The dining room was completely silent, the echo of the slamming door still reverberating through the house. After a few seconds, Sarah started to cry. To his incredible credit, Jonas hurried over to wrap an arm around his sister’s shoulders and tell her everything was alright.

“Who wants dessert?” Mrs Callaghan asked, her voice unnaturally high. Matt swore under his breath, threw down his napkin and stood to go outside.

*****

He found Jane two blocks away, sitting alone on the corner of a snowy curb, looking blankly off into the distance

“There was still cake, you know,” he said, trying half-heartedly to be funny, “And key-lime pie.” Her eyes flickered over at the sound of his voice, then flicked back, her face empty, the girl seemingly unable to even muster a scowl. Matt stood some distance away with his hands in his pockets, twisting his heels into the snow.

“Did you find your Dad?” he asked, not sure which answer he was hoping for. Jane shook her head, as though it had been a forgone conclusion.

“He’s psychic. He can feel when people are close. Stay away if he wants to.” She sniffed, heavy, though her face was completely dry. Matt had never seen her cry.

There was a pause. Then Jane let out a tiny, exasperated sigh.

“What do you want?” she murmured.

“Nothing,” Matt said truthfully, “Just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“I’m fine,” she muttered.

“You don’t seem fine.”

“Well I am,” Jane snapped, “Just leave me alone.”

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” asked Matt. But a second after the words left his mouth, when Jane’s head turned and she glared at him with real loathing and contempt, he knew he’d said the wrong thing.

“What do you think I want?” she spat at him. “Do you think I want to sit here and talk about my life, want you to take my hand and care and share and cry about my feelings? Go to hell.”

“I-” began Matt, but she was already cutting him off, shaking her head.

“You don’t know anything. Not about me, not about my life.”

“I know what it’s like to be different,” Matt said quietly, truthfully.

Jane snorted. “You know nothing,” she laughed, just like her father – cold and completely devoid of mercy. “You think you’re alone, think you’re hard pressed, with your friends and your family and your dog and your stupid Stepford home. Oh boo-hoo, you have to lie, oh boo-hoo, the world doesn’t see you.” She sneered at the dirt and the snow mixing on the bitumen. “I’d give anything to have what you have. Have people want to be around you. Care if you lived or died.” She paused, staring straight ahead, kneading snow between her hands. “But I don’t. And I never will. And you’ll never know what that’s like – not now, not in a million years. So spare me your false pity.”

There was a pause. When Jane saw he was still standing there, anger bloomed across her face. “Don’t you get it?” she said bitterly, “Go away. Leave. I don’t want your help. I hate you.”

Matt said nothing.

“I hate you,” repeated Jane, venom on her lips, “I’ve always hated you. Ever since you first sat next to me, ever since you… trying to make me feel like, like I could be normal, and… nggghhhhh-!” she roared, clutching the sides of her head, auburn hair in her hands, “-I can’t stand it, I hate it, because I know it’s not true, but then you worm your way into my head and you make me forget and…” She opened her eyes and stared at the ground. “I know. I’ve always known. I don’t get to be liked. I don’t get to be loved. I get to be strong. That’s what I get. Strong and great and powerful, and you and him and all your stupid little friends with your pathetic nothing lives, you can just watch me. Watch me change the world. I don’t need any of you.”

There was a blank, empty silence.

“I didn’t know your mom died in Africa,” murmured Matt.

“Well now you do,” Jane sniffed, “She was a wildlife reporter. She liked giraffes. She never had a chance. Are you happy?”

“No,” he replied.

“Well I don’t care. Leave me alone.”

Matt didn’t move. Jane rolled to her feet. “Fine,” she said, her voice hard, refusing to look at him. “Then I’ll go.”

“Where’re you going?” he asked.

“Where I belong,” she answered. Matt watched in silence as she pulled up her hood and walked away, hands in her front; watched as she kept walking, the snow melting where she stepped, across the street and down the road, until the white and grey swallowed her whole.

And then she was gone –the traces that she’d left already filling up with snow.

“Ah hell,” Matt muttered to himself. He sat down on the cold, wet sidewalk and leant his head on his hands. A few quiet seconds passed; then the sound of familiar footsteps padded up beside him.

“At least you still love me Woogie,” he murmured. The golden retriever yowled and flopped down next to him, laying its floppy dog head on his lap. Matt scratched him behind the ears.

They sat there for a while, the boy and his dog, watching the world in white, the thick flakes falling from the sky, blanketing the world below. Snow made the world look peaceful, even if underneath it wasn’t – but in the end you got cold and had to go back to reality. Matt didn’t know how long he sat there, scratching Woogie idly behind his ears, but eventually he couldn’t feel his legs, and he knew Jane wasn’t coming back.

“Vamanos perrito,” Matt said with a sigh, pushing to his feet, “Vas a comer.” And so they headed back towards the house, to the warmth and friends and loving family, who he’d never really appreciated for most of his life.