Girl, Missing

  This was true, though a secret.

  Ketty shrugged.

  ‘So . . . you going out with him?’ I held my breath.

  Ketty shrugged again. ‘Dunno,’ she said. ‘Maybe.’

  Well that, at least, was hopeful. ‘Hey, d’you wanna see a magic trick?’ I said.

  ‘Okay.’

  I took the twig I’d been practising on and placed it on her hand. ‘Watch,’ I said. ‘I can make this move without touching it.’

  Praying I could make the thing at least twitch across her palm, I focused hard. Nothing happened.

  A strand of Ketty’s hair fell across her face as she watched.

  I tried harder. Still nothing.

  Ketty frowned. ‘What’s supposed to happen?’ she said.

  I could feel the panic rising into my throat. Move. The twig lay resolutely still. And then Ketty’s mobile rang. I stared at it as she answered. It was new . . . and startlingly pink. Sleek, girly and expensive – it was the last phone I’d have expected Ketty to own.

  ‘Hi,’ she said to the caller. ‘Yeah, I’m outside, I’ll come and meet you now.’ Ketty closed her phone and looked up at me. ‘Gotta go.’

  ‘Wait, let me try the twig thing again.’ I laid it on my hand and stared down at it.

  Ketty laughed. ‘You’re bizarre, Nico.’

  ‘Not as bizarre as your new phone, babe,’ I said, pointing to the mobile. ‘I mean, pink?’

  ‘I know.’ Ketty made a face. ‘It’s . . . Billy gave it to me.’

  ‘He got you a phone?’

  How much money did he have?

  ‘Yeah, it’s got a great camera and brilliant sound quality.’

  ‘Cool,’ I said, trying not to sound bitter.

  ‘That was Billy calling, actually,’ Ketty said. ‘Sorry, I’ve got to go.’

  ‘Okay.’ My face burned with humiliation as she turned and walked away. Could I have looked more of an idiot? Trying to move a stupid twig while her actual boyfriend had bought her an ultra-cool phone.

  Furious with myself I chucked the twig on the ground. I felt like punching the bench behind me. As I stared at it, rage pulsing in my chest, the bench fell backwards. It landed with a thud on the ground.

  The rage in my chest vanished and I felt cold with fear. I stared at the bench. My mind had knocked it over. I was sure of it.

  How was that possible?

  I wandered over to a clump of trees. Beyond them the school’s two playing fields stretched away. Most of my year were there. Ketty, of course, slim and scruffy in her running gear, with Billy and a few of his friends. Tom and Curtis were there too – heading for the sports hut, almost certainly to sneak a smoke in before the home room bell. Nearer me a bunch of girls were chatting, giggling over some magazine. All ordinary school stuff. I sighed.

  ‘Nico?’ Fergus’s deep voice echoed across the grass.

  I turned. He was striding towards me. I started walking away.

  ‘Stop.’

  It was pointless trying to resist. He’d give me a detention if I pushed him any further. Like I told you, even though he was my stepdad he always seemed to come down harder on me than any other pupil.

  I stopped walking. Fergus marched up, panting slightly. ‘I’ve been wanting to speak to you all day,’ he said. ‘But I’ve had the local paper on my back since lunchtime. Some bright spark called them about what happened in assembly.’

  ‘The “freak storm”?’

  ‘We both know it wasn’t that.’ Fergus paused. ‘You know you were very rude to me earlier.’

  ‘Yeah?’ I stared down at his polished brown shoes. ‘Well, you were accusing me of ripping up the assembly hall.’

  ‘Which you did.’ Fergus’s voice rose. He checked himself. ‘Look, I’m sorry . . . but are you seriously telling me it wasn’t you?’

  ‘Okay, no.’ I sighed. ‘But I didn’t mean to . . . anyway, how did you know? There were three hundred people in the room.’

  Fergus rubbed his head. ‘I can’t . . . look, I don’t want to go into it. You don’t need to know any of that . . .’

  ‘Any of what?’ Now what was he talking about? ‘You’re treating me like a little kid,’ I muttered.

  ‘I’m not.’ Fergus’s forehead creased into a frown. ‘I just . . . I worry about you.’

  I rolled my eyes. ‘Which means you think I won’t be able to handle whatever it is you think you know.’

