In Sarah's Shadow by Karen McCombie Page B

neck while another holds me close around my waist. I’ve never felt this cared for, this loved. Oh, God, how can I even say that? I hardly know this boy. I hardly…
    Too late. He’s tilting my head up towards him; and now somehow his soft lips are on mine, a lifetime’s sadness wiped out in one simple, skin-tingling kiss. I could melt away, slip softly between the floorboards like molten wax, but I won’t. I want every cell in my body to remember this moment; the first moment in fourteen years-worth of memories when I felt like I mattered to someone.
    A switch has just flipped in my head; I know, without spells or candles or tarot or PJ Harvey, that something had changed in my life tonight and there’s no going back. I never have to live in anyone’s shadow again.
    Fingers crossed.
    And currently, five of my fingers are crossing themselves around five of Conor’s. That can only mean double good luck, can’t it? And I think I might just deserve double helpings. Right?
    So, wish me luck, if just this once…

PART TWO
Life in the light
Sarah’s story

Chapter 1
Walking on eggshells
    The ear-splitting wolf whistle practically makes me jump out of my skin.
    “Hey, gorgeous, got a smile for us today?”
    Before I know what I’m doing, I’m grinning at the builders, the very same builders who I’ve been studiously blanking for the last two weeks that they’ve been working on the empty house across the road from ours.
    Those guys make me dread leaving the house every morning, having to run the gauntlet of all the whistling and catcalls. It’s usually OK when I’m coming home from school ‘cause it’s winter and dark early so they’re usually safely long gone. Not this evening though – this lot must have been working indoors, where chilly January windswon’t whistle down their horrible builders’ bum cleavages…
    “Just ignore them, dear,” old Mrs Harrison on the corner told me one morning when she saw me hurrying past her house with yelps of “Go on, show us your knickers, love!” ringing in my ears. Easy for Mrs Harrison to say; probably the last time anyone did that to her was sixty years ago. But then again, all the little kids round here love to buy into the idea that she’s a witch: maybe I should ask her to do a spell to shut those creeps up. Or at least turn them into faintly attractive members of the human race, instead of the beer-bellied, mono-eyebrowed, loud-mouthed oiks that this lot are.
    “Oooh – look at that, lads! We got a bit of a smile there! Very nice!”
    Damn. Didn’t really mean to waste any of my chirpy mood on them, but then again I’m practically bursting with my good news and I guess a little happiness slipped out without me meaning it to.
    Hugging my fluffy coat around me, I turn gratefully into our path and see the cosy lights of the living room beckon. I can’t wait to tell Mum and Dad; they’ll be so excited for me. Specially Dad, since he used to be in a band himself in his younger days (yeah – like a couple of centuries ago!). Mum will be pleased because shejust loves to hear good news, specially after the rocky time we’ve all had over the last few months.
    Thinking that, I slow right down, feeling a heaviness sink on to my shoulders. Oh, please don’t let Meg be in one of her moods…
    “Hi!” I smile at everyone as I walk into the living room.
    I’m glad I thought about Megan two seconds ago on the front step; it gave me a chance to take a deep breath and turn down my level of excitement. Being too bouncy seems to have a really bad effect on my sister; the happier any of us are, then this weird, inverse thing happens and she gets bluer and bluer right in front of our eyes.
    “Hey, Sweetpea, what’s with you?” Dad beams at me, sensing something’s up, no matter how calm I’m pretending to be. “You look pleased with yourself!”
    “Put your legs down, Pumpkin!” Mum orders Megan. “Let your sister sit down!”
    Uh-oh – a glower from Megan.