startled deer bounding out of the way—bike weaving round a fal en tree—girl clutching on to boy. Music would be menacing, urgent—heavy metal maybe …

But it didn’t work—the danger was too real; I couldn’t distance it with a story, not when I was one of the main characters.

I felt filthy and shaken up by the time we reached the Arts Centre. My head was pounding again.

‘Can you do that thing Xavier does?’ I asked, pinching the bridge of my nose after I took the helmet off.

‘No, but I can buy you something for it at the drug store.’

‘It’s OK.’

Zed blew out a bracing breath. ‘Come on; let’s face the music from your dad.’

‘Can you see how bad it’s going to be?’

‘Trying not to.’

The black eye was a bad enough introduction, but the news that we had been shot at by a madman in the woods was the last straw.

‘Sky!’ wailed Sal y, her voice echoing around the clean white wal s of the studio in the roof of the Arts Centre. ‘What have we brought you to? This would never’ve happened in Richmond!’

‘You might not believe me, ma’am,’ Zed said politely, ‘but it doesn’t normal y happen here either.’

‘You’re not to go out until this crazy man is caught!’

Sal y said, brushing my cheek and tutting over my bruise.

‘And why didn’t you tel us you were going out this evening, Sky?’ Simon looked at Zed with open hostility, which was not surprising as Zed did look particularly menacing in black bike leathers. But I thought the question was rich coming from Simon seeing that they were hardly ever at home. The role of Strict Dad-Meister was at odds with the relaxed Bohemian Artist thing he had going, but for me he always managed to make an exception. In his mind, I was always to be ten, not sixteen.

‘It was a last minute decision. I just went for supper. I thought I’d be back before you came home.’

Your dad is measuring me up for my coffin rightnow, Zed told me.

He’s not.

I’m catching images here—all of them painfuland detrimental to my future prospects of being afather.

‘You’re grounded, Sky, for going out without permission,’ Simon growled. He was clearly channel ing Dad-Meister at the moment.

‘What! That’s not fair!’

He’s over-reacting because he’s afraid for you.

Still not fair.

‘I’m sorry, sir, it’s my fault Sky went out tonight. I asked her over.’ Zed tried to erect a force field between me and Simon’s anger.

Dad-Meister zapped it down. ‘That may wel be, but my daughter has to learn to take responsibility for her own decisions. Grounded. For two weeks.’

‘Simon!’ I protested, embarrassed that Zed was witnessing this.

‘Don’t make me extend it to four, young lady!

Goodnight, Zed.’

Zed squeezed my hand. Sorry. He’s not going to listen to me. I’d better get back.

He left and then I heard the bike roar into life outside. Wolfman zipping off out of harm’s way.

Thanks a lot.

I folded my arms, my foot tapping in the way a cat’s tail twitches when riled. If Simon was playing Dad-Meister, I was SuperAngry Sky. ‘You expect me to sit at home while you and Sal y play here but don’t want me to enjoy myself with my friends!’ I exploded.

‘That is so unfair!’

‘Don’t you talk back to me, Sky.’ Simon threw his brushes in the sink and ran the water too hard, the spray wetting his jumper.

‘You’re just saying that because you know you’re in the wrong! I didn’t complain when you stood up Mr Ozawa at school on Monday—that was so humiliating. I didn’t know what to say to him. I didn’t ground you for being crap parents.’

Simon shot Sal y an embarrassed look. ‘I phoned Mr Ozawa to apologize.’

‘I know you only adopted me late in the day, but sometimes I think you forget you’ve got me.’ I regretted the words as soon as I spoke them.

‘Don’t say that!’ Sal y put her hands to her mouth, eyes shining with tears, making me feel about an inch tal .

‘So it’s a bit much,’ I continued. My hole was pretty deep now and I had to keep digging. ‘A bit much for you to tel me off for not keeping you in the loop with what I’m up to. Half the time I’ve not got the foggiest where you are and I’m sure you don’t realize it!’

‘It’s not the same,’ snapped Simon, angry now I’d hurt Sal y. He was probably hurting too. I know I was.

‘Four weeks.’

I don’t know what came over me. Normal y it takes a lot to get me furious but I’d been shot at, had a load of secrets dumped on me by the Benedicts, ended up with a black eye, and Simon had turned it into something for which the juvenile punishment of grounding was thought an appropriate response.

‘That’s just a load of bul !’

‘Don’t you use that kind of language to me!’

‘Urgh! Too American for you? Wel , you brought me to this bloody country! I didn’t ask to get shot at!

I’m sick of it al —sick of you!’ I stormed out and slammed the door behind me. Angry at him—angry at myself. I stomped up the road, kicking an empty can ahead of me, swearing with every rattle. No music inside to accompany this exit, unless you count the desire to clash bin lids together music.

I could hear someone running after me.

‘Darling!’ It was Sal y. She grabbed me and folded me into a hug. ‘You have to understand your father’s afraid for you. You’re stil his little girl. He’s not used to seeing you with such a grown-up boy. And he certainly doesn’t want you to get hurt by some trigger-happy redneck in the woods.’

Miserable under the weight of everything that had happened in the last few hours, I started to cry. ‘I’m sorry, Sal y. I didn’t mean what I said—about the crap parent thing.’

‘I know, darling. But we are crap parents. I bet you’ve not had a square meal this week—I know I haven’t.’

‘You’re not. I’m a rubbish daughter. You took me in and put up with me and I …’

She gave me a little shake. ‘And you have given us a hundred times more than we ever gave you.

And we’ve never forgotten for one moment that we have you even when we are at our most unbearable.

Give Simon a chance to cool down and I expect he’l even say sorry to you.’

‘I was scared, Sal y. They were shooting at us.’

‘I know, darling.’

‘Zed was real y great. Knew what to do and everything.’

‘He’s a nice boy.’

‘I like him.’

‘I think you more than like him.’

I sniffed, fumbling for a handkerchief. I had no idea what I felt about him—confused about the savant connection, doubtful that anyone could want me as much as he claimed, just learning to trust him a little.

‘Be careful, Sky. You are such a sensitive soul. A boy like that can crush you if you get too hung up on him.’

‘A boy like what?’ Why did everyone think they could put a label on Zed?

She sighed and steered me back to the car. ‘He’s good-looking, a little wild from what I hear. Few people stay long with their high school sweethearts

—it’s part of the training for life.’

‘We’ve only had one date.’

‘Exactly. So don’t let your imagination go running off with you. Play it cool and you’l keep him interested.’

Him being interested wasn’t the problem—I was the one keeping it light. But this was so like my mum

—to worry about the heart when bul ets had been flying. ‘And this is, what, relationship advice according to Dr Sal y Bright?’

‘Do we need to have that conversation again? I thought we discussed it when you were twelve,’ she teased.

‘No, no, thanks, I’ve got the facts.’

‘Then I trust you to apply them in practice.’

‘You trust me, but Simon doesn’t.’

She sighed. ‘No, he’s always felt real y protective about you, maybe even more so because you were so hurt when we took you on. If he could lock you in a tower, dig ditches, plant a minefield and ring it al with razor wire, he’d do it.’