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439 pages, Paperback
First published May 3, 2012
"First of all, why were you up?"
I shrug. "I couldn't sleep."
He stirs his tea, seems about to ask something else, then shakes his head slightly.
"I see. Second question: why did you come downstairs?"
"I was looking for Sebastian."
He seems to consider this answer, then nods.
"Third: why were you so scared when I turned on the light." He says it like a statement, not a question; one that he is trying to figure out.
"I don't know. You startled me," I answer, truthfully. Though maybe it had something to do with my dream: when I'm dazzled by the light, and can't see who it is, and ...
"Speak what you just thought," he says, and I jump. (...)
"Want to meet up with us on Sunday?" Ben looks at me, his arm still across Tori's shoulders. "We're going to the county show."
Tori looks both surprised and annoyed.
"Your concern is touching," I say.
Surprise crosses his face, and he laughs. "Ha! You're all right. Let's see what you can do, eh?"
A few of the girls look less than pleased.
"Kyla? Wait. I want a word, please."
Hatten smiles, and holds open the classroom door for the last girls who were dragging their feet to leave his presence. They flash me a look of pure dislike and flounce out of the room.
The car pulls on to the road and I twist round. The hospital complex I know, but only from the inside. It stretches side to side and up and up. Endless rows of little barred windows. High fences and towers with guards at regular intervals. And…
‘Kyla, I asked you a question!’
I jump.
I have seen pictures of cats before, of course. But this is different. He is so much more than a flat image: living and breathing fishy breath, silky fur rippling as he stretches, big yellow-green eyes staring back into mine.
‘Meow,’ he says and I jump.
‘Lucky that was me.’
I jump.
Amy shuts the door and puts a tray with soup on the table next to me.
And everyone begins to move their chairs around into twos and threes, without discussion: they all know where they belong. I hesitate, unsure what to do, then jump as a warm hand rests on my shoulder: Ben. He leans over.
‘Interesting choice for breakfast,’ Amy says, then sits up and yawns. ‘Are you an early bird?’
I look at her blankly.
‘Do you always wake up early?’
I consider. ‘I think so,’ I say, finally. ‘Though that could be because at the hospital you have no choice.’
‘Oh, I remember that. Horrible morning buzzer. Breakfast by six.’ She shudders.
‘Want one?’ I hold out the box.
‘Oooh, tempting. Maybe later, when I’m more awake. What is that?’ She points at the folder in my other hand.
‘My drawings.’
‘Can I see?’
I hesitate. I rarely show them to anyone, though Dr Lysander insisted on checking through them now and then.
‘You don’t have to show me if you don’t want to.’
I sit next to her and open the folder, pull out the sheets of paper. Amy exclaims at the one on top. A self-portrait. Me, but different: half as I am in the mirror, the other half skin missing, eyeball hanging from an empty socket.
‘May I?’ she holds out a hand, and I pass the drawing to her.
But that wasn’t on top before. I start flipping through the sheets.
‘You’re so good, this is amazing.’
‘Wash what?’
She rolls her eyes.
‘The dishes.’
I stand and look at them on the table.
She sighs. ‘Pick up the dirty dishes from the table and put them there.’ She points at the worktop next to the sink.
I carry one plate across and go back for another.
‘No! That will take forever. Stack them up. Like this.’
She stacks plates, pulling out knives and forks and clattering them on the top one, then plonks the lot on the worktop.
‘Fill the sink. Add soap, just a little.’ She squeezes a bottle into the sink.
Bubbles!
‘Wash them with this brush.’ She scrubs a brush across the plate. ‘Rinse it under the tap, put it in the rack, like so. Repeat. Got it?’
‘I think so.’
I plunge my hands in the hot water.
So this is washing up
‘Interesting choice for breakfast,’ Amy says, then sits up and yawns. ‘Are you an early bird?’
I look at her blankly.
‘Do you always wake up early?’
I consider. ‘I think so,’ I say, finally. ‘Though that could be because at the hospital you have no choice.’
‘Oh, I remember that. Horrible morning buzzer. Breakfast by six.’ She shudders.
‘Want one?’ I hold out the box.
‘Oooh, tempting. Maybe later, when I’m more awake. What is that?’ She points at the folder in my other hand.
‘My drawings.’
‘Can I see?’
I hesitate. I rarely show them to anyone, though Dr Lysander insisted on checking through them now and then.
‘You don’t have to show me if you don’t want to.’
I sit next to her and open the folder, pull out the sheets of paper. Amy exclaims at the one on top. A self-portrait. Me, but different: half as I am in the mirror, the other half skin missing, eyeball hanging from an empty socket.
‘May I?’ she holds out a hand, and I pass the drawing to her.
But that wasn’t on top before. I start flipping through the sheets.
‘You’re so good, this is amazing.’