Quidditch, did you?’ She simpers. ‘Or were you too busy
reading
and being a general all-out
nerd
?’ She shoots me a nasty, slit-eyed, snaky smile. ‘We missed you at the cinema last week, didn’t we, Aubrey?’
There is a cackle as Livvy appears at her side (no doubt by some kind of evil Summoning Charm).
‘Looks like you guys had an awesome holiday,’ says Aubrey, letting go of my arm. I swear she even gives me a little shove out the way.
‘What was that about the cinema?’ I want to ask Aubrey, but I can’t form the words. I watch in horror as she flicks her hair and mirrors the twins’ body language: hands on hips, superior smile on lips. What is she doing?
‘I saw the pictures you posted, Livvy,’ she goes on. ‘Good times.’
‘Yeah, I noticed you stalking me,’ says Livvy, her smile turning sour enough to curdle milk. ‘You “liked” every single thing I posted – even the photo of the display board at the airport showing how delayed our return flight was.’
‘Yeah. Not very
supportive
,’ says Izzy. ‘Surprised you have time to look at our posts. Weren’t you too busy playing make-believe games and writing
stories
with your little chum here?’ she adds, nodding to me.
Aubrey opens her mouth to respond, but the Voldemort Twins cackle in unison and link arms, turning to go. They always have to have the last word. Part of me is relieved that they are being mean: I must have misread Aubrey’s body language just now.
‘Leave it, Aubrey,’ I say, laying a hand on her arm. ‘You know what they are like.’
Aubrey nods and blinks hard. ‘Let’s go,’ she says.
I can see she is upset. Those twins are such stirrers. Why did they even say that thing about the cinema? A nagging little voice in my head reminds me that Aubrey did go to the disco without me. Maybe she went to the cinema without me too?
No, the VTs were just winding me up. As usual. Aubrey would never hang out with the Voldemort Twins. I link arms firmly with my best friend and we head to our lockers.
The atmosphere between us is a lot less relaxed as we start unpacking our bags. I am trying to think of something to say to cheer Aubrey up when I see my locker door. Oh great. Someone has kindly Tippexed ‘Skye Diver’ all over it. I touch the white letters – still wet. No prizes for guessing who did this. I look around for the Voldemort Twins, but they have clearly used the Dark Arts to transport themselves elsewhere.
I am about to say something about it to Aubrey when she starts talking first.
‘So,’ she says, unloading the contents of her school bag. ‘You were going to tell me all about last night. You said something about “avoiding Boy Next Door”? What happened?’
I really don’t want to talk about this now. I just want us to get back to normal. ‘Oh, nothing,’ I say. ‘I told you – I was in my room all evening.’
Aubrey looks at me. I know she can tell just from my tone of voice that I am hiding something. We have always been able to read each other like a book.
‘Anyway, I have to talk to you about Mum,’ I say, clutching at a change of subject. ‘I am seriously worried. She says she’s going to enter a dance
competition
and that it was “nice meeting people” last night—’
‘Hmm,’ says Aubrey. ‘So when are you going to introduce me to Hot Neighbour Boy? Have you found out his name yet, by the way?’
She is not paying attention to me. She is not even looking at me now. She is aligning her books in her locker with great concentration. Honestly, she complains that her mum goes into super-organizational-mode, but I have to say it is getting to be a serious case of ‘like mother like daughter’. What does she think she is doing? Oh my life: she is colour-coding her stationery! OCD, or what?
I have to stop her right now, as I can tell from the look of concentration on her face that otherwise I will not get her full attention until she has finished. I decide I am going to have
reading
and being a general all-out
nerd
?’ She shoots me a nasty, slit-eyed, snaky smile. ‘We missed you at the cinema last week, didn’t we, Aubrey?’
There is a cackle as Livvy appears at her side (no doubt by some kind of evil Summoning Charm).
‘Looks like you guys had an awesome holiday,’ says Aubrey, letting go of my arm. I swear she even gives me a little shove out the way.
‘What was that about the cinema?’ I want to ask Aubrey, but I can’t form the words. I watch in horror as she flicks her hair and mirrors the twins’ body language: hands on hips, superior smile on lips. What is she doing?
‘I saw the pictures you posted, Livvy,’ she goes on. ‘Good times.’
‘Yeah, I noticed you stalking me,’ says Livvy, her smile turning sour enough to curdle milk. ‘You “liked” every single thing I posted – even the photo of the display board at the airport showing how delayed our return flight was.’
‘Yeah. Not very
supportive
,’ says Izzy. ‘Surprised you have time to look at our posts. Weren’t you too busy playing make-believe games and writing
stories
with your little chum here?’ she adds, nodding to me.
Aubrey opens her mouth to respond, but the Voldemort Twins cackle in unison and link arms, turning to go. They always have to have the last word. Part of me is relieved that they are being mean: I must have misread Aubrey’s body language just now.
‘Leave it, Aubrey,’ I say, laying a hand on her arm. ‘You know what they are like.’
Aubrey nods and blinks hard. ‘Let’s go,’ she says.
I can see she is upset. Those twins are such stirrers. Why did they even say that thing about the cinema? A nagging little voice in my head reminds me that Aubrey did go to the disco without me. Maybe she went to the cinema without me too?
No, the VTs were just winding me up. As usual. Aubrey would never hang out with the Voldemort Twins. I link arms firmly with my best friend and we head to our lockers.
The atmosphere between us is a lot less relaxed as we start unpacking our bags. I am trying to think of something to say to cheer Aubrey up when I see my locker door. Oh great. Someone has kindly Tippexed ‘Skye Diver’ all over it. I touch the white letters – still wet. No prizes for guessing who did this. I look around for the Voldemort Twins, but they have clearly used the Dark Arts to transport themselves elsewhere.
I am about to say something about it to Aubrey when she starts talking first.
‘So,’ she says, unloading the contents of her school bag. ‘You were going to tell me all about last night. You said something about “avoiding Boy Next Door”? What happened?’
I really don’t want to talk about this now. I just want us to get back to normal. ‘Oh, nothing,’ I say. ‘I told you – I was in my room all evening.’
Aubrey looks at me. I know she can tell just from my tone of voice that I am hiding something. We have always been able to read each other like a book.
‘Anyway, I have to talk to you about Mum,’ I say, clutching at a change of subject. ‘I am seriously worried. She says she’s going to enter a dance
competition
and that it was “nice meeting people” last night—’
‘Hmm,’ says Aubrey. ‘So when are you going to introduce me to Hot Neighbour Boy? Have you found out his name yet, by the way?’
She is not paying attention to me. She is not even looking at me now. She is aligning her books in her locker with great concentration. Honestly, she complains that her mum goes into super-organizational-mode, but I have to say it is getting to be a serious case of ‘like mother like daughter’. What does she think she is doing? Oh my life: she is colour-coding her stationery! OCD, or what?
I have to stop her right now, as I can tell from the look of concentration on her face that otherwise I will not get her full attention until she has finished. I decide I am going to have
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