‘Okay, girls.’ Mum’s all fired up after our appointment with Jin-Soo. ‘No time like the present.’

We’re sitting in the car park of the behaviour clinic, but Mum hasn’t started the engine. She’s pulled out Jin-Soo’s list from her handbag and is running her finger over the options. Nic, all buckled up and ready to go, frowns from behind her curls.

‘I vote for starting with number one and working our way down the list,’ says Mum. ‘Number one: spend more quality time together.’ She looks up and rests her gaze on Nic. ‘Come on. Why don’t we take Ava out for lunch?’

Nic sighs, but Mum nods, so we drive to the shopping centre near our house.

‘No, not here!’ says Nic, scooching down in her seat.

It’s one of the places Nic and her friends hang out.

‘No excuses. We’re going to do what Jin-Soo says,’ states Mum. She unloads my wheelchair from the boot before opening my door. Leaning across to undo my seat belt, she shoots a look at Nic, who hasn’t moved from the front seat. ‘Don’t you want something to eat?’

‘No thanks,’ moans Nic.

‘We’ll get everything in takeaway containers so we can leave in a hurry if we need to.’

And if I throw anything, it won’t break.

Nic sighs and snaps off her belt. ‘Fine,’ she says. ‘But don’t ask me to enjoy it.’

One time, when Nic was ten, we went to the mall and I screamed so much that centre management asked us to leave, saying we were being too disruptive.

Nic’s refused to come shopping with me since.

I won’t scream today, Nic. I promise.

‘Here.’ Mum pushes some money into Nic’s hand. ‘You go order. Ava and I will find a seat.’ She wheels me over to a table out of the way, in case I try to grab something I shouldn’t.

Don’t scream, don’t scream, don’t scream.

‘Well, this is nice, isn’t it?’ Mum says while we wait for Nic. ‘Been ages since we all did this.’

I take a deep breath and sit as straight as I can in my chair.

Don’t scream, don’t scream, don’t scream.

It’s wonderful to see Mum smile.

Don’t scream, don’t scream, don’t scream.

The shopping centre echoes with voices. The lights buzz. The flower stand in front of Woolies smells of ageing, sagging lilies.

Don’t scream, don’t scream, don’t scream.

Nic comes back with the number 14 on a metal stick, and we sit like an ordinary family.

For three whole minutes.

‘Can I borrow your credit card?’ asks Nic.

Mum’s eyebrows arch.

‘I’ll give it back, I just …’

‘Nic, really? Right now? What’s so important that …’ Mum sighs. ‘Sweetheart, we’re supposed to be tackling our list.’

I didn’t realise Jin-Soo’s list was made for tackling. I thought it was more for enjoying.

‘It is for the list.’ Nic glances over at the nearby Woolies, like she’s hatching a secret plan. Is she going to buy pasta to cook Mum and me a meal?

Mum must be wondering the same thing because, with a stern warning for Nic to be sensible, she hands over her card.

‘Okay, thanks,’ says Nic. ‘Back in a sec.’

Mum shrugs as we lose sight of Nic through the crowd and offers me a bite of a leftover Iced VoVo. I open my mouth, but can’t swallow. My saliva has dried up. The two-dollar Thomas the Tank Engine ride keeps tinkling its bell. My nose itches from the smell of roasting coffee.

‘Come on, just a little bite. There’s a girl.’

I’m trying one more time to swallow my bite of biscuit, when Nic reappears. ‘For you,’ she says, handing Mum a beautiful bunch of tulips. ‘From me and Ava. Just a little something to say thank you, for everything.’

Mum gasps. I start to smile, but instead I cough. The Iced VoVo is stuck. I can’t swallow. My throat is closing.

‘It’s okay, Ava,’ Mum’s saying. ‘Stay calm. Just swallow.’

Meanwhile, Nic’s pushing the flowers into Mum’s hands and saying, ‘Jin-Soo said we should do nice things for each other, you know, like small acts of kindness. And I thought, since I’ve been so, you know, well …’

I can’t breathe. My head feels like I’m swimming under water. Spots start appearing before my eyes.

