Buster wasn't at school for the third day in a row.

'What's with that?' I asked Claud, after Mr Pratt finished calling the role.

'Don't know,' said Claud, looking away. I noticed she had gone red.

'Have you seen him anywhere?' I asked.

'Nup,' said Claud. But it felt like she was lying because blushing is often a sign, and I'm very good at sensing things.

'Have you decided what you're going to do for your design project?' asked Claud, changing the subject.

'I thought I'd design a grand, old-fashioned mansion, with a drawing room and a turret, and a library full of books. How 'bout you?'

'Mine's a future house,' said Claud. 'With circular rooms, and ceilings that open up so you can sleep under the stars. You'll never guess what Buster's designing though a a dog hotel,' Claud laughed.

'I thought you said you hadn't seen him.'

'I haven't,' she said, blushing again. 'He . . . um . . . told me on MSN.'

The best part about Mrs Ha.s.slebrack's maths cla.s.s was that it was the last cla.s.s before the weekend. She wrote BODMAS across the board in red and then a whole lot of equations that we had to solve using the BODMAS rule. I like BODMAS because it gives you an order in which to go about things that are usually confusing, like maths. And how if you follow the BODMAS rule everyone came up with the same answer, unless you totally make a mistake.

Mrs Ha.s.slebrack wore a girdle (Mum told me), that pulled her tummy and her bottom in at the same time and made them look really hard and flat, and exactly the same shape as one another. It made me want to poke her, just to see if the girdle-tummy was actually as hard as it looked. She also looked orange because she wore too much fake tan. She handed out some sheets for homework, pausing at Buster's empty desk.

'Will anybody be seeing Buster over the weekend?'

Claud's hand shot up. 'I will Mrs Ha.s.slebrack. I'll see him at basketball tomorrow,' she blurted out, then looked at me as if she'd seen a ghost and slid the maths sheets into her folder.

'What?' I exclaimed, almost so loud the whole cla.s.s could hear.

'I told you,' said Claud defensively, 'Buster's going to try out for the team.'

'You did not tell me, Claud! How could you?'

'Sunny Hathaway, would you please stop talking!' scolded Mrs Ha.s.slebrack. 'Not another word!'

Boy, did seat 44K feel good for the rest of maths. I peered down at the shambled world far below, until fairy-floss clouds floated across my view. The fact that my best friend had officially fallen to the dark side didn't bother me at all. I ate a chicken sandwich with homemade mayonnaise and chives. Then I cranked back my chair and fell asleep. When I awoke, Claud was sitting next to me in 44J. She was s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g up Buster's maths sheets and talking about how much spit she was storing up for his Hawaiian that night at Pizza-A-Go-Girl.

Claud and I argued all the way through our deli shopping.

'You could have at least asked me, Claud,' I said, ticking red capsic.u.m off the list and putting it in the buggy.

'What's the point, Sunny? You weren't going to agree. Besides, it's a community team. Buster has every right to join. You should feel sorry for him, anyway. How would you like it if your dad was in jail and your mum had disappeared?'

Claud took a fifty dollar note from the profit jar, ready to pay.

'Yeah, like how I feel sorry for Osama Bin Laden. Get a grip, Claud!'

Claud's phone beeped. She pulled it out of her pocket to look at the text message. Can you believe it? Her whole screen was lit up with a photo of Buster. What's more, in the photo he'd had his mohawk cut off, which made me dead suspicious. It had still been there last time he was at school a solid evidence that Claud had seen him. Not only had she seen him, but she'd taken a photo of him, saved it on her phone and linked it to his number. My G.o.d!

So, even though I'm not a big fan of silent angry, I did it the whole way home. I just couldn't help it, and neither could Claud. That's why it was such a relief to find Mum and Carl out in the shed with Lyall and Saskia. Claud and I could ignore each other without it being so obvious.

The oven was already lit and there were dead Christmas tree needles all over the floor.

