Chapter 25

At the end of the day, Ferocity made her move. We were walking out through the school gates, Lily and Kika and Ferocity all chatting.

I felt edgy. Nervous. Because Ferocity kept looking at me, eyes glinting.

So I hung back. Tried to keep out of her way.

Ferocity did NOT let me.

She dropped back, and walked next to me. Then she opened her Haggspit Museum gift-shop bag and brought out a glass ornament. A tiny glass furzelgrunt.

“Flo,” she said, eyes glinting. “Look what I bought in the gift shop. Do you like it?”

I backed away…

But not fast enough.

Ferocity flung the furzelgrunt up in the air and let out a shriek – a loud shocked shriek – then threw herself to the ground.

Lily and Kika whipped round. Saw Ferocity falling. And saw the furzelgrunt spiralling up through the air, then down, smashing to pieces as it hit the ground.

Ferocity scrambled to her feet, eyes all big and shocked and wide. “Flo,” she gasped. “Why did you do that? Why?”

Then she started making gulping noises, like she was trying to stop herself sobbing. “That was the first thing I’ve ever bought for myself,” she gulped. “Orphans NEVER get to buy things.”

I stood there, gaping. Gaping – and totally fed up. Because Lily and Kika were both glaring at me.

“It’s not me,” I said crossly. “She’s doing it. Her. She’s doing everything.”

Then I had an idea. I snatched Ferocity’s bag off her. Opened it up. And there it was, tucked in the side pocket – the picture.

I got it out. “Look, LOOK!” I said, waving the picture in front of Lily and Kika. “She’s LYING about being an orphan. This is her family. I know it is. Look how like her that witchboy is. He’s her brother!”

I thought that would do it. That Ferocity would flounder, not know what to say, not know how to deny it…

I thought wrong.

Because Ferocity’s mouth turned right down. Her lip trembled. Then, actual tears – two big fat ones – slowly dribbled down her cheeks.

“Give that baaaack!” she gulped, snatching the picture off me and holding it close.

“I dream about what my mum, my dad, might be like,” she said – sniffing hard now. “I dream of having a little brother and a baby sister. And that witchboy – he does look like me. He looks VERY like me. That’s why I took the picture.”

Now she looked at Lily and Kika. Sniffed harder. Gulped harder, as more tears dribbled down her cheeks. “Maybe it was stupid of me,” she gulped. “But I just couldn’t help it. It was the first thing I did with my skychatter. I took a picture. Of that family. Strangers. Near Hurlstruk Happy Home.”

Then she turned. Stared straight at me with those big grey eyes. And now the tears were rolling – streaming – down her cheeks, and she began to sob.

“I was so happy being part of Clubbies. Having friends,” she sobbed – right in my face. “And I’ve tried and tried to be your friend, Flo. But you just won’t LET me!”

Then – off she ran, sobbing louder and louder.

They fell for it. Lily and Kika both fell for it.

Lily gave me one ferocious glare, then went running after Ferocity.

As for Kika, she stood there, gasping. “Flo,” she said, “what is WRONG with you?”

“Me?” I said. “There’s nothing wrong with me. I keep telling you. It’s all her!”

But Kika was shaking her head backwards and forwards. “Do NOT deny it, Flo,” she said, jabbing a finger at me, and glaring. “All the evidence points to you having a very bad case of jealousy.”

I glared back. “Evidence? What evidence? I am NOT jealous,” I said. “Why would I be?”

Which was a mistake. Because now Kika started ticking the evidence off on her fingers. “One, she is a celebrity and you are an ex-celebrity,” she said, frowning. “Two, she has lived on the streets and eaten raw gutter nibbets – which is more interesting than living in a cave-style self-build and eating a well-balanced diet. Three, she has a voice as good as yours – if not better, because there is an interesting tonal quality to her voice that I very much like.”

Then Kika paused, wagged her finger. “Besides, Flo,” she said, “there is all the pushing. There is evidence that pushing is your modus operandi.”

I could not stop gaping at Kika. How much more rubbish was she going to talk? “My WHAT?” I said.

