That night, Polly is drifting off to sleep when she hears a rumble at her window. She sits up, her heart racing in her chest like a wild rabbit. The window rattles again.

Then she hears a low, familiar voice.

‘ Polly?’

‘Buster!’ Polly gasps, jumping up and pulling back the curtain. ‘Is that you?’

Sure enough, Buster has pressed his goofy face against the dark glass, already leaving a smear of grease and steam.

Polly doesn’t know whether to be thrilled that he is at her window or terrified of them getting caught.

‘Buster!’ she whispers, pulling open the window. ‘What are you doing here?’

Buster squeezes through the window and tumbles onto the bed. Polly tries not to notice the trail of twigs and dirt he has left on her clean doona cover.

‘I had to see if you were OK,’ he says. ‘When you didn’t come to the tree, I got worried. Was I wrong to come?’ His face crumples.

‘Well, yes, but no,’ Polly giggles. ‘Mum would die if she saw you here, but I’m glad you came. I’ve been worried about you, too.’

‘Really?’ says Buster, grinning widely.

‘Of course!’ says Polly, wrapping her arms around his big body and sinking her face into his fur. ‘I’m OK,’ she says. ‘Especially now you’re here. How about you? I couldn’t bear seeing all those monsters teasing you. I just couldn’t bear it.’

Polly feels Buster shaking. She pulls away to see if he is crying, but Buster is shaking in silent laughter.

‘You, a little witch in front of all those great big monsters! You should see how scared they are of me – now they know I’ve got you as a friend! I walk around the playground with my chest out and they say, Don’t mess with Buster. He’s got little witch Polly on his side!’

Polly narrows her eyes. ‘Hey. You’re teasing me!’

Buster wipes a tear of laughter from his eye. ‘I’m sorry,’ he says. ‘It’s just that it really is funny thinking about such a small witch doing such a big spell on all those monsters.’

‘You weren’t supposed to let on that we know each other,’ Polly frowns.

‘I know. I’m sorry,’ Buster grimaces. ‘I was so happy to see you that I forgot. I couldn’t pretend not to be happy to see you. And then I couldn’t pretend not to be sad that you ignored me! I messed up. Big time. I’m really sorry, Polly.’

‘Everyone knows about you now, don’t they?’ Polly says. ‘At your school?’

Buster nods and shrugs. ‘The Feelings Monster is what they’re calling me. But it’s actually not as bad as I thought it would be. In some ways it’s easier than pretending to be something I’m not. I’ve still got you, and the bullies will stop teasing me in a few weeks.’

He takes Polly’s hand in his big rough one. ‘But how about you? Are they giving you a hard time for being friends with me?’

Polly smiles. ‘I don’t think anyone knows. Malorie, the witch I was with? She thinks I did the spell to protect her!’

‘Oh.’ Buster chews his lip, considering this for a moment. ‘Aren’t you going to tell them the truth?’

Polly cringes. ‘I don’t think so. Do you mind?’

She can see that Buster is disappointed.

‘I guess I was hoping we could just tell people now,’ he says quietly. ‘It’s so tiring having to keep it a secret. I really don’t like keeping secrets.’

‘I know, Buster, but it’s worse for a witch to be friends with a monster …’ Even as Polly is saying this, she realises how horrible it sounds. She feels her cheeks burn pink and she looks down at her hands awkwardly.

Buster shrugs. ‘Whatever you want,’ he says, and he puts his arm around Polly and pulls her into his side. ‘I don’t mind,’ he assures her, but Polly notices that his hug isn’t quite as tight as usual.

‘Thank you, Buster,’ Polly says, feeling embarrassed. ‘You’re the best friend ever.’

Suddenly, Buster freezes. His eyes go blank and he stares into the distance.

‘Buster? Are you OK?’

But Buster doesn’t reply. Without a word, he clambers across the bed and quickly slips out through the window, shutting it behind him.

Polly yanks back the curtain, slides under the sheets and shuts her eyes just as Polly’s mother opens the door.

‘Polly?’ her mother says, standing in the hall light. ‘Did I hear talking?’

Polly yawns in a way she hopes sounds convincing, but her heart is racing. ‘Oh, I must have been talking in my sleep.’

‘Well, that was quite a conversation you were having,’ her mother says, coming into the room. She sits on the side of Polly’s bed and places a cool hand on her forehead. ‘Oh dear. You’re a little feverish! I think you should stay home tomorrow. I’ll take the day off work, and you can have a quiet day in bed.’

Polly closes her eyes, enjoying her mother’s attention.

‘Oh, Polly!’ says her mum, obviously noticing the trail of dirt and leaves on Polly’s doona. ‘You haven’t been letting Gumpy up on your bed, have you? You know she makes a mess.’

‘Oh, yes. Sorry, Mum,’ Polly says, relieved. ‘I won’t let her up again.’

‘Doesn’t matter,’ her mother says, more kindly than usual. ‘I’ll wash your sheets tomorrow.’

She gets up and leaves, closing Polly’s door softly behind her.

It was nice having her mum sit beside her, like when she was little. Polly considers calling out for her mum to read a bedtime story like she used to, but then decides she’d better check the window instead, in case Buster is still there.

Buster has gone, but written with a clumsy finger in a breath of steam are the words:

Polly smiles and wipes away the message. A warm honey feeling fills her heart when she looks at his crazy spelling, even worse than hers. With Buster in her world, Polly knows she will never truly feel alone.