Kieran makes enquiries at uni and the hospital about the eye-gaze devices, but unless we can prove I can use my eyes to communicate, no-one will write me a referral. Mum’s tried everything but so far no-one’s helped. Without the machine in front of me, the therapists can’t see what Mum and Dad and Nic and Kieran see.

Am I ever going to talk?

‘Come on. I want to show you guys something,’ says Kieran a few weeks later. Mum has taken Dad to a rehab appointment, so it’s just me and Nic at home. Kieran holds my elbow as he leads me to his room, Nic following behind. She’s supposed to be going round to Mel’s, but Kieran’s persuaded her to look at something on his computer.

It’s the first time I’ve been inside Mum’s garage office since she started renting it to Kieran. Now leads and cords run everywhere. Controllers and headphones litter the floor and I wonder how long it’s been since Mum came down here.

Nic steps gingerly over the mess while Banjo barks and jumps and wags his tail. Even if I had a tail, I couldn’t wag it today. I’m having one of my floppy days. I’ve been having a floppy week.

‘It’s not a dumb computer game, is it?’ asks Nic.

‘Just give me a sec,’ says Kieran. ‘It’ll be worth it.’

My heavy heart thumps. What is it? Another funny cat video?

Kieran’s couch smells of dog hair and stale pizza. A strand of cooked spaghetti hangs from the ceiling. I’ve heard of the ‘throw spaghetti against the tiles to see if it is cooked’ method, but I didn’t think you could also throw it at the ceiling.

‘Here, sit down next to Ava,’ Kieran tells Nic. ‘I’ll set it up.’

Nic sinks beside me on the saggy sofa bed and kicks at a squashed pizza box on the floor. I slide my tongue across the roof of my mouth. I still have a square of Vegemite sandwich from lunch stuck to it. But with no energy to swallow, I can’t seem to get it away.

Kieran’s flicking through options with his gaming console. But I hardly have the strength to care. My head’s heavy, my shoulders ache, and I feel like a buffalo is sitting on my chest.

Kieran fiddles with the console until green ‘yes’ and red ‘no’ squares come up on the screen, just like on his iPad. The Vegemite grows sour in my mouth. Not this again.

Nic’s frowning. ‘What? I don’t get it.’

‘Wait. I’ll show you.’ Kieran helps me over to the chair in front of the computer and flicks on the camera on his screen. ‘Look. See there in the corner? That’s you, Ava.’

There’s a video of my face in a small square in the corner of the screen. I look cramped and pale compared to the bright red and green of the squares.

‘Okay, so I have this idea. We need to show the speech therapists that Ava has the capacity to use an eye-gaze machine, right? What if we use the webcam on my computer to capture Ava making choices? We can record it. So, you ask her a question. She’ll look at the screen. She’ll focus her eyes on the “yes” or “no” square, depending what she wants to say, and the webcam will capture her shifting gaze. Awesome, right? We’ll be able to prove she uses her eyes to communicate.’

Kieran – you’re a genius! Nothing less than a genius.

I stare at the screen. Vegemite dribbles from my mouth.

This is it. I’m ready.

Blood thunders in my ears. My head’s spinning. I want to get started. The ‘yes’ and ‘no’ squares are like Christmas presents waiting to be unwrapped.

‘Shall we give it a try?’ asks Kieran. ‘Ava? You ready?’

He sits me straighter in the chair. The ‘yes’ and ‘no’ squares are right in front of me. So real, so close I could almost reach out and touch them.

Kieran and Nic sit on the floor beside me. The room is hot. I smell a whiff of stale anchovies from the crumpled pizza box at my feet.

‘Go on. Why don’t you start?’ says Kieran. ‘Ask Ava a question.’

‘Who me?’ Nic’s voice sounds high, like a baby bird’s. ‘No – you go. I might ask the wrong thing.’

‘There’s no right or wrong,’ says Kieran. ‘We’re just experimenting.’

I stare at the screen, waiting. Nic swallows and takes a deep breath.

‘Okay,’ she says. ‘Ava, do you like wafer biscuits? Tell me, yes or no.’

Kieran places his hand over my squishing hands to help settle me. I’m looking at the screen. Yes no yes no. Focus!

The thought of wafer biscuits makes me want to gag. No more food. My swallowing’s not up for any more food today.

Green for yes, red for no.

‘Just look at the answer, Ava,’ Kieran says. ‘You don’t have to press anything. Use your eyes.’

Nic nudges my shoulder. ‘It’s just like that day in the garden, when you looked at the birds.’ She repeats: ‘Do you like wafer biscuits?’

Green for yes, red for no.

I look at the green square.

‘YES!’ shouts Nic. ‘Did you see that, Kieran? She moved her eyes to “yes”.’

The webcam’s captured my stare! My heart leaps. I want to hug Nic. I want to hug Kieran and Banjo, and I get the feeling they want to hug me, too.

‘Should I ask her another one?’ says Nic, excitement ringing in her voice.

‘Just wait. I’ll double-check it’s recording. Hang on. Okay, go.’

‘Ava, do you like Slurpees?’ asks Nic.

YES!

‘Do you like school?’

NO!

There’s a shout of laughter from Nic. ‘Hey, Ava,’ she says. ‘Am I the coolest big sister ever?’

I’m tired now and slumping into the chair. But I lift my eyes and focus on the screen.

YES!

‘And what about Mum?’ Nic asks. ‘What do you think about Mum?’

‘It has to be a yes or no question,’ whispers Kieran from beside me.

‘Ava, do you love Mum?’

I try to ignore the lump of Vegemite sandwich rolling towards the back of my throat. I can’t get this question wrong. But if I don’t swallow soon, I’m going to …

The sticky ball of gooey bread jerks towards my tonsils. I cough. It jams. I can’t get any air. I’m gagging. Banjo starts barking, Nic and Kieran are thumping my back, but the bread won’t budge. My lungs are burning. I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe. Black spots appear in front of my eyes.

Just before I pass out, I tilt my head to look at the green square.

YES!