'We helped get the fire going,' said Lyall, and Mum looked sheepish 'cos she knew I didn't want Lyall and Saskia thinking they could weasel their way into PizzaA-Go-Girl. She knew that!

'Did you see the surprise in the lounge room, Sunny?' asked Carl, winking at Mum who was doing the crossword and making it really obvious she didn't want to look at me.

'No, what?' I asked getting the juice marked 'Sunny' out of the fridge. I didn't want to offer any to Claud, but I knew Mum would pick me up on it, so I had to do fake manners so as not to cause a scene. 'You want some, Claud?'

'Sure,' said Claud. I saw her do the eyebrow to herself when she noticed the names on the juice bottles.

'So what is it Carl, a plasma screen?' I said. 'You beauty!'

'Well, no, but it is big and flat and hangs on the wall. Go see for yourself.'

I ran to the lounge room. Willow was still sitting outside Lyall and Saskia's room, drinking up the smell of Boris that was wafting under the door. She didn't even run to greet me.

There are no prizes for guessing that Carl's surprise wasn't a plasma screen but was of the whiteboard variety, with the dishes roster already drawn up. What next? I thought. A mini-van? Claud followed me into the lounge, saw the whiteboard, and looked at me blankly with an Is he freakin' serious? look on her silently angry face. I take back everything I said about thinking Carl was cool. I was obviously deluded. Or maybe that was the old Carl a the Carl who just used to visit a few times a week and tell jokes and make Mum happy, even if he was also a tragic smoker.

Apart from Uncle Quinny, who had ordered the same pizzas as last week, all our other regular customers had left the decision making up to us. The only thing we had to remember was that the Larkins are vegetarians.

'So,' I said, looking over our list of orders. 'We've got Uncle Quinny's three hot salamis, Buster's Hawaiian, pizza verde for the Larkins, pizza with artichokes for Reverand Ferdinand and pizza Sant'Agata for Mrs Wolverine. I'll start washing the herbs.'

'You sure about the Conroy's order?' asked Claud sheepishly. 'I mean, did Uncle Quinny actually put an order in?'

'What do you mean?' I asked. 'He told us last week that he wanted the same again. Remember? And then he left a message on Monday to confirm.'

'Well, it's just that I heard he might be going away for the weekend, that's all,' said Claud, getting the scales down to weigh out the flour. 'Forget about it, I'll get the dough started.'

Just then Claud's phone beeped again with another text message. I was leaning over the sink, so I couldn't see whether it was the sort of text message that was attached to a photo of Buster's dumb head.

'Ah-I gotta go,' Claud said, looking guilty and putting her phone back in her bag.

'In your dreams, Claud. We've only just starting prepping,' I said, soaking the herbs in a shallow sink of water.

'Is everything all right, Claud?' Mum asked.

'Um, I think so, but Mum just wants me home right away.'

'Claud! What about our orders?' I said, banging a metal bowl down on the sink. 'It can't be that important!'

'Sorry, Sunny, I've just gotta go.'

And that was that. Claud jumped on her bike and left me holding the baby (as They say), or in this case, holding an entire pizza delivery business. I take back what I said about Claud making the perfect business partner. That was the old Claud.

And I also take back what I said about not wanting any help from Lyall and Saskia, because, to be honest, they saved the day, even if it was a night. Lyall ran the Larkins' order over the road while I got going on Reverend Ferdinand's. He was back in time to deliver Mrs Wolverine's while I got Uncle Quinny's order under way.

Saskia cut the pizzas and packed them in their boxes, as well as slicing up all the mozzarella while I made sure the oven was okay. Mum and Carl pretty much stayed out of it, because apart from being stuck on the crossword (Mum must have forgotten to call Crossword Solutions), you could tell that they were hoping Lyall and Saskia and I were bonding, which sort of made me cringe. But I did start to think that having precooked siblings might end up being a good thing, for business I mean. If Pizza-A-Go-Girl did take off, Lyall and Saskia could be employees, only I wouldn't have to pay them much because they'd be family, which also meant they wouldn't be able to abandon me right in the middle of our orders.

