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said. “About what?”

      “About…” I faltered. She’d sounded really fierce. I wasn’t used to Cupcake sounding fierce. “Being in a wheelchair?” I whispered.

      Cupcake’s face had gone bright red. “Why don’t you just shut up?” She hissed it at me. “You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

      What had I done to deserve that? She was in a really weird mood. I hated to quarrel with her, but you can’t just let yourself be trampled on. I said, “OK, if that’s the way you want it. Sorry I bothered.” And then I walked off, swishing my tennis racquet and leaving her there to sulk.

      It was the first time me and Cupcake had ever seriously fallen out. And I still didn’t know what it was I had done to upset her!

      In school next day we didn’t seem to be talking. Instead of sitting next to each other like we usually did, we both deliberately chose seats next to other people. Everybody noticed. At lunch time we even ended up at different tables. Livy said, “What’s going on?”

      I said, “Nothing. Why?”

      “Just asking,” said Livy.

      I gave her this stony glare, and she pulled a face and said, “Well, pardon me for breathing!” and began to talk to someone else.

      Me and Cupcake caught each other’s eye and quickly looked away again. I think we both felt a bit foolish. And upset, too. I can always tell when Cupcake is upset. She droops, and sags, and goes very quiet. I tend to do the exact opposite. I get all busy and LOUD, and charge about yelling and making jokes in the hope that no one will notice. I did a lot of charging about and yelling that particular day. In art, I charged about so much I managed to upset the fruit and flower arrangement we were supposed to be painting and skidded halfway across the studio on a bunch of grapes. Mrs Rae, who is normally very relaxed, threatened to send me out if I didn’t control myself.

      “What’s the matter with you, Danielle? You’re completely hyperactive!”

      Next day, it was like nothing had ever happened. Like both of us had decided the time had come to make up. We didn’t actually say anything, but Cupcake came and sat next to me, same as usual, and asked me how I’d got on with the French translation we’d been given for homework. When I said that I hadn’t got beyond the first few words, she said, “D’you want to borrow mine?” and slid her book across the desk for me to look at. It was like a sort of peace offering. Like in her own way she was saying sorry for having been so mean and grouchy. It immediately made me feel that I wanted to say sorry, too, so I thanked her and promised “I won’t actually copy.”

      Cupcake said, “You can if you want. I don’t mind.” Which was really generous of her, since she nearly always gets an A in French, whereas I am totally hopeless and usually get a big red D, plus rude comments along the lines of “Danielle, I really would appreciate it if you made a bit of an effort to stay awake when I am teaching you.” But anyway I didn’t totally copy as it might have got us into trouble. I am used to being in trouble, but it wouldn’t have been fair on Cupcake.

      After that, we were back to normal. I still had this feeling that Cupcake was a bit down, but sometimes with her it is hard to tell as she is naturally a quiet sort of person. She’s also quite secretive. I tend to blurt everything out, whereas Cupcake keeps things to herself. Still, I didn’t want to upset her again, so I did my best to pretend I hadn’t noticed. I thought if I talked loudly enough it would act as a sort of cover and nobody else would notice, either, which I don’t think they did. They are used to me being noisy and Cupcake being quiet.

      Saturday morning I went round to her place, same as always. We liked to give Joey a bit of time before we went off to mooch round the shops or practise my tennis. He was really on form that morning! All bright and bubbly and wanting to do things. We took him into the garden and he insisted on trying to get on his tricycle without any help from me or Cupcake. Unfortunately he couldn’t quite manage it, and toppled over on to the grass. We rushed to pick him up, but he pushed us away, going, “I can do it, I can do it!”

      It is very difficult to just stand by and watch, but we knew we had to let him. He almost made it. Slowly he pulled himself back on to his feet, muttering, “Now I fall down, now I get up. Now I fall down… now I get up!” And then, at last, he let us help him.

      We both hugged him, which was something we wouldn’t have dared do a week ago. He’d been so angry the previous Saturday he’d probably have punched us. Now he was all cheeky and grinning and demanding the bird poo song as we pulled him round the garden on his bike.

      We played for about an hour, until it was time for Joey to rest. I said to Cupcake, “Let’s go and see if Cookie’s there!”

      He was, but so was the old woman, so we didn’t like to call to him. We just perched on our bucket and watched for a while as he pottered about the garden. His legs were still rubbery, and while he was digging in a bit of old earth, one of them suddenly gave way and he sat down with a thump, looking quite surprised. I immediately thought of Joey; his legs kept giving way. It was what had happened that morning, when he’d tried to get on his bike. Now I fall down, now I get up.

      Impulsively, as we stepped off the bucket, I said, “Joey seems so much happier! D’you think he’s getting better?”

      Cupcake didn’t say anything. She just frowned, and dug the tip of her trainer into a bit of soft earth at the bottom of the wall.

      “I mean… he almost managed to get on his bike by himself!”

      In this small, tight voice Cupcake said, “This time last year he could get on his bike by himself.”

      “Well… y-yes. But he’s better than he has been!”

      “Last year,” said Cupcake, “he could still ride round the garden. When we first came here, he could still walk.”

      I fell silent, chewing on my lip. I could remember Joey walking. He used to come with Mrs Costello to pick Cupcake up from school.

      “He just gets worse all the time,” she cried. “He’s not ever going to get better!”

      And then she burst into tears and I didn’t know what to say. I felt that I should do something, like put my arms round her or something, but I just stood there, staring at the ground and twiddling my tennis racquet.

      After a bit I managed to mumble that I was sorry.

      “It’s all right. It’s not your fault.” Cupcake wiped her nose on the back of her hand. “You weren’t to know.”

      But I should have done! I’d watched Joey grow weaker and weaker and I’d never once asked any questions. I’d tried telling myself it was because of not liking to think about people being ill, but maybe it was simply because I was scared of what the answer might be. The truth is, I hadn’t really wanted to know.

      “I should have told you,” said Cupcake. She said that she had always known, right from the beginning. Her mum had never kept any secrets from her. “I’m sorry! It’s just – ” the tears came welling up again – “I couldn’t bring myself to talk about it!”

      I pulled a crumpled tissue from my pocket and silently handed it to her. Then I patted her on the back a few times, like I’d seen people do in movies when they were trying to comfort someone. I felt really ashamed of being so useless. I’m not usually so useless! If Cupcake had fallen off a cliff I would be the first one scrambling down to save her. If she were to fall into the canal I would dive straight in after her, never mind that I can’t swim. If she got sucked into a bog I would tear off the branch of a nearby tree and push it out to her, and wouldn’t let go no matter how close I came to being sucked in with her. But now, because she was crying, I couldn’t think of a single thing to do except just stand helplessly by and watch.

      After a while she dried her eyes and blew her nose and said again that she was sorry.

      “Want

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