by Susie Bower
‘It’s you who is beautiful,’ I said. ‘I have a burnt face.’
‘You’re beautiful inside,’ said Silver.
‘Can you see inside me then? Like Mr Gold can?’
‘Mr Gold?’ A strange expression crept over her face. She moved her hand away from the mirror. ‘Have you broken your promise? Have you told him—Mr Gold—about me?’
‘Of course not!’ I said, shocked that she would think it of me. ‘I would never do that—never!’
‘Oh, Flynn—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to doubt you. I just… want to be sure you trust me more than anybody else.’
‘I’ll never, never let you down. I’m your twin!’
‘I know that, really,’ whispered Silver. ‘It’s just that my bird tells me about the Nobodies, and how they twist people’s minds. And when I think about you living with them it makes me scared—scared that if you stay there with the Nobodies, you’ll become like them, and you’ll forget about me.’
‘Oh, Silver!’ It felt so lovely to use her name. ‘I’ll never, ever forget you! But… Oh, there are so many things I want to know!’
‘Like what?’ Silver’s smile was back, like the moon from behind a cloud.
‘Our parents—who were they, and what happened to them? How did I end up with Sonia and Claude? What happened to you, and how did you come to be at the Academy? And then there’s this room—why do things appear and disappear here? Why do I see you in the mirror? What happened to the cabinet? And where’s the Bird?’
Silver laughed. ‘So many questions! The bird is my guardian.’
‘Your guardian?’
‘He looks after me. Protects me. Makes sure only the right people see me.’
For a moment, I thought I caught a whiff of the Bird’s foul breath, but it was gone as quickly as it had come.
‘He said he knew everything about me.’
‘Did he?’
In the distance, the church clock struck the quarter hour.
‘But we’re wasting our precious time together, Flynn. And I’ve secrets to tell you.’
I waited, holding my breath.
‘You want to be with me, don’t you? More than anything else?’
‘Yes! But how?’
‘Listen carefully.’
I covered my lips with my fingers so that they wouldn’t burst out with words.
‘By keeping your promise, you’ve passed the first test. There are going to be other, harder tests. Are you brave enough to face them?’
‘I am,’ I said in a shaky voice. ‘I’ll face them and pass them, whatever they are.’
‘Good.’ Silver’s voice sank to a whisper. ‘Come close to me.’
I moved so that my ear was pressed against the glass. It felt cold against my cheek, and I longed to feel Silver’s warm skin there instead.
‘Here’s the first secret. You can’t escape Nobodies by climbing the walls any more than I can climb them to get to you. They’re too high and anyway there are alarms and security guards.’
My heart plummeted into my shoes. So it really was impossible to get to the Academy.
Silver was still speaking. ‘But there is one secret way.’
‘Tell me—quickly!’
‘On one night in the year, and one night only, this mirror becomes a doorway to my school.’ Silver traced the edges of the mirror with her fingers. ‘On that night, you can walk through it to join me here.’
‘What night? Tonight? Now?’ I tingled with excitement.
‘Soon,’ whispered Silver. ‘But our time is running out, and I want to tell you the next secret. It’s a secret about our school.’
Our school. A thrill went through my body. I couldn’t wait.
‘The Academy is the best school in the whole world!’ said Silver, her brown eyes bright. ‘And d’you know why?’
‘It’s got a swimming pool,’ I said. ‘And a cinema. And you can eat whatever you like—’
‘Yes, yes,’ said Silver impatiently. ‘But the best thing… the best thing of all is this.’ She lowered her voice. ‘We get to choose what we learn.’
‘Oh.’ I felt puzzled, and a bit disappointed. Lessons were boring, unless they were acrobatics lessons.
‘Don’t you see?’ Silver laughed, and it sounded in my ear like a waterfall, a fountain, spring rain. ‘Instead of maths and science and history, you can choose to learn the one thing that makes your heart sing! What do you want to learn, Flynn? What’s your heart’s desire?’
