Angels Next Door

by Karen McCombie

  I blink myself more awake and, with Mum’s smile so close, for a second I feel OK. Well, as OK as you can feel first thing on a Wednesday morning, with roaring going on nearby.

  ‘RAAAAAARGHHHHHHH!’ roars a tiger, barging into my room with a clatter and dragging my bedding off me.

  ‘Go away, Dot,’ I mumble, scrabbling for the squishy comfort of my duvet but finding it gone, tumbled somewhere at the end of my bed.

  ‘RAAAAAARGHHHHHHH!’ the tiger roars again, her paws/arms flailing wildly. If I had the energy, I’d grab the sleeves of her stripy all-in-one PJs and tie them in a knot.

  ‘You’ve had a bit of a lie-in, haven’t you, Riley?’ Dad calls brightly from the doorway. ‘But it’s time to rise and shine, sleepy head!’

  Huh? How could I be sleeping? I have no bed covers and am being attacked by a ferocious five-year-old.

  ‘Morning,’ says Hazel, breezing into my room like she owns it and scooping the terrible tiger into her arms. ‘Right, time for big cats to get dressed. And big girls to get some daylight in their rooms!’

  With one arm curled round Dot, Hazel uses her free hand to yank my curtains apart and let the early-morning light flood in. Ouch.

  ‘Have you seen the time, Riley?’ Hazel says in her usual brusque and efficient way. ‘You’re going to have to get a move on if you don’t want to be late for sch– Oh!’

  She seems to be a little surprised by something she can see through the window.

  ‘What’s up?’ asks Dad, re-appearing in the doorway.

  ‘Hurray!’ squeals Dot, and starts hammering her tiger paws on the glass.

  All right, so I’m exhausted but I’m curious, and get out of bed to see what’s happening in the outside world.

  ‘Wow, they’re keen!’ says Dad, who’s beaten me to it, laughing.

  Flip goes my tummy when I see who everyone’s looking at. Sunshine, Kitt and Pearl.

  They’re standing by our garden fence, dressed (sort of) in the uniform of my school. With their dog at their feet. And all four of them – if you count Bee the dog – are staring up here.

  Wait a second … are they waiting for me?

  It’s only 07:03 according to my clock. Oh no … I read it wrong! It actually says 08:03, which gives me next to no time to have breakfast, get washed and dressed, and panic about the new people waiting to walk me to school.

  Help!

  But the next half an hour goes by in a blur of school-morning mayhem. Before I know it I’m creaking our gate open, adjusting the pink ballet hairband I borrowed from Dot to hide my bald spot, and saying a shy ‘hi’ to the three girls who’ve been hovering here, even though Hazel went out to ask them if they were OK (‘Yes, thank you’), or if they wanted to come in (‘No, thank you’).

  ‘Hello, Riley,’ says Sunshine brightly.

  ‘We’ve been waiting for you,’ Pearl states, though that’s pretty obvious.

  Kitt does nothing but stare. Hard.

  I’m trying not to stare back but, wary as I’m feeling, I’m kind of intrigued by her and her sisters’ version of the Hillcrest Academy uniform. I mean, our school is pretty relaxed; it’s not as if you get suspended for wearing the wrong shade of grey skirt or having your nails painted clear with a faint hint of pink, like at some stricter schools.

  But what are people going to make of Sunshine’s flurry of multicoloured butterfly clips holding her tumbling waves off one side of her face?

  Or Kitt’s mad-but-fun Mickey Mouse buns?

  Or Pearl’s stripy tights and sequinned baseball boots?

  The thing is, I might not know quite what to make of my new neighbours yet, but I do think they look pretty interesting … in a kooky, cute way. And I’m suddenly so glad that finally someone in my year at school won’t be looking either boring (like me) or dressed as a wannabe clone of Lauren, Joelle and Nancy, with their flicky long hair and short, short skirts (like almost every girl in Year 7).

  Speaking of Lauren, Joelle and Nancy, I bet they’ll give Sunshine, Kitt and Pearl the once-over, then rip them to shreds behind their backs. Though I have a funny feeling that the Angelos aren’t going to care too much about that …

  ‘Bye!’ A voice drifts over, which belongs to Mrs Angelo. I recognize her from yesterday, when she got out of the car with her husband. ‘Have a great first day!’