“Modus operandi,” Kika said. “All criminals have a modus operandi, Flo – a way of doing their crimes. And pushing is your modus operandi. You pushed Ferocity in singing, and you pushed her just now.”

Then Kika did MORE finger wagging. “Flo,” she said, with a disappointed look on her face. “There are witchgirls I would expect to behave like this. But, Flo, you are not normally that sort of witchgirl. This is mean-spirited. Jealous. It really is not like you.”

I spluttered. I felt my mouth drop open. I could hardly speak. How could Kika be such an idiot?

“It’s not like me, because it’s not me,” I said.

But Kika was shaking her head, harder now. “Flo,” she said. “It is not fair to try and blame Ferocity. A poor orphan – whose only crime is that she is trying to be your friend.”

Enough. I did NOT want to hear any more. “This is like the possenfloff incident,” I snapped. “Remember that?”

“Yes, I do,” Kika said, eyes popping. “And this is NOT like the possenfloff incident.”

“It is,” I said. “And you had more sense when you were six – SIX! – than you have now.”

Then I stomped off, alone.

The possenfloff incident happened on a school trip to Haggspit City Farm.

Me and Kika were in a three with Mamie Swip. All sitting on hay bales, all about to pat a possenfloff – which, if you don’t know, are related to windsniffers. Only much smaller, much fluffier and much MUCH cuter.

So we sat in a row. Kika, then me, then Mamie. Quivering with excitement as the keeper handed us each a small, stripy possenfloff.

Mine was curled up quietly, half asleep – little wisps of smoke coming out of its three tiny nostrils.

Kika’s was snoring. Making three perfect smoke rings with each tiny snore.

But Mamie’s wriggled and wriggled – then it jumped off her lap and ran.

Mamie turned. Glared at me and shrieked. “You did that, Flo!” she shrieked. “You POKED my possenfloff! You made it RUN AWAY!”

That was bad enough. But Kika sat there gasping. “Did you DO that, Flo?” she gasped. “That was mean!”

“But…” I said. “I didn’t. I didn’t do it.”

“You FIBBER!” shrieked Mamie. “You did! I saw you do it!”

Then she made a grab for my possenfloff. “Give me YOUR possenfloff to pat!” she shrieked.

My possenfloff did NOT like being grabbed, so it started wriggling. And all the shrieking and grabbing woke Kika’s possenfloff, which also started wriggling…

Then – both possenfloffs were gone. They jumped down, and ran away.

And Mamie and Kika sat there, shrieking at me. About how it was all my fault none of us had a possenfloff to pat.

Then Kika stuck her nose in the air, and tucked her arm through Mamie’s. “I am NOT your friend any more,” she said. “I am not being friends with a possenfloff poker!”

And they both marched off, and whispered all day about me being a possenfloff poker.

I went home so sad. Then I heard Dad knock on the front door and I ran to open it, mouth wobbling.

Dad scooped me up. “Why the sad face, Flo?” he said.

“Because,” I said sniffing, “today was a very good day, and then it was a very bad day.”

Dad sat me on his lap, and listened to my story. Then he looked thoughtful. “You know what, Flo?” he said. “Sometimes friends get it wrong. Make mistakes. We all do.”

“But now Kika is not my friend. Not any more,” I said miserably.

“If Kika is a true friend, she’ll think about today,” Dad said. “Think about you. What you’re like. Realise she made a mistake. That you would NEVER be mean like that.”

“But suppose she doesn’t?” I said, curling up tighter.

“If she doesn’t, Flo,” Dad said, “then there are better friends out there for you than Kika.”

“But I might not find them,” I said.

Dad smiled. “Trust in yourself, Flo,” he said. “Other witchchildren will always want to be your friend. You are true, and honest, and kind. And that is the right way to be.”

Then he gave me a hug, and I felt much better.

And Dad was right. Kika did think about it. Because the next day she marched into school and straight up to Mamie Swip. Said I was not the sort of witchgirl who would poke a possenfloff, and Mamie was wrong to say I was, then try to steal my possenfloff. So me and Kika were friends again.

But that was back then…

And now, today, I wondered – would Kika do the same today?