‘What’s happening, porcupine?’ Sam asks as he buckles me into his taxi.

‘Hello, Sam.’

Sam’s eyebrows shoot to the sky. He’s still not used to me talking.

‘Well, well, well,’ he says, smiling. ‘Aren’t you just a happy camper today?’

I giggle as I catch him looking at me in the rear-vision mirror all the way to school, like he’s expecting me to juggle or break out into song.

‘You have a good day, okay?’ he says as he drops me at the gate.

Every day’s a good day.

Because it is. Now.

‘Mat,’ I say before Clare helps me dress at the pool. Standing on the mat makes me feel more secure. The slippery floor makes me nervous.

‘Orange,’ I say when Dan’s mixing colours in art. Not black today, please.

And when Hayley asks what we’re doing on the weekend, I tell her, ‘Surprise. Party.’

Because I finally worked out what’s wrong with Nic. The other night when I was lying in bed, I overheard her on the phone to Mel.

‘I was wrong about the laptop,’ Nic was saying. ‘I don’t even think I’m getting a present.’

I listened harder.

‘It’s fine. Seriously. Yeah, Dad’s good … Yeah, he can. No, not yet, but … It’s okay Mel. Forget it. Everyone’s too busy and I don’t want to be a pain.’

Nic thinks we’ve forgotten her birthday?

On Saturday, Mum takes Nic to her maths tute, while the rest of us prepare the house. We’ve hired a disco ball and a juke box, and borrowed a Slurpee machine from Aimee’s dad. Kieran strings up party lights, Dad sets out chairs, and Henry blows up balloons. Mel’s invited their friends, set up the drum kit and a mike, and has promised to do Nic’s hair the way she did for the talent show.

Mel’s hanging up a shiny banner that shouts ‘Happy 14th’ in large rainbow letters, when she looks over at me. ‘What about your hair?’ she asks.

I stare at the pictures on my eye-gaze device. ‘Me,’ I choose. ‘Not coming.’

Mel tips her head. ‘Seriously?’ she says. ‘But wouldn’t Nic like you there?’

Kieran nods, and Dad agrees.

But I’m still not sure. I haven’t got a good track record for being around Nic when she’s with her friends. So, an hour later when thirty kids are crammed into the TV room waiting for Nic to come home, I’m still deciding if I should ask to go to my room.

There are too many voices bouncing off the walls.

Too many arms, legs, faces.

Too loud.

I can’t embarrass Nic. Not today.

My stomach swirls. The smells of rubber balloons and hot sausage rolls fill the air.

To make matters worse, Bella’s there, staring at my drooling lips.

But I don’t scream. I don’t pinch or throw anything or pull anyone’s hair. Instead, I focus on my device.

‘Don’t stare,’ I say to Bella.

I laugh as she scurries away into the crowd.

‘They’re here,’ calls Dad.

The music hushes. Our front door swings open.

‘SURPRISE!’

‘Oh my god, what’s going on?’ Nic’s eyes are wide as she looks around our lounge. ‘You’re throwing me a party?’ she gasps. ‘But …’

She doesn’t finish because her friends run to her and wrap her in such a tight bear hug she can hardly breathe. Mum, Dad, Kieran, Henry and I grin, waiting for them to finally let go. Then Nic squeals when she sees the table groaning under the weight of all the presents. She’s going to lose it when she unwraps her laptop. But instead of opening her presents, she eyeballs Mel, who’s waiting with her straightener at the ready. ‘Did you do all this?’ Nic asks.

Mel shakes her head and points to me.

‘Ava?’

My eye-gaze device is in front of me, so I could answer yes, but I don’t. Because, for one, it wasn’t just me – lots of people helped. And secondly, I can’t take my eyes off Nic.

She hasn’t looked so happy since forever.

Maybe never.

‘This was your idea?’ she asks.

‘Don’t worry,’ says Mum, ‘we’ll take her out so she doesn’t—’

‘No,’ says Nic. ‘Ava’s my sister. I want her here.’

So I stay. Long enough to see Nic reappear from her bedroom with hair as straight as uncooked spaghetti. Long enough to see Nic’s friends gather around her as she counts the candles on her cake. ‘Five, six, seven, eight …’

Long enough to see, in the last second before she blows them out, Nic glancing up at me.

I smile and she smiles back. I don’t need words, or eye-gaze, or anything.

Happy birthday, Nic. I love you.