  The three mismatched sisters wave at the very ordinary woman in the doorway of number thirty-three and then turn expectantly to me.

  ‘Shall we go?’ Sunshine smiles my way.

  Right. So it seems they’ve volunteered me to be their guide for the morning, whether I’m up for the job or not.

  ‘Uh, OK,’ I mumble timidly.

  The girls fall into step beside me, saying nothing.

  All that nothing is unnerving. My normal short walk to school with Tia always passed in a babble of chat in two seconds flat. Today, if this carries on, it’ll feel like two hours.

  The further we walk, the longer the silence; it makes me stress about what’s going through their minds. Despite Sunshine’s smiles, maybe they didn’t want to walk with me to school in the first place. (Well, Kitt didn’t look exactly keen.) Thinking about it, maybe Mrs Angelo told them to.

  Should I say something? But what? I fret as we turn out of Chestnut Crescent and approach the traffic lights on Meadow Lane, the zoom of traffic in our ears.

  Mrs Angelo – I could mention something about her, couldn’t I?

  ‘Your mum seems nice.’

  There. I did my bit. Now it’s their turn to talk.

  But instead Pearl laughs, though I’m not sure if it’s at what I’ve just said or cos the red man’s just turned to green at the crossing.

  ‘That is so funny!’ she giggles, copying the arms-out pose of the green-man outline on the traffic lights.

  ‘No, it’s not,’ Kitt snaps at her sister. ‘And anyway she’s not our mother.’

  OK, that second snap was aimed at me.

  I concentrate on crossing the road, turning my hot face away, since I don’t understand what Kitt’s just said, or why she had to say it that way.

  (A worry wriggles into my brain: she really doesn’t like me, does she?)

  As we reach the safety of the opposite pavement, it’s Sunshine who speaks next. ‘Frank and Sarah Angelo are our foster carers,’ she explains.

  ‘Oh …’ I say in a small voice, stumbling slightly with surprise as we go to turn into the small road that leads to the school gates.

  Well, that makes sense. It could be why Kitt’s so spiky, couldn’t it? And why the ‘sisters’ look nothing alike.

  Except for those shades-of-blue eyes, of course …

  But, before I get a chance to absorb that latest chunk of confusion, I suddenly notice we have company. Furry company.

  ‘Er, did you know Bee was following us?’ I say, hesitating and pointing to the dog at our heels.

  Bee continues padding along, grinning up at me, tongue lolling.

  ‘Oh, it’s fine – he’ll go when he’s ready,’ Sunshine says easily.

  Huh?

  How can Sunshine trust her pet to find its way back to a brand-new house, across a busy junction too? Pets aren’t that independent. Not unless they’re witches’ familiars or something.

  And, let’s face it, this doggy fluffball doesn’t look much like the sort of animal companion your average witch would go for. And serene Sunshine doesn’t look too much like a witch. I don’t think …

  ‘So are all the other people at school as nice as you, Riley?’ Pearl asks out of the blue as if everything is one hundred per cent normal.

  I’m feeling wall-to-wall flustered, cos absolutely none of this seems normal to me. And I’m not sure if Pearl’s spoofing me or not.

  ‘They’re all OK, I suppose,’ I answer vaguely, staring down at a content-looking Bee. ‘Apart from a few …’

  ‘Like who?’ asks Sunshine.

  I lift my head and see she’s gazing intently at me. Oh no, I am so not going ther
e.

  I mean, I don’t really know these girls, and already they’re twisting my head in knots. With my luck, I’d have a full-on moan-a-thon about Lauren and co., and next thing Sunshine, Kitt and Pearl would be joining forces with them, doubling their mean power.

  So I’m just going to shrug off my comment and say it was nothing, to be on the safe si–

  ‘STOP!’ barks Kitt. ‘Stay there!’

  I look round to see where Bee is and what he’s doing – then realize Kitt is actually talking to me. Me! I mean, do I look like a dog?

  ‘It’s all right,’ I say, spotting that her sisters are staring at the quiet road, with only parked cars in it. ‘It’s safe to cross he– Whoa!!’

  As I automatically go to step off the kerb, Kitt lurches forward and grabs my arm tight – really tight.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I ask, shocked.

