by Cotterill
Lissa looks happy.
I still don’t want Kaydee to love her more than me, but if Lissa is going to be nice to me, and do my hair and makeup and draw pictures of me, then I don’t mind her being around.
Maybe Lissa and Kaydee could get married and I could be their bridesmaid. I would love a long pink dress, with rhinestones around the neckline. They’re like diamonds only not as expensive. And I would hold a bunch of white roses.
“Darby, you’re doing it again,” Kaydee says.
“What?”
Lissa laughs. “It’s all right. I’ve just about finished anyway.”
Kaydee leans over to see the paper. “Oh wow, Lissa. That’s amazing.”
“I want to see.” I’m not sure if I’m allowed to get off my chair, but Lissa brings the drawing to me.
“There you go.”
I stare at the picture. Sitting on a chair, with a round face and serious expression, is me—but extra, extra beautiful. “Wow,” I say. “Wow. I look beautiful.”
“You are beautiful,” Lissa tells me. Then her expression changes, as if she’s surprised, and she turns away to the kitchen table.
“I have to show Mom,” I say, and I get up and go into the hallway. Mom and Dad aren’t there anymore, so I turn left for Mom’s office. The door is open a bit, and I can see Mom sitting at her desk, so I go in. “Look at this! And look at me!”
Then I realize she’s crying. She looks up, startled, her eyes wet. “Oh!” she says, wiping them quickly. “Darby, sweetheart.” She reaches out to put an arm around my waist. “Goodness, don’t you look grown-up! You okay?”
“Yes,” I say. I show her the drawing.
She takes it from me, smiling at it. “Beautiful. Did Kaydee draw this?”
“No, Lissa,” I say.
“She’s very talented,” Mom says. She smiles again. “She’s captured you perfectly. What a lovely portrait. Did you say thank you?”
“Yes,” I say, and then I frown, because actually I don’t think I did. “No.”
“We must frame it,” Mom says. Then she sighs and says, “You should get to bed soon, darling. It’s getting late.”
I put my arms around her because I can tell she’s still sad, even though she liked the drawing. She hugs me back. “Oh, Darby,” she says, “you do give the best hugs.”
I am good at hugs, I know.
“Don’t cry,” I tell her. “Everything will be okay.” Then I go back into the kitchen with my picture. Lissa and Kaydee are sitting at the table with a milkshake each. There are three candles in the middle, and their faces, with the makeup on, look like movie stars.
“Want a milkshake, Darby?” Kaydee asks.
“Yeah,” I say.
“Yes, please,” Kaydee reminds me.
“Yes, please,” I say, and then I remember. “Thank you for the picture, Lissa.”
She smiles at me. “No probs.”
I yawn suddenly, which is funny because I went to sleep on the floor of the sitting room earlier and I didn’t think I was tired.
Kaydee makes me a strawberry milkshake and she and Lissa talk about this TV show all their friends at school are watching. Kaydee and Lissa think it’s a really stupid show and they can’t understand why their friends like it. But they’ve both been pretending they’re into it, so that they feel part of the group. I get it. I like feeling part of a group too.
I drink my pink milkshake and yawn again. “Go to bed, Darby,” says Kaydee, and she gives me a hug. I hug her back.
“We should clean her face first,” says Lissa.
“No!” I say. “No, I want it to stay on!”
Kaydee laughs. “It’ll get all over your pillow, and you’ll look like a hot mess in the morning.”
“I don’t care,” I say.
Lissa shrugs, but she’s smiling. “Suit yourself.”
I go around to the other side of the table and I hold out my arms to Lissa. She stares at me for a moment. I feel uncertain. Did I do it wrong? But then she gets up from her chair and steps forward, and I hug her. Her body doesn’t bend like Kaydee’s. Her arms do sort of the right thing but they only bend at the elbow; it’s like the top part of her arm is stuck to her side. But it’s still a hug, and she says quietly, “Thanks, Darby. Night night.”
“Night night,” I say, and I take a flashlight and my picture and go upstairs. I am not scared of the dark this evening because I am a princess living in a castle where they don’t have electricity anyway.
