If I Could Fly by Jill Hucklesby Page A

wrenched from their fragile tracks. Mywooden photo frames and both my pillows have been spirited away too.
    But sitting sadly on the bare mattress, there is a small, black bear with glass eyes downcast.
    ‘Andy!’ I exclaim, a nanosecond of joy quickly dulled by the realisation that someone must have put him there, the same someone who has taken most of my flammable possessions, carried them up to the top floor, stacked them on top of each other and set light to them.
    I’m curling up on my damp, dirty mattress, Andy held tight in my arms, my body shuddering under the weight of this awful truth. The worst part is I won’t ever know why Dair did this. Some deep instinct is telling me he is far away and I will never see him again.
    I thought we were friends. I thought we looked out for each other. Just like I believed our life at the hospital could stay a secret and that seeing my mum would make everything better. As usual, I was wrong about everything.
    I am too exhausted to get undressed. My bad leg now feels like it is being burned at the stake. I lie on my mattress and hope the oblivion of sleep will come quickly. My eyelashes are heavy with salty liquid, but I’m too tired to cry. My brain is throbbing with a regular, insistent beat. Maybe it’s an echo of my heart, letting me know it’s still working, despite being broken. Maybe it’s just a headache, although it feels more like the stomp of a marching army.
    What good are memories if they are so painful? The night before last, Furball was sleeping next to me, her cute whiskers twitching every time she breathed out. I miss the warmth of her small body, the smell of her fur. Three of us felt like a family. I don’t think I want to stay here on my own. I hope, when I close my eyes, that this damaged, desecrated den will swallow me up for good and that wherever Dair has gone I can follow him, if only in my dreams.
    ‘Not exactly the coolest crib on the planet, is it?’ says a husky voice, very near by. I open my eyes, try toscramble to my feet and scream, all at the same time. The wall of books between the bedroom and kitchen gives way and as I sprawl across a hundred volumes of bedtime stories
Grimm’s Fairy Tales
lands on my head with a heavy thump.



Chapter Seventeen
    ‘Who are you?’ I bark. The looming shape isn’t clear in the dim morning light. I fumble for my torch. When I click it on, its beam illuminates the face of a boy, blinking at me and smiling. It’s a familiar shape, one that is framed by a huge mass of thick, curly brown hair.
    ‘I’m Alfie. I live over there,’ he replies, motioning with a small hand. ‘I’m the one who waved at you and your rabbit.’
    ‘You’re the FACE,’ I exclaim, surprise causing me to make a strange horror-movie-type noise in my throat.
    ‘Not that scary, I hope.’ He does a Frankenstein impression then morphs into a sweet choirboy, to prove his point. ‘Anyway. I thought you might want some company.’
    My head is still hammering and it’s hard to thinkclearly. I haul myself to my feet. I notice we are about the same height, but Alfie is wider than me all over.
    ‘How did you get in?’ I ask, suspicious that this might be a trap to lure me into the child detention van.
    ‘Same way as you, through the café window,’ he replies. ‘It’s well cool that they didn’t board it up. Saw the fire. Man! All that smoke . . . Are you OK?’ he asks gently.
    ‘I wasn’t here. I mean, it started after I –’ It’s difficult to talk about the events of yesterday. I’m still so confused, not sure if this is a waking dream. ‘Shouldn’t you be getting ready for school or something?’
    ‘Yeah. Can’t stay long. Anyway, my mum will be back from work soon, so I’d better get going.’
    ‘She leaves you alone at night?’ I say, surprised.
    ‘It was the only job she could get, monitoring the CCTV cameras in the town centre.’ He shrugs. ‘She hates it, but we need the money.’ He thrusts his hands