“Don’t tell anybody that I let you stay out so late,” said Danny as he tucked Will into bed.
“It’s not that late,” said Will, unsuccessfully stifling a yawn.
“Then why are you yawning?”
“I’m not,” said Will, his eyes closing despite his best efforts to keep them open.
“Well, I am,” said Danny, yawning into his palm. “Get to sleep.”
Danny turned the light out and began to close the door behind him.
“Dad?”
“Yes, mate?” said Danny, pausing with his hand on the handle.
“I had a good day today,” said Will.
Danny smiled. “Me too,” he said, but Will was already too far gone to hear him.
In the living room, Danny opened his backpack and almost gagged at the stench. Holding his breath, he yanked the costume out so quickly that everything else came tumbling out with it. He threw the costume into the wash and wearily waited for the cycle to finish before crawling into bed, completely unaware that his notepad was lying on the living room carpet.
CHAPTER 27
Will woke to the sound of banging. He thought it was the front door at first and momentarily panicked, worried that Reg and Dent had returned to finish what they’d started the other day, but the noise seemed to be coming from the kitchen.
Climbing down from his bunk, he pulled on his school trousers and opened the bedroom door a crack. He could hear singing as well as banging now, and it wasn’t until he crept down the corridor and peered around the fridge that he figured out what all the commotion was about.
Danny was dancing around the kitchen with his earphones in and his back to Will. He plucked the toast from the toaster and tossed each piece in the air before catching them one by one on a plate. Only when he pirouetted his way to the fridge to grab the margarine did he notice Will watching him from the doorway.
“Hi, mate,” he said, quickly pulling his earphones out. “You’re up early.”
“Were you just listening to the Dirty Dancing soundtrack?” said Will, his lips twitching with barely suppressed laughter.
“What?” said Danny, fumbling with his iPod as he tried to turn the music off. “No. I mean, I don’t know. Maybe. Wait, how do you know Dirty Dancing?”
“I’ve seen it with Mum like a hundred times. I didn’t think it was your kind of thing.”
“It’s not. I didn’t even know that song was from Dirty Dancing. I’ve never even heard it before.”
“Then how do you know all the lyrics?”
Danny opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again. He held up a piece of toast.
“Jam or Marmite?” he said.
Will smiled and rolled his eyes. “Jam,” he said, shuffling into the living room and taking a seat at the table. “I hate Marmite.”
“Since when?”
“Since forever,” said Will, absently playing with a two-pence piece that he found on the table.
Danny made a mental note about the Marmite. “What classes you got today?” he shouted, eager to change the subject.
“History, science, English, and maths,” said Will, spinning the coin between his fingers.
“Four of my worst subjects.”
“Every subject was your worst subject,” said Will as the coin spun from the table and landed on the floor by his chair.
“That’s not true. I got a C-minus in art.”
“That’s what I mean.” Will leaned down to retrieve the coin but found Danny’s notepad instead.
“My art teacher was this woman called Miss Black. She was terrifying. Did I ever tell you about her?”
Will didn’t respond, too busy flicking through the pages and trying to figure out what all the columns and calculations meant.
“She had this glass eye that she sometimes took out and washed in front of the class. I still have nightmares about her.”
Will stopped flicking. He stared at the words in front of him. Words he’d seen before. Words he’d spoken before. He doesn’t know anything about me.… Tell me something about your mum.… Pandas are great listeners. He scanned the pages, trying to make sense of what he was looking at, but the more he read the more he felt like the butt of a joke he didn’t understand.
Danny emerged from the kitchen with a cup of tea in one hand and a plate of toast in the other.
“One time she sneezed so hard that her eye—” Danny fell silent when he saw what Will was looking at.
“This is how you knew,” said Will, his eyes fixed on the words in front of him.
“Will, I—”
“Going to Brighton. Making pancakes. Decorating my room. You made me tell you everything.”
“It’s not like that,” said Danny. He put Will’s breakfast down and took the seat opposite. “I wanted to tell you, mate, really, but—”
“This is why the man at the park knew your name, isn’t it?” said Will. Danny started to answer, but Will cut him off. “You tricked me,” he said. “You lied to me.”
“I didn’t lie about anything, Will. And I didn’t trick you either. You started talking to me, remember? What was I supposed to do? Ignore you?”
“You could have told me. But you didn’t. You just let me keep talking like an idiot.”
“Will, you hadn’t spoken for over a year. I didn’t know if you were ever going to speak again, so when you started I—”
“I didn’t talk because I didn’t want to talk!” yelled Will, his cup of tea rippling as he slammed the table with his palms.
“I know, mate,” said Danny, showing his own palms in surrender. “I know. You’re right. And I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.”
“Why were you even wearing a panda suit? Why were you dancing in the park? Why aren’t you going to work?”
“It is my work,” said Danny. He sighed. “Alf fired me a couple of months ago and, well, I’ve been doing the panda thing ever since.”
“And you didn’t think that was something you should tell me?”
“I didn’t want you to worry.”
“Worry?” said Will. He laughed, but there was no humor in it. “I came home the other day to find you tied to the chair and Mr. Dent about to whack you with a hammer. Don’t you think I found that slightly worrying?”
“I’m sorry you had to see that, mate, really, but everything’s going to be fine, I promise.”
“How can you make a promise when you can’t even tell the truth?” Will threw the notepad at Danny. “I thought I could trust you! I thought you were my friend!”
“You can trust me! We are friends!”
“No, we’re not!” Will got up and grabbed his schoolbag. “Mum was my friend, not you!”
“Will, wait, please,” said Danny, following his son to the front door.
Will paused, but he didn’t turn around. “You know what I wish?” he said. He wasn’t shouting anymore, but something about his tone made the yelling suddenly preferable.
“What, Will? What do you wish?” said Danny, but he already knew the answer, because not a single day went by that he didn’t think the same thing. “You wish it was me, don’t you? That I had died instead of her.”