In my room, before I can change my mind, I get down on the floor and reach under my bed for Georgie. She is a bit dusty and fluffy, but I brush her off and put her into my bed. Then I go to the bathroom and put my pajamas on and get into bed. I shine the flashlight onto Lissa’s drawing, which is propped up against my laptop. I look like Queen Darby. Then I point the light straight upward and write letters on the ceiling with the light:
D-A-R-B-Y
G-E-O-R-G-I-E
K-A-Y-D-E-E
After a moment, I do L-I-S-S-A too.
Then my eyes close, and I fall asleep with the flashlight still on.
I sleep all night, even when the wind picks up again and the metal can starts to scrape along the wall. When I wake, I remember exactly why today is going to be the best day ever.
It’s the day of the chocolate hunt.
Chapter 19
I take a shower since it’s such an important occasion—or at least I try to, but the water stays freezing cold. “Darby, is that you?” Mom calls through the door. “The shower’s electric, love. The power’s still out. You won’t get any hot water that way. Have a bath instead.”
I hate baths. So I call back, “Okay!” and don’t bother. I look at myself in the mirror and get a shock. I’d forgotten I went to bed with all my makeup on. Despite what Lissa and Kaydee said, it doesn’t look too bad. There are smudgy marks under my eyes, so I wipe them with a flannel. The rest of it looks fine, and I like the way the glittery eye shadow has sprinkled itself over my cheeks. I look all sparkly.
I feel sparkly too. It’s the chocolate hunt! I dash back to my room, throw my clothes on, and go downstairs.
Mom is in the kitchen chopping vegetables. A big casserole dish sits on the side by the stove. “You’re up early,” she says with a smile, though her eyes look tired. “Oh, Darby, didn’t you wash your face before you went to bed?” She gives a half laugh.
“It’s the chocolate hunt,” I say.
Her mouth opens slightly, and her eyes widen. “Oh—oh yes, so it is.” She smiles. “Do you know, I’d completely forgotten.”
She’s forgotten?!
“I want to do it,” I tell her, just in case it isn’t completely clear.
“I know, sweetheart. It’s—I’ll make it happen, all right? I just don’t know quite when. And your dad won’t be able to come, I don’t suppose. He’s going to be tied up all day.”
“But it only takes ten minutes,” I say. There is a funny feeling in my tummy, like something is wriggling around in there. “He can come and do it and then go back to work.”
Mom hesitates. Then she says, “I’ll see what I can do, Darby. I can’t promise. Have you seen what it’s like out there?”
I look out of the window. The wind is still blowing the trees, and now it’s spitting with rain too. It’s a strange way to talk about rain, spitting. There’s a teacher at school who spits when he talks. It’s disgusting and no one wants to sit at the front in his class in case they get spit on them. If the rain is spitting, who is doing the spitting?
“Darby.” Mom waves a hand in front of my face. “Darby, hello? Did you want some breakfast?”
Chapter 20
Kaydee and Lissa come down late for breakfast, bringing the baskets with them, and I smile. “Don’t worry,” Kaydee says, “we didn’t forget.” She gives me a big hug. Then I give Lissa a hug too, which surprises her but she does that sort of stiff-arm hug back. Maybe in her family they don’t know how to do hugs. We should teach her.
> Mom has put the casserole in the oven and gone to her study, and I am playing Pairs with some Disney cards. I’ve got my iPod on, but when Kaydee and Lissa come in, I switch it off.
“I can’t believe we’re having to survive without social media,” Lissa says. “Everyone must think we’re dead.”
“Sorry,” says Kaydee. “We live in such a black spot. Without the Wi-Fi, we’ve got nothing. It’s practically medieval.”
There’s a bang at the back door and the sound of footsteps. A young man appears in the doorway. It’s Gregor, Monica’s son. He’s eighteen and he has dark hair and dark eyes, and is very tall. He’s lived here on the farm with his mom for three years, so we see him quite a lot. I like Gregor very much. He can play lots of Beatles songs on guitar, and in the summer, when we have barbecues for all the workers, he plays and sings. Monica has a great voice too, and usually there are other people who can play instruments, so they make a band. Gregor has very white teeth, and he smiles a lot. Monica says he is a hard worker but spends too much time talking to girls.
