When I woke on Tuesday morning, SC II was curled against my stomach, purring softly. The time on my stereo said 9.06 a.m. I couldn’t believe I’d slept for so long. But then, my room was so deliciously dark and quiet, unlike my room in the BMTU. I rolled onto my side and took my phone off the bedside table.

  There were a few messages from Jamie.

  No, not just a few. There were ten messages from Jamie.

  I sat bolt upright. What the hell was going on? Was Jamie having some kind of crisis? Maybe someone in his family was sick. Maybe he was sick.

  11.31 p.m. I had a great time tonight. Miss you already.

  11.59 p.m. Are you still awake?

  12.07 a.m. I guess you are asleep. Goodnight SC2

  ‘But why aren’t you asleep?’ I muttered. SC II yawned and rolled onto his back, his paws sticking up in the air. ‘Not you,’ I said, scratching his tummy.

  12.52 a.m. I can’t wait to see you tomorrow. Maybe you could come to my Phantom practice?

  1.13 a.m. Actually maybe you should just come to the last 10 minutes or you might get bored.

  1.47 a.m. Are you allowed to eat pork?

  Seriously, could this not have waited until morning? Did he really expect me to answer?

  2.22 a.m. Doesn’t radiation give people leukaemia? Like Hiroshima?

  2.42 a.m. Sorry I shouldn’t doubt your doctors.

  2.53 a.m. Although maybe you should be worried when they look like Tweedledum and the BFG.

  That should have made me smile. It would have, if Jamie hadn’t sent it at a time when most people had already been asleep for three to four hours.

  2.59 a.m. Just kidding! Am going to float my ghostly molecules to sleep now. OG

  I picked up SC II and hugged him to my chest.

  ‘What do you think?’ I whispered into his fur. ‘Should I be worried?’

  The need for sleep is usually reduced during the manic phase.

  But Jamie was taking his lithium … wasn’t he?

  Mum pulled up outside the front gates of Jamie’s school at quarter past five. I gazed up at the old stone buildings, took a deep breath and opened the passenger door. I was wishing I hadn’t agreed to meet Jamie at his school, wasn’t sure I could face the inevitable stares and whispers when his theatre mates saw my beanie-clad head.

  ‘Do you want me to walk with you to the hall?’ Mum asked, once I’d stepped out onto the pavement. I swallowed.

  ‘Um, no. I’ll be fine.’ It was bad enough being Leukaemia Girl. I didn’t need to be a mummy’s girl as well. ‘It’s just over there.’

  Mum nodded. ‘I’ll stay here until you’ve got inside. Dad will pick you up from Jamie’s at ten o’clock, OK?’

  ‘Eleven,’ I said, narrowing my eyes at her.

  ‘It’s a school night. For Jamie, anyway.’

  ‘He won’t be asleep before midnight, believe me,’ I said.

  ‘Ten-thirty,’ she amended, a little too quickly, as though she’d intended that all along.

  ‘Ten-thirty, fine,’ I said, shutting the door behind me. Thrusting my hands into the pockets of my jeans, I walked towards the school hall, not looking behind me once.

  With their tall, arched windows, the stone buildings looked like they were straight out of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I walked up a set of concrete steps and into a foyer with wood-panelled walls and polished floorboards. Through the double doors ahead of me, I could see a group of teenage boys clustered around the base of a stage. To the left of the stage, a middle-aged man with jet-black hair sat behind a piano.

  Raising my hand to the glass, I squinted at the two figures on the stage. One of them was a boy with a shaven head, the other a girl with very long, chestnut-coloured hair. The boy was standing behind the girl, his arm draped across the top of her chest. Her head was thrown back, her throat bared.

  My chest tightened. It was Jamie, of course. Jamie, and — who the hell was that girl? Wasn’t this a boys’ school?

  ‘Can I help you?’

  I jumped, my hand to my chest. A thickset man in a pale-blue shirt was standing behind me, holding a clipboard.

  ‘Oh, I’m—’ I pointed at the stage. ‘I’m waiting for my friend.’

  ‘Frankie?’

  ‘Jamie,’ I corrected, realising the man was talking about the beautiful girl that my boyfriend was still embracing and looking as though he was about to kiss.

  ‘James Orange,’ the man said, sounding somewhat less enthused. He looked me up and down, and said, ‘Oh yes, of course,’ as if he’d deduced that Jamie and I were bald-headed twins.

