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Luke sat up abruptly. He was breathing heavily as if he really had just been running. He dashed a hand through his sweat-dampened hair. He’d had that dream again. Well, not a dream so much as a memory, but still. That was the third time this week. Luke sighed and slid out of his narrow bed. His bedroom was so tiny that, standing up, he could stretch out his arms and touch both walls at once. Even though his window was open, the room was hot, the summer air stifling. At fifteen, he’d grown out of the room really, but the caravan he shared with his dad only had two bedrooms, so he didn’t have much choice.
Luke slipped out of his bedroom and helped himself to a glass of cold water. He sat on the long seat in the dining area, his feet up and his arm draped over the back. His gaze drifted out of the window, across the scrubland in the direction of the woods. Clara’s house was on the other side. He wondered if she was sleeping or if she was out and about in animal form, just as she’d been in his dream. Then he shook his head. They’d agreed to wait until the start of her school holidays, so they could be together for her first post-curse transformation.
The curse had been broken by Clara two weeks earlier, when she’d been saving him from being kidnapped. Even though Clara had been in animal form at the time, Grams had recognised her as being Luke’s saviour and Luke had suspected it too, having accidentally seen Clara’s magical abilities six months before. When they finally confronted Clara with the truth, after the kidnap attempt, she’d admitted to Grams, Luke and Luke’s father Des that she was a shape-shifter. But Grams had forbidden Luke from telling Clara about his own recently discovered ability to shape-shift. Grams had told Luke that his life would be in danger if anyone found out. The type of magic that allowed Luke to transform had been banned by the Gypsy council. If his secret got out, they’d accuse him of using magic illegally. Not even his dad knew what he could do.
Since then he’d been having a recurring dream about the night he discovered Clara’s ability. The night he’d realised they had more in common than a shared interest in wildlife.
Luke squirmed as he recalled the attempted kidnap and Clara’s heroic actions to save him. She’d proven she was trustworthy and courageous, but he was keeping this huge secret from her. It didn’t feel right. Whenever he thought about it, it gave him an ache in his gut that had nothing to do with his dad’s dodgy cooking.
Maybe that’s why I’m having these dreams, he thought.
Luke grunted in frustration, his fingers absentmindedly picking at a loose thread on the back of the seat. Maybe he should speak to Grams about it again – see if he could persuade her that they could share his secret with Clara, that she was a good person. Grams had refused to let him the previous four times they’d discussed it, but maybe the fifth time would be the charm. He frowned as he thought hard about what argument he could use to persuade Grams to let him tell Clara. After a while, though, his eyelids began to droop, and he nodded off to sleep, awakening abruptly the following morning when his dad shook him.
***
Clara stretched leisurely, then rolled onto her side and smiled as she came fully awake. It was the first day of the summer holidays – no more school for six weeks! She sighed happily, threw the duvet off and sprang out of bed. She opened her curtains to a bright, sunny day. Perfect! she thought.
Leaving a little later by the back door of her end-of-terrace home, Clara strolled down the garden path and through the gate into the woodland her estate backed on to. Her step quickened as she spotted her friends, Luke and Bob, waiting for her.
“Morning!” she sang to them.
“Morning,” replied Luke, smiling.
Bob barked. He trotted up to Clara with his tail wagging and she bent down to fuss him, getting a lick on her face for her trouble.
“Yuck!” she exclaimed and wiped her face with the back of her hand. Bob was a mongrel who lived in the woods, and his breath stank.
Together the threesome strolled companionably around the woods and up to their hilltop clearing. From here they had an elevated view back across Clara’s estate on one side of the hill, and down to the scrubland where Luke’s Gypsy family camped on the other side.
“What shall we do today?” asked Clara.
Luke flushed. “Well, I had been looking forward to seeing you shape-shift.”
Clara grinned. She’d been hoping he would say that. She peered about. They were alone on the hilltop, as usual. “Okay,” she said. “Let’s see...”
Suddenly Luke and Bob were looking at a black collie dog, instead of a thirteen-year-old girl. Bob turned away, unimpressed – he’d seen that trick before. But Luke stared in surprise, his eyes widening.
Clara barked and wagged her tail in delight at his reaction. She was happy. This was the first time she’d been able to transform in the daytime. She rose to her feet and, turning round, transformed into a sleek blue/grey shorthaired cat.