I swallowed. ‘Circus stuff,’ I whispered, remembering Mr Gold’s lessons with a flicker of excitement. ‘Acrobatics, juggling, the trapeze…’
But Silver’s next words drove all thoughts of Mr Gold out of my head. She gave a little skip and a jump.
‘I knew it! You love just the same things as me! And when you get here, we’ll learn them together. I’m studying the circus arts, Flynn! And I have the best teachers there are! Just think—we’ll train together. We’ll practise all the time. And one day, we’ll perform in a great ring, in front of a thousand people. We’ll be famous!’
I gasped. Finding my twin had been my dearest wish. And now, not only had this happened, but we were going to become famous acrobats! I opened my mouth to ask a hundred questions, but Silver raised her hand.
‘And now, the last and most important secret.’ Her face was serious. ‘You must never, ever break the mirror. If you do, the doorway will be destroyed—and so will I.’
I took a step back, terrified that I’d accidentally break the glass. Losing Silver would be like losing myself, losing my whole world.
‘Don’t worry!’ Silver smiled, beckoning me back towards her. ‘The mirror can’t be broken by accident, only on purpose.’
The church clock struck.
‘I’ve got to go now. But we’ll meet again, very soon.’
‘When?’ I whispered.
‘Come on Saturday, at noon,’ came the reply. ‘I’ll be waiting.’
‘I will!’ I said. But then I remembered our rehearsal. ‘Oh! But that’s when we’re meeting to practise our circus show!’
‘Your circus show?’ Silver suddenly sounded scared. ‘But I thought you wanted to be with me? This is just what my bird warned me about—that the Nobodies would make you want to stay with them…’
‘I don’t—it’s just that we agreed—’
‘I thought I could trust you.’ Silver looked sad, and terribly disappointed. ‘It looks like I was wrong.’ And a single, silver tear trickled down her cheek.
‘No!’ I cried. ‘No, I’ll come!’
But even as I spoke, the surface of the glass began to mist over. I tried to rub the mist away with my fingers, but it was hopeless. Silver was slipping away.
‘I’ll be here!’ I shouted, hoping against hope that she could still hear me. ‘I’ll be here, I promise!’
But Silver had gone, and I was left staring at my own reflection in the dim light of the overhead bulb.
INTO THE WOOD
I stood in front of the mirror, thinking of everything Silver had told me. Was she setting me a test, asking me to meet her at the same time as the rehearsal for our circus show? And when would this special night be—the night when the mirror became a doorway to the school next door? What would it be like to be a famous acrobat and perform to the roar of a thousand voices? Standing here alone in the dark, all these things seemed so far away, in a world I could only dream of. But once I passed the test, I told myself, I’d be one step nearer to making my dream come true.
As I made for the door, a niggle of worry crept into my mind. How would I get out of our rehearsal? Maybe I could tell the others I was ill. No, I can’t. I hated telling lies.
Halfway down the spiral stairs, I remembered the shadowy figure I’d seen creeping into the wood. I stared down into the garden. It was still and empty. Whoever they were, they had come out of the boys’ dormitory. Where were they going in the middle of the night, and why? I knew I ought to be sensible and go straight back to
bed. But I was wide awake, too excited and shivery about my meeting with Silver to close my eyes and sleep.
I crept down the stairs and into the corridor where Miss Cruet slept. The area outside her room, under the window, was pale with moonlight and the pile of hairpins glittered. I stepped over it and listened. Her snores filled the air like swelling waves.
Down to the dormitories I tiptoed. The door to the boys’ dormitory was ajar. I tiptoed past it, along the passage and down the dark stairs, to the back door. It was open. Someone had unbolted it when they left the school just before midnight, and that someone was still out there.
I stepped outside and closed the door gently behind me.
The garden lay silent and still in the moonlight. I stared at the shadow under the wall where I’d seen the figure, but there was no sign of anyone. It was cold, and full of silver light—as if every plant, every blade of grass, had been turned to frost. Even my clothes were silver, and I smiled, remembering my twin. The moon was a great white circle, bigger than any sun, hanging almost close enough to touch. The sky was full of a thousand glittering stars.
Then I heard it.
