There was a collective whoop.
“I want us to work on something together. So, I think we should start our very own project. See those blue exercise books I just handed out? I want you to get out your fanciest pen and write this on the cover.” Miss Archibald wrote on the whiteboard in great squeaky pen swipes.
My Year of…
“My year of what?” asked Gregory.
“Ah, well, we don’t know that yet. It might be My Year of Learning How Great Miss Archibald is,” she said with a smile.
Ian and Gregory snorted.
“Or, My Year of Learning to Love School.”
“Fat chance,” mumbled Blair.
“Or even, My Year of Not Getting into Trouble,” Miss Archibald continued, gesturing at Blair. “The point is, I want you to keep a journal and then at the end of the year I want you to fill in the title.”
“But what are we meant to write about?” asked Tom.
“Well, think of this as a personal journal,” answered Miss Archibald. “So I want you to write about you. What you think, what you do, where you go. But for today, I think we can start by writing down a little something about ourselves, as an introduction.”
The class fell very quiet. Even Ian and Gregory were getting into it; I could see them furiously scribbling. They obviously had a lot to say about themselves. I stared down at the little blue book. I had no idea what to write. I wasn’t very good at words. Words were tricky and I never knew when sentences should stop. I liked lists. Lists were simple. Lists didn’t need full stops in the right place. I could feel Miss Archibald staring at me.
“Are you stuck for something to write about?” she said.
“It’s more that I don’t know how to write it,” I admitted.
“Ah, sometimes I get stuck with that too.” Miss Archibald smiled. “How about you imagine you’re writing a letter. Can you think of someone you’d like to write to?”
I chewed my lip. I knew who I wanted to write a letter to more than anyone else in the world. Mum. But Mum was probably somewhere far away avoiding icebergs in the arctic or discovering secret cities in the Tibetan mountains like Alexandra David-Neel. She was most definitely somewhere it was impossible to send letters to or from, otherwise I’d have heard from her. But I couldn’t tell Miss Archibald that. So I just nodded my head.
“Just think about what you would like to tell them and start there,” Miss Archibald said. “You give that a try and if you get stuck, just give me a shout.” She winked.
I opened my blue exercise book.
Dear Mum,
It’s been 711 days since you left.
I wrote. Then I thought really hard about all the things I wanted to tell her. But there were too many. So I scribbled out the Dear Mum bit and started again.
Things you’ve missed since you left.
•I turned eleven, touched Serpent’s Tooth Rock and made a wish
•I’ve started a new school and have to sit in front of the most terrifying girl on the island
•Grandpa is convinced strange and terrible things are about to happen to me
PS. We got a dog. Her name’s Pipi and yesterday she ate all the cheese in the house and half her wicker basket. I think you would like her.
I had dug my pen so hard into the paper that the last bit went all blobby and smudgy and when I looked up Tom was staring at me.
“What?” I hissed, quickly covering up my horrible wobbly writing.
“Nothing,” he said, darting his eyes back down to his notebook.
I went back to dabbing at my page.
“It’s just I have a rubber that rubs out biro.”
“Really?”
“Oh yeah, I didn’t know what I’d need for the first day and Grandma said I should be prepared, so I packed a bit of everything,” Tom said before he pulled out the biggest pencil case known to mankind.
He rummaged around, producing a rainbow of gel pens, markers, highlighters, crayons and pens with sparkly bits, before delving in deeper to bring out a Pac Man–shaped mini stapler, a cat pencil sharpener where the pencil went in an unfortunate place, and even a pack of dinosaur plasters.
“Mum made me pack those,” Tom said, blushing.
Finally he found his special rubber and chucked it over.
The rubber took off half the page as well as my blobby writing. But I was still tempted to rub out the whole thing and start again. I might have if Miss Archibald hadn’t started humming again.
“Ah good, good, I have your attention. I saw lots of you writing away and I’m very curious to hear how you’ve started your journals. Is there anyone who would like to talk about what they’ve written or even read a bit out?”
“I mean, I could. I suppose. If you want me too, I mean I don’t have to but…”
Miss Archibald raised her hand to quieten Tom. “Go ahead,” she said, smiling encouragingly.
