The Hawkweed Prophecy by Irena Brignull Read Free Book Online Page A

leave it on or shall I vanish it for you?”
    Ember shifted from one foot to the other in indecision.
    â€œOne more night?” Raven conspired.
    â€œOh, thank you, Aunt,” Ember gasped.
    â€œIt’ll be our little secret,” Raven whispered, and Ember nodded gladly.
    When she woke the next morning, Ember’s nails were clean. The paint had gone, and even the bottle was nowhere to be found.

C HAPTER F IVE
    T hat evening Poppy and her father sat eating Vietnamese food out of cartons. They ordered takeout a lot. Whenever they moved, Poppy would collect the flyers that came in the mail, and her father would order from each one until they narrowed them down to their favorite few. Poppy had eaten a lot of dodgy curries, stodgy pizzas, and gloopy stir-fries in her time. Tonight was a soupy noodle dish that slipped down your throat before you had a chance to bite at it. Sauce trickled down her father’s chin as he slurped the noodles into his mouth. Poppy giggled. The sound surprised her as much as it did her father. He instantly glanced up at her.
    â€œWhat?” Poppy challenged.
    Her dad shrugged and, as he did so, a noodle that had been resting on his shirt fell into his lap.
    Poppy giggled again.
    Her father tried to wipe it off but it clung to his trousers. “God!”
    Poppy laughed, actually laughed out loud. She laughed so hard that her mouthful of noodles came tumbling from her lips.
    Her father looked up at her in astonishment. “Poppy! That’s revolting!” But that just made Poppy laugh some more. He shook his head and smiled. “Haven’t I taught you any manners?”
    â€œNo!” Tears were falling from her eyes, she was laughing so hard.
    Poppy went into the kitchen and got her father a dish towel. He watched her warily but took it from her with a thank you and started wiping gingerly at the stubborn noodle.
    â€œI can wash them if you want.”
    Her father looked surprised. “I’ll have to order from”—he picked up the menu and read—“Little Saigon again.”
    Poppy wrinkled her nose.
    â€œNo, not a keeper?”
    â€œThrow it away.”
    Her dad crumpled the paper into a ball and tossed it toward the wastepaper basket. It landed right inside. “Yes!” Her dad pumped his arm in victory, then looked at Poppy with a grin. “How’s the new school?”
    â€œOkay, I guess.”
    â€œOkay?! Really?!” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you made a friend?”
    â€œI did, actually,” she replied. “Don’t look so surprised. I am capable of it.”
    â€œI’m not surprised, just impressed. I know you didn’t want to move all this way.”
    Poppy felt herself blush and she looked away. Sensing her discomfort, her dad moved the conversation on.
    â€œWhat’s this school like?”
    He hadn’t asked her that in years.
    â€œOh, you know. It’s school.” Her dad seemed disappointed, and Poppy sensed their chat would be over pretty quickly unless she said something. “How’s the new job?”
    â€œFine.”
    â€œYou don’t sound too sure.”
    Her dad half-smiled. “It’s a job.”
    And there it was. A moment of connection that came and went but, for Poppy, that made two in one day. Later, as she lay curled up in her bed with Minx, she realized she had walked out into the hills alone but had returned having made a friend. Her first. Maybe it was the headache or the hare that made her act so out of character, but she had achieved a proper conversation with another girl. It had been so easy with Ember, as though she were not human but, like the hare, another wild creature from the woods. There had been no glint of criticism in Ember’s eyes, no hint of artifice or hostility in her voice, and now Poppy found herself wondering, if she went back to the dell tomorrow, whether Ember might appear again. Then