I stopped and stared at his face. His smile was completely gone now, and he looked sad. Very sad. I gave the door a final pull and managed to squeeze out into the frozen air.
“Hey, come back! It’s fine! I’m over it!”
I hurried toward the dirt track, hoping that Mum’s car would be heading toward me right this second, but the road was deserted. All I could hear were the birds and the crunch of the icy ground beneath my feet. I stood and looked in the direction that Mum would be driving back from, and then I began to walk. I shivered. My breath came in white puffs, and my ears tingled with the cold. I skidded on a frozen puddle, and the shock made me gasp out loud. I stopped for a moment to think.
None of this was making any sense. I was miles from anywhere, my mum was missing, and now my old imaginary friend was walking around and talking to me in some creepy cottage. The imaginary friend I’d made up in my head back when I was still using crayons and playing with sticker books. The one I hadn’t seen for six years. This couldn’t be happening.
I shivered again. I couldn’t go far without my coat. What I should do was turn around and go back to the cottage. If Sam was still there, I’d just ignore him until he went away. Easy. I wouldn’t look at him or speak to him and he’d give up and fade away, back to wherever he came from. My stomach gurgled like it had a plumbing problem. I still hadn’t eaten anything apart from the scrambled eggs and those couple of mints yesterday. I was starving. I needed to eat, get something warmer on, and think of a plan. The door was still open when I got back, and I squeezed in through the gap and shoved it hard with my shoulder to close it once more. I could hear a tinkling sound and a voice …
“Oh wow, this is something else …”
I took my sneakers off and tucked my hands into my armpits. I was so cold. I’d have to try to get the fire going again soon or I’d freeze.
The tinkling sound got louder and more frantic as I walked back to the living room.
“No! How did you know that?!”
Sam was sitting on the sofa with my Ask Me a Question magic ball in his hand. It was going into overdrive.
“Nate! This thing is sorcery. I was thinking of a dog and it guessed right. Do you know that it can actually read your mind? This is the best thing I’ve ever seen.”
I was about to point out that if he was thinking of something as easy as a dog, then of course the magic ball was going to guess it correctly. But then I remembered I was going to ignore him, so I shut my mouth and went through to the kitchen.
I looked through the cupboards and found more canned food, which I stacked up on one side. Potatoes, carrots, pineapple chunks. I rummaged around in the drawers until I found a can opener, and then I set to work trying to open the creamed rice. I knew you could eat that cold. I usually liked it warm with a blob of strawberry jam swirled in the middle, but there wasn’t any jam and I didn’t fancy using the stove, so I’d just have to eat it as it was. The opener slipped and I couldn’t get it to stay on the can.
“You’ve got to turn the wheel to get it to grip.”
I jumped. Sam was behind me, watching.
“Once you’ve punctured a hole it’ll be easier. Just keep turning.”
I did what he said but didn’t look at him. The can kept skidding on the kitchen counter. Sam pointed at a tea towel on the work surface in front of me.
“Stand it on that to stop it from slipping.”
I took a couple of deep breaths as I angled the opener on the side of the can again. The tea towel helped to keep the can steady, and I slowly turned the wheel until I’d made a jagged circle. It was open.
I got a bowl from the cupboard and rinsed it under the tap.
“I think you should leave half for later, don’t you? Don’t eat it all in one go. You’ll have something for lunch then.”
I spooned some of the rice into the bowl.
“That’s it. Perfect. Oh, why are you crying?”
I put the spoon down and wiped my eyes. “I’m not. Go away.”
“There’s no need to cry. I’m here now,” he said. I looked at him. There was something about seeing his face again that made me feel safer, just for a moment.
I walked around him and took the bowl into the front room, then sat on the sofa beside the stone-cold fire and began to eat.
“I don’t know why you’re so upset about me being here. We used to be friends. Best friends! Do you remember all those fun times we had?”
I carried on ignoring him and ate my rice. It was sickly sweet, but I was too hungry to care. Sam sighed, then picked up the Ask Me a Question magic ball again and pressed START.
“Could you stop playing with my things?” I said, glaring at him.
He looked at me and then turned it off and put it down. I wiped my eyes.
“I don’t understand. You’re not real; you’re imaginary. You’re in my head, but I can’t make you go away. Why won’t you go away?”
Sam leaned toward me. The yellow of his T-shirt made a warm, buttercup glow under his chin.
“I’m here because you want me to be, Nate. Isn’t that fantastic?”
He had grown up over the past six years, just like I had, but he looked so alive, so well, and so unbelievably happy. He looked the opposite of how I was feeling. I couldn’t understand why he’d come back or why I couldn’t make him go away, but if he wasn’t here, then I’d be all on my own again. On my own in a freezing cold, dark cottage.
I squeezed my eyes together to get the last tear away and took a deep breath.
“You’re wrong, you know. About what you said earlier.”
Sam frowned at me, resting his head on his hand. “Wrong about what, exactly?”
I licked the last of the creamed rice off the spoon and let it clatter into the bowl. “That game you said I was a poor loser at? Connect Four?”
He nodded. “Yes. What about it?”