Tom got to his feet and cleared his throat dramatically.
“My name is Tom Harris. Me and my mum and dad just moved from Glasgow to Dark Muir to look after my grandma. She owns six Eriskay ponies. They’re one of the oldest types of horses and are very rare. They poop a lot though and adults can’t ride them, so my dad wants to sell them and move back home. Grandma said over her dead body. But I don’t think that’s going to happen anytime soon, because it turns out she’s pretty terrifying.”
Blair sniggered and rolled her eyes. But Tom didn’t look like he was about to stop talking.
“That’s very nice,” Miss Archibald said holding up a hand and cutting Tom short. “It sounds like you’ve got lots to write about this year.”
I noticed that for all Tom’s bravado his ears had turned bright red. I tried to catch his eye, but he was already busy arranging his many pens in order of colour and size.
“Now, I want you to keep your books safe because I’d like you to keep working on them all year,” Miss Archibald went on. “All right then, before we leave is there anyone else who feels confident to share what they’ve written?”
I tried to make myself as small as possible and look anywhere but at Miss Archibald. But Blair kicked the side of my chair as hard as she could and I let out a little squeaky sound.
“Amelia, is it? Well, let’s hear what you’ve written.” Miss Archibald smiled as if she wasn’t completely mad and this was a totally normal thing to ask me.
Tom hadn’t had problems reading stuff out, not like me. He probably didn’t even need to be in STAR classes. Next week he would find out this was all a horrible mistake and would be in normal lessons with everyone else. I looked down at the words swimming all over the paper, took a deep breath and then stood up and started to read. But even from the first word, I knew it was going to be a disaster. I couldn’t make the words stay still on the page. They bounced around and my hands got all sweaty and my tongue felt like it was made out of chewing gum and kept getting stuck to the roof of my mouth. And everything came out all horrible and jumbled. And after fifty thousand years I still hadn’t managed to get halfway through the second sentence, so Miss Archibald finally stopped me. “That’s great, Amelia, I think that gives us a good starting point to work from.”
But I knew what she was really thinking. I knew what everyone was thinking as easily as if they had been chanting it.
Stupid, Stupid, Stupid!
I sank down into my chair as Miss Archibald droned on about our journal projects. But I couldn’t listen any more. Blair was sniggering behind me and Tom hadn’t looked at me since. He hadn’t even asked for his rubber back. So much for being good at school and making loads of friends. I missed Mum so bad it made my stomach hurt.
Chapter 5
On the ferry back, people were still pointing to where Serpent’s Tooth Rock had been. Everyone was whispering about it. A little part of me wanted to go and talk to Tom and ask him about the Eriskay ponies and how he felt about moving to Dark Muir from a big city like Glasgow. But I couldn’t, not after what had happened in class. So I went a
nd hid under the lifeboats again and watched the horseshoe shape of Dark Muir get bigger and bigger.
I had never wanted to go home less. I knew Da would ask me about my first day. He would want to know how many new friends I had made and how all my lessons had gone. I couldn’t bear to tell him how I hadn’t known anything all day. That everything he and Grandpa had taught me about the stars and strange sea creatures was totally useless. That everyone else knew proper stuff, like how to do equations without getting too many noughts on the end. And how to do science experiments without setting fire to yourself. I brushed a strand of slightly singed hair behind my ear. I really didn’t want to tell him about how I had spent lunch alone in the girl’s loos. But worst of all, I couldn’t tell Da how I had been put into the STAR group for the very stupid.
I trudged through the harbour trying to ignore Blair and her awful friends sniggering at me. Maybe, just maybe, if I’d worn the right shoes, she wouldn’t have started the whole day off by picking on me. On the way home I pulled the wellies off and threw them over a fence and into a bog. I watched them sink from view and thought about Serpent’s Tooth Rock. It was weird it had disappeared right after my birthday. I couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to it? And why its disappearance was making everyone on the island act so weird? Sometimes in the middle of winter when the days are so short you’re hardly up before the sun has gone down again, people go a bit strange. Last winter, under a full moon, you could make out people running around naked in the dark. Grandpa had said it was ghosts, but I was pretty sure it was just the old couple who ran the post office. If anyone could explain what was going on now though, it would be him.