  ‘The car,’ Sunshine says as I flip my head round and see a navy-blue people carrier suddenly drive off fast, really fast, without signalling. The woman in the front is busy waving at the boy she’s just dropped off and not looking at the road. Right this second, if Kitt hadn’t yanked me back, I’d have easily been within thudding distance of the car bonnet.

  But how did Kitt guess that the stupid driver was about to move?

  Trembling, I’m just about to ask when Kitt says something else: ‘Bye.’

  And – still catching my breath – I watch Sunshine, Kitt and Pearl drift off towards the school gates, without another word.

  I might be standing in a sleepy suburban dead-end on a bright autumn morning, but I’m shivering as if I’m in the middle of a Siberian storm.

  And no one seems to care, apart from the fuzzy dog that’s now nuzzling my shaking left hand …

  I don’t know how long I’ve been standing here on the pavement.

  Probably no more than a few seconds.

  Long enough for the comforting snuffling nose to disappear, that’s for sure.

  I shake myself out of my shock when I hear the bleep-bleep of the pedestrian crossing back on Meadow Lane. Hurrying to the corner of the road, I’m just in time to see Bee happily pad on to the opposite pavement, tail wagging, watched by confused passers-by and head-scratching drivers.

  Then I’m jolted by the distant sound of the bell and run, run, run towards school, through the gate, across the crowded playground, and land breathlessly in the crush of the hall.

  There they are: up ahead, on the stairs. Sunshine’s rippling river of red-gold hair, Kitt’s funny little buns, Pearl’s stubby snow-white braids.

  I shuffle and slide between bodies and schoolbags, desperate to catch them up, even if I don’t know what to say when I do.

  How about: ‘You saved me, Kitt.’

  Or: ‘How could you have known what was going to happen?’

  Maybe even: ‘Why did you act like it was no big deal and then walk off?’

  Those are all questions I really want answers to, but I’m too shy – or maybe scared – to come out and ask. Instead, as I finally wriggle my way up and fall into step beside the girls, I mumble, ‘Um, thanks, Kitt.’

  ‘For what?’ she snaps at me, taking me by surprise.

  Those two blunt words feel like a slap in the face, and I immediately speed up, suddenly very keen to get away from these confusing sisters, or foster sisters, or whatever they are.

  But as I try to go I feel a gentle touch near my wrist and turn to see Pearl grinning as much as Kitt was scowling just now.

  Though it’s Pearl who’s got my attention, it’s Sunshine who speaks. ‘Can you take us to our class, Riley?’ she asks. ‘It’s called “Y7C”.’

  ‘Uh, yeah,’ I say hesitantly. ‘That’s actually my class.’

  I don’t know why I’m so surprised; there may be five form classes in Year 7 but mine is the only one with space. Last term, Ben Adams got expelled for setting fire to Amy Chung’s pencil case with a Bunsen burner in science and Amy Chung’s parents moved her to a different school cos they didn’t want her to go to a place that had someone like Ben Adams as a student (even though he’d got expelled). And of course as from this week there’s also the Tia-shaped hole in Y7C.

  ‘So where do we go?’ asks Sunshine as I peel away at the first floor and begin to lead them along a glass-walled corridor.

  ‘The library,’ I tell her, noticing for the first time the effect the Angelos are having on everyone who’s passing. Boys, girls, from our year to much older – their eyes are glued on these three odd but oddly exotic creatures. No one is sniggering or gossiping; they’re just looking, looking, looking.

  Pearl smiles and wiggles her fingers at them in a wave. Sunshine drifts along, not even noticing the attention she and her sisters are attracting. Kitt, however, notices something altogether different.

  As I raise my arm to push open the library door, I see her frowning at the sleeve of my blazer. She looks … well, furious.

  ‘Oh,’ I say, spotting five small silvery fingerprints near the cuff. ‘That’ll be Dot. She gets glitter everywhere.’

  For some reason my explanation doesn’t seem to have impressed Kitt. Her gun-metal grey eyes are still glowering through her black-rimmed glasses. (Didn’t I think they were more blue before?)

  Flustered, I push my way into the already busy library, self-consciously brushing the glitter from my navy blazer, since it seems to bother Kitt so much.

  ‘We’re usually in our form class now,’ I start to explain, ‘but cos our teacher – Mrs Sharma – is off, we’ve been told to come here for registration.’

