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the phone with trembling hands. ‘Mum?’
    â€˜Hello, love.’
    Josh almost burst into tears. He was so relieved to hear her voice. He bit his lip to stop himself. He couldn’t cry in front of Dad.
    â€˜Miss you,’ he managed to say.
    â€˜I miss you too, love.’
    â€˜How’s Nate?’ asked Josh.
    â€˜He’s stable,’ answered Mum. ‘They reckon he’s going to be fine. He just needs a bit of time for his lungs to get stronger. But he looks so small and weak.’
    Josh thought that her voice sounded small and weak – exhausted. He glanced up at Dad, who looked like he wanted the phone back straight away. Josh didn’t blame him. Dad probably missed her just as much as he did.
    He desperately wanted to tell her about his essay, and the fundraising and his visit to the drive-in. Instead he simply asked: ‘Know when you’re coming home?’
    â€˜No, not yet, love.’ She sounded disappointed.
    â€˜Okay,’ said Josh, looking up into Dad’s impatient eyes. ‘I better go then. Love you.’
    â€˜Love you, too.’
    He handed the phone to Dad, who walked into the next room. Josh sat at the kitchen table and tried to listen in. They talked for about another ten minutes. Josh wished that he had gotten as much time.
    Josh spent the rest of the evening thinking about Mum and Nate – about how much he missed Mum; about how much he wanted to properly meet Nate. How long before they come home? he wondered. And is Nate really going to be okay?
    After Dad went to bed, Josh fired up the computer that sat on the old desk in the corner of the lounge room, right next to the two-way radio that he used to get hisSchool of the Air lessons over. The computer was ancient and it took ages to boot up, but at least they had internet thanks to the satellite dish on the roof of the homestead.
    Josh searched for ‘premature birth’ and ‘lungs’. The connection wasn’t great, so it took a long time for the page to load. But when the info came up, it really frightened him. ‘Infant Respiratory Distress Syndrome’, also known as ‘surfactant deficiency disorder’. It sounded dangerous. Didn’t Aunty Karen say something about a syndrome?
    He tried to read the details, but it was full of words and explanations he didn’t understand.
    â€˜Incidence decreases with advancing gestational age.’
    â€˜Developmental insufficiency of surfactantproduction and structural immaturity in the lungs.’
    â€˜Rising carbon dioxide concentrations in the blood.’
    He eventually switched the computer off, more anxious than ever.

‘Done deal!’ growled Ratchet.
    Josh dropped his schoolbag with a little yelp and almost fell over with surprise. He had not expected the drive-in owner to be waiting for him as he got off the school bus. The other kids disappeared quickly, giving the scary woman in the khaki get-up a wide berth.
    â€˜What?’ he asked.
    â€˜Pay attention,’ she snapped. ‘Me mate came through with permission from Crawford’s. They’re sending a digital copy of the mini-series next week. So we is all set to rock ’n’ roll.’
    Josh gazed up at Ratchet. Rock ’n’ roll? He nodded.
    â€˜You and your friends – youse need to come over some time so we can discuss dates for the screening.’ Josh noticed that Ratchet looked a little different from before. Her eyes seemed … not as manic. The corners of her mouth were twitching a bit higher. Could it be … she was excited?
    â€˜Cool,’ said Josh.
    â€˜Way cool,’ answered Ratchet, as she strode off down the street. ‘C’est fantastique.’
    Josh didn’t have the heart to tell her thatnothing had been settled yet at school. Today was the day that fundraising ideas would be discussed.
    What if no one likes my plan? he worried.

    â€˜I hope you all had a good