A distant howl, like an animal in pain, far away and out of sight. I scanned the woods, silhouetted black against the moonlit garden. Another howl echoed over the treetops. Now I knew where it was coming from.
My skin prickled. Maybe I was being stupid, following it into the night. What if it wasn’t a person at all, but a dangerous animal? I shook myself. This was a night for daring, for adventure. I headed for the wood and slipped inside.
It was much darker there. All I could see were the tree trunks, dappled by moonlight. Strange rustlings and murmurings whispered around me. I jumped at the hollow hoot of an owl. Moving carefully, my eyes scanning the ground for roots and stones, I felt my way from trunk to trunk. The howling had stopped. What if the shadowy figure was on its way back, and we collided in the darkness?
I heard something. It wasn’t the howling. It was something much closer, something moving towards me in the darkness. Something breathing, in a thick, heavy way. I flattened myself to the trunk of a tree and held my breath, not daring to move, as it came closer, and closer still. Shall I make a run for it? Can I outrun whatever it is? My legs felt frozen to the ground. My heart hammered against my chest and I shivered from head to toe. I wanted to squeeze my eyes tight, like Custard did when she was scared, but I dared not. The breathing grew louder and louder.
And then it stepped into a pool of moonlight: a huge badger, its black-and-white striped body lumbering through the mud, snuffling about for roots and worms. It raised its snout, catching my scent, and hurried off down another path.
For a moment I stood still, the feeling coming back into my legs, wanting to laugh out loud with relief. Only a badger! The night could make anything seem scary and monstrous. And as if the night could hear my thoughts, the howling began again.
It was much closer now, and I knew for certain that it was coming from the Amphitheatre. I crept past the dark mass of the shed and the silhouette of the swing until I reached the edge of the trees.
And then I saw him.
UNDER THE MOON
Standing stock-still in the centre of the Amphitheatre, his long mane of hair silvered in the light of the moon, was Feral. He wore only his pyjama bottoms and his feet were bare on the grass. His face was turned up to the moon. His mouth opened in a roar, again and again, and the unearthly sound echoed around the stone seats of the Amphitheatre.
‘Mama!’ he howled in a voice filled with pain and longing. ‘Mamaaaaa…’
I stood, as still as he. Never in my life had I seen anyone so unhappy and alone. It felt weird, and sort of wrong, to be spying on him when he was so upset. Slowly, I turned away. I’d creep back to the school as silently as I could, and he’d never know I’d been there.
‘Mama… Mamaaaaa…’ Feral’s voice cracked and broke, as if it couldn’t cry out any more.
I turned back. His shoulders were shaking. He fell on to his knees, his thin arms wrapped around his body as if he was trying to stop it from falling apart.
I couldn’t go. I couldn’t leave him there, alone and miserable in the moonlight.
I stepped forward, into the Amphitheatre, until I was standing right beside him. Then I reached down and touched his shoulder.
Feral leapt up, his eyes wide, and gave a yelp of terror, followed by a furious growl. Would he bite me? I made myself stand still, even though my legs longed to run away.
Then he saw it was me. He swiped tears from his cheeks with his hand and looked at me with overflowing eyes.
‘Are you all right?’ I said. It felt like a daft thing to say, but I couldn’t think of anything else.
Feral nodded his head, then shook it. ‘Mama,’ he said, as if that explained everything.
‘Are you missing your mama?’ I said.
More tears began to fall. Awkwardly, I took his hand in mine. He stopped crying and stared at it.
‘I don’t have a mama either,’ I said. ‘My mum is dead too.’
Feral’s eyes blazed. ‘Mama no dead!’ he growled.
‘OK, OK. Whatever you say.’
‘Mama took away,’ he said. ‘Mama gone.’
This was the longest sentence I’d ever heard him say.
‘That’s bad,’ I said.
Feral gazed at me. ‘You mama gone?’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘A long time ago.’
‘How?’ he said.
‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘They said it was a fire.’
‘Fire,’ said Feral, nodding as if he understood, and I wondered if he did.