  The rest of Y7C had been a blurry swarm of chattering students when we came in, but I’m sensing their voices fading away, their eyes fixing on me and the girls I’ve walked in with.

  It’s like what happened out in the corridor just now. And it’s silly, I know, but I feel a shiver of excitement, like I’m hanging out with pop stars or something.

  ‘Wow!’ says Pearl, almost skipping along a set of shelves and dragging her fingers across the top of a long line of Jacqueline Wilson books.

  Sneaking a peek out of the corner of my eyes, I see some of my classmates follow Pearl’s every move, her every skip, taking in the matching twinkles of her smile and her baseball boots.

  ‘I like the pictures,’ says Sunshine, gazing at jumbled rows of Year 7 artwork plastered around the library walls: the self-portrait project we did when we first started at Hillcrest.

  Sunshine has no clue that the casual flick of her ribbons of red hair was just studied this second by virtually all of the almost silent students of Y7C.

  ‘You,’ says Kitt, walking up to and pointing at the blow-up black-and-white photo I took of myself.

  My cheeks flush pink, realizing that everyone in the library may now suddenly be scrutinizing it, since Kitt is.

  As for the photo itself, I look blank and bland in it, I reckon. But that’s probably because it’s got Tia’s amazingly colourful chalk drawing to one side of it, tropical flowers and hummingbirds filling up every part of the paper that isn’t her pretty face. On the other side is Lauren’s self-portrait, hair long and yellow with streaks of gold paint swooped through, looking like she’s some Greek goddess or something.

  Pearl joins us, her eyes scanning Lauren’s picture. ‘Is that the girl over there?’ she asks, pointing her thumb over her shoulder, but not looking back herself. ‘The one with the upside-down mouth?’

  I don’t know if Pearl’s got eyes in the back of her head, but I turn to see Lauren saunter into the library, flanked by Joelle and Nancy.

  With a toss of her long blonde hair, Lauren hesitates, sensing something’s going on.

  It’s not hard to see why; the library is a teacher-free zone at the moment, and yet no boys are roaring, no girls are yakking.

  Lauren’s over-mascaraed eyes automatically follow everyone’s gaze. And Pearl is right: her expression is so sulky her mouth makes a shape the complete opposite of a smile.

  All of a sudden Lauren’s sights loc
k on us, and then, blam, she regains her composure and sashays our way. ‘So, Riley, who are they?’ she asks, nodding her head at Sunshine, Kitt and Pearl.

  Behind her, Joelle – her naturally curly dark hair ironed flat – stares dully on, while Nancy ogles my neighbours from under her long fringe and nibbles at her black-painted nails.

  ‘Who are you?’ Kitt asks straight back, before I’ve had a chance to answer.

  Uh-oh.

  Joelle snorts, Nancy gasps, but more importantly Lauren bristles, her narrowing eyes indicating that a nasty remark is about a nanosecond away.

  But someone else gets in there first.

  ‘Welcome to my world!’ shouts Mrs Mahoney, the learning resources manager, stretching her arms wide as she stomps out of her office.

  By next week, we’ll have a new form teacher assigned to us in Mrs Sharma’s absence, but in the meantime Mrs Mahoney is loving the excitement of having a captive class all to herself.

  That’s bound to change once the boys start being cheeky and the girls start chatting. Which they might do, if they all manage to stop staring at the three people by my side.

  ‘Anywhere you like! Park yourself down!’ Mrs Mahoney calls out, pointing to seats and tables.

  There’s a scuffle of feet and a screech of chairs on lino. Me, Sunshine, Kitt and Pearl slide round a table at the back of the room (good) but find ourselves parked just behind Lauren and her friends (bad).

  I try not to catch their eyes, but I know Lauren and Joelle and Nancy are looking our way as they take their seats. You can feel their individual radars homing in, picking up every detail, studying every angle of me and the new girls.

  ‘Right, we have a few things to talk about today, including Friday’s school trip to Wildwoods Theme Park, of course,’ Mrs Mahoney announces, to cheers and hurrays. ‘And then there’s the holiday homework project Mrs Sharma set you, which I’m sure everyone has brought in with them!’

  ‘Uhhh …’ I sigh out loud, and a lot more loudly than I meant to.