“It was me who won. Every time.”
Sam looked at me and grinned.
According to my book Freaky Things to Freak You Out, there are five keys to success if you find yourself in a survival-against-the-odds situation:
1) Shelter
2) Water
3) Food
4) Fire
5) Attitude
In 1978, Jonah White survived three weeks in a Canadian forest by drinking from a stream and eating lichen. At night he climbed a tree and slept along a branch, hoping to avoid any passing bears looking for a midnight feast! He was discovered by Mary Judge, who ran the visitor center café just eight hundred yards away. Ms. Judge commented: “Why, if Mr. White had just taken a moment to survey his immediate vicinity, he could have realized that we were just around the corner.” A red-faced Jonah White remarked: “I thought I could smell coffee and pancakes every morning, but figured I must have been dreaming …”
How about that, readers, for Survival of the Dumbest?
There was a picture of Jonah White looking grubby and very embarrassed as he sat at a picnic table eating pancakes. Mary Judge was standing next to him with her hand on his shoulder. Her eyebrows were raised as if to say, Can you believe this idiot?
I looked at the survival list again. I was fine for shelter and water, and I was pretty sure I could get the fire lit. As for food, I had a few cans to keep me going, so that just left attitude. I had to be positive.
I was sure Mum would be back before long, but in the meantime, it wouldn’t hurt to do what Jonah had failed to do: survey my immediate vicinity.
Sam watched me as I got ready to go outside.
“I thought the whole point was to stay hidden. To stay inside,” he said.
I zipped up my coat and pulled the sleeves down as far as I could.
“I won’t be long. I’m just going to take a look out back and see what’s around.”
Sam sat on the sofa and flipped through my book. I wasn’t sure how to deal with him at the moment, so for now I just planned to go along with things.
Sam got to the page with the “Sa
y colorful/I love you” bit and he got up and looked at himself in the mirror, mouthing the words to himself.
Colorful.
I love you.
Colorful.
I love you.
His face was beaming.
“Cool! This is the best book ever!”
I smiled as he sat back down and carried on reading.
Outside, the air was so cold it hurt when I breathed in. The garden where Mum and I had laughed as we hit the heavy rug was now dusted with white frost, and I crunched my way through the weeds and overgrown plants to the iron gate set in the wall. The handle was stiff, but the gate swung open with a loud creak and then clattered shut behind me. A few crows cawed and swept up into the trees as I walked into the woods. It was slightly warmer under here out of the wind, and the ground was springy and not frozen like the garden. I looked around. Hanging motionless from one of the branches of a tree was an old black tire. I walked toward it and gave it a little push, and the long rope creaked against the branch.
“You do realize that you are trespassing, don’t you?”
I froze. There was someone in the woods with me. For a moment I considered running back to the cottage, but that might have looked suspicious, so I stood my ground. A girl appeared from behind a tree and walked toward me. She had long brown hair and was wearing a navy-blue woolly hat that had been pulled down so low she had to tip her head back to see where she was going. Over one shoulder she had a canvas satchel, and she was dragging a large shovel along beside her.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“Sorry. I—I’m staying in the cottage. I’m on … I’m on holiday.”
I pointed in the direction of the garden, as if she didn’t know where it was.
“A holiday? In that place?”
The end of her nose was pale blue. She looked absolutely freezing.
“We’re just staying there for a few days to, erm, help clean the place up.”
She stood the shovel in front of her and leaned on the handle.
“That doesn’t sound like much of a holiday to me.”
I wondered if running now would be a wise thing to do. I’d promised Mum I wouldn’t give us away, and I’d managed to fail pretty immediately.
“It’s a working holiday. My parents are, erm, interior designers. They’re renovating the cottage.”
I’d managed three lies in one sentence and given her the red herring that there were three of us, so I felt a bit better.
“Well, the woods are private land, so you shouldn’t really be in here.”
She folded her arms and scowled, but the shovel fell on the ground and kind of spoiled her moment.
“Fair enough,” I said. I turned to go back.
“Wait a minute! Aren’t you going to ask me what I’m doing?”
I stopped. “I’m sorry?”
The girl quickly picked up the shovel.
“With this, I mean!” she said, waving the shovel at me. “Surely you’re curious? Aren’t you wondering what I’m doing in the woods, digging? What if I’m burying a dead body or something?”
Her eyes narrowed, her lips pursed together tightly. The cold air was pinching at my ears, and I just wanted to get back inside and get the fire going.
“If you were burying a body, I don’t think you would have called out to me, unless you were really, really stupid. Plus, there are far too many roots around here for you to get deep enough, even if the ground wasn’t frozen solid. You’ll need to go down at least a meter or two to hide a body, and to be honest, with that shovel and without the right tools, you’ve got no hope.”
Her mouth dangled open. I thought I’d said enough, so I turned back to the gate.
“Hold on! I didn’t mean it. I’m not digging a grave, obviously. I’m looking for something. Something really, really precious.”
I pushed the gate open, hoping she wouldn’t follow.
“Well, aren’t you going to ask me what it is?” she said, catching up with me. “Don’t you want to know what I’m looking for?”
