Free Puppy Fat by Morris Gleitzman

picking me up in half an hour,’ said Mum. ‘I know it’s very short notice, what with Tracy and Bev being here . . .’
    â€˜Mum,’ said Keith, struggling to keep his voice from wobbling, ‘I want you to go.’
    Keith crept into the bedroom.
    As his eyes got used to the gloom he saw Tracy lying on the bed, eyes closed.
    Carefully he put the Vegemite and beetroot sandwich on the chest of drawers next to her.
    He sent her a quiet message.
    When you wake up, I hope the jet lag’s gone and I hope seeing something familiar makes being in a strange country a bit less stressful.
    Tracy opened her eyes.
    â€˜Keith,’ she said, ‘I reckon what you’re doing to your mum and dad sucks.’
    Keith opened his mouth but nothing came out.
    â€˜You’re trying to make them into something they’re not,’ she said, ‘and I reckon that’s crook.’
    Keith tried to stay calm.
    She can’t help it, he reminded himself, she’s just having a relapse.
    It was no good.
    He felt his face getting hot.
    â€˜I’m trying to save them from being alone,’ he said.
    Tracy sat up.
    â€˜Perhaps they want to be alone,’ she said.
    Sometimes, thought Keith with an exasperated sigh, best mates can be really thick.
    â€˜Nobody wants to be alone,’ he said. ‘Look at Mr Mellish. Being alone killed him.’
    â€˜How do you know?’ said Tracy.
    Keith decided that all long-distance planes should have a health warning printed on them.
    F LYING C AN I NJURE Y OUR B RAIN .
    â€˜Because,’ said Keith, ‘he told me. And he told me it could happen to Mum and Dad. He came back from the dead to tell me.’
    Tracy swung her legs off the bed and pulled her shoes on.
    â€˜Prove it,’ she said.
    Keith crouched by Mr Mellish’s back steps, his heart thumping, partly from the sprint across the garden, partly because he was worried the neighbours had heard and were at that moment rummaging around for torches and kitchen knives, but mostly because he couldn’t hear a single mournful wail.
    He strained his ears.
    Nothing.
    â€˜Well,’ said Tracy, ‘what now?’
    Keith thought frantically.
    He needed something to keep her occupied while he tried to make contact with Mr Mellish.
    Keith turned to her dark shape crouched next to him.
    â€˜See if you can find a key,’ he whispered. ‘Mind out for glass, I broke a milk bottle last time.’
    While Tracy shone her torch around the steps, Keith sent an urgent message to Mr Mellish.
    Sorry about this, I know it’s rude disturbing you this late, but if you could explain the situation to Tracy it would be a huge help. Thanks.
    He strained his ears again.
    There it was.
    Very faint.
    Almost drowned out by the distant hum of traffic.
    But definitely a wail.
    â€˜Ow!’ said Tracy.
    â€˜Shhh,’ whispered Keith, ‘I can hear him.’
    â€˜I’ve just cut myself,’ said Tracy.
    Keith sighed.
    It was his fault for allowing a jet-lagged person near broken glass.
    â€˜But I’ve found the key,’ she whispered. ‘It must have been in the milk bottle.’
    Keith took the torch and had a look at the cut. It was on one of Tracy’s fingers and even though it was small it was bleeding quite a lot.
    Keith offered her his hanky, but she said no.
    He turned his attention back to listening.
    The wail was still there.
    Just.
    â€˜Hear it?’ he whispered.
    â€˜No,’ said Tracy.
    â€˜Don’t suck so loud,’ said Keith.
    Tracy stopped sucking her finger and listened.
    â€˜I still can’t hear it,’ she said.
    Keith took a deep breath and licked his dry lips.
    He had hoped they wouldn’t have to do this, but now he realised they had no choice.
    â€˜Come on,’ he whispered, his heart thumping even louder than before, ‘you’ll hear better inside.’
    Inside the dark house Keith sent an urgent message