funny, dramatic way. I knew he was doing it to make me feel better. And it did work, at least a little
bit. Then there was the sound of a chair scraping against the floor next to me, and suddenly the focus of the room shifted once more.
Now everyone was looking at Miranda, who was standing up. ‘Katie wasn’t talking,’ she said, her voice clear and confident. ‘I was.’
Miss Falippi looked off balance for a moment. Then her eyes narrowed. ‘Oh, really? And who were you talking to?’
On one side of Miranda was an empty chair. On the other side was me – and we never spoke.
Miranda’s eyes flicked towards me and she gave me this strange, sneaky smile, like I was somehow part of this game she was playing. ‘I was talking to myself,’ she said.
Miss Falippi’s mouth was ruler straight. ‘Are you sure about that?’
Miranda nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘Fine,’ said Miss Falippi crisply. ‘Then you are forbidden from attending the formal. You will also stay back for detention with me this afternoon and write an essay on the
importance of silence. Tomorrow you will read it for the class. Understood?’
Miranda looked at Miss Falippi, steady and unafraid, wearing the same superior look as when Katie had gone mental at her. Like all of this was beneath her. ‘Understood.’
Miss Falippi glared around the room. ‘Let me be clear,’ she said. ‘If one more person speaks out of turn today, I’ll ban the whole class from attending the
formal.’
The rest of the morning passed in total silence. No-one wanted to be the one to send Miss Falippi over the edge.
Just before the bell, I saw Katie quickly turn and nod at Miranda. A thank-you nod. Miranda nodded back.
Ralph bounded up to me as I unlocked the front door that afternoon, his tongue lolling out. A note had been tucked into his collar.
Your mum and Toby have gone to the shops. They’ll be back around dinner time. Can you please take me for a walk? I am driving your mum crazy. Lots of love, Ralph.
‘Your handwriting is really improving, Ralphy,’ I said, scratching the itchy spot between his ears. ‘I’ll change, then we’ll walk. But try to act your dog age, OK? No running off.’
Before, I used to head to the beach for our walks so Ralph could work on his wave-biting skills and growl at the seaweed monsters. But the beach was out of the question now, of course. I could
handle being near the swimming pool because it stayed pretty flat. But the ocean, with its swells and waves and hidden currents, made me clammy. Even Dr Richter had advised me to avoid it for the
time being. ‘We don’t want to trigger a relapse,’ she said.
Besides, from the way Ralph was leaping about I figured he needed an exercise challenge. That meant heading through the forest behind the school and running up the hill.
Dad used to take me for walks in the forest all the time when I was in primary school. I never told him but I was always scared going there, mainly because of the stories we’d all heard
from the older kids about the cannibal who lurked in the trees. Never leave the path, we used to warn each other. That’s how he gets you. The forest was dark and damp and full
of gnarled roots that could trip you up. In the fairytales Mum had read me as a kid, the woods were always places where witches lived or where uncaring parents abandoned their children. It was
always our forest that I pictured as I listened.
That afternoon though, the sun was bright and warm, and I was actually looking forward to going in. It felt like I hadn’t done any exercise in ages. As we crossed the highway into the
forest, I unleashed Ralph and straight away he started tearing around chasing imaginary rabbits. I put on my headphones and warmed up for a run, pretending that I was in a tropical garden scented
with fruit and flowers rather than a dank forest that stank of rot. I started to hum, jogging along at an easy pace behind Ralph.
We hadn’t gone far when Ralph froze, his
bit. Then there was the sound of a chair scraping against the floor next to me, and suddenly the focus of the room shifted once more.
Now everyone was looking at Miranda, who was standing up. ‘Katie wasn’t talking,’ she said, her voice clear and confident. ‘I was.’
Miss Falippi looked off balance for a moment. Then her eyes narrowed. ‘Oh, really? And who were you talking to?’
On one side of Miranda was an empty chair. On the other side was me – and we never spoke.
Miranda’s eyes flicked towards me and she gave me this strange, sneaky smile, like I was somehow part of this game she was playing. ‘I was talking to myself,’ she said.
Miss Falippi’s mouth was ruler straight. ‘Are you sure about that?’
Miranda nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘Fine,’ said Miss Falippi crisply. ‘Then you are forbidden from attending the formal. You will also stay back for detention with me this afternoon and write an essay on the
importance of silence. Tomorrow you will read it for the class. Understood?’
Miranda looked at Miss Falippi, steady and unafraid, wearing the same superior look as when Katie had gone mental at her. Like all of this was beneath her. ‘Understood.’
Miss Falippi glared around the room. ‘Let me be clear,’ she said. ‘If one more person speaks out of turn today, I’ll ban the whole class from attending the
formal.’
The rest of the morning passed in total silence. No-one wanted to be the one to send Miss Falippi over the edge.
Just before the bell, I saw Katie quickly turn and nod at Miranda. A thank-you nod. Miranda nodded back.
Ralph bounded up to me as I unlocked the front door that afternoon, his tongue lolling out. A note had been tucked into his collar.
Your mum and Toby have gone to the shops. They’ll be back around dinner time. Can you please take me for a walk? I am driving your mum crazy. Lots of love, Ralph.
‘Your handwriting is really improving, Ralphy,’ I said, scratching the itchy spot between his ears. ‘I’ll change, then we’ll walk. But try to act your dog age, OK? No running off.’
Before, I used to head to the beach for our walks so Ralph could work on his wave-biting skills and growl at the seaweed monsters. But the beach was out of the question now, of course. I could
handle being near the swimming pool because it stayed pretty flat. But the ocean, with its swells and waves and hidden currents, made me clammy. Even Dr Richter had advised me to avoid it for the
time being. ‘We don’t want to trigger a relapse,’ she said.
Besides, from the way Ralph was leaping about I figured he needed an exercise challenge. That meant heading through the forest behind the school and running up the hill.
Dad used to take me for walks in the forest all the time when I was in primary school. I never told him but I was always scared going there, mainly because of the stories we’d all heard
from the older kids about the cannibal who lurked in the trees. Never leave the path, we used to warn each other. That’s how he gets you. The forest was dark and damp and full
of gnarled roots that could trip you up. In the fairytales Mum had read me as a kid, the woods were always places where witches lived or where uncaring parents abandoned their children. It was
always our forest that I pictured as I listened.
That afternoon though, the sun was bright and warm, and I was actually looking forward to going in. It felt like I hadn’t done any exercise in ages. As we crossed the highway into the
forest, I unleashed Ralph and straight away he started tearing around chasing imaginary rabbits. I put on my headphones and warmed up for a run, pretending that I was in a tropical garden scented
with fruit and flowers rather than a dank forest that stank of rot. I started to hum, jogging along at an easy pace behind Ralph.
We hadn’t gone far when Ralph froze, his
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