OK, OK. I’ll show you. This way!” said Amy, moving off. Or trying to, at least.

“Sorry, which way?” said Jack, after a few seconds of the wheelchair turning round and round.

“Yeah, yeah, point taken,” said Amy. “Can you help turn me round, please? And then just push me for a bit?”