"You're a weirdo, you know that?"
"I know it," he said.
"I thought my family was strange," she said, stretching out on her tummy
on the bed. "But they're not a patch on you."
"I know it."
He finished his fizzy lemonade and lay down beside her, belching.
"We could ask my Da. He knows a lot of strange things."
He put his face down in her duvet and smelled the cotton covers and her
nighttime sweat, like a spice, like cinnamon. "I don't want to do
that. Please don't tell anyone, all right?"
She took hold of his wrist and looked again at the teensy thumb. "Wiggle
it again," she said. He did. She giggled. "Imagine if you were like a
worm. Imagine if your thumbtip was out there growing another *you*."
He sat bolt upright. "Do you think that's possible?" he said. His heart
was thudding. "Do you think so?"
She rolled on her side and stared at him. "No, don't be daft. How could
your thumb grow another *you?*"
"Why wouldn't it?"
She had no answer for him.
"I need to go home," he said. "I need to know."
"I'm coming with," she said. He opened his mouth to tell her no, but she
made a fierce face at him, her foxy features wrinkled into a mock snarl.
"Come along then," he said. "You can help me do up my coat."
#
The winter cave was deserted. He listened at the mouths of all the
tunnels, straining to hear Davey.
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