K, don’t tell me, then,’ you say. You know that nothing’s more certain to work than the old ‘I don’t want to know anyway’ line. But Stacey’s different. She immediately turns away and says, ‘Oh good, I was hoping you wouldn’t ask.’

Whoops. Seems like you miscalculated. ‘Er, hang on a sec,’ you say. ‘Look, if it’ll make you feel better to tell me, I guess I don’t mind.’

‘No, no really, it’s quite OK,’ she says.

‘No, no really,’ you say. ‘It’s not good to bottle things up. The counsellor at my old school kept telling us, “Talking always helps.”’

Stacey turns back to face you and stares you right in the eye. ‘I hope you’ll be really happy here,’ she says. ‘I sure do hope you will be. And if you ever need help, I just live over the road there, OK?’

Why would you need help? you wonder. What’s she on about? But before you can ask those questions she’s walking away down the drive. If you want to try again you’ll have to be quick. But she seems kind of hard to get through to. Maybe you’d be better off exploring those sheds.