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daddy was pleased. He suggested in a light-hearted way that some of his genius had finally rubbed off on me, although he’s normally a very modest man. Wendy sat her 15+ exams at the same time. Her pass grades disappointed mummy and daddy. I think she has got her mind on other things, boys and going out in the evenings mostly. The school summer holidays came and went. We spent two weeks in the South of France on a camping holiday. We go there almost every year. Wendy spent most of it flirting with the local village boys; however, I know my sister. She never lets it go further than flirting. She’s rather old-fashioned in many ways. She wants to fall in love with the right guy one day, get married and have kids. She’s like me, except I want a career too. Although it rained on the last day, the holiday was still fun. When we returned to England, the weather was grey and miserable. It reflected the way we felt. Then I was looking forward to the new term at St. Jude’s, even if Wendy wasn’t. I’d be in year 9. I’d also be fourteen in the autumn. I’d be fourteen. I like repeating it because I’d be almost an adult. What am I saying? I am an adult! I have adult thoughts, adult emotions and adult ideas. So, yes, I must be an adult.
    After daddy had made his discovery about the Icarus 9 Comet, he wrote to space observatories in Europe and the United States. Some replied. Many didn’t. Those who did reply informed daddy that the chances of the comet actually hitting the earth were many millions to one. How can you argue with such odds, I ask you? But daddy did. He was worried about the one. He argued that it only took one comet to wipe out the dinosaurs 65 million years ago, and we were due for another big hit soon. When no one would listen to daddy, he wrote to the papers. His story did appear in the London Post. It made a few lines opposite the funnies. I clipped it, pasting it in my scrapbook. Although daddy rarely shows his emotions, I think he was extremely bitter that no one would take him seriously enough. It was a very frustrating time for him. I felt for him. I believed him. I was scared too. Perhaps the comet would fall harmlessly into the ocean or something. Daddy laughed and said that I shouldn’t worry too much. It wouldn’t happen for hundreds of years; nevertheless, I was thinking of my descendants who might be living then. What future would they have? Perhaps the future generations would have found a way of diverting the comet from earth’s orbit or something like that, I thought brightly. Science would surely have moved on from the crude atom bomb to solve all of man’s problems.
    It was Wednesday.
    It was early morning. I waited by the window peering through the drawn curtains. I was amusing myself before school. I’d some time on my hands. I was waiting for ‘Super cool’ as Wendy had nicknamed our paperboy. I wasn’t particularly interested in him as Wendy was. I liked watching him. It was something to do before school. After a few minutes or so of waiting patiently, our paperboy (Super cool!) arrived with our papers riding on his electric scooter. I really must have one for my 14 th birthday. It’s a must. It’s a want. It’s a desire. It’s a wish. I’ve been dropping subtle hints all over the place. I left one of my sticky notes on daddy’s computer. I also stuck one on the fridge in the kitchen. If that isn’t being subtle, I don’t know what is. Yeah, I admit it, I like watching the paperboy riding his electric scooter. I think it’s an Electro Scoot MK2. They’re the latest model. They’re so cool! They have a top speed of 15 kph. The MK3 is something else. It has a top speed of 25 kph, but you can’t ride it on the pavement. It’s a road vehicle; therefore, you do need a licence to own one, and the minimum age is 16! But I’m a little puzzled. Where did our paperboy get the money to buy one? They retail for about 2000 euros. Perhaps he saved up his paper round money or