useless at the back of piano recitals and school awards ceremonies.
“Dad,” I said, “what’s the party for?”
“It’s a Party thing,” Dad said. I heard the capital P – when you live with a Member of Parliament your ear becomes attuned to it. He didn’t seem to care that I’d forgotten. “Something to do with the budget.”
Good old Dad. It’s nice to have a parent who doesn’t freak out about every little thing I do.
I mean, it’s hard to freak out about anything – or anyone – you never take the slightest bit of notice of. Still, hooray for my dad not being my mum.
I rubbed my eyes. So my presence was required at a Party party.
I should’ve let the fog get me.
I was asleep on my bed, curled up around a sketchbook, when Gail knocked on my door and walked in without waiting. I think she has delusions of being Jeeves. Except that if Jeeves’ boss had said “don’t do that, it’s creepy, and while I’m at it can you stop going through my drawers looking for reasons to get me in trouble with my mother”, Jeeves would’ve listened.
I lurched awake, gripping on tight to the biro I’d had in my hand when I’d dropped off. Gail waved a dry-cleaning hanger at me.
“I have your outfit for this evening.”
“Wass time?” I mumbled, and glanced at the clock. 4.28. Damn. I dug my hands into my hair and sat up, closing the sketchbook on the page full of star-stones and swirly living fog. She laid the dress in its white plastic on the bed and told me to hurry up and get ready, then left.
I glared after her.
What if I turn into a fox, right in front of you, and jump out the window instead? What would you do?
I bet the Skulk doesn’t have a dress code.
I sighed and unzipped the plastic dry-cleaning bag. Would it be the weird broad-shouldered navy blue one that reminded Mum of the Good Old Eighties? It seemed appropriate for the occasion.
It was new. It was pink. I wanted to cry.
I squeezed into it and tied the shiny pink ribbon at my back, staring in the mirror. It had a built-in corset – which was at least the second best thing after a dress that actually fit – and little pink and white ruffles over the shoulders.
I wondered if she’d had it made specially. Because what were the odds that a dress bought off the rack would make me look this much like an undercooked sausage?
I slathered my hair in anti-frizz and went downstairs just in time to hear Mum give a yell and something hit something else with a smack .
I edged into the drawing room with my back to the doorframe, ready to make a hasty exit. Mum was standing by the big gold-framed mirror over the fireplace. She turned, brandishing a rolled-up copy of the dinner menu. Her eyes lighted on me for a second and then slid away to the stairs.
“ Gail! ” she shrieked.
Gail hurtled down the stairs, faster than I thought it was possible to go without losing her professional poise.
“There’s a spider in the fireplace. Get the trap and kill it.”
“There was a spider in my room, this morning,” I volunteered. “And at school on Friday. It might be the time of year.”
Mum frowned at me, as if I was a lampshade that had come to life and tried to make a political point. I felt pretty much like one, considering the ruffles. “Yes, I suppose so,” she said slowly. It was like conceding the point actually caused her pain.
Suddenly though, I wasn’t sure I was right. I mean, it could have been the time of year. But... that made about six spiders in three days. That’s not normal.
I didn’t know about the one that Mum had seen, but the five that I’d seen had all looked the same. Not just has-eight-legs, is-a-dark-colour, basically-it’s-a-spider the same. They were exactly the same colour, the same size.
I could easily be imagining it. Maybe I was just seeing weird stuff when there was none. It was probably the least crazy reaction I could have to having turned into a fox last night.
Surely it was more likely than the
“Dad,” I said, “what’s the party for?”
“It’s a Party thing,” Dad said. I heard the capital P – when you live with a Member of Parliament your ear becomes attuned to it. He didn’t seem to care that I’d forgotten. “Something to do with the budget.”
Good old Dad. It’s nice to have a parent who doesn’t freak out about every little thing I do.
I mean, it’s hard to freak out about anything – or anyone – you never take the slightest bit of notice of. Still, hooray for my dad not being my mum.
I rubbed my eyes. So my presence was required at a Party party.
I should’ve let the fog get me.
I was asleep on my bed, curled up around a sketchbook, when Gail knocked on my door and walked in without waiting. I think she has delusions of being Jeeves. Except that if Jeeves’ boss had said “don’t do that, it’s creepy, and while I’m at it can you stop going through my drawers looking for reasons to get me in trouble with my mother”, Jeeves would’ve listened.
I lurched awake, gripping on tight to the biro I’d had in my hand when I’d dropped off. Gail waved a dry-cleaning hanger at me.
“I have your outfit for this evening.”
“Wass time?” I mumbled, and glanced at the clock. 4.28. Damn. I dug my hands into my hair and sat up, closing the sketchbook on the page full of star-stones and swirly living fog. She laid the dress in its white plastic on the bed and told me to hurry up and get ready, then left.
I glared after her.
What if I turn into a fox, right in front of you, and jump out the window instead? What would you do?
I bet the Skulk doesn’t have a dress code.
I sighed and unzipped the plastic dry-cleaning bag. Would it be the weird broad-shouldered navy blue one that reminded Mum of the Good Old Eighties? It seemed appropriate for the occasion.
It was new. It was pink. I wanted to cry.
I squeezed into it and tied the shiny pink ribbon at my back, staring in the mirror. It had a built-in corset – which was at least the second best thing after a dress that actually fit – and little pink and white ruffles over the shoulders.
I wondered if she’d had it made specially. Because what were the odds that a dress bought off the rack would make me look this much like an undercooked sausage?
I slathered my hair in anti-frizz and went downstairs just in time to hear Mum give a yell and something hit something else with a smack .
I edged into the drawing room with my back to the doorframe, ready to make a hasty exit. Mum was standing by the big gold-framed mirror over the fireplace. She turned, brandishing a rolled-up copy of the dinner menu. Her eyes lighted on me for a second and then slid away to the stairs.
“ Gail! ” she shrieked.
Gail hurtled down the stairs, faster than I thought it was possible to go without losing her professional poise.
“There’s a spider in the fireplace. Get the trap and kill it.”
“There was a spider in my room, this morning,” I volunteered. “And at school on Friday. It might be the time of year.”
Mum frowned at me, as if I was a lampshade that had come to life and tried to make a political point. I felt pretty much like one, considering the ruffles. “Yes, I suppose so,” she said slowly. It was like conceding the point actually caused her pain.
Suddenly though, I wasn’t sure I was right. I mean, it could have been the time of year. But... that made about six spiders in three days. That’s not normal.
I didn’t know about the one that Mum had seen, but the five that I’d seen had all looked the same. Not just has-eight-legs, is-a-dark-colour, basically-it’s-a-spider the same. They were exactly the same colour, the same size.
I could easily be imagining it. Maybe I was just seeing weird stuff when there was none. It was probably the least crazy reaction I could have to having turned into a fox last night.
Surely it was more likely than the
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