Excerpt: Alva Sleeps

She seems really worried. I know she's trying to hide it, but it's just they way she was moving, the way she looked at me...I hope that I'm going to be okay, but...she ought not to worry, I'm going to be fine, no matter what right? I've got years ahead of me - I know Dad is waiting for the day I graduate from university. Being a lecturer himself there's a lot he tells me and I always enjoy listening to him. If he's not on about ancient mythology he's looking at literature analytically. Mum often objects, she thinks I ought to be running around, but I'm happy indulging myself in books - fiction, non-fiction, it all interests me. Besides, Dad sometimes takes me out into the back-yard and kicks the ball around. A couple of weeks ago, Mum was in goal and I got Dad with a sliding tackle - I tripped him up, it was a shock to him, but I got advantage and managed to kick it straight into the goal. I suppose Fifa was to blame really - we sometimes get the XBox out and we play against each other and well - I found keep pressing the button for the sliding tackle is a great way to nick the ball, so I just had to steal ideas.
But stealing sports moves isn't always a great idea - in PE at school we were playing Softball - I was on bat, but I didn't hit it very far, so I quickly ran to first base, but I was just about to be out, so I decide to do the American baseball signature move and that's sliding so that you foot reaches the base. It's not a good idea on a dry day when your legs are bare. Two words; friction burn. It's not nice because when it heals you gets this sticky substance that seems to want to heal itself into anything it comes into contact with - so removing the bandages wasn't fun. Mum soaked my legs in waters to loosen them off, but it still really hurts when it comes off. I think I learned my lesson.