Mum didn't want any of us going to the Conroy's on our own, and to be honest I didn't fancy it either. (It was the first thing we'd agreed on in days.) So Carl offered to drive me there in Mum's car, and act like a delivery guy and a bodyguard.

'Hey,' said Carl in the car on the way to the Conroys. 'Do you want to know what I think the best name for a pizza business is?'

'What?' I asked.

'Eureka Pizza . . . Get it? You reek of pizza!' which really did make me laugh, but not as much as Carl, who sometimes enjoys his own jokes more than anyone.

'I just made that up!' he said, which for some reason made me feel a little easier about the whiteboard and him being a control freak, 'cos at least he could still tell the odd joke.

Carl buzzed on the security door. I was really hoping we wouldn't have to go upstairs this time, and that Quinny could just bring the money down and take the pizzas. There was no answer, so we buzzed again. Still no answer.

'Are you sure they were expecting pizzas, Sunny?' Carl asked. 'Maybe they did go away for the weekend.'

'Well,' I said, adjusting the four pizza boxes so that my hands weren't so hot from holding them underneath. 'Quinny never said anything to us about going away. Ask Mum.'

Carl buzzed again, for about seven seconds (I just happened to count while I was waiting). But there was still no answer.

'Probably got the TV up loud,' I said.

A man came out of the main door to the flats and saw us waiting to get in. He had fake blond bits in his hair and wore a T-shirt that was way too small.

'Who are you after?' he said to Carl.

'The Conroys,' Carl replied.

'What? Quinny?' asked the man. 'Didn't you hear? He got carted off by the cops. When was it? Tuesday night. Drugs apparently. Nah, the Conroy place is all closed up. Quinny's lady took the baby and headed off to relatives in Perth, last I heard.'

'What about Buster?' I asked, beginning to make sense of why he hadn't been at school.

'Gone too,' he said. 'Apparently staying with friends, or something, until they track down his mum.'

'But Buster hasn't got any fr-'

'That'll do, Sunny,' said Carl.

I was hoping he'd had to move to the other side of town a somewhere with a nicer sounding name, like Sunshine or Deer Park, but too far away for him to be in our basketball team, or even go to our school, or bother taking Claud away from me.

When we got home, Carl put the Conroy pizzas in the fridge for us to eat over the weekend (it was lucky I didn't end up spitting in Buster's). When Carl was making room on the top shelf, I noticed that the profit jar wasn't in the back of the fridge where we usually hide it. It was absolutely and undeniably gone. I looked everywhere. You don't have to be a genius to work out who might have taken it, given that she now hangs about with criminals' sp.a.w.n.

Steph's baby is a girl. But that was a big secret because Dad didn't know and wanted it to be a surprise. Steph found out at the ultrasound, and I did too because Dad and Steph let me come.

Dad stood outside for the part where the radiographer told us she was a girl. So there was no talking of names either, because that would be a giveaway, but Steph told me in secret that she wanted to call the baby Flora.

'Like in Babar,' I said, with my hand on Steph'stummy. 'Remember, Celeste had triplets? There was Flora, Alexander and Pom.'

Steph said, 'Exactly. Flora as in Babar, not as in table margarine.'

Steph and I were lying on the couch when I felt Flora kick. You could even see it, a heel or an elbow rolling along Steph's tummy like a wave. I rested my ear near her belly b.u.t.ton but all I could hear was gurgling. The baby seemed to take up every bit of s.p.a.ce. It was hard to imagine how all the usual stuff, like Steph's liver and kidneys, could keep working properly when they were squashed up into corners. It was even harder to imagine how Flora was going to fit out. Thinking about it made me want to cross my legs.

'Are you scared?' I asked, 'Of the birth, I mean.'

'Not at all. I'll just turn myself inside out like a sock,' said Steph.