But by the time I arrived home, Grandpa was in full swing of coming up with new ways that he might “pop his clogs”. This was his way of saying dying. Nowadays, he talked about this a lot. In fact, it was his favourite subject. He even came up with little lists I liked to call:
Grandpa McLeod’s Fabulous Ways to Pop his Clogs.
•Lightning strike
•Quicksand
•Spontaneous combustion
Grandpa listed these off as I threw my bag on the kitchen table.
“Grandpa, you’re going to live to a hundred and get your letter from the Queen,” I said, remembering the article Da had read me about how the Queen sent everyone a special letter on their hundredth birthday.
“I just want to prepare you for the inevitable,” Grandpa said darkly.
I could smell butter and bacon sizzling on the hob. I knew Da was making an extra-special effort because it had been my first day at school. But somehow that just made me feel worse.
“So… How was it?” Da asked, flipping something on the stove.
“It was fine,” I said, quickly pulling off my dirty socks under the kitchen table and hiding them in my pocket. Pipi came over from her basket by the stove and licked my toes. I think it was her way of telling me she was sorry I’d had a bad day. Dogs are weird like that.
“Have you seen that the Serpent’s Tooth Rock’s gone?” I said, trying to change the subject.
“Mmm,” Da mumbled, salting something. “Some sort of natural tidal phenomenon. Happens once every seventy years apparently.”
But I thought of the faces of the Selkie swimmers. And what Tom and Grandpa had said. This felt bigger than just something to do with the tides.
“Anyway, I want to hear all about your very first day at school,” Da said, turning around from the stove wearing the stupid floral pinny that used to be Nana’s.
“It was fine,” I lied.
“Your first day at school, the thing you’ve been talking about all summer, was just fine?” Da asked.
I shifted in my seat, looking to Pipi for help. But she was too busy nibbling at her tail.
“They put me in special classes,” I said as I felt my lip wobble.
“Oh, Amelia, I’m sure it’s just temporary, to get you caught up. I bet by the end of the year you’ll be reading and writing just as well as everyone else.”
I shook my head. Da just didn’t understand. He never understood. How would I ever be able to keep up with all the other children when I couldn’t even read in my head?
“If Mum was here she would understand and I wouldn’t have to go to stupid school and everything would be better,” I whispered under my breath.
Da’s face fell as he put my plate down in front of me. He had made my favourite – bacon and mushroom frittata cut into a smiley face. It sat there looking up at me with its funny wobbly ketchup smile.
“Well I’m sorry I’m not Mum then,” Da said as he pulled on his big gum boots and his duffle coat. Da has had lots of jobs ever since Mum left. So when he’s not fishing or working down the pub, he works as a mobile mechanic.
“I’ve been asked to fix Mr Gerard’s truck. I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Remember Hettie and Penny said they would come over if you needed any help.” He glanced at Grandpa worriedly.
Hettie and Penny were the old ladies who lived in the cottage down the hill. They both creeped me out. Not because they both smoked without their dentures in, but because Hettie had big golden eyes, the kind witches are meant to have. And she wore a big yellow brooch that matched. But it wasn’t an ordinary kind of brooch; it had a bee in it. A real bee! When I was little my Mum used to tell me terrifying stories about Hettie and Penny turning insects into jewellery and stuffing birds to hang in their house. I don’t think Mum liked them much. And they certainly didn’t like Mum. It wasn’t until she left that they started coming around. I think they were checking up on me, Da and Grandpa. But we didn’t need checking up on. We were just fine the way we were.
Grandpa looked anxious after Da slammed the door behind him. He doesn’t like people leaving. Sometimes I think it’s because he’s worried he’ll forget who they are when they come back. So I put my arm around him.
“What are we watching?” Grandpa asked after I took him into the sitting room.
