Missing Abby by Lee Weatherly Read Free Book Online Page A

their eyes like the button-eyes on teddy bears.
    ‘If you want to know the truth, I really couldn't stand her any more.’ I grabbed one of the magazines and started flipping through it, slapping the pages back. ‘She's why I changed schools, even – she had got so
weird
that I couldn't stick being around her!’
    Jo licked her lips, glancing at Debbie. ‘Um … well, how was she weird?’
    ‘Well, she dressed pretty strangely,’ murmured Debbie. Jo flashed her a look.
    ‘Oh, she just
was,
that's all.’ I shoved
Now
aside and grabbed at a
Vogue.
‘She acted however she wanted, even if it was completely childish and stupid; she didn't care what people thought – she left herself right open for everything—’
    ‘For what?’ Jo's blond eyebrows pulled together in bewilderment.
    I swallowed hard. Emma,
shut up
!
    ‘Nothing,’ I stared down at a photo of a pencil-thin model wearing a white tube dress. ‘Debbie, couldn't you do something like this?’ I forced a laugh. ‘Looks like it'd be a breeze to design – just wrap a bedsheet around yourself,
et voilà
!
’
    They looked at each other. Suddenly I was terrified that they wouldn't let me drop it this time, that they'd push and question until it all came out.
    But they took the hint. They didn't mention Abby again.

Day Seven
    Even though I work up early that morning, I lay in bed for ages, staring at my ceiling. Thinking of the ceiling of my old room. Abby and I had painted a moonscape on it, with craters and stars, and a view of Earth in the distance. I remembered the two of us standing on ladders with old sheets draped over everything, collapsing in giggles as she painted a bug-eyed purple moon-man, peering out of a crater …
    ‘Emma?’ came a voice outside my door. Nat, lurking.
    ‘What?’ I flopped over in bed, clutching the duvet around me.
    Nat poked her head in. Her brown hair looked wild and bedraggled, like she had been playing hard for hours already. ‘You're not up yet.’
    ‘Well spotted.’
    She slid into the room, shutting the door behind her. She was wearing jeans and a hot pink top with
Ballerina
on it. ‘Mummy said to let you sleep. She said you're having a rough time.’
    The pillow muffled my voice. ‘So why are you in here, not letting me sleep?’
    ‘Because it's Saturday! You said you'd play with me today.’
    I was completely positive that I hadn't said anything of the sort, actually. I lay there for a few seconds, thinking about telling her to bugger off, and then I slowly sat up, collapsing the warm cave of covers.
    ‘OK. Come sit here, and we'll play.’
    Her face split in delight, and she bounded across the room, bouncing onto the bed. I shoved my hair back. It felt ropy. ‘Right … where were we?’
    ‘We were entering the chamber where Jasmine awaited!’ breathed Nat, her eyes gleaming. ‘Wands at the ready!’
    That's right. God, that was ages ago. ‘OK, close your eyes.’
    She popped them closed, leaning against me. I put my arm around her sturdy little body, feeling her warmth, and lowered my voice to a whisper. ‘Now, Jasmine's chamber is made of … of seashells. The insides of seashells, all sort of shimmering pink and grey. Can you see them yet?’
    Nat's hair tickled my arm as she shook her head, eyes still closed.
    ‘Keep trying. Seashells, glistening on the walls … Just think about Jasmine's palace, and you'll be there.’
    ‘Ooh, I can see it!’ she breathed. ‘And Jasmine's sitting on a throne of shells! She looks
evil
!
’
    ‘She is, but we have to go in and face her. She has green hair, like seaweed, and as we approach her, she sort of draws herself up and says—’
    Both of us started as someone knocked on my door.
    ‘What?’ I called.
    ‘Phone's for you,’ said Jenny. ‘Someone called Sheila.’ She opened the door and tossed me the cordless extension, rolling her eyes as she spotted her wayward daughter. ‘I told you not to come in here, didn't I? Come on now, let Emma take her