  ‘No. And I don’t know anything except that the power you demonstrated is highly destructive. That’s it. Come on, Nico. You saw what you did.’

  He was lying, I was certain. He must know more. How else could he have worked out so quickly that what he was seeing was telekinesis – and that I was making it happen? Smashing clocks and vases with your mind wasn’t exactly an everyday occurrence at Fox Academy.

  ‘Now promise me we won’t have a repeat of this morning’s events.’ Fergus attempted a wry smile.

  I frowned. It didn’t make sense. Surely any normal person would be curious about how or why I’d suddenly developed telekinetic powers?

  ‘Don’t you even want to know what actually happened?’ I said.

  Because I do. I want to know a whole lot more – and, anyway, I can’t control what I’m doing, even if I wanted to.

  Fergus shuddered. ‘Absolutely not,’ he said. ‘Whatever you can do is evil. Your mother would have hated it. I know she would.’

  I stared at him, my resentment building. How could Fergus know for sure what my mum would have thought?

  ‘Are you listening? It’s really important you don’t ever try to use your telekinetic powers again. For your own good. Understand?’

  I narrowed my eyes. How typical was this? Fergus treating me like a child who had to be told what was good for him. When was he going to see that I was old enough to work stuff like that out for myself?

  ‘Promise me you’ll stop, Nico. For the sake of your mother’s memory.’

  ‘Sure, Fergus.’ I lied. He was just using my mum to get me to agree. He didn’t care about her memory. ‘Whatever you want.’

  The next two days passed in the usual boring blur of school activities. There was a bit of minor excitement when the local paper’s story on our ‘freak electrical storm’ came out. But everyone soon forgot about it.

  I tried a few times to make stuff move again. But nothing happened. I was just starting to believe that maybe I’d imagined the whole thing, including Fergus’s strange reaction, when I got a text that changed everything.

  Turn the page for an extract from Sister, Missing - the next book in the series!

  1

  Sister

  I woke up to sunshine pouring in through the bedroom window of the holiday cottage. It was going to be another hot day. I yawned and sat up in bed, careful not to disturb Madison. Her long dark hair was spread over the pillow. I brushed it gently back, revealing her sweet, heart-shaped face.

  As I moved, Madison moaned in her sleep. Her lashes were long and dark against her soft cheek, but I could see the teardrops they still held. It had been like this every night since we’d arrived at the holiday cottage last week. A nightmare kept waking her – bringing her into my room, where I’d have to stroke her hair to get her back to sleep. Later, I’d wake to find her crying in her sleep . . . soft whimpers that broke my heart.

  I bent down now and kissed her forehead, carefully drawing the quilt over her bare shoulder. I watched her for a moment as her breath grew less even and her eyes slowly opened.

  ‘Hey, Lauren,’ she mumbled. ‘I was dreaming about Daddy again.’

  ‘I know, babycakes,’ I whispered. ‘It’s OK.’

  Our father, Sam, had died suddenly nine months ago. Losing him was a big aching hole inside me, even though I didn’t grow up with him. He was my birth dad but I had been kidnapped when I was tiny, and adopted, so I didn’t know him until two years ago.

  Sam had been really special and I missed him every day, but when I looked at my birth mum, Annie, or my
sisters – Shelby and Madison – I could see that Sam dying so suddenly had been much worse for them . . . it had ripped their hearts out. Madison especially, being so young. She was only eight. My guts twisted thinking about how she must feel.

  Now Madison nuzzled in close beside me. I stroked her hair and she yawned and stretched like a cat, arching her back and reaching her arms over her head. A moment later she was off the bed and scampering to the window. She turned to me with big brown eyes.

  ‘Can we go to the beach today?’

  I grinned at her. ‘Sure – just as soon as you’ve had breakfast.’

  ‘Yayy!!’ Madison skipped round the room, her nightmares forgotten. She pulled on a pink tutu over her blue check pyjama bottoms. Her hair flew out behind her as she spun.

  It suddenly struck me that I’d never understood that phrase: a breath of fresh air, before. But that was Madison – fresh air in a dull, flat world: the only person ever to raise a smile from Annie and the only person who always made me feel good about myself.

  Madison stopped in mid-spin and stared at me. ‘But no Shelby,’ she said. ‘Promise, Lauren. Shelby can’t come too.’

