14
Nearly two months have passed since getting back from Mexico, and still nothing. No knocking at the door. No mirrors cracking. No TVs breaking. And no cold breeze in the middle of the day.
It’s almost as if we both dreamed it all up.
Dylan Strong, you’re a b****y legend.
Aimee and I are watching some programme about bugs. There’s nothing else on so I’m enduring it.
She turns to face me on the couch; a massive, excited grin spread across her face, stroking Luna on her lap like a Bond-villain. I bet she’s got one of her secrets to confess.
“Go on then,” I say to her, as I mute the TV. “What’s the gossip?”
Aimee shrugs. “What gossip? Who said I had gossip?”
“You did—with that look you’re giving me.”
“Well, maybe I won’t tell you now,” she replies, her tone childlike. But it’s obvi