Gregor smiles at me now, and his smile gets even wider when he sees Kaydee and Lissa. “Good morning, girls,” he says. He has an accent because he’s not from this country. “Suddenly the day is so much brighter.” He puts his hand on his chest and nods at us. “Good morning, Darby, good morning, Kaydee, and good morning … ?”
“Lissa,” says Kaydee. She looks as if she’s trying not to smile.
“Lissa,” says Gregor. “Melissa, Greek for honeybee.”
“Wow,” I say. “I didn’t know that.”
Lissa laughs. “Yeah, that’s right.”
Gregor is really smart. When he’s not working on the farm, he does lots of studying. He’s passed lots of exams and he wants to have a degree and his own business one day. But I think he should be a pop star. Sometimes I imagine me and Gregor forming our own band, going on TV, and making records. Kaydee could design the costumes and Mom could manage us because she’s got a numbers brain and she does all the money for the farm, so managing a band on tour would be easy.
“Were you looking for Mom?” Kaydee asks. “She’s in her study.”
Gregor looks hurt. “You would send me away so soon? But then the skies will go dark.”
“The skies are already dark,” says Lissa.
“Not in here,” says Gregor, and smiles again.
“We’re doing the chocolate hunt today,” I tell him.
“Ah! It comes around so quickly,” says Gregor. “How many will you collect this year?”
“Forty,” I say. “Because last year I got thirty-nine.”
“That wasn’t last year,” says Kaydee. “Last year you only got about twelve, and I had to give you half of mine.”
“I got thirty-nine,” I say obstinately, “and your sweater got caught on thorns and it was ruined.”
Kaydee stares at me for a moment and then laughs. “That was about five years ago, Darby!”
I hear a door shut upstairs, and Olly comes thumping down. He passes Gregor in the doorway and they nod at each other. “All right?”
Olly goes straight to the cabinet to find cereal.
“Will you all be doing the chocolate hunt?” Gregor asks, glancing at Kaydee and Lissa. “Are spectators allowed? Can we cheer you on?”
Olly snorts as he fills his bowl with cornflakes.
“I can be an excellent cheerleader,” Gregor continues.
“Oh yeah?” asks Lissa. “Got your own pom-poms?”
He grins at her. “Specially made. Would you like to see them?”
“I would,” I say. “I did cheerleading once on vacation. I really like it.”
“Oh, Darby,” says Kaydee, and giggles.
“What?” I say. I do like cheerleading. It’s even better than dancing.
“Gregor, is that you?” Mom calls from down the hall.
Gregor sighs. “I am to be torn away from you all.”
Olly and his bowl of cereal pass Gregor in the doorway just as he is blowing us all a kiss. Olly glances across and says, “You’re wasting your time. Just to let you know.”
Gregor raises his eyebrows and heads off to the study. Olly goes back upstairs.
There’s a moment’s silence. Kaydee sighs. “Sorry, Lissa. He’s an idiot.”
I’m indignant. “Gregor isn’t an idiot. He’s a brain-box.”
“Olly, not Gregor.”
“Gregor plays the guitar too,” I say. “He’s really good.”
“I know. I didn’t mean him.”
I spot the chocolate baskets on the table. “I want to do the chocolate hunt. When is it time?”
Kaydee rolls her eyes. “I’ll go and ask Mom.” She heads out of the kitchen.
“Hey, Darby,” Lissa says, “do you know this clapping game?”
She teaches me which way to put my hands, so that we clap hands together, then our own, then the backs of our hands. There’s a rhyme to go with it too. It’s really hard to learn, and I keep getting it wrong, but Lissa is very patient. Kaydee comes back as we’re practicing and says, “Mom’s going out to do the chocolates now, Darby,” and I’m concentrating so hard on the clapping that I just say, “Okay.”
“You’ve got it!” Lissa says eventually, smiling at me. “Good job!”
“Do it again,” I say.
So we do the rhyme again with the clapping, and I laugh because I get it right three times in a row.
“Wish I had a sister to play this with,” Lissa says.
