Mum was scared, one hand holding onto the bars, as she looked at something just past Scarlett. Then, and she would swear to this a million times, the eyes moved and suddenly her mum was staring at her, out of the book. The mouth moved, no sound reaching her, but she could recognise ‘help me’ any day of the week.
She turned the page, quickly, ignoring the trickle of sweat that ran down her temple. On the next page, put there, she thought, through no coincidence, she found.
For the rescuing of those trapped.
That was just bloody typical. This was like some crappy moral dilemma rubbish they’d spoken about in school. Do you a) face certain death to rescue your stupid, greedy mum, or do you b) put yourself up for adoption in like, one of those really nice places in Chelsea or Kensington or somewhere? Hmm, decisions, decisions.
She closed the book, looked at the TV, and abruptly turned it off. ‘OK, so, this isn’t actually real, so trying the spell can’t do any harm, right?’ She knew she was lying. Magic was real. That her mum had realised that before her was just embarrassing, but no one else needed to know. So, doing the spell, assuming she had the ingredients, could very well wind up with her in a cage, just like Mum, and there was a good bet they didn’t have wi-fi where she was.
Maybe, if she went to sleep, she’d wake up with mum shouting at her about school, and all would be well. She looked at the book, then placed it carefully on the corner of the sofa where she’d found it. Then she closed the curtains (uh, creepy stalker homeless dude), went upstairs, got changed, got into bed, and closed her eyes.
This was weird.
What did you do at night, when you didn’t sign off from Facebook? What about all the people who didn’t know she was going to bed? With considerable effort, and more than one deeply felt sigh, she drifted slowly to sleep.
Her eyes cracked open, the grey dawn light badgering her to wake up. She tried to ignore it, and rolled over. Her eyes lit on the computer and came fully awake, and with a smile, she hoisted it onto the bed. Flicking the power on, she logged in. The screen went black.
….Still not kidding. Go away please….
Gahh! With a shout she dumped it on the floor (not too hard though, that would just be stupid), and flumped back onto her bed. OK, any second, Mum was gonna start shouting. Any second.
With another huge sigh, she shoved the covers off and staggered into the bathroom. Good lord, what strange creature was this. Oh, no, hold on, that’s just me. Shower and make up, quickly please, don’t make me look at that. She emerged, feeling slightly better, and only marginally less hideous, and wandered into Mum’s room. The bed was empty.
With one final sigh, she stomped down the stairs and checked the rest of the house, before meandering into the lounge. The book was waiting for her.
Next instalment: Friday 18 October.