We said nothing for a while. I felt a bit awkward holding his hand, but he was clutching mine and seemed to want me to go on holding it.
‘Is your mama really a lion?’ I asked.
Feral nodded. ‘Mama. Lion.’
‘You lived with her in the forest?’
He nodded again. In the light of the moon, his tawny eyes were piercing under the silver thatch of his mane of hair. I couldn’t help thinking about the lion they’d captured in the forest. Surely she couldn’t be Feral’s mother—could she?
I began to shiver. Feral didn’t seem to notice the cold.
I gave his hand a little tug. ‘Let’s go back to school, Feral.’
‘Feral?’ he said, his head on one side.
I shrugged. ‘It’s just a nickname.’
‘Nick Name?’
‘A made-up name. I made up names for everyone.’
‘Feral?’ he said again.
‘It means wild,’ I said.
‘Wild,’ he repeated. He held up his hand, his fingernails as long and grubby as ever, and counted off one finger. ‘Me. Nick Name Feral.’ Then he counted off the second, third and fourth fingers. ‘Others?’
I pretended to play a violin. ‘Rule Boy.’ Then I turned my mouth down. ‘Saddo.’ Finally, I sucked my thumb. ‘Custard.’
‘Custard.’ Feral ran his fingernails through his hair and grinned. ‘Trainer. Brush Feral mane.’
He suddenly reached out and touched my cheek. His hand felt surprisingly warm.
‘Hurt,’ he said. I tried not to push his hand away.
‘Burn,’ I said. ‘I hate it.’
‘Burn,’ said Feral. ‘Feral like burn.’
‘Come on,’ I muttered, my face tingling with embarrassment. ‘We’d better go back.’
Feral nodded, casting a last, longing look at the moon. Then he dropped my hand and set off ahead of me into the wood. It didn’t seem half so scary with two of us. Feral seemed to know the way, even in the darkest parts. We didn’t speak until we’d crept up the garden path, pushed open the kitchen door and bolted it behind us, and climbed the stairs to the dormitories.
‘Well,’ I said. ‘Goodnight.’
Feral suddenly leant forward and licked my cheek.
‘Friend,’ he said.
Then he darted into the boys’ dormitory. I turned and tiptoed into my
room.
Custard was still fast asleep. I pulled off my clothes and got into bed, my eyes heavy.
I was just dropping off when I heard:
TAP… TAP… TAP… on the wall next to me.
I half sat up in bed to listen, then very quietly knocked back.
TAP… TAP… TAP… came the reply.
The last thing I knew, as I snuggled under my blanket and my eyes closed, was that, for some reason, I was smiling.
NIGHT VISITORS
In my dream, we were practising for the circus show. Rule Boy played a jaunty tune on his violin, and the strange, triangular metronome tick-tocked. Custard, in her yellow cloak, was putting her head into Feral’s open jaws. Then Silver appeared right beside me, and everyone stopped doing what they were doing and gazed at her. Tick-tock, went the metronome.
‘This is my twin, Silver,’ I said proudly.
But then it all went wrong.
‘She’s not real,’ said Rule Boy. ‘She doesn’t exist.’
‘She’s scary,’ said Custard, and backed away.
And Feral growled and growled and growled…
I woke up with a start.
Tap-tap… Tap-tap… Tap-tap…
The metronome was still tick-tocking and my heart was beating three times as fast. Was I still dreaming? Or was it the clock, ticking over the door?
No. This tapping was a lot louder. And the clock showed it was half past five in the morning.
It must be Feral, tapping on the wall to say hello. I sat up and put my ear to the wall.
Nothing.
Tap-tap… Tap-tap… Tap-tap…
Then I realized that the sound was coming from the window.
I got out of bed, padded over towards it and pulled back the curtain.
Sitting on the windowsill, its grey feathers silvered by the moon, was the dove. It was tapping at the glass with its dark bill.
‘You’re back!’ I whispered. ‘What do you want?’
Tap-tap… Tap-tap… Tap-tap…
At that moment, there was a flurry of silver wings and another dove, just like the first, flew down to join it.
