Bodhan!’ ‘What? What is it, Mama?’ I asked, pulling my blanket over my head to block out the light. ‘I’m sleeping!’ ‘Winifred Ormond is here to see you,’ she said, shaking my shoulder firmly. ‘What?’ ‘Quick, Bodhan, get up!’ I launched myself out of bed and pulled on the grey trackies that were slung over my desk chair. I got one leg stuck and, hopping off-balance, crushed some audio equipment on the floor and almost slammed into my fish tank. ‘Please,’ I heard Mrs Ormond’s muffled pleading from down the hall. ‘I need to know where my son is! I need to speak to Boges, now! Boges! I want the truth!’ ‘Tell her I’m not here!’ I hissed to my mum. ‘What do you mean, Bodhan? What’s going on?’ ‘Please, Mama, I’ll explain later. I have to go. I’m really, really sorry.’ My mum stared at me, shocked and confused, as I threw some stuff in my bag, kicked the flyscreen out of my bedroom window frame, then jumped out into the backyard.
