‘I like it,’ he says. ‘I took your advice to make some friends, and now I think I like soccer. Well, football.’
‘That’s good!’
‘You should write an advice book or something. Ty told me you like to write.’
‘I’m not that good.’ I laugh. ‘I barely know what I’m doing tomorrow.’
‘But you’re so . . . cool,’ says Daze. ‘Like, nothing gets you. You didn’t get Rose Conrad tickets and you seem fine, even though I know you must have been sad.’ I decide not to tell him how I wept toDreamersfor several hours in my room.
‘I’m definitely not as cool as you think,’ I say. ‘But it’s nice of you to say anyway.’ I pause. ‘In fact, I spend a lot of time in my head and I keep putting off the big decision about the future. I don’t think any of that is cool. Plus, I cried for hours after not getting Rose Conrad tickets, you didn’t see it.’ So much for not telling him.
‘Well, that sounds like . . . a lot,’ says Daze, scrunching up his face.
‘I shouldn’t be telling my life problems to an eleven-year-old.’ I sigh.
‘It’s all right, people end up telling me things.’ He shrugs.‘I have that type of face.’
Suddenly I see my shot. ‘Does Ty tell you things too?’ I ask, asinnocently as possible.
‘Naw, Ty actually tells me nothing. He’s easy to read though,’ says Daze, starting to bounce his ball around again.
‘Oh, in what way?’ I say, leaning on the fence, trying to fake nonchalance. Good thing my target is an eleven-year-old boy, I don’t think anyone else would be convinced by my acting skills. But hey, I want to write, not be on stage.
‘He gets kinda obsessed about things. Right now, he’s trying to beat Level 17 of this video game and that’s, like, all he does apart from school and the gym.’
I make a mental note:Into video games.
‘And what does that mean?’ I say. ‘Since you said, you know, he’s easy to read.’
‘It means he’s trying to avoid something,’ says Daze. He looks at his phone. ‘I’ve got to go, it’s my turn now to play on the PS5. Ty said I could have a go after an hour.’
And before I can even say bye, Daze legs it back to the house.
I’m about to turn around, when Ty calls out my name.
‘Hey,’ I say. ‘I was giving Daze his basketball back. I think he uses it as a way to talk to me.’
‘Interesting communication form,’ says Ty. ‘He mentioned you were out here, so I came out.’
‘Without a jacket?’ I say. Ty looks cold, in tracksuit trousers and a T-shirt.
‘I was in a rush,’ he says, sheepishly. ‘I didn’t want to miss you.’
I feel a rush of emotion. He ran out for me.
I walk towards him. ‘What did you want to talk about?’
He looks surprised, as if he didn’t expect the question. ‘Well – er . . .’ he stumbles.
‘It’s rare for you to lose your cool.’ I laugh.
‘Maybe because I’m freezing,’ he says.
‘It is impressive you are standing out here in the cold like this.’ I want to reach out and put my hand on his bare arm, but I holdmyself back.
He staggers back, as if he’s been wounded.
‘Writer called me . . . impressive? I think that’s the most complimentary adjective you’ve used yet.’