  I smiled. One of the many things that bound Madison and me together was a dislike of our middle sister. Shelby was always rude and aggressive. Only yesterday, she’d made Madison cry by sneering that she was too old to still be playing with dolls.

  ‘Sure,’ I said. ‘If you get dressed really fast we’ll be able to leave before she even wakes up.’

  With a wide-eyed nod, Madison vanished from the room. I pulled on my clothes quickly, then checked myself in the mirror – the denim shorts, fitted T-shirt and sandals all looked OK. I took a straw bag from the wardrobe and fetched two towels and some sun cream from the bathroom. It had been amazingly hot for days, considering it was only April, and today looked like it was going to be no exception.

  I tied my hair off my face and applied a little eyeliner and lip gloss. I slid the lip gloss into my bag along with my phone. Madison would enjoy playing with both of them while I hopefully tanned my legs. I already had a bikini top on under my T-shirt. Grabbing my sunglasses, I left the room.

  Madison was downstairs, wolfing down a bowl of cereal.

  ‘Well OK, you and Lauren can go, but only if you stay close together,’ Annie said, twisting her hands anxiously over each other. She was wearing her dressing gown and yesterday’s make-up.

  ‘We’ll be fine,’ I said firmly. ‘I’ll look after Mo and—’

  ‘But who’ll look after you?’ Annie interrupted. She picked up her coffee cup and sipped at it distractedly.

  For goodness’ sake. I gripped the sides of the table. I wanted to be sympathetic. I knew how hard losing Sam had hit her. It was hard for all of us. But why did she have to act like I was about to be kidnapped again every time I took two steps away from her? I was sixteen, and taking my GCSEs in a couple of months.

  Swallowing down my irritation, I forced a smile on my face. ‘We’ll be fine,’ I repeated.

  ‘Don’t you want to wait for Shelby to get up?’ Annie asked.

  ‘No, Mom,’ Madison said firmly. ‘We want to go now.’ She stood up from the table and looped her little blue bag over her shoulder. I caught her eye, knowing what was inside the bag.

  ‘OK, but . . . but are you sure you wouldn’t rather go for a drive and a picnic?’ Annie said.

  Madison and I exchanged an alarmed glance. Annie’s idea of a picnic consisted of a short journey during which she complained constantly about the narrow country lanes and having to drive on the ‘wrong’ side of the road, followed by a random meal based on whatever she’d found in the fridge. Over the past few days we’d sat on quite a few beaches, trying – and failing – to find one of the caves which Annie said the area was full of, and eating bizarre stuff like boiled egg and dried apricot salad . . . or, on one occasion, a packet of seeds that turned out to be bird food.

  ‘Er . . . no thanks,’ I said.

  ‘OK, well, take this.’ Annie shoved a couple of twenty-pound notes into my hand. ‘Promise you’ll be back by midday, OK?’

  I rolled my eyes. ‘All right.’

  Madison raced across the room and put her bowl in the sink. She was dressed in denim shorts and a T-shirt that was a similar blue to mine.

  As both of us have long dark hair and the same easy-tan skin, our eyes (mine blue, Mo’s dark brown) marked the only real colouring difference between us.

  ‘Hey, we’re twins, Mo,’ I said.

  ‘I know.’ She beamed at me. ‘I’m ready.’

  ‘Take a jacket, both of you,’ Annie said, bustling out to the coat stand in the hall.

  ‘No need, it’s already boiling out there.’ I held out my hand and felt Madison’s warm, small fingers curl round mine. ‘Bye, Annie.’

  ‘Bye, Mom,’ called Madison. Giggling, she let me drag her out of the kitchen door and round the side of the house.

  As she skipped down the pavement, still holding my hand, I could hear Annie’s plaintive voice behind us. ‘Be careful . . .’ Irritation coiled round me like a snake.

  We walked on. The sun beat down on my face, warming me through. The closer we got to the beach the happier I felt, the cloying weight of Annie’s worry lifting as we left her behind.

  It didn’t occur to me for a second that she was right to worry . . . that there was anything to worry about.

  And yet, two hours later, my whole world would be turned upside down. And, though I didn’t know it at the time, it would all be my fault.

