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up my tools and climb up through the hatch. But not before checking where Ralph is and whether he’s wielding a stick to slap me over the head.
    He looks oddly harmless, though. Not that I would trust that, either.
    I lock the hatch, replace the relays, and flick the main switch. BLAM! WHRRRRR .  
    Perfect.
    Wiping my greasy hands on my shirt, I turn to Ralph. ‘So, why did you do that?’
    ‘What? Do what?’
    ‘Wrap hemp around the turbine shaft.’
    ‘The…what?’ He blinks, then spreads his hands in front of him. ‘I did no such thing!’
    Something tells me he’s innocent. Or might be innocent. But something else tells me that he’s behaving really weirdly today. Maybe he’s nervous. But why?
    Anyway. I have no time for smalltalk. Even if I had the time, I wouldn’t waste my energy on an attempt at a conversation with Ralph — a boy who solves all conflicts with muscles instead of his central nervous system (although I’m not sure he has one).
    ‘Good. Go home, then.’ I switch the torch back on and point its light at the ground. Whoever did this must have left footprints.
    ‘Um…Micka?’
    ‘What?’
    ‘I was wondering… Now that school’s over, I was wondering if…you would go with me?’
    ‘All you need to do is follow the markings of the pipe,’ I mutter while searching for traces of suspicious human activity.
    ‘That’s not what I meant.’
    I stare at the circle of light when realisation hits me like a well-aimed kick to the stomach. The boy has smiled at me today. And yesterday. And the day before. I believed he was sick, but now I know he’s love-sick. Or something.
    The thought that someone might actually like me feels…unreal. In a good way though, even if it’s brutal Ralph liking me.
    ‘Why?’ I ask.
    He taps his foot. ‘Don’t know. Um…you’re…nice. I guess.’
    I guess? What’s that supposed to mean?  
    ‘I’m busy,’ I repeat and get back to my search thing.  
    Behind me, he mutters, ‘I’m not good with words.’
    ‘No, you are good with your fists.’ The soil is a bit muddier close to the reservoir and I clearly see my own footprints from earlier today.
    ‘I’m sorry!’ cries Ralph. ‘Can I kiss you?’
    I’m thunderstruck. Is that how adults get together? Scream “ CAN I KISS YOU” at each other? I hope not. I’ve never been kissed by anyone. I wonder how it might feel. The taste…
    ‘Okay, Ralph. One kiss. No tongue. Then you go home.’
    ‘Okay,’ says Ralph, wilting a little.
    I walk up to him so he’s not stepping into my footprint search area. He has his hands in his pockets; I have the fingers of my right hand tightly wrapped around the torch handle, the other around my bundle of tools.
    He bends forward and places a kiss on my cheek. Fuzz tickles my skin and I think of fly legs.  
    Ralph quickly extracts his hands from his pockets, grabs my waist, and pulls me into him. His big wet mouth sucks on mine. He tastes of… Blah! I don’t even want to think about it!
    I struggle to break free, but his grip is too strong. I calculate my chances of success when applying various approaches of self defence, then decide for the most straightforward one.
    My knee hits his balls. He lets go at once.
    ‘Fuck, Micka!’ he squeaks, as soon as he has his voice back. ‘It just started to feel nice.’
    ‘Fuck yourself!’ Scraping Ralph’s spittle off my mouth and tongue, I stomp away and let him stand in the dark. I don’t give a shit whether he finds his way back home or not. That boy hasn’t brushed his teeth in years, if ever. What a foul-tasting rag of a tongue!  
    I come to a halt. The sooner he’s gone, the better. ‘Pipe, Ralph.’  
    ‘I’m not an idiot! But you are.’
    ‘Yeah, yeah. Blah blah blah.’ I press my tools tighter to my chest, trying not to retch. How did humanity reach an astonishing number of ten billion?
    Ralph’s stomping and muttering grows fainter while he walks in one direction, and I the other.  
    I’ve