Blood Family by Anne Fine

us.
    So we made tea, and listened to her beefing about the fact that it was her business where she spent the night, not anything to do with us or the police. Then the tearsstarted and we heard the sadder side of the story, about not being able to see her real dad any more because of his mean-minded girlfriend. And how her elder sister had given up on the whole family, and gone to ground in Sheffield. Poor Dolores was obviously so lonely, downright rubbish at school and (as we gathered) pretty unpopular with teachers and classmates alike. She was a car crash of a child.
    Alan kept listening while I fetched her a Coke. (She’d been quite rude about the idea of hot chocolate.) And when I took it to her, that’s when I saw the tiny feathers around her feet. I’m sure she hadn’t ruined the owl out of spite. Quite sure. She was just picking at it nervously, the same way Eddie gnawed his nails.
    But Olly was now bald.
    Someone came round to fetch her at eight the next morning, thank God, to take her home. She went off with a cheery wave (considering) and quite a pleasant, ‘See you! Thanks for the Cokes and biscuits!’
    I held the fort while Alan waited on the toy-shop step until they opened. Luckily ‘Olly’ was popular, so Alan bought two more, one and a spare, as if we were the parents of some toddler who always had to have two comfort blankets in case one of them got lost.
    We had a chuckle later over our rusty acting skills. ‘Eddie, you know you couldn’t find your owl at breakfast? Well, here it is. I think that Alan must have moved it out of the way when he was clearing up.’
    ‘Oh, sorry, Ed. It must have fallen down behind the television.’
    I thought that we were home and dry. And I was sure I’d picked up every last one of the feathers Dolores shredded. But two or three of them had floated further than I thought, and Eddie had sharp eyes. It can’t have been an hour before he noticed them, right up against the fender where the vacuum cleaner misses stuff.
    He cradled the tiny feathers in his palm as he inspected the owl for bald patches. Then, ‘Will I be going to see my mother again?’ he asked.
    ‘Any time you like,’ I told him. ‘All that you have to do is say.’
    God, what a painful silence. It’s ghastly trying to imagine what must run through these children’s minds. I made some stupid excuse to leave the room in case he thought that I was waiting for him to agree and make a date. And though he followed me a minute later, he never said a word about his mother after that.
Charlotte Next Door
    I was amazed to see him coming into our class. I hadn’t realized he was nearly eight. Mrs Carlow brought him in. She had her hand on his shoulder and she was steering him, almost as if he was on wheels. She whispered something to Miss Bright, who turned to usand smiled and clapped her hands to stop us talking.
    ‘Class, this is Eddie. He’s new to our school, so I want everyone in this room to help him out until he finds his feet. If you see Eddie wandering down a corridor, you’re to ask if he needs to know where he’s supposed to go next. If you see him looking sad, I want to know about it. And if you have room for someone else to join in your game, I want you all to think of Eddie first.’
    It’s the same speech she made when Ethan came. And when Skye Lupin was moved down to our class after her stay in hospital because of that thing with her spine.
    People were nice to him at first. But then I think that some of them began to think he was a little creepy. He sort of copied people. If we were playing shipwrecks in the gym, he’d pick on someone – usually Neil – and follow him round, a little too close behind. If Neil did a star jump, so would Eddie. If Neil scrambled up the bars, Eddie would wait till he’d come down again, then do exactly the same, and hurry to catch up. He did what he’d have done if he was teasing Neil. Except he wasn’t. He was just copying .
    He did the same to