Logo Missing

As the rain descends, so does the air temperature. It goes from warm and sticky to cold and wet, and I’m huddled against the wall of the Performing Arts Block, where there’s an overhanging roof, using my hands to brush off the rain as much as I can, and I’m feeling cold, shivery, scared and angry.

Cold and shivery is obvious. The scaredness is the rain/Mum thing, which has made my breathing shallow and fast and my heart beat rapidly in my chest.

The anger? That’s just me. I’m furious with myself for having taken such a stupid risk. What the hell was going through my head when I thought that this would be a good idea?

I bet you thought, ‘That’s a crazy idea’ when you read it, didn’t you?

Well, congratulations. You were right.

I look down all around where I am standing and I think I have removed most of the rain from my skin. Except for …

Oh. My. God. My head!

My hair is soaking. I can feel it, but not see it. Carefully, I edge along the wall towards a window. It’s one of the windows into the performing studio, and there’s a dark blind pulled down behind it: it makes an almost-perfect mirror, and sure enough, when I stand in front of it, there’s a silvery, watery fuzz of my hair – faint, but nonetheless visible.

It looks … weird. I peer closer, and my breath on the glass forms a cloudy patch.

The only thing for me to do is to get my hair dry, and I’ll have to do that in the girls’ toilets where there’s a hand dryer.

I need to act quick, I know that, but I can’t resist drawing my initials in the steam.

E.L.

And then I freeze. From behind me I hear someone speak.

‘Did you see that?’

I daren’t turn, but I recognise the voice.

I can see their reflections, standing about three metres away. It’s Aramynta Fell and Katie Pelling of the posse.

‘See what?’ Aramynta says.

They’ve both stopped and are staring right at me. Right through me, I should say.

‘That.’ Aramynta points. ‘Them letters just … wrote themselves.’

The steam patch is, thankfully, disappearing, and along with it the letters.

‘What are you on about?’ Katie says. ‘What letters?’

‘It was there, it … they … And what’s that?’ She is pointing right at my head now.

Right at me.

But Katie has lost interest. Barely glancing back, she’s walking off round the corner.

‘It’s a wall, Aramynta. They hold roofs up, you know? Come on, we’re going to be late.’

Aramynta’s having nothing of it, and I’m terrified because she’s coming towards me. Slowly, hesitantly, with her hand out. And I know she’s going to touch my head.

‘Come on!’ shouts Katie.

I could run? But then she’d follow – she’s got that determined, curious look on her face. Besides, my running route is blocked by Katie Pelling.

Or I could do something else. Something that’ll stop her touching my head. I have no idea where this comes from, but I have only a second to act because her hand is just a few centimetres from my head.

As I stick my tongue out, I utter the loudest, strangest throaty gargle I can.

It’s like: klaaaaaaghhhhghghghgh!

And then, for good measure, I lick her hand.

It all happens at once, the gargle and the licking.

It’s a combination of the two things, I think, that so utterly freaks her out.

It takes a second for it to sink in and then Aramynta Fell does something that makes me feel almost sorry for her. She lets out a little, terrified scream and she just sinks to her knees.

She is truly speechless with shock. I’m not sure it could be fright because she’s not even sure that there is anything there to be frightened of. She starts panting and sobbing and staring at her hand while backing away.

‘Mynt! What the heck has got into you?’ says Katie, approaching her with concern.

Aramynta has not taken her eyes off my hair since it happened, but now she does. I take my chance to dash round the corner towards the door, but I stop to hear what she says.

‘It … it … I mean … licked … eugh … it did. Agh!’

Katie is suddenly all concerned. ‘Hey, babe. It’s OK. Come on. What’s wrong? Aw, look at you, you’re in a puddle …’

I can hear them go back the way they came from, and I lean against the wall, breathing deeply and trying hard not to laugh.

Only, I’m not at all sure that what has happened is funny.

Satisfying, definitely.

But funny?

This invisibility business is more complicated than I thought.