  ‘We did Shave for a Cure together,’ I improvised.

  The man smiled. ‘What a lovely thing to do. Well, do go in, by all means.’ He pushed open the door for me, and beckoned me inside. After a momentary hesitation, I walked in.

  ‘Let’s repeat the last verse,’ said a voice from the front row of seats. From the bobbing of the head, I figured it was coming from a woman with a greying bun. ‘You need to stop reaching for those high notes, Mr Orange.’

  Jamie’s hands dropped to his sides. ‘Seriously?’ He turned his head towards the guy at the piano, ignoring the woman. ‘Tell me that wasn’t pitch perfect.’

  ‘I’ll tell you when it’s pitch perfect,’ the woman said, her tone acerbic. ‘Believe me, you’re far from it.’

  I wilted back against the velvety curtains. Jamie, his hands on his hips, said, ‘That’s the first time anyone’s said that to me before.’

  I couldn’t believe he was speaking back to the woman like that. Clearly she wasn’t too impressed either, because she rose out of her seat and said, ‘Mr Orange, you’re dismissed.’

  ‘What?’ Jamie looked at the other teacher, who just shook his head and gazed fixedly at the piano. The low hum of voices suddenly stopped.

  ‘Well,’ she said, ‘obviously you don’t need to practise at all.’ She clapped her hands. ‘Charlie Faulkner, would you like to step in?’

  Jamie spread his hands and opened his mouth. Then he looked up, and straight at me. I stared back at him, willing him not to say something that would get him in even worse trouble. Maybe the telepathy worked, because he lowered his hands, hopped off the stage and grabbed his backpack from one of the front-row chairs before striding towards me, his face crimson.

  ‘Come back when you’re feeling humble, if that’s possible,’ the Ice Queen called after him.

  Jamie’s head whipped around. I took his hand and tugged him towards the foyer.

  ‘Don’t say it,’ I hissed.

  ‘That woman is a complete bitch!’ Jamie exploded, as soon as the double doors had closed behind us. He whirled around, waving his hand in the direction of the Ice Queen. ‘Did you hear her?’

  ‘She does seem a bit—’

  ‘She’s been trying to get a rise out of me since day one.’ Keeping tight hold of my hand, he strode outside and down the concrete steps. The sky was aflame, blood-orange. I wanted to stop, to take it in, to breathe in the crystal air, but Jamie was still walking, still talking.

  ‘If anyone was off-key, it was Frankie. Did you hear her?’

  ‘I thought you were both—’

  ‘If Mr Jackson had any balls—’ Jamie carried on, glancing at me when I tugged my hand out of his grasp. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ I said. ‘Are you?’

  ‘I’m just pissed off.’ He breathed in. ‘Sorry. You didn’t need to hear that.’

  I crossed my arms. ‘No, I mean — are you really OK?’

  Jamie ran an arm over his forehead. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘How much sleep did you get last night?’

  ‘How much sleep did I get?’ He laughed, but it didn’t sound like his usual laugh. It sounded forced, even a little bit mean. ‘What, are you keeping tabs on me now?’

  I took a step back. ‘I’m just worried about you. Is that allowed?’

  ‘Of course it’s allowed,’ Jamie snapped.

  ‘So I can ask you a question then?’ I crossed my arms, staring at this boyfriend of mine whom I suddenly felt I hardly knew at all. Jamie spread his hands.

  ‘Ask me anything you want.’ Leaf-shadows stirred over his face.

  I inhaled. ‘Are you taking your lithium?’

  His hands fell to his sides. ‘You sound like my mother.’

  ‘So, you’re not,’ I said, and when he didn’t answer, my stomach twisted. I turned and started walking again. Jamie jogged after me and caught me by the elbow.

  ‘I didn’t say that.’

  I gritted my teeth. ‘So why are you acting so weird?’

  ‘I’m not acting weird,’ he yelled.

  ‘Then stop yelling at me,’ I yelled back. We stared at each other for a moment.

  ‘I never said I wasn’t taking my lithium,’ he said.

  I didn’t know whether to believe him. What was I supposed to believe, when he was obviously sleeping no more than three to four hours a night, and practically bouncing off the walls? But was the Jamie standing in front of me too far different from the one I’d met in the blood-test waiting room only four weeks ago?

  But something did feel different. Something felt wrong.

  ‘So why didn’t you say that?’ I asked, my voice lower.

