"Hi Sally!" I froze in my tracks, glancing furtively around me, and desperately tried to think of something to say. I'd been sure nobody would see me at this time in the morning. I wouldn't be heading off to school for another half hour. Mum had left a note saying that she'd gone to pick Lindy up; they must have broken camp at some ridiculous time, before the sun was fully up even. I'd looked at the breakfast she left out for me and thought fast. The green plastic cereal bowl had probably been in the back of a cupboard somewhere for at least five years, but it still kind of looked like a little frog squatting on the table. Even though the eyes printed on the front had long ago faded with the stress of daily washing. It was the little things that made me blush like an idiot, and Mum had certainly find the perfect way to make me feel childish.
Waking up wet, for the second time ever, had helped with that as well. There was no way I could dismiss it as a fluke this time. I didn't even remember listening to the guy's words; he was talking about a grown-up theory and I was too small to think about it. When I tried to search my memory for what had happened, it felt like those wind chimes had conjured up memories of the first attempt so vividly that I was doing everything he said without even thinking about it. It was terrifying, to think that I could so easily do exactly what I'd been trying my hardest to avoid. It was the kind of fear that made me want to understand better, so that I could learn to overcome it. It was almost a craving now, to listen to that recording again so that I could prove I still had control. Even though a part of me was already sure I would fail, I felt like I had to try. To prove that I was independent, in control of my own body, and not a helpless child. Not all the time, not unless somebody made me play the part.
I didn't want Mum to know about this. I didn't want anybody to know, ever. So when I saw that she was out, and looked at the breakfast all set out with a plastic spoon like I was still a little kid, I knew there were things that I needed to do first. Like taking the trash out; making sure that there were no wet diapers in the bathroom bin when Mum came to empty it later in the week. I'd dumped them into an empty box from the dim sum selection we had Sunday night, and forced it closed. Now I could take it out to the big bins ready for collection. Thankfully, this was one chore I could do without being observed, even if it was something I wasn't normally expected to do. I knew that the back gate of our house led to a little dirt track that went past the back of all the houses on our street. Just a few feet farther along was a little cluster of large bins that would be collected every other week. We were supposed to move them back into our own gardens when they were empty, but nobody ever did; the back road wasn't used anyway. So there was a little cluster of five bins standing together; three for us and the houses next door, and two for houses on Raticate Avenue on the other side. IfI was lucky, I would be able to dump my bag and its disguised contents into one of the neighbour's; absolutely guaranteeing that nobody could know what I'd allowed to happen.
"Earth to Sally!" I heard Hugo's voice again, and panicked. He couldn't see me! Why would he be up so early, and why would he be looking? I didn't want anyone to know this had happened to me, and that I was taking out the trash myself to hide it. But Hugo? He was the one person who I couldn't stand to discover the truth, even more than anyone else. He was the most successful, influential person I knew. It wasn't like I had feelings towards him or anything weird, but when I thought about him knowing that I'd put myself in a situation where I could end up wetting the bed... Just no. That was too gross to think about. I couldn't ever try that thing again, not so long as there was any way our neighbours could know about it.
"Uhh... yeah!" I said, realising that I was just standing there in panic, while he must be waiting for a reply. I almost waved to him, and then was reminded of the bag in my hand. He was standing in his own garden, on the other side of the lower portion of their hedge, so he wouldn't see it as long as I kept my arm down. After a moment deep in thought, I raised the other hand to wave instead. "What are you up to?"
"Just working out," he said with a shrug. "Running circuits of the garden, throwing a few balls to wake me up. I can't think straight at school unless I do something active first."
"Yeah, that's good," I said, and smiled. "I normally see you at the front."
"Couple of laps before breakfast. There's the path here, round the edge of the lawn, so it's easier to count the distance I've covered. Nearly tripped once though, one of the flagstones isn't even. Think one of the tree roots might be pushing it up. So what are you up to?"
"I..." I panicked, knowing I couldn't tell him my intent this morning. But his last comment gave me something else to say, so it should be fine. I did my best to act normal and unflustered as I shaped the sentence: "Yeah, that got me once too. Think the landscaper guys will be able to make it flat again?" I laughed nervously, hoping that would be enough to take his mind off why I was out at the back of our houses so early in the morning.
"Don't know, Dad does most of the gardening here but he doesn't know what to do with it. Might have to call a professional. Have you been hanging out in our garden?"
"I... uhh... I didn't mean..." I stammered, but there was nothing I could say. How could I have been so stupid? It was probably a year or more since I'd come to visit Harper at home; if we were doing anything outside it would be at the park, where there was a level asphalt court we could use.
"Joking, Sally. Why are you so nervous? I know you're talking about... Wait, your garden doesn't have a flag like that, does it? Have you actually been jogging around our garden without me noticing? Why?"
I forced myself to take a deep breath. He wasn't accusing me of peeking in their house or anything, he was just curious. Like a friend should be. I told myself he wasn't serious, but the answer was still so embarrassing. And if I didn't answer, he'd just think I was weird.
"I... wanted to use your hoop," I said, remembering to use the empty hand to point to the wall behind him. "Like... I see you playing so often, it looks like fun. I know I should have asked, but I didn't want to make a fool of myself the first time I tried it. Sorry, I just..." He laughed, as charming as ever, and maybe my anxiety started to dissipate a little.
"You should come over and play sometime. Can't practise defence on my own, can I?"
"I... Yeah, but I can't get it in the hoop. I suck so bad, I'd be embarrassed to let you see." I figured that had to be better than making some excuse. At least I was being honest, and I hoped he could respect that. I didn't want him to know how bad I really was, but at least if I admitted it freely, maybe it could be something to laugh about rather than another reason to treat me like a kid.
"You should have seen me when I started. Nobody gets it the first time, it's all about practice. And knowing where to improve. Like, you can see when you miss a shot, but maybe you can't tell why. You can't see your own form, can you? I mean it, you know. If you want to learn, you need somebody who can show you the basics."
"I guess." I still wasn't that confident, and thought he might laugh when he saw my first attempts. But he seemed so friendly, and this was probably the longest conversation we'd had in months. That had to be a win; but then why was my heart racing? Why was I so nervous about getting a basketball lesson from the boy next door?
"I'll get back to my drill," he said, with a smile and a wave. "Join me whenever you feel up to it. I keep hearing about your great reflexes, so I'm sure you'll be playing well in no time. If you want to."
I nodded, and watched as he walked away. I could see him through the hedge as he took a shot, and I knew his attention would be all on his own practice now. He got so determined, so focused on what I was doing, and that seriousness took my breath away.
After a minute watching, I remembered that I had a real reason to be here. I walked the last few steps to the cluster of bins, and threw my diapers into one at random. All done; my secret was safe. Nothing weird had happened at all, and there was no reason I should be out of breath. But when I looked at the childish bowl on the table and thought about breakfast, I knew it would take more than that to get me feeling like a kid right now.