“Haven’t you got one?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “No brothers or sisters. Just me.”
I think it would be awful not to have a sister. Everyone should have a sister. I am suddenly very sad for Lissa because she’s all on her own at home, and so I go and put my arms around her.
Lissa is surprised but she laughs. “What’s this for?”
“I can be your sister if you like,” I say, and after a pause she puts her arms around me too. And then Kaydee stands behind me and hugs us and I’m in the middle, like a Darby sandwich. Then Mom comes in from the hall and says, “Aww, family cuddle,” and joins in, and then Kaydee squeezes just that bit too hard, and I lean into Mom, and then the four of us sort of lose our balance and bump into a chair, and we all laugh.
“Right,” says Mom, “that’s enough of that. I’m going out to do the chocolates. And no peeking from any of you, all right?” She goes to one of the top cabinets and reaches in. Then she says, “Hmm, that’s funny. I could have sworn I had four bags. Where’s the last one gone?”
I panic. I know exactly where it went.
“Girls,” says Mom, turning around, “have any of you taken a bag of these from the cabinet?” She holds one up: the shiny plastic wrapping that holds those tiny foiled balls of deliciousness.
“No,” says Kaydee, and Lissa shakes her head.
“No,” I echo, a little bit too loudly.
Mom looks at me and then shrugs. “Well, there’s nothing I can do now. We’ll just have fewer than usual.” She glances out of the window. “It’s not going to be much fun. It’s really blowing a gale out there. Why don’t we do it tomorrow instead? The forecast is better.”
Tomorrow?! What is she talking about? “No! It has to be today! It’s always on a Sunday!”
Mom sighs. “All right. I don’t think you’ll enjoy it much, though.”
She goes through to the sitting room and I can hear the patio door sliding open and then shut. A huge draft blows in, and I shiver. I hate being cold. But if it means chocolate, I will put up with it!
I’m so excited I can barely stand still. I run (yes, run!) upstairs and knock on Olly’s door. “Olly! It’s time for the chocolate hunt!”
He grunts, so I shout louder, to make sure he’s heard. “Olly! You have to come down!”
“Seriously, Darby?” comes the shout from inside the room. “I KNOW. Give me a minute.”
“Oh! Okay.” I run to my own room and grab another sweater, pulling it on over my head
and getting my sleeves all messed up underneath.
I rush back down the stairs again. Kaydee calls, “Don’t run, Darby!” which is what Mom always says about coming downstairs. But I’m wearing my glasses and I’m not that clumsy!
“Is she finished?” I gasp as I come into the kitchen.
“She’s been out there for literally two minutes,” says Kaydee sarcastically.
The back door bangs, and Dad comes in. “Am I in time?” he says. His hair is all tangled and sticking up, and there are lines on his forehead.
I throw myself at him. “You made it!”
He hugs me back and kisses me on the top of my head. “Couldn’t miss it, could I? Tornado, shmornado. The world could be ending and I’d still be here for the annual chocolate hunt.”
Right now, I feel completely and utterly happy. “I want my basket,” I say, reaching over to the kitchen table to pick up the green one. “Oh!” I stop. “We don’t have enough baskets, if Dad’s here.”
“Oh, thanks,” says Dad, pretending to look hurt. “Did you want me to go away again?”
“No!” I say immediately. “No, don’t!”
“It’s all right.” Kaydee reaches for the red one. “Lissa and I will share.”
The patio door slides open, and my heart thumps an extra beat. I rush into the living room. Mom staggers in, pushing hair out of her face. “My goodness,” she says. “That was a marathon and a half. Sorry, I haven’t been very creative with hiding places. They were practically blown out of my hand.”
“It doesn’t matter!” I say. “Can we go?”
“Wait for everyone,” Mom says. She brightens as Dad comes through. “You made it!”
“How could I not?” he says, smiling back at her.
I love my family.
Olly arrives too, pulling on a pair of sneakers. “Darby should go last,” he says. “’Cause she’s already had a bag.” He sticks out his tongue at me and laughs.
“What?” says Mom. She looks at me.
I feel a bit sick. “What?” I say back, because I can’t think of anything else to say.