“Meow,” she said, and rubbed her head against Luke’s leg. He seemed unsure what to do. Clara lifted her front paws from the ground and brushed herself against Luke’s hand, before trotting away and climbing a nearby tree. Strutting proudly along a branch, she came to a stop. Checking to make sure Luke was still watching, she transformed into a Tawny owl. Luke gulped then laughed with delight, clapping his hands at Clara’s performance. Clara tilted her head in acknowledgment, then spread her wings and took off.
She soared up over the trees and over her estate, her sharp eyes seeing children kicking a ball in her street and her mum hanging out washing in the back garden. She banked over the woodland and flew over to the Gypsy camp – a cluster of eight caravans in a clearing. There, children were playing football, while women hung washing out to dry.
So similar, Clara mused, and yet a world apart. She flew back towards the hilltop clearing, thinking she might land on Luke’s shoulder, but veered off at the last moment when she lost her nerve. Instead she landed on a tree branch then, hopping down, transformed back into her dog form, picked up her pile of clothes in her mouth and disappeared behind a bush to transform back to her human self and get dressed.
Moments later she reappeared, grinning. “What did you think?” she asked.
“You’re amazing,” breathed Luke. Clara blushed furiously. Luke flopped down to the ground and gazed out at the view, giving Clara a chance to compose herself.
“It felt really natural,” said Clara. She sat beside him, her eyes slightly glazed as she thought about what she’d just done. She felt slightly breathless and dizzy from the thrill of her accomplishment. “When I had the curse, it used to take a lot of effort and concentration to transform, but it’s easy now. I just think about the animal and then become it.”
“What does it feel like when you change?” asked Luke, wanting to compare Clara’s experience with his own.
“It’s difficult to describe,” said Clara slowly. “There’s a tingling sensation that runs all through my body, and I can feel myself shrinking.”
“Does it hurt?” asked Luke.
“No, nothing like that,” replied Clara. “It’s wonderful.” And she flushed again, this time with pleasure.
“You told me before you could communicate with animals. Can you still do that?” asked Luke.
Clara thought for a moment. Without warning, Bob stood up and pounced on Luke, madly licking his face and neck.
“Aargh!” said Luke, raising his arms to defend himself and push the dog off. Clara laughed. Bob left Luke alone as suddenly as he’d pounced, and lay back down on the grass, looking pleased with himself.
“Yes, I can still do that,” spluttered Clara, still laughing at Luke’s expression.
Luke grinned sheepishly. “Bob, your breath stinks,” he said.
“I can communicate with any animal,” Clara went on. “I can also affect their behaviours, and moods.”
“So, you can make animals do what you want them to do?” asked Luke.
“Yes, but I try not to unless it’s absolutely necessary,” replied Clara. “After all, what right do I have to interfere with them that way?”
Luke nodded in understanding. “Have you done it before, though?”
“I have,” said Clara quietly. “Once, before I broke the curse, I was trying to transform into a mouse so I could stay inside instead of having to go out on cold winter nights. I’d been having problems transforming, as it’s such a small animal, but I finally succeeded – and then I was captured by an owl.” Clara shook her head at the memory. “It took off with me in its talons. It was clearly thinking of eating me. I had to force it to come back down to land so I could escape.”
“How did you get away?” asked Luke.
“As we came towards the ground, I transformed into a dog,” said Clara, grinning. “I wish I could have seen the owl’s expression. It let go of me and flew away like its tail was on fire.”
Luke laughed. But what Clara didn’t tell him was the episode had left her stunned and injured, and it had taken several weeks for her bumps and cuts to heal. She hadn’t transformed into a mouse since. She shuddered at the memory of the panic and helplessness she’d felt when she’d realised what was happening. Then Bob crawled over and rested his chin on her leg, comforting her. She put her arm around him and gave him a squeeze while she forced her attention back to the present.
“There is one thing, though,” she said.
Luke raised his eyebrows in query.
Clara grinned. “Shape-shifting doesn’t half make you hungry.”
“Let’s go down to the camp and get some grub,” said Luke and stood, pulling Clara up beside him.
When they arrived at the camp a few minutes later, Clara sensed a tension in the air. A few weeks ago, Luke had almost been kidnapped by a rival clan of Gypsies. One of their own people had betrayed them by feeding Luke and the camp’s dogs a sedative on the night of the kidnapping attempt. Although they’d previously been quite friendly to Clara, the Gypsies had withdrawn since the incident, seeing Clara as an outsider – and therefore a threat. Clara sighed, then brightened when she noticed Grams waving to her out of a caravan window.