  ‘It’s not something I like to talk about,’ he said. ‘In case you hadn’t figured that out by now.’

  I gave out a short laugh. ‘Oh, don’t worry. I have figured that out. But what I don’t get is how you get to know everything about me, when I know hardly anything about you.’

  ‘That’s not true.’ Jamie’s voice sounded odd, as if he had a cold.

  ‘Or maybe,’ I said, my voice rising again, ‘you’d tell me more if I looked like that girl up on the stage whom you obviously wanted to—’

  ‘Wanted to what?’

  Fighting back tears, I yelled, ‘K-k-kiss!’ Oh great, just what I needed, to turn into an emotional wreck when I was trying to — oh hell, what was I trying to do? I didn’t even know.

  ‘Don’t cry, puss-cat,’ Jamie whispered, his voice so tender that it made me cry even harder. He stepped forward. ‘The only girl I want to kiss is you. The only one I want is you.’

  I ran my hand under my nose. ‘Then why do you keep shutting me out?’

  ‘I didn’t know I was.’ He waved his hands around his head. ‘Look, I’m just a bit scattered at the moment, OK? I’ve got so much to do. I’ve got production practice three days a week, and study, and assignments, and — and you, puss-cat, I need to spend every spare minute with you, before you have to go back to hospital. Do you see why I can’t sleep?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ I took a shaky breath. Jamie moved closer and cupped his hands around my flaming cheeks.

  ‘Can we rewind? Please?’

  ‘Maybe,’ I said, my muscles still so tense it was almost painful. But Jamie kissed the tip of my nose, and he was gentle Jamie, my Jamie.

  ‘Let’s not fight,’ he said. ‘Not tonight.’

  ‘Not tonight.’ I pushed my forehead into his. ‘Not this week, not ever.’

  ‘Not ever,’ Jamie agreed, running his hands up and down my arms. ‘Do you still want to come back to my place? Mum’s coming to pick us up.’

  ‘Sure,’ I said, trying to stop shivering. Jamie draped his arm around my shoulders and started walking in the direction of the road.

  ‘She’s got a receding chin anyway,’ he said.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Frankie,’ he said, and he laughed, and so did I.

  CHAPTER 16

  FULL MOON RISING

  Jamie’s mum was waiting for us when we walked through the school gates, the BMW’s engine humming. Jamie opened the front passenger door for me and hopped in the back seat. We wound around the park and through the tree-lined streets, as the sky turned from dove-grey to charcoal.

  ‘Jamie tells me you have a week out of hospital.’ Astrid glanced at me. She was wearing a baby-blue scarf around her neck, which brought out the colour of her eyes. Jamie’s eyes, I thought.

  I said, ‘Until next Monday, yeah.’ The thought of lying in a box to have my body blasted with radiation wasn’t filling me with joy. I had to go in to the hospital for radiation planning tomorrow, whatever that meant.

  Astrid smiled. ‘Well, I hope you have an enjoyable week off.’ She turned right, then left, and turned into their cobblestone driveway. Jamie skipped out of the car and opened my door.

  ‘Look.’ He stood behind me and pointed over my shoulder.

  I gazed up, and smiled. ‘A nearly full moon.’

  Jamie wrapped his arms around my waist, his cheek pressed against mine.

  ‘I can’t believe I’ve known you for only one lunar cycle.’

  I laughed. ‘You sound like a werewolf.’

  ‘Come on, you two,’ Astrid called from inside the house. ‘Leave the stargazing for after dinner, huh?’

  My stomach started growling as soon as I set foot inside and the scent of roasting pork hit me. After kicking off my trainers and shedding my jacket, I followed Jamie into the lounge, and through into the dining area. The large, bleached-wood table was set for three.

  ‘Can you light the candles, Jamie?’ Astrid walked through from the kitchen and handed me a pile of blue plates with white flowers around the rim. ‘Do you mind putting these out, love?’

  ‘Of course not,’ I said, my eyes drawn to the log-burner in the lounge. ‘A fire? That’s so awesome.’

  Jamie plucked a lighter off the top of a mahogany display cabinet sitting behind the table, and rolled his thumb along the top of the wheel. A flame sprang up, blue edges quivering.

  ‘We’re all pyromaniacs at heart, right?’ He turned and touched it to the top of one of the candles sitting in the candelabra in the centre of the table.