‘Anyway, I saw the tulips over there and …’

Thump! Mum’s whacking me on the back, trying to open my airways. The flowers have been dumped onto the floor, and she’s taking hold of my shoulders and talking to my face. ‘Breathe, Ava, breathe! There’s my girl.’

The biscuit goes down the way it should and I finally take a big gulp of air. Mum gives me a drink of cold water. But Nic’s staring at the crushed flowers on the ground, her face as hard as cement.

My eyes well. I didn’t mean to choke.

We sit in silence while we wait for our lunch. So much for quality time. Nic’s doing anything but look at Mum. Instead, she’s eyeballing the food court, checking out who’s coming and going, hoping we don’t see anyone we know.

‘Crap!’ she says, suddenly dipping her head.

Mum swivels around in her seat. ‘What?’

‘Mum! Don’t stare. I think it’s the student guy from the hospital.’

Nic couldn’t sink any further into her chair.

‘Sit up straight, Nicole,’ says Mum.

Nic shakes her head, trying to act invisible. ‘Can we go?’ she asks.

Mum frowns. ‘But we haven’t got our food yet.’

Nic pulls out her phone and quickly taps on the screen, pretending to be super busy.

‘Oh, Nic, come on. Put that away.’

A familiar face sidles up to our table. ‘Hey. Mrs Mills, isn’t it? How’s it going?’

Mum looks up, her face brightening. ‘Oh, hi. Sorry, I’ve forgotten your name.’

‘Kieran,’ says the young man.

‘Oh, yes, of course! Kieran, you remember my daughter Ava? And my eldest, Nic? Lovely to see you again. What are you up to?’

Kieran says hi to me then nods quickly at Nic’s scowly face. He’s not wearing his university polo shirt and black slacks, and looks extra skinny in his faded, ripped jeans. ‘Basically wasting time,’ he says. ‘I just checked out another rental.’

‘Oh? Any luck?’

Kieran shakes his head.

‘Because of your dog?’ Mum asks.

Banjo.

‘Yeah. The ad said dogs were allowed, but when I got there they said only lap dogs. You know, like Chihuahuas or Shih Tzus.’ He sighs. ‘Oh well. I’ll keep looking, I guess.’

He’s interrupted by the arrival of our drinks. He watches Mum fuss over me, moving the tub of sugar sachets out of swiping range.

‘Here, let me help.’ Kieran takes my milkshake and squats beside me. He holds my straw to my lips, without Mum telling him to, and makes sure I can suck on it. I guess they must teach him and the other students how to help people who have trouble, like me.

‘Thanks,’ says Mum, checking that I’m getting the shake up through the straw.

‘No biggie, Mrs Mills. That nice, Ava? Yeah, awesome. Slurp it up.’

Nic watches while pretending not to, silently sipping her lemonade.

‘So, good news for you guys,’ says Kieran. ‘I heard Mr Mills is being discharged soon?’

It’s like he’s talking to me, the way he’s watching me drink my milkshake, but I know he’s speaking to Mum. ‘Have you got everything you need?’

‘I think so,’ she says. Mum’s been busy getting our house ready for when Dad comes home. She’s hired a special hospital bed with sides, to make sure Dad doesn’t fall out, organised Henry to fit a grab rail in the bathroom, and borrowed a comfy recliner chair for the TV room. Our house feels squashed with all the extra furniture, but I don’t care. It’ll be nice to have Dad back. It’s been five weeks since his face went slippy, and it’s not the same at home without him.

‘I’m sure it will work out,’ Kieran says. He looks into my cup, which is only half-empty. ‘Sorry, guys. I gotta go. Awesome seeing you, though.’ He hands my drink back to Mum.

‘Okay, well, bye, Kieran,’ she says. ‘Good luck with your house hunting.’

‘Bye, Mrs Mills. Bye, Ava, Nic. See you round.’

Once he’s gone, Nic sighs noisily from her chair.

‘Nic! Oh! I’m so sorry. I didn’t say thank you for the flowers.’ Mum scoops them up off the floor. ‘Thank you, love. And tulips too. My favourite! That was very thoughtful of you.’

Too late. Nic stares at the flowers like they’re a bucket full of fish heads.

Guilt knots my stomach.

So much for Jin-Soo’s magic wand.