‘Get on with it, then,’ says Tilly, her grin sliding from smug to delighted.
She’s holding out a pile of sparkly fabric.
‘Pants! Ladies’ underwear!’ screams the cockatoo from its cage.
We’re behind the curtains on the stage at the town hall. At the back are all the pantomime costumes ever worn and Tilly’s been having a ball rustling through them while Mum and Dad crash around decorating the stage along a solar-system theme for the night of ‘magical mayhem’ to come. They’ve stuck paper stars and planets all over the walls.
It looks awful.
‘A tutu? I’m not wearing that,’ I say, opening the curtains a little and peering out at the hall. It’s filling up; families drift into the seats. I glance around to see who I recognise. There are loads of people from school. I wish they’d all go away.
Mr and Mrs Worthy come and sit in the front row looking keen. Mr Worthy’s got a notepad, as if he’s going to learn some techniques from Dad. I could tell him now, they won’t be any good.
‘These?’ Tilly nudges my back with a pair of white rabbit ears.
I ignore her. Jacob, Eric and Eric’s dad come in and sit near the front. Jacob’s eating Sphinx Bursts straight from the tube. Did he have to come? I scan the seats to see who else I’m going to have to avoid for the rest of the summer.
There’s Lily Lee, sitting by a man I’ve never seen before. Is that Professor Lee? I’d thought he’d be in a lab coat with nerdy glasses and wild hair. But he doesn’t look like that at all. He’s wearing jeans, he’s bearded, and he seems quite ordinary – apart from the safety goggles on his head. But I suppose that’s quite ordinary for someone who steals rock.
‘Tom,’ says Tilly. ‘Would you like to change your mind? Will you shrink something for me? Or shall I make Mum make you wear this?’ She holds out a skanky hot-dog costume. ‘Or this?’ An orange mushroom hat with big eyes on the top. ‘Or even this?’ A monkey suit. She smirks and flounces back to the pantomime rail, humming.
I’d imagined that I could dress like Dad, in a black tail suit with a flower in my buttonhole. But that obviously isn’t going to happen.
‘Tom did it! Tom did it!’ yells the cockatoo.
I peer back through the curtains. Professor Lee is holding something in his hands, flipping it between one palm and the other.
I stare hard. For several minutes.
A meteorite, he’s holding a meteorite. Not the shiny rock mined out of the castle, but a stone that’s fallen through the atmosphere, singed and rounded by friction.
I study it again, in case I’m wrong. But I’m not, it’s a meteorite.
Oh no – I really need to talk to Eric about this.
‘Tom!’ Mum’s voice from behind me. ‘We’ve run out of time – you’ll have to wear this. They’re all the rage – or at least they were last Christmas. You’ll look great.’
She crams me into a leopard-print onesie studded with moons and stars. ‘Tilly, quick, the face paint.’
Tilly plasters my face with red and yellow paint and makes me look like a pizza. ‘Nice,’ she says, with a smirk. ‘Very nice.’
And the curtains open.