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really hate poor Linzi, do you? cos she loves you most terribly! She doesn’t think you’re geeky. She thinks you’re really hot! Lots of people do, you’d be surprised. I was surprised, cos after all, I know you. They just go by how you look. It’s wrong to judge people by their looks! I’ve told her this. I’ve told her, it’s what’s inside that counts, but she is just, like, totally gone .” The Microdot clasped one hand to her chest and swayed dramatically with a scoop full of cat litter. Used cat litter. She said, “Know what she said?”
    I said, “No. What?” I was busy keeping an eye on the cat litter. I didn’t fancy great wet dollops of it landing all over me. “What did she say?”
    The Microdot gurgled, happily. “She said you remind her of that man in The Mummy film…that one where they go down into the tombs and all horrible things come alive and jump out of their coffins and startchasing them? And then there’s that bit where people’s flesh all hangs off them and th—”
    â€œYeah, yeah,” I said, “I saw it! What man are you talking about?” I was quite interested to know, as I thought it was a pretty good movie. Not that the ancient Egyptians are what you’d call old. But at least it showed people doing some serious excavating. “What’s his name?”
    She screwed up her nose, trying to remember. “Brenda?”
    â€œ Brendan. Brendan Fraser.” Hah! He was the hero. “She thinks I’m like him?”
    â€œWell, sort of. I mean, he was more into action . I can’t exactly see you being into action. But she has this, like, daydream, where she’s down in the tombs and you rescue her?”
    I said, “Rescue her from what?”
    â€œThose beetle things? Like in the film? Ones that burrow under your skin and go zizzing round your body and eat up your brain…she thinks it’d be really neat!”
    â€œWhat, to have beetles eating her brain?”
    â€œNo, you idiot! You rescuing her.”
    I said, “Oh. Yeah. OK.”
    â€œI mean, you would rescue her,” she said, “wouldn’t you?”
    I said, “Absolutely!” Fortunately I don’t think any brain-eating beetles actually exist in this country, so I reckon I’m probably safe.
    â€œYou wouldn’t just walk past and leave her? Like you did when she fainted?”
    I was about to say—again—that she hadn’t fainted, she’d hurled herself on the ground, when I caught a glint in the Microdot’s eye and thought better of it.
    â€œBrenda Fraser wouldn’t walk past and leave her. She thinks you’re better looking than Brenda Fraser. Which wouldn’t actually be hard,” said the Microdot, “considering he’s, like, really ancient. On the other h—”
    â€œExcuse me,” I said. “Where exactly is this leading?”
    â€œNot leading anywhere,” said the Microdot. “Just thought you’d like to know. Most boys’d be flattered, being told they were better looking than some big hunk movie star.”
    â€œI am,” I said. “I’m very flattered.”
    â€œReally?” The Microdot beamed up at me. Boy, was she in a good mood! “I’ll tell Linzi. She’ll be ever so pleased!”
    â€œYeah? Well, good! It’s been nice talking,” I said.
    She said, “It has, hasn’t it?”
    I don’t know what to make of it all. It’s not often I get to have a civilised conversation with the Microdot. I’m still not sure what the point of it was, but it seems to have made her happy.
    I wonder if Egyptian mummies are considered less geeky than dinosaurs?

Four
Sunday
    This is the latest test she gave me. She says it’s the paint splotch test.
    â€œIt’s simple! All you have to do is just look at it and say what you think it means.”
    I was tempted