  2

  Missing

  By 10 am the beach was starting to fill up with excited sunbathers. I guess it was the Easter Monday bank holiday and the unusually hot weather that was bringing people out, but to be honest I’d liked it better last week when the sky had been overcast and the seaside more deserted.

  Madison didn’t seem to mind. We stopped to watch the carousel on the promenade blaring out ‘The Teddy Bear’s Picnic’, then found a spot on the sand and laid out our towels.

  We’d done each other’s hair – in tiny braids – and Madison was now curled up on her towel, picking at the edge of her little blue bag. She looked up at me, her huge chocolate-brown eyes betraying both eagerness and embarrassment.

  ‘Go on,’ I said with a smile. ‘Get them out.’

  Madison grinned back and gently retrieved the three pocket dolls I knew she kept inside the bag. As she started playing some imaginary game with them, whispering under her breath, I lay back and closed my eyes.

  Before Sam died, Madison had more or less lost interest in her dolls, but afterwards she went right back to playing with them every day. At first Annie got all neurotic about it, worrying that Mo was ‘acting out repressed grief’ or some other fancy thing you needed a psychology degree to understand. After a bit she settled down about it, hoping that if she didn’t make a fuss Mo would just gradually stop. Shelby, on the other hand, was vicious about it from day one. She teased Madison for being a baby every time she caught sight of a doll.

  Neither of them understood. Madison just needed someone to love – someone who wasn’t going to die on her.

  Anyway, nine months on from Sam’s death, Madison still played with her dolls – but only alone, or with me.

  ‘How’s Tilda today?’ I said, pointing to a particularly cute doll with red hair and freckles.

  ‘She got mad at Tammy,’ Madison said, shaking her head sorrowfully. ‘Tilda was mean.’ She went on to explain the ins and outs of the imaginary argument.

  I got lost after a few minutes, but I nodded and smiled anyway. After she’d finished her explanation, I checked she had enough sun lotion on her bare legs, then picked up my phone and logged onto Facebook. It was early still, but most of my friends – and my boyfriend Jam – were in London over Easter and I knew loads of them had met up yesterday evening.

  If we hadn’t hired this holiday home I could have gone out with them. But since Sam died from some undiagnosed heart condition, Annie had o
nly visited the UK twice and both times she’d refused to set foot in their London flat, which was why we’d ended up here, in Norbourne on the south coast of England, this Easter.

  I’d considered protesting about spending two weeks away from all my friends, but Annie just burst into tears every time I talked about London, while Mum and Dad thought me being away from the distractions of home for two weeks was a brilliant idea.

  Just as I thought of her, Mum texted me. I hesitated to open the message. Things weren’t that great between me and Mum just then. You see, though Annie is my biological mother, Mum and Dad are the ones who’ve brought me up. I live with them during term time, then visit my US family in the holidays. Last week Annie and my sisters had come over from the States to spend the holidays with me, while Mum, Dad and my little brother Rory went to Disney World for a fortnight.

  With a sigh, I opened Mum’s text.

  How is the revision going? Remember three hours every morning. Then you will have the rest of the day to play! Love Mum x

  Growling with irritation, I closed the text without replying.

  Surely it wasn’t supposed to be like this? I’d always tried to be grateful for having two mothers who cared about me, but right now it felt like I had two jailers. On the one hand there was anxious, needy Annie who wanted to lock me away from the world to keep me safe and on the other there was Mum – nagging away like she was head of the Revision Police.

  ‘Hey, Lauren, look at Tammy,’ Madison said.

  I glanced over. Tammy, I knew, was Madison’s favourite pocket doll – a chubby, round-faced miniature version of Madison herself, with long dark hair and huge brown eyes framed with long, lush lashes.

  ‘I’m putting her hair in braids too,’ Madison said.

  ‘Cool.’ I examined the two neat plaits that Madison had carefully tied with threads from her towel. ‘Nice job.’

  Madison beamed and bent over the doll again.

  I turned back to my phone and checked to see who was online. A couple of friends were chatting, but not Jam. Maybe it was just as well. We’d drifted apart a bit recently. He said he was trying to give me space after Sam’s death and while we were both studying for our GCSEs, but I couldn’t help wondering if he was losing interest. I know I could have asked, but I didn’t want to make myself look vulnerable. So I’d been holding back too, waiting to see what he did . . . how he acted.