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“Hey, neighbour.” He lets himself into my house and kicks off his shoes. “You’re going to hate me for this, but…”

I cringe. “Don’t say it. Don’t.”

“We still haven’t picked a song to sing tonight.”

I groan and bump my forehead against the door frame. “I know. I’m supposed to work today but if the shop’s quiet I’ll ask my mums if I can skip my shift and rehearse instead. Hang on – I need to get dressed.”

When I come back downstairs in my uniform, Neon asks if we can take the long route up to the high street to double-check that there aren’t any Blanks still wandering around.

I don’t get the sense that there are any here – Mutti arrived home from the director’s house full of ideas about how to fix the plot holes in her next novel, which has to be a good sign – but Neon will feel safer if he can see it for himself.

Fortunately everything in our town seems to be back to normal.

It’s a bright Saturday morning, the air cold and crisp beneath a clear blue sky.

The streets are busy with people heading to the shops or to activities, and none of them look like they could have come from the Realm.

We take a walk through the park, now full of joggers and cyclists and kids playing on the swings or slides.

As Neon punts a runaway football back to a five-a-side team, something between the trees catches my eye.

“Look!” I grab Neon’s sleeve. “The bunny!”

Hopping around in the long grass is the pink rabbit in the white woolly hat, the invisible friend we saw on my street.

The little girl who lives across the road is on the swings in the play area.

She grips the chains and demands to go higher and higher as her grown-up chats to two women in thick winter coats.

The bunny notices Neon and me looking at them and hops forward.

Neon takes a few slow steps into the grass and crouches down, his hands on his knees.

“Ready to go, little dude?” he whispers.

The bunny hesitates, its nose twitching nervously, then scurries over to Neon. It takes a long look at the kid on the swings. She’s now laughing hysterically at a pug waddling by and doesn’t notice.

“It’s OK. She’s going to be fine.” Neon holds out his hand. “I think you’ll be happier back where we came from.”

The rabbit puts one small paw in Neon’s hand.

Beneath the hat, its creamy blue eyes close.

A moment later, the rabbit vanishes. I glance over at the kid, but she’s now busy picking fallen leaves off the asphalt and showing them to the grown-ups.

She won’t remember the time her imaginary friend came to visit, but then she’s so small she may not have even noticed the difference between this version and the one in her head.

“I think that’s the last one.” Neon stands up and sinks his hands into his pockets. “Just me left.”

“You’re a real boy now, Pinocchio.” I grin. Neon smiles back, but there’s a hint of sadness in his voice. “How do you feel about it, really?”

He chews on his lip for a moment before answering.

“No regrets. But honestly? Mixed feelings. I’m really happy I can stay, and it feels right.

But I keep remembering I won’t see my mom or my friends or Cauliflower ever again, and this huge tidal wave of sadness hits.

I feel really guilty that I never had the chance to say goodbye or even explain where I was going. ”

Soon I’m going to have to close the online accounts I set up for Neon’s mum and his friends.

It’d be way too much work for me to keep them up long-term, and if he wants to live a normal life here, it can’t be tangled in so many lies.

But, knowing what I now know about the Realm, I suddenly feel horribly guilty too: I’ve taken him away from Karma and the band, all the friends and relatives I created for him, and without him they’re probably going to fade away altogether.

But, as we walk past the bakery, an idea comes to me.

“Why don’t we write a different ending?” I say. “One where you decide to go back. That way there’ll be a second fictional Neon who gets to stay in the Realm.”

Neon loves this idea so much, he jumps up into the air and almost knocks over a man leaving the bakery with a macaroni pie.

We sit down on a bench, and I take out my phone and open the notes app to write an alternative version of his story: one where Neon stayed here for a week, then went back to his life in the Realm.

In that version, Neon tells Karma that he’s ready to move on from home-schooling.

He applies to a performing-arts high school, the same one that his friends Yifei and Kairo attend, and of course he gets in – he even adds that the judges give him a standing ovation after his audition.

The first time I wrote Neon’s story, I tried to keep it mostly realistic.

This time, we give the characters what we imagine to be their best possible ending.

The Pyramid Club get a record deal and become exactly the right amount of famous: enough that they sell out shows worldwide, but not so much that they can’t go out for a meal without being swarmed by fans.

Karma marries a painter, and they move to California to set up an art retreat.

Cauliflower has three puppies, which the new Neon names Broccoli, Sprout and Bok Choy, and he keeps them all.

We give everyone a happily-ever-after. It can’t be like that in the real world, but in our story we decide.

By the time we’ve finished, Neon seems much lighter again. “There. That’s the best goodbye I could give them.” His lip wobbles for a moment, but he smiles as he stands up. “Time for a new beginning.”

“Hey – how about we sing ‘Go Your Own Way’, the Fleetwood Mac song?” I say, the idea popping up like a light bulb in my head. “I think it’s about a break-up, but the title fits your situation.”

“I love that song!” Neon gives my arm a faux punch of appreciation. “You’re full of good ideas today. The Blanks really must be gone.”

We loop back along the high street, which has suddenly become unusually busy.

When we pass Every Book & Cranny, I look through the windows to wave to Gio and my mums – then stop in my tracks.

The shop is so full of people that I can’t even see the desk.

Neon and I exchange looks of surprise, then hurry inside, excusing ourselves over and over as we edge towards the till.

Gio and Mum are both busy talking to customers, and Mutti is ringing up one of the Nessie colouring books that we’ve had on the shelves for years while a man and a little girl wait by the counter.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“The videos taken at the loch last night have been picked up by a bunch of news sites.” Mutti passes the book to the girl with a smile. “Feels like half the country has come here to try to spot whatever was in the water.”

“I’m usually a bit of a cynic about these things, but a couple of experts said the footage seems to be authentic,” the man says. “We couldn’t see anything this morning, but maybe we’ll have more luck after lunch.”

“It’s definitely the Loch Ness Monster,” the little girl adds, clutching her colouring book to her chest. “I could see her tail in the video.”

The pair move on to let a woman holding three hardbacks get to the front of the line.

Joel appears with a stack of colouring books, pushes them into my arms and asks me to display them in the children’s section before disappearing back into the stockroom.

It feels like we’ve fast-forwarded to the weeks before Christmas, the only time of year when the shop bustles with customers like this.

And, for the second time since my mums told me we had to say goodbye to Every Book & Cranny, I feel another tiny glimmer of hope.