Changing direction, Luke and Clara walked over to Grams’ caravan. As they arrived another Gypsy left, acknowledging Clara with a nod but not greeting her verbally. Clara and Luke climbed in.
“Good morning, Clara,” said Grams. “How lovely to see you. What are you kids up to on such a fine day?”
“Hi Grams,” said Clara. “It’s the first day of the summer holidays so I’m enjoying my freedom.”
Grams chuckled. “Very nice,” she said. “And do you have any plans for the summer?” Grams, and Des, Luke’s dad and the leader of the Gypsy clan, were the only people apart from Clara’s great-aunt Selina, who knew about her gifts. Grams was the wise woman of Luke’s clan. She had healing powers, and Clara was convinced she could do magic spells, although the Gypsies called them blessings.
“Well, now the curse is broken I can practise shape-shifting whenever I like.” Clara smiled.
Grams smiled back. “So long as you’re careful not to get caught. If I recall, that was how your great-great-great-great-aunt came to be cursed in the first place.”
Clara grimaced. “I’ll be careful,” she said, then changed the subject. “Things round here don’t seem to have settled down much?”
Grams frowned and shook her head sadly. “It affects the whole group when a person is expelled. They might as well have died. People are grieving.” She sighed. “It’ll take time for things to get back to normal.”
Luke hung his head.
“Oh, don’t look so miserable, Luke, it wasn’t your fault,” said Grams, just as Clara’s stomach rumbled loudly. “Why don’t we have some lunch?” Grams suggested. “That should cheer you up.” The three of them moved about the kitchen, getting in each other’s way in the small space but nonetheless enjoying each other’s company as they prepared a simple lunch of cheese sandwiches with tea.
In bed that night, Clara thought about her visit to the camp. Grams and Des are worried there might be another attempt to kidnap Luke, she thought. The people who’d tried to kidnap him were Luke’s relatives on his mum’s side of the family. They had not approved of Luke’s mum and Des getting married, and were grief-stricken when she died of cancer when Luke was a baby. Luke’s Uncle Simon had been planning his revenge on Des for years, and recently got his chance when he became the leader of his clan. The kidnap attempt had been foiled by Clara, in dog form, who had raised the alarm and attacked the kidnappers, forcing them to flee into the night.
I think they’re right. Luke’s uncle won’t give up that easily.
Clara sighed and finally dropped into a troubled sleep. Her dreams were filled with threatening forms lurking in bushes and behind trees, whispering and plotting in the shadows.
***
The following weekend, when Clara came downstairs she was surprised to find both her parents sitting at the kitchen table, waiting for her. Feeling apprehensive, Clara helped herself to a bowl of cereal and slid into her seat. Out of the corner of her eye she saw her dad nod at her mum.
“Clara, your dad and I have been talking,” her mum began.
Clara’s stomach clenched and she no longer felt hungry.
“It’s great that you seem so happy these days, but we worry about the amount of time you spend out and about with friends we’ve never met.”
Clara started to feel sick. She’d been worried this was coming for a while. Her parents had asked her before if she wanted to invite her friends back to the house, and she’d always refused. Now it seemed there was going to be a stand-off.
“You’re thirteen now, honey, a teenager. We know things are changing for you, and you’re growing up. We just want to know who you’re spending so much time with. We haven’t met any of your friends since you fell out with Sinead.”
Clara flushed. She had fallen out with her lifelong best friend Sinead the previous year. It had been because of Clara having to keep her powers a secret. Clara had been so upset she’d vowed not to have another friend until she’d broken the curse. Of course, that was before she’d met Luke and the Gypsies.
Her parents were not aware of any of this – in fact, they didn’t know about Clara’s abilities at all. The only person in the family who knew Clara was a shape-shifter was Clara’s great-aunt Selina, who’d also inherited the gift.
Clara’s parents looked at her intently. Her mum sighed. “Clara, we want you to bring at least one of your friends for Sunday dinner tomorrow.”
Clara opened her mouth to protest.
“If you don’t,” her mum interrupted, “we’ll have to start thinking about introducing evening curfews, and maybe even grounding you.” She gave Clara a stern look.
Clara’s eyes widened in horror. She looked over at her dad, her eyes pleading. Her dad looked back at her, unflinching. It seemed her parents were together on this issue. She could not sense any weakness in their resolve. She lowered her eyes and gazed at the soggy cereal in her bowl. Why are they doing this to me? They’ll never understand why I like Luke? She knew they would disapprove of her friendship with him. Tears burned her eyes and her throat ached as she tried not to cry.