We squished on to the old leather couch in front of the fire and I turned the television on to our favourite wildlife programme. David Attenborough was talking about birds that used to live at the time of the dinosaurs. I was sort of hoping Mum’s name might pop up at the end of the show in the credits. Sometimes I look for little signs of her. That way she doesn’t feel like she’s completely gone.
After we finished watching David Attenborough, I helped Grandpa up the narrow wooden stairs to his little room. His window had been left open and rain was pouring in. I pulled the window shut as the sound of thunder crackled around us.
“Do you hear that?” Grandpa said in a faraway voice. “It’s beginning, Amelia, it’s beginning.”
“It’s just a storm, Grandpa,” I said as I helped him into bed.
I tucked Grandpa up and put a photo of Grandma that had been knocked over back by his bedside table, before going to my room across the hall.
In bed I couldn’t shake Grandpa’s warning or what had happened on my first day of school. So I pulled out The Little Book of Lady Adventurers and flicked through the pages. I stopped at one of my favourite pictures. It was of a woman in a red parka covered in ice sitting on a sled next to a huge black dog.
“Helen Thayer was the first woman to travel to the Magnetic North Pole alone. At fifty years old Helen travelled across 364 miles of snow and ice with only a part-wolf, part-Inuit husky dog she named Charlie. Together they fought off polar bears, camped in sub-zero temperatures and battled through fierce arctic storms to reach their goal. After their trip Charlie came to live with Helen in the US. Being an Inuit dog, Charlie had never seen a garden before and got to lie on the grass in the sunshine for the very first time,” I read slowly to Pipi.
“What do you think about you and me going on an arctic adventure?” I said, scratching behind Pipi’s floppy ears.
Pipi barked enthusiastically. But I didn’t think we’d get far. Not when Pipi had to hide under the table when the washing machine was on. And not when just thinking abo
ut taking a ten-minute ferry ride across to Bridlebaine Academy gave me a stomach ache. Adventurers weren’t meant to be scared of big waves, or reading out loud, and they definitely weren’t meant to be scared of going to school. I looked at the picture of Helen and Charlie again, wishing I could be half as brave.
I heard Da come home a couple of hours later, first the rattle of the kitchen door, then big footsteps up the little wooden staircase until he paused at my bedroom door. I expected him to do what he always did: come in and sit on the end of my bed for a little bit and then leave the door cracked open when he left. But this time he just stood in the doorway. I could tell he wanted to talk, but I was still angry. Angry for sending me to a stupid new school, angry for never understanding why I got so stuck on things and for getting upset whenever I mentioned Mum. I turned over and pretended to be asleep. Da waited, his shadow stretching over my bedroom. I could tell he wanted to say something. It hung heavy in the air. And a little part of me desperately wanted to talk to him too, but I pulled my blanket tighter around me. Da sighed and clicked the door shut behind him.
Afterwards I lay in bed listening to the wind beating through the trees and the rolls of thunder. Grandpa was right: it didn’t sound like a summer storm. It sounded like the start of something much bigger.
Chapter 6
It was midnight when it happened.
It wasn’t the bolt of lightning that woke me up. Or the sound of Pipi’s howling. Or even the strange mixed-up dream I’d been having about running through a forest surrounded by glowing stones searching for Mum. It was the tingling in my hand, the hand that had touched the Serpent’s Tooth Rock. It was stronger than I had felt it on my birthday. And it wasn’t just hot; it felt like it was on fire!
Then my room began to flicker. The glow-in-the-dark stars and streams of origami birds hanging from the ceiling shook and danced. I dived under the covers. This was all in my head. I was just imagining it. But then there was the sound of a wild storm, and it was closer than ever before, like I was outside in it. And then I was shimmering and flickering just like the room. I tried to cry out, but couldn’t make a noise. I struggled to get up, to get Da, but as I looked down, my legs vanished. Pipi leaped in the air, barking like mad. Her little legs were running in the air, her floppy ears flapping up and down with each jump. I reached out to touch her but my hand, the hand that had touched the Serpent’s Tooth Rock, disappeared. I reached out with my other hand and grabbed Pipi’s collar as the roar of the wind got louder and louder.
Lightning Chase Me Home Page 3
