Chapter 7
Tom lay awake for most of the night. Rain teemed down on the roof, which was made of metal, and it was very noisy. Thing was a heavy and warm weight on his bed. Occasionally when Tom shifted, Thing’s spines stuck through the blanket. Did he imagine it, or were the spines sharper every time?
He woke up when it was still half dark. A warm spot on his bed where Thing had been sleeping was rapidly cooling. There was a scrabbling sound at the door, over the thrum of rain on the roof.
He had visions of roads rearing up trying to grab him, and hammers smashing his bike. Was this the garden coming into his room?
He sat up, and saw that the noise came from Thing’s claws trying to reach the door handle.
"Hungry, are you?"
Tom flipped aside his sheets and swung his legs over the side
