Other Alice by Michelle Harrison Page A

that had no lenses. I’d had them for years, and started out
by wearing them when I was playing dressing-up games, like being a doctor, or a detective. I didn’t wear them now, but carrying them somehow made me feel smarter, like they were a good luck
charm. Alice had always told me that if you looked clever, people would treat you as if you were clever, and that was what I needed to be now if I was going to find out what had happened to
her.
    I went downstairs through the living room, where Mum was laughing at something on the television.
    ‘Mum, I’m going into town,’ I called, heading into the kitchen. ‘I need a few things for my Likeness.’ The room was still warm with the scent of sugar and lemon. I
rooted around under the sink and found a pocket torch and stuck it in my rucksack, then unplugged Alice’s phone and put that in, too.
    ‘Shall I come with you?’ Mum answered, appearing in the doorway, still in her dressing gown, with a guilty look on her face.
    ‘No!’ I squeaked. The last thing I wanted was for Mum to tag along, not before I really knew what was going on anyway. ‘I mean, you stay here and relax. Catch up with your
soaps. I won’t be long.’
    ‘You don’t mind, do you?’ Mum asked. ‘We’ll all go again later for the Summoning.’
    ‘I don’t mind,’ I said. ‘You should enjoy your day off.’
    Mum yawned, not noticing anything was amiss. ‘Well, don’t be long.’ She turned and shuffled back into the living room. ‘I’ll have a nice cup of tea in a minute, I
think . . .’
    I mumbled a goodbye, then zipped past her into the hallway, snatching my keys from the hook and shrugging into my coat before stepping outside. It was a crisp, bright morning. My breath misted
the air as I walked, trying to put my thoughts in order. At the moment, there was no evidence that Alice was definitely missing. All I knew was that she had left in a hurry, and that it must be
linked to the story, which meant one of two things. Firstly, Alice could have gone somewhere to hide until she figured out what to do. She had vanished a few times in the past after arguing with
Mum, sometimes for a few hours and once for an entire night.
    The other possibility was that one of the characters had caught up with her. I felt a nasty little twist somewhere deep inside and pushed this thought away. I had to stay calm and use my head. I
had to treat this like it wasn’t Alice I was trying to find, like it wasn’t someone I cared about. Like I was a real detective.
    The first thing that a real detective would be thinking is that, when someone goes missing, the first two days of the investigation are the most important. This is because any clues are still
fresh, witnesses can still remember things, and the missing person might still be close.
    Missing . The word made me feel a bit sick. Missing people belonged on the television or in newspapers. It couldn’t happen to someone like Alice. It couldn’t happen to a
family like us.
    I reached the shop on the corner of our street and stopped outside. This was where I’d seen the girl, Gypsy. Finding her might also lead me to Alice, and I was hoping that she might have
gone into the shop before I’d spotted her.
    A bell jangled above the door as I went in. Gino, the shopkeeper, was stacking tins on a shelf near the counter. He looked up and smiled. He was a large, red-faced, friendly man, though Mum said
he was a gossip.
    I got a bottle of lemonade out of the chilled cabinet, then took it to the counter. A moment later, Gino got up, ringing up the drink on the till. A straw Likeness with black hair in a little
bun and button eyes was propped next to the charity tin.
    ‘Who’s this?’ I asked.
    ‘Is my mama,’ Gino said, patting the doll with a beefy hand. ‘She die many years ago without sharing her best lasagne recipe.’ He rubbed his tummy wistfully. ‘I try
to make myself, but is never the same. If she come tonight, I ask her secret! And