Flora would be eleven years younger than me, which means we really wouldn't have much to argue about. It's perfect. With an age gap that big you can pretty much guarantee she's going to idolise me. When Flora's seven, I'll have my own car or maybe even a motorbike with a sidecar, and Flora can wear goggles and a silk scarf. I'll pick her up from school and won't get her home till late, and I'll do all her homework, and we can make bombe alaska any time we like.

Steph asked about Pizza-A-Go-Girl. I told her about Claud nicking off, and how she'd gone weird in general, and it was even looking like she'd stolen our profits.

'That does sound weird,' said Steph. 'But it also sounds like you and Claud may just be growing up at different speeds. I remember when boys suddenly seemed to matter. They will to you too, Sunny, but maybe not right now, that's all.'

'Did you develop a fake laugh?' I asked.

'Probably,' Steph giggled.

'Did you walk funny, with your shoulders all pulled back when the boy was around and pretend to be ignoring him? And did you treat your friends bad and leave them out?'

'Could you be jealous, perhaps, Sunny?' said Steph as she struggled to sit up. 'I mean, it's normal to be jealous and all, but a I don't know how to say this a maybe you're being a little possessive? Maybe Claud still likes you as much as ever, but you're just not the only one any more? Oh, I almost forgot, your grandmother called and wants you to ring her back. There's a message on the pad over by the phone.'

I jumped up and called Granny Carmelene straightaway.

'I was thinking, Sunny,' she said over the phone (after we finished saying all the polite things you say at the beginning of phone calls with posh people). 'That you might like to accompany me on an outing. I have to go into town next week. Perhaps we could go together? There are some places I'd love to share with you. How does next Thursday sound?'

'It sounds fine, except for me having to go to school,' I said in a hushed voice as I took the phone into my room so that Steph didn't hear.

'Good G.o.d! It won't hurt you to miss a day, surely? School takes up far too much of a child's life, if you ask me. Half the time, children learn nothing at all.'

I felt like I couldn't really say no to Granny Carmelene. And mostly I didn't want to say no either, so I agreed to meet her under the Flinders Street clocks on Thursday morning at ten o'clock. I figured I wouldn't really have to lie. I could just add it to the list of all the other secrets that I have to keep, which is why, by the way, I had come up with my latest invention the Stash-O-Matic . . .

With the Tangent Police long gone, due to absolute incompetence throughout their entire department, I needed a device that could monitor my levels of chronic secret-keeping and let me know when they were getting dangerously high. The Stash-O-Matic was designed to go ping when my brain was in danger of bursting, to stop me from blurting out all the stored-up secrets to the wrong people. It made me think of the mean old man in Ackland Street who blurts out swear words all the time, and how a Stash-O-Matic could be just the thing to cure his Tourette's Syndrome.

Steph had fallen asleep. I heard Dad coming home, so I quickly shoved the secret about next Thursday with Granny Carmelene into the top of the Stash-O-Matic and slammed the lid. According to the Stash-O-Matic, my secrecy levels were already dangerously high, so from then on I had to be sure not to shove in any new ones without getting rid of a few old ones first.

'Ah ha! There you are,' said Dad. 'Ready for the game?'

'Shhh!' I whispered, pointing to Steph. 'She's asleep.'

'Come on then, get your gear, Sunny, we'll leave Steph to sleep and go a bit early for a decent warm up.'

In the car I told Dad about Buster trying out for the team, and about how nuts he gets if something makes him angry.

'I think it's a great idea,' said Dad. 'Team sport could be just the right medicine. Anyhow Sunny, he'll be judged on his merits and given a fair go, just like everybody else.'

That pretty much meant for certain that Buster would get in, especially as Claud had been giving him secret lessons.

'So, Carl and his kids moved in this week,' Dad said. 'How's it all going?'

Good one, Mum! I thought. She could at least tell me when a secret was no longer a secret. She'd specifically asked me not to tell Dad about Carl moving in.

'It's going okay, I guess. I'm a bit worried for Boris.'