“No, not really,” I said.
The woolly hat had slipped even farther down, and she pushed it out of her eyes. Her lips looked almost blue. She scowled.
“It’s treasure, if you must know,” she said.
She sniffed and tried to twirl the shovel casually, but it was far too big and too heavy and she dropped it again with a clang. This time she left it there and took a few steps toward me.
“I’m Kitty,” she said, holding out a muddy hand.
I’d never shaken hands with anyone my age before, and I wasn’t going to start now. I folded my arms and just nodded at her.
“Nate,” I said, then instantly regretted not using a false name. “Well, I’d better be going,” I continued hurriedly. “My mum and dad are cooking a big meal and … I need to … set the table. Good luck with finding the treasure.”
She twisted her head to look over my shoulder at the cottage and started to say something else, but I quickly scurried through the gate, closing it with a loud squeak. I went in through the back door into the kitchen. There was no sign of Sam.
I checked the front of the house again, just in case Mum had returned and I hadn’t heard the car, but the driveway was empty. I kept my coat on and tried lighting the fire. I raked the ash so that it was flat and broke off two matches from a packet near the basket of wood. I then layered some small pieces of wood on top, pushed the little vents on the stove to the left, and lit a match. The flames caught instantly and singed the top of my thumb. I quickly shut the door with the handle I’d seen Mum use, then went to the kitchen and ran the tap, putting my stinging thumb in the cold water. It throbbed for a bit before going numb. I looked up and jumped. There was a face, staring at me from the kitchen window.
“Hello again! I was wondering if you fancy helping me? Considering how you know about digging and all that?”
It was the girl from the woods. She’d followed me.
I shook my head at her, but she just blinked at me as if she hadn’t noticed.
I turned the tap off and opened the back door with a huff.
“Oh, have your parents not started dinner yet?” she said, peering in.
“No. They’ve just gone out to get some more … some more potatoes. We’ve run out.”
She nodded and we both stood in silence for a moment, but I could feel the lie making my face go red.
“The head gardener to the house, William, used to live here. The gate you came through is known as William’s Gate, and that’s how he used to come to work each day. He was given the cottage when he retired, and he never really went out after that. He died on the sofa, apparently.”
Great. As if things in here weren’t bad enough, I now had to think about dead bodies on the sofa. She looked so pleased with herself for knowing all this stuff that I couldn’t resist chipping in.
“William was my grandma’s friend, actually. They went to school together.”
Kitty shifted from one foot to another and chewed on her lip. She didn’t look happy that I was in the know about something around here.
“Ah, I see. But I don’t expect you know that William used to create treasure hunts when he was younger, did you?”
I shrugged. Mum had mentioned it before, but I didn’t know much about them. I let Kitty carry on.
“He used to make them up for James and Charlotte. They loved them. He stopped doing them though. After the accident.”
“Who were James and Charlotte?” I asked. “And what accident?”
She looked at me for a long moment before answering.
“James is my dad and Charlotte’s his sister. William made little individual treasure hunts for each of them with three clues, leaving a special gift at the end. They’d always solve them together. But there was one they never completed. One for Charlotte.”
She trailed off and pursed her lips together as if she’d said too much. It was odd she called her dad by his first name, but sh
e was quite posh and I think posh people do that sometimes.
“It can get kind of lonely living here, you know? I think he liked to make up these little puzzles to keep himself busy. It gave him something to do when he wasn’t working. He didn’t really have anyone else nearby besides my family. But I guess you know that already if he was a friend of your grandma’s.”
I nodded as if I was interested, but really I was trying to think of a way to get rid of her.
“I’m trying to solve the last treasure hunt he ever made. It was never solved, you see. I’ve been searching for the next clue for weeks, but I can’t find it.”
“Weeks, eh?” I said. “Couldn’t you have just asked William what the clues meant? Before he died?”
Kitty looked at me as if I’d said the most ridiculous thing ever.
“No! Like I said before, he was a private man, and after he retired he just hid himself away in this cottage. He never welcomed visitors. And anyway, if I’d asked him for the answers, then that would have been cheating, wouldn’t it?”
I held on to the edge of the door, getting ready to close it. I’d had enough of her.
“Anyway, good luck with it,” I said, but she ignored the hint.
“I just want to show you the first clue. I’ll only take a minute. It might make more sense to you, seeing that you know so much stuff. I mean, look what you’ve taught me already about burying dead bodies!”
I shrugged.
“Well, I don’t know …”
Kitty reached into her coat pocket and took out a piece of paper. It looked old. “This is the first clue, and I’ve just got no idea where to look next.”
She held it up and I read the handwritten scrawl out loud.
I felt the hairs stand up on the back of my neck.
“It sounds like some kind of tree to me,” I said.
“I know that,” she said, rolling her eyes. “But do you have any idea how many trees there are out there? Hundreds!”
Suddenly her face lit up.
“Maybe we could search for the treasure together. Wouldn’t that be great? Just like my dad and Charlotte used to! We could start by looking around the cottage. See if old William left any extra clues lying around.”
The Light Jar Page 4