  ‘Speak for yourself,’ I said, but once I’d set the plates down, I couldn’t resist strolling over to the fire. I knelt down on the cherry-red shag-pile rug in front of it, watching flames dance up the chimney.

  ‘You can roll on it,’ Jamie said behind me.

  I glanced up. ‘How did you know I had an irresistible urge to do that?’

  He crouched beside me. ‘Everyone likes fire, and everyone wants to roll on this rug. Go on, puss-cat. It’s easy.’

  ‘Your mum will think I’m nuts.’

  ‘Nah, that’s me,’ he said, and was that a slight edge to his voice?

  But when I glanced back at him, he was smiling, just like always. I stretched out on the rug, my toes pointing to the ceiling.

  ‘Oh, this is heaven. SC II would love this.’ I did a little wriggle and closed my eyes. Then I pushed off my beanie, not caring who saw my bald head.

  I felt Jamie’s hand on my belly, sensed he was going to kiss me before I felt his lips on mine.

  ‘Sneaky,’ I whispered, looking into his eyes. Faint clattering noises drifted through from the kitchen.

  ‘I love you, puss-cat,’ he whispered back. Snap-crackle went the fire, just like the inside of my stomach. I ran my hand over the blond fuzz on his head, tilted my face up so he could kiss me again.

  ‘Oh!’ He sprang to his feet and reached for my hand. ‘I haven’t shown you what I did with your photo. Do you want to see?’

  Astrid coughed, in a non-subtilt way, from the dining room.

  ‘Dinner first, Jamie.’ She placed a large serving dish by the candelabra on the table.

  ‘Ah, who has time to eat?’ Jamie grumbled, pulling me to my feet.

  We’d just sat down at the table when the doorbell rang. Astrid frowned.

  ‘If that’s someone trying to convince us to switch power companies, tell them to go away. And if it’s someone trying to sell religion—’

  Jamie stood up, his eyes sparkling.

  ‘I love talking to the religos,’ he said, taking off into the hallway.

  ‘Tormenting them, more like,’ his mother called after him. ‘He told the Mormons he was a Buddhist last week. Half an hour, they were talking for.’ But she stopped smiling, and lowered her voice. ‘Alex, can I ask—’

  I never got to hear the rest of the question, because her eyes flicked to the doorway. ‘Oh, hello, Vaughan. How are you?’

  ‘I’m great,’ said the floppy-haired guy standing there. He moved towards me, holding out his hand. ‘You must be Alex.’

  ‘Hi,’ I said, wishing I’d had some warning that Jamie’s friend was coming over, and feeling naked without my beanie.

  ‘Aren’t you freezing?’ Astrid asked, her eyes roving over his shorts and t-shirt.

  Vaughan released my hand. ‘I’ve been playing squash. Thought I’d drop past and say hello.’

  ‘And invite himself to dinner, as usual,’ Jamie said, in a stage whisper.

  ‘That thought never crossed my mind,’ Vaughan said, sniffing the air like a dog. ‘Although something smells pretty good.’

  Astrid smiled. ‘You’re welcome to stay for dinner, of course. Do you like pork belly?’

  Vaughan’s face lit up. ‘I love pork belly,’ he said, rubbing his hands together. His gaze swung between Jamie and me. ‘Is that OK? I don’t want to crash anything.’

  Jamie shrugged, and then grinned.

  ‘The more the merrier,’ he said, sitting next to me, with Vaughan opposite. We loaded up our plates with pork belly and roast vegetables.

  ‘It must be great to be out of hospital,’ Vaughan said, reaching across the table for the salt and sending his glass of water flying. ‘Sh— I mean, sorry. Have you got a tea towel? I’ll get it.’

  ‘He’s really unco,’ Jamie said, once Vaughan had disappeared into the kitchen. ‘That’s why he plays squash, because if he stands there and waves his racquet around he manages to hit the ball by random chance about fifty per cent of the time.’

  ‘Jamie, that’s not very nice,’ Astrid said, her eyes on the puddle of water oozing towards her plate.

  ‘Here!’ Vaughan announced, slapping a tea towel over the puddle. The candelabra wobbled, and I grabbed it before it tipped over. ‘I heard that, Orange. And I’ll have you know, I’m playing squash to prove a point to my father, actually.’

  ‘Oh.’ Jamie rolled his eyes. ‘Because he’s scared you’re going to suck out your own eyeballs, right?’